Chapter 21: Chapter 21 - The Lost Library
Beyond the doorway was a wide archway and, beyond that again, the tower interior itself. Hulbard gathered with his companions in that great entryway and they stood silent and still while the great doors rumbled shut behind them of their own accord. The armoured warrior scarcely heard them though. He was too busy gaping at their surroundings.
The interior of the tower was hollow and the entire scene before them now bled a sense of sheer immensity. A vast staircase spiralled up its inner wall until it disappeared into the gloom high, high overhead to create an empty space almost thirty feet wide reaching from the floor of the Library all the way to its peak. Dark doorways opened onto semi circular balconies at regular intervals along its length and every inch of the walls between them were lined with towering bookcases of ancient, crimson wood. The entire place was lit by a multitude of candles; they were everywhere. Tall wax candles were perched, alone or in small groups, adorning every available surface. They swarmed up the steps, leaving long trails of wax in their wake and sat sentinel above the bookcases. Their flickering, orange glow permeated the entire hall, aided by roaring flames in large, iron braziers on each landing.
The vast, circular floor ahead of them was covered in hundreds of books; some were strewn haphazardly across the multicolored stone slabs while many more were haphazardly balanced on top of each other until they formed stacks almost as tall as Hulbard himself. These too were surmounted by more candles, each dripping enough white wax to practically entomb the volumes beneath. Yet, in spite of them all, the entire Library was still cast in gloom. Silence reigned absolute, enveloping them like a shroud.
"This…" Quintus whispered with a hungry grin, "This alone was worth the journey to Dalaghast".
The Sorcerer was visibly trembling with exhaustion, his thin shoulders hunched around his staff, but his eyes were fever bright. They darted around the vast chamber, drinking in every inch of it like a starving man suddenly faced with a banquet.
"Great work back there, Shanks," Knox commented dryly from behind.
"Hey, I didn't see skull face over there doing anything to help the cause," Shankhill snapped back defensively, "I grabbed the gold at least".
Trastgor turned to regard him with a cold, impassive stare.
"Careful," he drawled, "I was waiting for the right time to strike. You were fleeing".
"It doesn't matter," Hulbard said gently, "The real hero of the hour is Skye".
The Apprentice smiled uncertainly as all eyes suddenly turned to look at her.
"Indeed," Quintus muttered, eyeing her, "But what can you expect when she's been tutored by me? That back there is what you can achieve when you put your mind to it, girl. One day you are learning about plants and the next you are saving lives".
His long fingers twitched before dipping back into the folds of his cloak. He withdrew the same vial of thick, purple liquid he'd drank from before and held it out to her.
"Here," he said, "It's Servick's bane. Normally worth more to me than you are but right now, I need you at your best. Take a single, tiny sip from this vial, just enough to wet the tip of your tongue and then brace yourself. It's going to hit you like a bolt of lightning but it'll clear your mind. Your Core is probably sizzling from your little show out there. This will soothe that too, loosen everything up and keep it fluid for future use. It will also dull any aches or pains you might have, but first and foremost, it will sharpen your focus".
With everyone watching, Skye cleared her throat, licked her lips and quickly took a tentative sip. Handing the vial back to her Master, she meekly swallowed before grimacing.
"Eugh," she groaned, "That tastes awful".
"It will only last so long before its effects begin to wane," Quintus continued, "Two hours, maybe four if we're lucky but after that, it will leave us both quite drained. At that point, I may need to drink more".
"Sounds like something we might all benefit from," Knox suggested quietly.
"Not likely," the Sorcerer growled, already tucking the vial away, "The plant needed to make this potion is extremely rare and the process of refining it for use is both time consuming and gruelling. Besides, I only have one vial and it is much more useful for the gifted than not".
Their talk only served to remind Hulbard of his own aches and pains, specifically the red hot pressure building behind his bleary eyes. Reaching up, he dragged off his helmet and gently massaged his ironshod fingertips into the bridge of his nose. He could instantly smell an almost overpowering aroma of ancient leather, paper and incense. Breathing the deep, he exhaled a ragged sigh as that pressure tickled across his scalp like a living thing. Quintus' concoction sounded potent, but meant for more than the common man. Still, he needed something to calm his own fraying nerves and sleep addled mind.
"Trast," his voice was a hoarse whisper, "Do you have any more of that root you can spare?"
