7…The Workroom

Natural caverns led to worked tunnels, which led to streets and buildings carved out of the living stone.

"This is where the dwarves lived, who mined the mithral in the mountain," Sharpbriar told Deekin. "Halaster took their stronghold and rebuilt it to suit himself."

Solaufein returned from his silent reconnaissance. "There are four drow on guard duty by the entrance," he said. "And an entire squadron is on call nearby. In addition, they have a team of duergar engineers trying to get the main door open."

Sharpbriar snickered. "They must have set off Halaster's defenses. If they can get past his seals, they deserve to take Undermountain," he said. "They won't."

"Seals? Can you open the door?" Solaufein asked.

"Not without the special keys and I don't know where they are."

"So even if we could take on the guards, which will not be easy, we still can't enter the mage's stronghold?" Haer'Dalis said.

"Nope." Sharpbriar flitted up and down. "Not unless you want to hunt the keys. They could be anywhere. Probably Halaster has them."

Solaufein repressed the urge to slap him out of the air. "Then what was the point of leading us here?"

"The pleasure of your company?" The grig snickered again.

"If your mistress wishes us to release the mage, you're going to have to do better than that," Solaufein said.

"There's another way in," Sharpbriar said. "Treat me nice and maybe I'll show it to you."

Haer'Dalis took a look at Solaufein's thunderous expression and stepped between the two. "What do you want, my fair hummingbird?"

"For starts, call me hummingbird again and I'll stick my dagger in your ear."

"Master Grig, then."

"Better. What do I want? I want candy. Give me something sweet."

"Candy?" Haer'Dalis raised a brow at Solaufein, who gave a negative hand signal. "I'm sorry, Master Grig, but none of us has any candy."

"Ahem," Sharpbriar said and gave Deekin a pointed look. With a sigh, the kobold opened his pack.

They quietly withdrew from the main entrance. The grig rode on the back of Deekin's pack. In a sticky voice, he directed them on another of his circuitous paths.

"What the hells?" Haer'Dalis said. The passage ended in a wall. "This is a dead end."

"Look up," Sharpbriar said.

"I am looking, Master Grig. And I repeat: what the hells?"

"It's an air shaft," Sharpbriar said. "Vent for the labs. It runs right over the top of Halaster's defenses." They all looked up at the roughly circular opening in the wall. Solaufein made a strong leap and his fingers brushed the bottom of the hole. The wall was smooth and there was no lip or edge to grasp.

"How are we supposed to get up there?" Solaufein asked. If he could still levitate, this would be simple.

"Grow wings?" the grig said.

"That hole is not large," Haer'Dalis said. "Are you sure we can fit?"

"I can," Sharpbriar said. "And Prince Peppermint here won't have any trouble. Not too sure about you two great buffoons though."

"Then what do you suggest?" Haer'Dalis said with a sigh of exasperation.

"I suggest you strip. Got any grease?"

"Strip? Are you serious?"

"I'm always serious, gasbag. That armor you louts wear is going to cause you problems. Once you get stuck, it's too late to decide to take it off. Best to strip now. And don't forget the grease." The grig snickered.

"If this is one of your tricks—" Solaufein said.

"Yeah, Blacky, I'm just panting to get a close up look at your dangly bits. Bleah! I leave that kind of thing to Frond. Don't blame me if you end up wedged like a cork in a bottle."

Solaufein gave the grig an unpleasant look. Maybe we should go back, leave this problem to Durnan. Perhaps he knows where to find the keys. Should I leave this to the humans? With a larger force, we could assault the drow, assuming they don't get the door open while we backtrack to the surface. The humans would be at quite a disadvantage, fighting here in the dark.

Haer'Dalis shrugged, dropped his pack and began to strip out of his armor. He grinned at Solaufein when he saw him continue to hesitate. "Modest, my raven?"

Solaufein scowled. "You know I am not. But I do not like to be unprotected in this place. Why is this entry unguarded?"

"You can never seal up a place this big," the grig said. "Halaster isn't worried about a goblin or two sneaking out the air shaft. He just wants to keep the big monsters contained and slow everyone else down so he can deal with them at his leisure."

"And there are no traps?"

"Not on this side."

"Is that meant to be amusing?"

"I'm always amusing. Come on, Blacky, show us your stuff. I ain't got all day, you know."

Solaufein frowned and took off his cloak. "It's going to be damned cold up there," he grumbled. "I know I'm going to regret this."

His regrets began almost immediately.

"This is taking forever," Sharpbriar complained. He'd flown in first. Solaufein was next. He stood on Haer'Dalis's shoulders and scrambled in head first, with a rope looped around his shoulder. There was no room to turn around, so he couldn't give Haer'Dalis a hand up as they'd planned. Instead, he crawled forward and braced himself as best he could with his arms and knees. The kobold shinnied up the rope and helped anchor it so that Haer'Dalis could follow. Finally they hoisted up the packs, tied to the end of the rope. They all lay in the gritty duct and panted from exertion. It was pitch black and noisy from the constant rush of air. And it was every bit as cold as Solaufein had anticipated.

"Where is the fan?" Haer'Dalis asked. He pitched his voice to carry. "We won't have to pass through it, I hope."

"No, it's above us somewhere," Sharpbriar said. "There's a shaft that runs up to the surface. We won't be going that way. We just have to get past the walls here and into the mage's lab."

