"Count us in!" Chert said, banging his fist on the oaken-planked table.
Delighted, the wizard extended his hand. "Excellent, heroic hillman! Your boldness is to be commended. Still. I note a look of uncertainty on your friend's face. I am in need of both of you, so I will take a moment to try to convince him of my honesty and sincerity in this matter. Agreed?"
"Sure, Wiz — er, Ziggie — go ahead and talk." Chert said expansively. "Only how about another round? I’m going to be doing some hard work soon, and a horn of brew is sure to make me better at it!"
The wizard signaled for another draught of the stout and ale combination and then explained his story carefully, looking at Gord and not sparing details. "I dwell near Syldartown, a place adjacent to the Ferrous Mountains on the border between the Southern Marches and the state of johied. As a worker of spells, I adhere to the teachings of Kabbak, and likewise the works of his sole disciple, Gigantos, are not unfamiliar to me. It was in the latter, and particularly in the veiled references to so-called ‘Mad Archmage’ of similar name, that I first discovered a clue to what I seek. The nature and form of the item I quest after is of no import to you. It is of magical power and, unless one is a dweomer-craefter steeped in the arcane arts, useless. In any case, learning what I did. there was but a single course open to me. Deciphering the clues given, I traveled west to Greyhawk, for in the ruins of its former master's fortress is hidden the prize I seek. Is what I say clear so far?"
"Go on." Gord told the wizard.
"It is well known that the labyrinthine dungeon, catacombs, and maze of subterranean passages beneath the ancient castle once held a conglomerate of monsters and plethora of treasure — all there at the whim of the lord archmage who ruled within. In bygone years many sought to plumb the depth of this underground for glory and riches. And why not? With the master gone, who could say them nay? it's widely known that fabulous beasts and incredible treasures were found and disposed of. Of course, the stream of adventurers bound to become wealthy or die trying was so heavy that not even the fiercest of guardians could forever prevail. Expeditions came, some succeeded, and Greyhawk City grew rich from them. Now, years later, who ventures to the ruins? Few," the wizard said in answer to his own query. "And this is no surprise. Tales told of even greater treasures deep beneath the fallen fortress were shown to be untrue. Vast, empty complexes of passages and chambers, bones, and deserted mazes speak louder than stories told in alehouses."
"You are yarning in such a place yourself," Gord interjected dryly.
"Just so," Eneever Zig said humorlessly. "I have frequented such places as this for a fortnight, seeking vainly for associates able to meet my demanding standards. After paving over sufficient stiver, your names came to the fore. Your repute is high, and if your true qualifications come anywhere near the whispered attributes I have been told, then my — our — venture is assured!"
"What can we hope to find, mage, in a subterranean labyrinth you yourself have just said is bare of wealth but possibly not of undesirable creatures?"
Eneever Zig compressed his thin lips into an invisible line, shaking his gray locks as he did so. "You listen well, young thief, but you hear not. Recent explorers report naught; that is not a statement of condition, but rather their own ineptitude. My information is such that we will delve far deeper than those without such intelligence could ever hope to do, into the very heart of the lightless domain beneath the castle. Many untouched places remain — crypts laden with gold, chests filled with pearls and gemstones. even magical stuff suitable for swords- All of that is yours, all! Only one prize must I have, and will have. My spells and powers and your skills as fighters will clear out any who should think to prevent us from attaining our goal. The fruits of all such labors are waiting for you. Let us off!"
"I'm ready!" Chert bellowed in his eagerness, his eyes shining with visions of hoarded loot.
"Not quite so fast," Gord said, sitting calmly. "What assurance do we have of the truth of your claims?"
The wizard's face darkened at the suggestion that he might be dealing in lies, but he visibly brought himself under cold control again. "I understand. You must hear words which are mere fabrications in order to persuade you to join schemes of uncertain merit. My sincerity, and the truth of my assertions, is demonstrable only in the doing. Yet. I can show good faith. Agree to accompany me, and I will here and now pay over a sum sufficient to make even a fruitless quest worthwhile."
"How large a sum?" the young thief asked suspiciously.
"Ten gold orbs. . each!"
"We are your men!" Chert cried, nearly upsetting the table as he rose and eagerly thrust forth his huge palm. "Come on, Gord, it is high time to stop this useless bantering and be about our questl"
Gord rose slowly to his feet and, against his better judgment slowly extended his right hand. There was something about this wizard that made the young thief more than a little uncomfortable.
The once-magnificent castle could be seen from any vantage point in the city. It was on a high hill about three miles away from the northern verge of Grey hawk. The only road, at one time smooth and easily accessible, had slowly deteriorated into little more than a rutted trail that was seldom, if ever, used any more. Local folk shunned the area, claiming that the things that dwelled beneath the pile of stones came forth at night to waylay the unwary. The land surrounding the castle for approximately a mile in any given direction was a tangled wilderness, save for that to the north of the castle's great mound. There lay a great bog with pools said to be bottomless and mires of deadliest sort.
Gord and Chert had, in fact, been to the deserted ruins before. They had dared the dungeons underneath, and after considerable exploration had decided their time was more profitably spent in other endeavors.
That adventure had begun when, by sheerest chance, the two had stumbled upon the lair of a small group of outlaws. It was a confrontation neither side expected, but Gord's lightninglike reflexes had enabled him and Chert to have the advantage. The hard-fought combat that followed earned both the young thief and his hulking companion numerous wounds. The surviving outlaws begged for quarter and received it from the two. In return, Gord and Chert took all the holdings these brigands possessed in ill-gotten gains. The sum was trifling, but the haul included a map showing a place far below the castle where other bandits had hidden a vast store of loot.
Gord and Chert had enlisted the captive outlaws into their ranks, followed the map, and ended up finding nothing but horrors and disgusting things that haunted the stony tunnels and rooms there. It should have been more than a sufficient lesson for both. But…
. . Here they were again, footsteps echoing in the vaulted hall, heading for the place in the center of the old castle. Eneever Zig was leading them directly to the broad steps that spiralled down to the endless levels that lay tinder Castle Greyhawk. The wizard was moving with great assurance, and he was showing not the least hesitation in the process. There could be no doubt that he knew at least the initial stage of this venture.
"That door there leads to a maze of passages beyond," the barbarian volunteered as they reached the end of the stairway. Then he added, almost proudly, "Gord and I have done this before."
Eneever Zig, seemingly surprised by the revelation, turned his back to the heavy portal. "This is not the way we will take, barbarian," he told the hill-man flatly. Your past experiences are nothing to me. Come."