The Kurgal reached into a pouch hanging at his side and withdrew a withered herb. Snapping off three pieces, he tossed the first into his own mouth before passing the other two to Hulbard and Knox. He saw Shankhill eyeing the root, but even he knew better than to push his luck with Trastgor. Hulbard slipped his own piece into his mouth and bit down into the thick, spongy herb. Scowling past its bitter taste, he chewed on it. Within seconds, he felt the weight pressing in on his temples ease and recede until it was a dull, throbbing nuisance at worst. His muscles followed suit, loosening until his arms hung limp by his sides and Hulbard rolled his neck from side to side with a series of wet clicks.
Blinking, he felt his vision come back into focus as he watched and his mind went suddenly blank. Exhaustion fell away from his shoulders like a shed cloak, leaving his muscles warm and tingling with a fresh surge of energy. His hammering heart slowed to a more passive resting rate. Disgustingly bitter the root may have been, but it was effective.
"That'll do," he spoke through a feral grin, "Much fucking better".
Skye shivered with a strange half moan, drawing his attention back to her, and Hulbard saw her straighten up with a sudden, wreckless kind of smirk. Her eyes were suddenly bright and clear, all trace of exhaustion banished in a moment as the potion took effect. He watched her pupils dilate and she suddenly reminded him of his brother, and the slack jawed expression he used to get whenever he consumed certain fungi.
"First things first," Quintus announced, "We're taking a look up there".
He pointed a spindly finger skywards towards the shadow shrouded peak of the Library.
"Ailasin said the Sorcerer we're here for is chained up in the basement," Hulbard told him, "Not the top".
"Precisely," Qiuintus rapped the butt of his staff on the floor, "Chained up in the basement. He isn't going anywhere anytime soon now, is he?"
"A fair point," Knox mumbled airily, "But I'm not sure this is the kind of place we should really be wandering around. Her warnings about this place were pretty dire".
"Her warnings be damned," Quintus snapped, turning to face them all, "Each and every one of these books is worth more than those bags of gold Shankhill so valiantly saved. Both figuratively for the knowledge they contain and literally. This city, ruined or not, is lost to the annals of time. Simply discovering it will have our names sung about for ages to come, but to be the first Sorcerer in centuries to set foot inside these walls...well, that honour goes beyond any price and the mere idea of leaving all this lore here, unexplored, is utterly unthinkable".
"The Star is worth more than we could ever spend in all our lifetime's," Hulbard reminded them all, "We don't need to go scurrying around here like rats through a carcass looking for some old books to stake our claim to fame. We are already here. We are already leaving wealthy men and...eh, women".
He raised an eyebrow towards Semekt with that last word, but if the Dramaskian noticed, she showed no indication.
"We should just find this Sorcerer an-"
"And abandon a wealth of knowledge the likes of which the world hasn't seen in centuries?" Quintus glowered, "Whatever else, I didn't come all this way to just turn a blind eye to the real treasure of this dead city. The Libraries in the outside world would go to war to claim this place and fall over themselves praising whoever so much as brought back an account of this place".
"You know…" Shankhill drawled, "For someone who's never had a nice word to say about the Libraries, you sure are keen on gaining their approval, aren't you? What's with that?"
"We go higher," Quintus told him coldly, "Then we deal with the Sorcerer below".
Turning on his heel, he led the way up the cold, stone steps. Skye cast them a helpless glance before trailing along behind.
"I'm more concerned with who spends all their time tending to these candles," Knox muttered gravely at Hulbard's side.
"This is the kind of place where they could still be burning after being lit a century ago," the warrior reminded him quietly, raking the upper staircase with his rapt gaze.
"Can't argue with that after all we've seen so far," Knox allowed.
His jaw continued to work the root over between his jaws, like a dog worrying a bone, as the hunter swept his bow from the sheath over his shoulder and smoothly strung it. He'd always had a preference for chewing it over for an hour or two at a time, while Hulbard had never been able to stomach the taste for long. Setting an arrow to string, the hunter slunk after the Sorcerer and his Apprentice, eyes high as he took the steps two at a time to catch up. Trastgor went next with a low growl of disapproval. The Kurgal was wary of Sorcery at the best of times, so Hulbard could guess how well the idea of traipsing around a Library sat with him.
Shankhill quickly stashed their packs of gold in the shadowy entryway before slipping past the armoured warrior with a sly wink. Looking past him, Hulbard saw Semekt upright but hunched, holding her body tilted to one side at a strange angle he'd never seen before.
"You alright?" he asked.
When all he got was a blank stare and the flick of a forked tongue, Hulbard decided to rephrase the question.
"Are you hurt?" he tried instead.
