Vhok nodded absently and said, "Undoubtedly." He opened the box and found an odd item resting inside. It was an alabaster carving of a vine-covered archway, perhaps the size of his fist. The cambion removed it from its case and held it up, examining it. He could sense latent magic radiating from within.
"My diviners knew you were coming tonight, and they also told me you are about to embark on a great journey," Nahaunglaroth said, standing beside the half-fiend while Lysalis crowded next to him on the other side. "Perhaps this small token will aid you," the dragon added.
Vhok, slightly concerned that his plans were known to others, nodded his thanks. Let's hope my enemies don't glean as much about me, he thought.
"Here," Nahaunglaroth said, taking the carved arch from Vhok, "let me show you how this works."
Myshik Morueme paused and sniffed the dead air around him, gauging his path as much by intuition as by any mental map. The blue-scaled hobgoblin chose a direction and proceeded, drawing on his half-draconic heritage to feel his way. His heavy boots thunked rhythmically as he walked. He held his massive war axe cradled in the palms of his clawed hands. He knew that, should he confront any dwarves with it, the anger in their eyes would delight him.
The passage was worked stone, precisely carved out of the bedrock of mountains by dwarf tools wielded by dwarf hands. The quality of the architecture interested him not the slightest bit, except insofar as it helped guide him. For two days, Myshik had ascended out of the Underdark, passing through countless tunnels, ruined gates, and hallways that marked the outer boundaries of Old Delzoun. Steered by his knowledge of the ancient dwarven territory, he made steady progress toward its heart. Soon, he would reach the outskirts of an area he knew to be inhabited. There, he hoped to finally reap the rewards of his search.
Myshik paused at an intersection of two great hallways, breathing in the stones. He knew he was close. His instinct nudged him to his right, so he turned that way. The passage approached a grand staircase that ascended toward a pair of massive stone doors, easily three times the half-dragon's height. The portal had been closed for centuries, judging from the scattering of debris that littered the landing. Myshik stopped before them, frowning. He could not see a way to open them.
Then he spied a side passage, a crude tunnel that someone-or something-had bored through the rock to one side of the twin doors. He stepped toward it, gripping his axe a bit more tightly.
The tunnel digger had been in a hurry. The work was rough, crude. It was also considerably smaller than the surrounding tunnels. Certainly no dwarf handiwork, Myshik decided. The potential for ambush somewhere within its depths was not lost on the half-hobgoblin. Shrugging, he entered the passage anyway. It was the only route past the massive doors, and it was the direction he must go if he wished to find his quarry.
Thinking of his goal made the half-dragon smile. Treasure was precious. It let the clan live. Treasure reaped through battle was always more precious. He hoped that dwarves guarded great hordes of the stuff.
Myshik pushed through the cramped tunnel, keeping his leathery wings tucked close to his body. The passage did not travel far, only through the thick wall that supported the doorway. He wondered for a moment why the digger hadn't chipped through the doors themselves, but dismissed the thought as he emerged on the other side. He entered what must have been a grand chamber, a massive hall so large that his darkness-attuned eyes could not make out any features within the limits of his vision.
He stood quite still for a moment, listening. All seemed perfectly quiet. Though he knew it would be risky, Myshik decided to illuminate the place so he could get a better look.
Reaching into a protected pocket, the half-hobgoblin produced an oblong bundle. Slowly unwrapping the cloth, he exposed a prism-shaped white crystal twice as thick as his clawed thumb and as long as his hand. As he folded back each layer of the covering, the intense glow of magical light grew stronger, until at last, blinking from its harsh glare, he held it openly in his palm.
Myshik held the stone aloft and slightly behind his head, using its brilliant glow to study his surroundings.
An abandoned stronghold.
The place where Myshik stood must have once served as a welcoming entryway marking the periphery of a dwarven settlement, though judging from its construction, the dwarves had been cautious hosts. The roof of the chamber soared high overhead, but directly before him stood formidable defenses. With his back to the stone doors, the half-hobgoblin faced a large wall that rose perhaps halfway to the ceiling. The top of the wall bristled with crenellations, and Myshik could see that its entire surface was pierced by arrow slits.
Another large portal bisected the wall, though solid doors did not seal that ingress. Instead, a great iron portcullis defended it. The immense metal grate hung almost all the way to the floor. Had it settled all the way down, the pointed iron protrusions lining its underside would have bored nicely into circular depressions in the stone. But a pair of large wooden braces erected beneath the huge portcullis held it aloft, preventing it from descending completely.
The braces had been crafted from immense rough-cut timbers lashed together with stout rope like gigantic saw-horses. The timbers' girths were easily as big as Myshik's chest, and the rope was as thick as his wrist. The half-dragon wondered how those who had constructed them had managed to drag such large timbers all the way down from the surface. They looked stout enough, but the thought of several tons' worth of iron bars crashing atop him unsettled him. He might decide to seek another route, perhaps by scaling the wall itself.
Of more immediate concern was the gaping chasm that separated him from the formidable wall. Fully thirty feet across, the yawning crevasse extended the width of the chamber and proceeded into the side walls. Indentations and markings lay upon the stone floor on his side of the chasm, as well as the remains of what looked like immense hinges on the far side. They suggested that a large drawbridge had spanned it at some time. Myshik suspected that the bridge had come to rest at the bottom.
The half-dragon approached the edge and peered over, shining his light down and searching for the bottom. The void descended beyond the limits of his illumination.
Myshik strolled to his left, following the edge of the cleft toward one wall. His gaze roamed over the place, seeking some safe means of crossing the chasm, but he spotted nothing. He repeated the process to his right. He found no spikes or ropes, nothing to suggest a safe means of traversing. He sighed.
Only one way, he decided.
The half-dragon backed up a number of steps and turned to face the chasm. Taking a few deep breaths, he mentally urged himself forward. Myshik took off at a sprint and dashed directly toward the gap, refusing to look down and instead eyeing the opposite side. When he reached the edge, he leaped up and forward. Under normal circumstances, no hobgoblin could have cleared such a wide barrier. But Myshik unfurled his leathery blue wings and fervently flapped them as he glided over the yawning chasm. True to his intentions, he never looked down.
Though the vestigial appendages inherited from his draconic father did not enable Myshik to truly fly, they were sufficient in size to allow him to glide a fair distance, and with their aid, he was able to navigate the boundary, landing in a trot on the far side.
Heaving one deep sigh of relief, Myshik settled easily into stride and approached the massive portcullis. He examined the braces to reassure himself that they were secure. He grasped one of the braces with both hands and shook it, testing. It groaned and seemed to shift ever so slightly, and the portcullis did, too. A smattering of dust sifted down from above, but the braces held.