"Is he the leader?" asked Tordek.
"No," said Karnoth. "He is the one who oversees the forge. He answers to an enormous goblin with skin as blue as slate. He is attended by a ghost-pale elf. I do not think she breathes. Her name is Sandrine."
"Aha!" said Devis. "That's where she went."
"There is also some little fiend who delights in tormenting the prisoners. Zagreb calls him Yupa. Whenever the imp torments the wrong prisoner to death, Zagreb threatens to feed him to something called Murdark."
"Some thing?" said Devis.
"None of us has seen it," said Karnoth. "They say it prowls the lower caverns in search of food."
"Um," said Lidda. She looked up at the unhewn stone that arched above them. Water glistened on its dark surface, and from its crags hung streaks of black and red moss like wet fur from some gargantuan animal's belly. "Aren't these the lower caverns?"
The dwarf shrugged. "I have seen only the forge and a few nearby chambers, but I think there are even greater depths to this place. I hope that is where Murdark prowls."
"Can you lead us back to the forge?" asked Tordek.
Karnoth nodded slowly. "I think so. What will you do when you reach it?"
"Do you know why they have relit the forge?" asked Tordek.
Karnoth nodded, not daring to say the truth aloud in this place. "They have begun their fell work. They kept me alive after forcing me to watch Yupa torment my grandson to death. Since then they have set me to menial chores. Because my work helped ease the suffering of my fellow captives, I obeyed. It was when I refused to work the bellows that they finally dragged me down here."
"Which of the Arms of Andaron have they brought to reforge? Is it the hammer?"
The old dwarf gaped at him. "You did not know before you came?"
"Know what?" asked Tordek.
Karnoth swallowed. "They brought them all."
THE HELLFORGED
They climbed down to find their way up.
Below the fungus-choked caverns they found even more natural passages, some leading to ancient stores chiseled out of the limestone, others twisting away in patterns known only to the gods of earth and stone. Veins of minerals shot through the bedrock to form graceful shapes on the walls, tendrils of pale blue and deep red with glittering flecks.
Where the dwarves had carved their own passages, there was no less beauty. Even after centuries of abandonment and the smut of generations of vermin, the stonework remained strong and glorious, with artful flourishes at every arched portal. Symmetrical dwarven braids lined the corridors. The perfectly fitted floor tiles formed firm but elegant mosaic patterns. Twice they found basins filled with spring water jutting from the walls. The contents of one were murky, but the second looked clear and pure. No one dared to test the water while their own waterskins were still full.
Molds and slimes glistened on the walls, but Vadania declared most of them harmless. When a gray mass oozed out of a still pool and began tracking them, Tordek ordered a hasty retreat rather than expend their strength in an unnecessary fight.
They found stairs both ascending and descending, and they traveled upward around a grand spiral stair until they came to a closed wooden door. Neither rot nor infirmity of age was apparent on its grayed surface, which seemed to have drunk in the strength of stone over the centuries. The group moved quietly around the portal, communicating with gestures and the barest of whispers as Lidda knelt to listen at the seam between the door and the stone floor.
"Nothing," she whispered in report. Still, the others remained quiet, weapons in hand. Lidda had loaned Karnoth a dagger, but her fine short sword remained handy in its scabbard.
The door's great, metal lock was grown black with age, but Lidda produced a tiny oil tin and greased the ancient tumblers. Probing with a pair of picks and a strong piece of wire, she felt out the lock's secrets. At first she attacked the job with a confident grin, but as the intricate workings of the lock defied her efforts, she bit down hard on the picks she held in her teeth. The others waited as patiently as they could, but it was well over twenty minutes later before they heard the last, satisfying click of success. Lidda returned her tools to their leather sheath and stood back, letting Tordek lead the way.
They found another barren passageway, this one dry and relatively free of floral infestation. The regular spacing of the doors along its length suggested a dormitory wing. Tordek looked to Karnoth for some sign of recognition.
"I've been through an area like this," he whispered, "but not here. Maybe at the same level."
Tordek nodded and led the way once more. Each time they spied a new turn in the corridor, he made a sign to cover the lights and crept forward alone, as quietly as his heavy armor would permit. He peered around the corners. When he spied no danger, he beckoned Karnoth to join him. The first few times, the old dwarf merely shook his head and shrugged. At last, however, he nodded in recognition.
"They brought me down from that stairway," he said, pointing east.
From that point, their exploration became an exercise in stealth, made more tricky by the appearance of torches in wall sconces every ten feet or so. The light revealed two layers of crude writing on the walls, an ancient script drawn in thick, black runes covered by a far more recent scrawl in red and gray chalk. The latter was so prolific and hectic that it all but obliterated the older characters. Most of it was scribbling, but here and there were rude drawings of improbable pornography or boastful goblin mottoes. Devis paused to rub away some of the chalk and identify what lay beneath.
"Don't bother," said Tordek. "It is the curse that doomed this place, scratched on every wall once sanctified by the clerics. Its magic is long since expended, and its words mean nothing except to those whose corrupt souls still burn in the lowest hell for the evil that they nurtured here."
"Oh," said Devis, looking disappointed. He brightened slightly as he looked Tordek in the eye. "You know, that was pretty eloquent. Ever think about-?"
"No," said Tordek.
Twice as they crept carefully up the lighted corridors, Lidda's keen ears warned them of approaching goblins. Tordek's fingers itched to throttle them one by one, but he smothered his desire and hid with the others as the ragged troops marched past. If they escorted another slave for the oubliette, he decided, he would abandon all subterfuge and slaughter them despite the risk of alarm. Fortunately for the goblins, they were merely changing the guard or patrolling incompetently.
"Hear that?" asked Lidda. Vadania was the first to nod, but soon after Tordek also heard the sound, a low, rhythmic bombination punctuated by muted tolling of iron striking iron.
Karnoth pointed up the passageway, indicating another rising stairway that ended in a solid double door. "Two chambers beyond lies the foundry. The way is well guarded, mostly to prevent escape. Still, you won't get in without a fight."
"I don't mind a fight," said Tordek, "but let us not endanger the prisoners needlessly. How many are there?"
"Thirty-two, if none have died since the goblins dragged me away."
Tordek considered that number. "Are they fit for combat? Will they fight if armed?"
"A few, perhaps," said Karnoth. "The goblins give us precious little time to rest, and those who falter share the fate from which you rescued me."
"Tell us more about the layout of the forge. I would know the battlefield before we step upon it."
The old dwarf nodded his endorsement of Tordek's caution and described the circular forge area with a battery of sloping shafts into the mines. "There are five entrances to the main floor, one of them grander than the others. I have seen balconies on a higher level in the forge, but only the goblins go up there."