"Yes," the Dramaskian rasped and, before he could think of a response to such a blunt answer, she saved him the effort by slithering after Shankhill.
Left alone at the foot of that winding staircase, Hulbard cast a worried glance around the main hall before marching after his companions. Shrugging his shoulders beneath the heavy plate armour, he began to climb the wide, polished steps of the Dalaghast Library. There was no railing of any kind to protect them from a drop to the book covered stone below, but the staircase was easily eight feet wide, striking from the sides of the tower to overhang empty space. Above, the stairs spiralled upwards into an abyss without end, sprinkled with pinpricks of flame. Aside for their rustling clothes and rattling equipment, all was silent.
Ahead, Quintus scanned the bookcases they passed along the way, built into the wall facing the staircase, but he never paused in his march ahead. It was only perhaps twenty feet to the first balcony from the floor, but it seemed an age before they reached it.
The balcony was half again as wide and utterly dominated by a low stone altar, atop which rested the blazing iron brazier. This too was surrounded by stacks of books and discarded clothing, which only made Hulbard wonder how the entire place hadn't burnt down already. A portal opened out onto the platform, through which he glimpsed a large hall. Row upon row of reading desks lined the middle of the room beyond that archway, half lit by the ruddy red glow sputtering from dozens of more candles perched on every available surface. Some had books on them, open or as part of a teetering stack, while others were bare. Bookcases stood to either side, each standing nearly twice as tall as Hulbard himself.
Quintus drew up before the archway and peered into the hall beyond while his companions fell in around him. Knox kept his eyes high, bow held at the ready, while Trastgor paced restlessly across the plain stone floor. They all jumped when a soft, croaking voice spoke from behind.
"Greetings," deep and ancient, the word itself sounded dusty and papery.
Whirling to face the brazier, Hulbard's shield was already lifted when the voice spoke again and he pinpointed the sound to a pile of rags propped against the pedestal beneath the crackling brazier. It was an odd assortment of faded blue and cream clothing he'd taken to be discarded robes at first glance.
"It is my duty, bane and supposed pleasure to welcome you all to this place," the dry, wispy voice continued in a sombre tone, "I am likewise compelled to inform you that you now stand before the First Chamber, where books relating to mathematics, geography, history, discourses both philosophical and political, reside. As visitors to the First High Library, you are permitted no higher than this floor".
"And if we choose to ignore that rule?" Hulbard prompted on Quintus' behalf, since he was closest to the pile of rags, "You're going to make us reconsider, are you?"
Even peering closely at where he knew the voice was coming from, he could discern nothing of a figure beneath.
"Oh, not I," the voice replied quietly, "And I can only speak for myself".
The cloth before them shifted and a bandaged hand emerged to gesture lazily towards the upper floors of the tower.
"Those in the chambers above, however, have never taken well to having their studies disturbed".
"Haven't they been studying for a few hundred years?" Shankhill asked, but his voice was quieter than normal, lacking its usual bite in all that empty space.
"Really?" the voice exhaled the word as a soft sigh and the bandaged hand fell limp into what must have been a lap, "A few hundred years? Has so much time really passed beyond these walls?"
"Thereabouts," Shankhill shrugged.
"I don't suppose it matters," the figure continued in that soft, faraway voice, "What else would they do up there all day and night except study their books? And even with all that time, they still have not found the answers they seek".
"Answers to what?" Quintus spoke up, his voice sharp and commanding.
"They seek a way to free our Master," the bundle of rags told them.
"Can you guide us through this place?" Quintus asked.
"Yeah," Skye snorted, "Because our last guide worked out so well".
"Alas, I cannot," the figure told them gently, "When the rot took hold of this city, some were transformed and set new tasks. Others were crudely born again to serve less noble purposes and I have fulfilled mine already".
"Sounds like you got the raw end of that deal," Skye remarked.
"So it goes," the rags shifted in a rough approximation of a shrug.
"What's up there?" Quintus asked, cutting across their conversation with a note of impatience.
"Books," the figure breathed and Hulbard thought he detected the barest hint of mirth in his tone now, "Though many of them are corrupted to the point of sentient malignancy. To the untrained mind, simply seeing an open book on a table in front of them would be enough to inflict...lasting damage. This place is not kind to trespassers and the rooms above, as I have already stated, are where my brethren study, and even they have not escaped unscathed when they opened books best left shut. You would be sure to meet them should you make the...unwise choice to climb any higher".
Sensing trouble, Hulbard looked to Quintus and saw him scowling as he stroked his lengthy, braided beard. He could almost see the Sorcerer's mind working, turning over their situation, examining it from every angle, looking for a way forward. Hearing nothing he liked, the warrior stepped close to him.
"Quintus," his tone was soft, "This sounds like one warning we really should listen to".
"What lies in the topmost chamber of the Library?" the Sorcerer asked the pile of rags instead.
"The Grand Astral Eye," their informant intoned reverently, "It houses a great glass eye built to scour the very stars with its gaze.it was a truly remarkable achievement of ingenuity when it was first brought to us. It fell to our last Arch Sorcerer, Garintz the Craven, to lead us after our Masters were enslaved, but the Astral Eye had always been his dominion and he retreated to it as soon as hope began to wane. As Dalaghast began to fester, he added a new lens to that great apparatus and turned its gaze on the city instead of the skies. Some whisper that he drove himself mad up there, watching while Dalaghast sunder itself. Others claim he was touched by the Sight. It matters not. Mad or sane, he ordered himself shackled to the great eye and began stringing together prophecies day and night. A band of scholars have been recording every uttered word ever since".
"And would probably defend him if we just walked into his chamber and started rifling through his things, right?" Knox muttered gloomily, peering into the vaulted darkness overhead, broken only by similar braziers on every balcony climbing into that abysmal night
"They would have no need to lift a finger against trespassers," the robed man rasped softly, "Garintz had always been an avid hunter. To this day, his faithful hounds, Jakeel and Haltstard, rest by his side, ready to defend their master at a moments notice. Beyond them, Garintz himself foretold that should he ever be roused from his dreams, his fury would be a sight to behold".
Swallowing, Hulbard leaned closer to Quintus. The Sorcerer looked more pleased than he would have liked with that latest piece of news. A madman chained to some kind of seeing tool at the top of a tower sounded like just the kind of thing Hulbard never wanted to encounter, but his companion looked like he could hardly contain himself.
"Quintus," he said and this time, he let a note of iron into his tone.
"Quiet," the Sorcerer told him distractedly, brows furrowing in annoyance.
"This is folly," Trastgor spoke up in a disgusted growl, "Coming to this place at all was a mistake. We should go no further".
"You would not understand the significance of this place if I spent the remainder of my life explaining it to you," Quintus snapped irritably.
"And yet…" Knox ventured, "He might have a point. I don't like this place. We need to find the Sorcerer we came for and get out of here".
"Just because the wealth here doesn't gleam and glitter doesn't make it any less valuable," Quintus shot back.
"I understand your quest for knowledge," the ragged figure spoke gently, "But if you value your life, you will heed your companion's warnings. Ancient lore is no use to a corpse".
"No truer word has ever been spoken," Shankhill added, but Quintus didn't so much as dignify him with an answer.
Instead, he was still staring up the winding staircase with narrowed eyes and a thoughtful expression. Hulbard knew the man well enough to know that he wasn't making up his mind whether they should continue or not, but rather working out how best to proceed.
"The rooms overhead are guarded by a legion of faithful Sorcerer's wielding spells and incantations you will never have seen before," the robed figure continued in a calm, soothing voice, "Even if you happen to be a War Mage skilled in combat against others of that same calling, I ask you to consider two things; they have you outnumbered by no small margin and they have been studying, without pause, for far longer than you have been alive. It is for your sake alone that I tell you this".
"We are not going up there," Hulbard decided with a note of grim finality.
"You don't need to," Quintus gave him a scathing glance, "All I need is Skye".
"What makes you think I'll go?" his Apprentice asked with an incredulous laugh, "Just the two of us against an entire Library of Sorcerers? No thanks".
That seemed to stop him in his tracks and Quintus gave her a cold, hard stare for a long moment before his eyes shifted to peer over her shoulder.
"We'll see," he muttered, before striding past her and into the First Reading Room.
Hulbard's armoured thread was loud in the reading chamber as he paced irritably back and forth between the rows of bookcases. The antique floorboards creaked and groaned under his bulk with every step as he moved, idly surveying the spines of the volumes he passed without much interest. He'd never been the best at reading or writing, so he had little hope of making out the words stamped into their leather bound hides.
The library was a lot larger than he'd thought from the outside; a balcony ran around the walls of the room to create a second floor above him, laden with even more bookcases and accessible by a spiralling metal staircase in one corner. All in all, the reading room was probably close to twenty feet in height and, though dulled with age, even he could see that a great deal of skill and care had gone into its construction. It was all rather grand and spacious, in spite of the fact that the air tasted stale. Here, the smell of paper, leather and wax was even stronger than it had been in the entryway, prickling irritably at Hulbard's nose.
Quintus was already roaming the floor above them with Skye at his shoulder and a candle he'd pilfered from one of the reading tables in one hand. His inspection of the ground floor had been quick but thorough before he'd slipped upstairs to continue his search for worthwhile books. Dust fell from between the floorboards as they passed above him and Hulbard snorted through the haze as he returned to the main floor with its neat row of reading tables.
"He better make the right decision," Knox muttered.
The hunter was slumped in a nearby chair with one leg drawn up under himself and the other thrown up on a nearby desk. With his arms folded across his chest, head thrown back and dark ringed eyes closed, he looked at peace, but something in the way the flickering candlelight caught the grey strands in his long hair made him look years older than he really was.
"He can whatever decision he wants," Trastgor growled from another chair, "I'm not going up there. This entire place reeks of malice".
Hulbard could scarcely remember a time the Kurgal had looked more ill at ease. The Kurgal's heavy, curved blade was bared across his lap with its handle clasped tight in one hand, while his emerald gaze was focused on the archway they'd entered through just moments before. His ears swivelled back and forth, sweeping the room and the hall beyond for any hint of danger he could detect.
"Can't argue with that," Knox agreed with a weary sigh.
The noise was mirrored by Shankhill, who was gracelessly slumped over a reading desk with his head propped up in one hand. Semekt reared at his shoulder, holding herself erect but still clearly in pain from their battle outside to judge by her hunched shoulders. Shankhill, by comparison, looked not only exhausted, but bored as well. Hulbard had just settled on the idea of slumping into a nearby armchair when he heard Quintus coming back down the spiral staircase. It wasn't hard to see that he wasn't pleased with what he'd found.
He ignored Hulbard's arched eyebrow, brushed past him and slumped into the armchair he'd been eyeing up a moment earlier. Closing his eyes, he lifted a hand to rub at them while the other returned to his braided beard. In that moment, he was the very picture of a profoundly thoughtful, and equally worried, philosopher. It was too early for his potion's effects to begin wearing thin, but Hulbard knew their journey was taking its toll on the old man. Skye slipped past him to sit on the arm of his chair, balancing on it uncertainly with their candle in hand. Her eyes were still bright, but strangely vacant too; it seemed the potion's effects were heady indeed.
"That thing out there was right," he muttered after a long second of silence. "There's nothing here of any real value. It's all mathematics and other mundane subjects. I've only found three books worth taking and only then because they contain maps of the old world when Dalághast was still young. They're worth a small bounty apiece. Forty or fifty Cloves, I'd say, but they're still not what I'm looking for".
"Which is?" Knox prompted, cracking an eye.
"Spell books," Quintus growled, "Incantations. Sorceries. Rites. Anything detailing the Arts Dalághast practiced. Most books in this place are simply outdated and not worth a damn".
"I'm not going," Skye spoke the words but her voice was uncertain now.
"You don't have a choice, girl," Quintus said in a quiet voice, looking up at her through his splayed fingers, "I am your Master. You are my Apprentice. You follow me now, or that relationship changes".
Skye gaped at him and a long moment of cold silence yawned between them. She stammered a little but couldn't seem to muster a response. Releasing her from his chilling gaze, Quintus turned his attention to his own equipment. Dragging back his sleeves, he set to checking and rearranging the bracelets and bangles adorning his wrists. Next, he began checking over the pouches hanging from his belt and then the vials arranged inside his cloak. His movements were sure, quick and methodical.
"You'll go alone," Hulbard's voice broke the stillness like a rock dropped into a pond, but he felt something had to the be said, "Just the two of you".
"Because the Gods forbid we defy the word of a pile of rags," Quintus muttered, "It could be lying for all we know, or better yet, deluded. It wouldn't surprise me if this entire place is empty".
"Didn't seem that way to me," Hulbard said, "Seemed like he knew what he was talking about".
"Master of the occult now, are you?" Quintus' tone was scathing as he stood.
One hand dipped into a pouch at his side and withdrew a hefty, sapphire gemstone. The other plucked up his staff and the Sorcerer quickly replaced the blue stone at its tip with the new one.
"Listen here," Hulbard began in a growl, bristling at the old man's tone.
"Nobody needs to be a Sorcerer to know that this is a bad idea," Knox cut across him, "This entire city has been nothing short of a nightmare since we got here and this seems like the most dangerous place of all. We came here to speak with a Sorcerer, not loot the damn place".
"To be fair," Shankhill spoke lazily, "We normally manage to loot most places while we're passing through".
"I don't care anymore," Quintus said shortly, "Stay here. You've all been crying and moaning since we got here, saying you're not going anywhere and fighting me every step of the way. Fuck off then. My mind is made up".
And with that, he turned his back on the room at large and continued rifling through his pockets and pouches.
Hulbard frowned at the old man's scrawny back and briefly allowed himself the satisfaction of imagining hitting the man with his flail. Then his gaze slid to Skye. She would be marched with him into the teeth of the unknown and that knowledge made his resolve falter.
"Maybe we should tag along," Shankhill suggested airily.
"Imagine fighting five of Quintus," Trastgor drawled to his companions in that deep voice of his, "And you might start to reconsider your position, Shankhill. We have enough. Greed will bring us nothing but strife".
"All very sage and whatnot," Shankhill nodded placatingly, "But consider this; I don't fancy our chances in this place without our dear Sorcerous friend. Especially since none of us know how to even get out of this city on our own. And we very well may find ourselves in that situation if we don't go with him".
"And you're going to be the one killing all these Sorcerer's, are you?" Hulbard asked pointedly, knowing well what way the wind was blowing, "This aint no band of mercenaries. If what that fellow out there said is true, we'll be facing Sorcerer's. I can take a lot of punishment in this armour but I can't dish it out at range for long before these gems start to run dry".
"Knox has his bow," Shankhill countered, "Semekt a crossbow. Quintus and Skye their sorcery".
"Not that long ago," Hulbard reminded him slowly, "An Apprentice Sorcerer deflected a beam of light that cut trees clean in half. These won't be Apprentice's".
Shankhill had no ready reply to that so Hulbard glanced back towards Quintus as he motioned her into the chair he'd just vacated. Once she'd taken a seat in front of him, the old man began speaking in a low, firm tone as he checked the far fewer bangles on her wrists, turning them this way and that in his ling fingered hands. Hulbard couldn't make out what he was saying, but it soundes important. Skye's brows were furrowed as she tried to keep up, but she was nodding along, mutely absorbing everything he had to say. She was all focus now, no longer fighting against the inevitable.
Dipping a hand into a pouch at his side, Quintus withdrew a small, silver ring and handed it over with a few quick, muttered instructions. Skye tentatively turned it over between her fingers before slipping it on.
"Alright," he finished his makeshift lecture and plucked up his staff again, "Let's get going then before that extract starts to wear off".
Without another word to any of them, he turned and strode back out onto the balcony beyond the archway. Skye rose, smoothed down her dirty cloak and gave them all one last, fleeting look. Her eyes met Hulbard's and she seemed to hesitate for a heartbeat before striding after her Master. He watched her go and felt a cold dread settle in the pit of his stomach. The thought of waiting in that lonely room, while Skye and even Quintus marched headlong into the unknown without him, was suddenly a lot less appealing than facing that same danger with them. He looked towards Knox and then Trastgor. Both stared back evenly, waiting for him to make a move.
Caught between common sense and gut instinct, he shuffled from one foot to the next for an uncertain moment before grunting. He'd never been one for standing around anyway. Unhooking the helm from his belt, he slapped it on over his head and stalked after her.
"Uuugh," Knox groaned, "Fuck".
Trastgor exhaled a loud growl. Even so, they both rose and fell into step with him as he crossed the room, one at either shoulder. Shankhill's chair screeched back a step and he pushed himself upright to skulk along in their wake.
"Crossbow?" Semekt asked with her head cocked to one side as they passed.
"Crossbow," Trastgor told her, and the Dramaskian reached for it without comment.
"Your thirst for power," the deep voice spoke from the rags as they all stepped out onto the balcony together, "Will bring you nothing but ruin".
"Doubt it," Quintus smirked in a remarkable show of bravado as they all gathered around the staircase leading higher, "But better to find out than spend the rest of my days wondering, eh?"
Their robed guide breathed a heavy, wispy sigh more akin to a death rattle than anything else but said no more. Hulbard clutched his shield in one hand, his warhammer in the other and craned his neck to look up into the gloom waiting above. They paused for a dramatic moment of silence before Quintus began to climb and they fell into step behind him.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
atlaswrites01
atlaswrites01 It's been a long time since I wrote this chapter but even reading through it again before uploading it here reminded me of just how fun this one in particular had been to work on. This setting was one of those that had really 'popped' in my mind when I began to conceptualise Dalaghast and it was great to finally get my characters into it. Very fun chapter to work on.
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