The grig was able to walk upright though there were places he had to pull in his wings. The others, even the kobold, had to crawl on their bellies. The duct was neither regular nor level. Solaufein formed the impression it had been carved from the solid stone by a creature of some sort—a pech, a rock eating worm, or perhaps a small earth elemental. He didn't think a surface dwarf or a duergar could have gotten his wide shoulders through the narrow duct. Flexible as he was, Solaufein had a difficult time. Although he couldn't look back, Sharpbriar's comments and snickers informed him that Haer'Dalis's struggles were worse. His head pounded from the deafening, shrieking blast of cool air. He found himself in agreement with the grig—this was taking forever.

Solaufein's elbows and shoulders ached from the strain of crawling forward. The rhythmic thrum he felt through the rock beneath him seemed to intensify. Sharpbriar walked over his arms and leaned close to his face to shout in his ear.

"We're almost at the spot where we tie into the main shaft."

"Does the passage widen?"

"Yeah. That's the good news. Problem is, you got to make a real tight turn to get into it. Now would be a good time for that grease."

Sharpbriar crawled over him so he could warn the others. Solaufein reached the junction. He'd been expecting the ducts to join at right angles. This was closer to a three-quarters change in direction. Oh, hells.

He had to turn on his side and wiggle, squirm and push against what traction the smooth surface gave. He left skin and blood on the duct walls but eventually he forced his way into the wider duct. He moved forward to give the others room to follow. Cold air continued to blast him, stripping the heat from his body. After a wait that seemed endless, Sharpbriar's bony knees and elbows dug into his back as he crawled back over him.

"I'm sick as a horse from laughing so hard," the grig said. "Your friend couldn't make the turn. You should have heard the cursing and the wailing."

"Hells take you, we can't leave Haer'Dalis stuck in this accursed duct."

"Don't panic. He's not stuck. Had him go the other direction, the easy way."

"And now he's going the wrong way? Vith'os!"

"Told you not to panic. He's facing the wrong way since there's no room for him to turn. He's going to have to crawl the rest of the way backwards."

"Great."

"Not as bad as you think, ember eyes. At least he'll be able to get out of this duct feet first. I'm going to get a belly laugh when you drop on your pumpkin head."

More crawling. At last, light pierced the darkness of the endless duct. Solaufein blinked and moved a bit faster.

"What lies ahead?" he asked when the grig approached his face.

"A big room full of all sorts of wizardly-looking things," the grig yelled. "There's nothing moving."

"No guards? Traps?"

"Like I said, there's nothing moving. There's only one door and it's closed."

"Locked?"

"You better hope not."

Solaufein would have rubbed his luck charm but it was tucked into his pack, dragged behind Haer'Dalis at the end of a rope. Eilistraee, please don't have us work so hard to get into a room we can't escape.

When he reached the end of the duct, there were no bars or louvers to remove. Solaufein poked out his head and looked around. Mage lights illuminated the room. The drop to the floor looked uncomfortably long with nothing but stone tiles below him to break his fall. He ached; his whole body felt stiff and awkward. There were tables against the other walls, filled with Sharpbriar's 'wizardly-looking things'. Why couldn't there be a table here where he needed one? Sharpbriar fluttered near the drow's eye level.

"You didn't tell me there were golems," Solaufein said. He gave the two large constructs an uneasy eye.

"I didn't tell you a lot of things. Like how much you stink. They're not moving, Blacky, and there's no light in their eyes. This looks like a workroom. You can see they're not finished yet."

One of the golems was made of brown clay and appeared complete except for the smooth featureless head. There were hollow pits where its eyes should have been. The other golem was propped against the back wall. Made of pale stone, it was legless, with only one arm. The other arm lay on the workbench beside it, carving incomplete. He saw no signs of the legs.

Solaufein slithered out of the duct with his hands flat against the wall in an attempt to slow his descent. His fly-walk down the wall accelerated into a graceless tumble. He heard a grating rumble of stone against stone. The golems awoke.

"Heads up," Sharpbriar said. "Something tells me these big fellows don't like smelly elves."

Solaufein leapt to his feet, heart in his mouth. He didn't know what triggered the golems or if it mattered. The clay monstrosity lurched towards him. Eyeless, earless and nose-less, it still seemed to sense him. Solaufein was naked and unarmed. All of his gear was in his pack, in the duct.

"Iblith!"

Solaufein rolled under the clay golem's punch. The huge fist grazed his shoulder. Solaufein barely felt the pain. He scrambled under an oak table and sprinted out the other side, aches and stiffness lost in a surge of panic. A huge thud made firewood of the table. Off the back table, Solaufein snatched up the stone golem's arm for a makeshift club. He wrapped both hands around the thick wrist for a grip and took a step back. The grig's shout warned him and he jumped just as the incomplete stone golem behind him grabbed for him with its one attached arm.

Solaufein twisted out of its reach. Thrown off balance by its own movements, the golem's torso tumbled to the ground with a loud crash. He heard Deekin shout something that must have been a spell, for suddenly he felt a surge of strength and speed wash over him. The clay golem bore down on him. He dodged back and forth and gave it a couple of whacks with his heavy club. Each blow crunched holes in the crumbling brittle clay but the damage did not slow down the construct.

He stepped back and stone fingers closed around his ankle. How had the cursed thing moved? He grunted with pain and tried to twist free. The stone golem had no leverage to pull him down but it held him in place with its crushing grip. Solaufein raised his club to block the clay golem's blows. They rained down with mindless force. He fought to keep his balance.

Deekin scuttled around the clay golem to reach him. In one hand, he brandished a table leg; in the other, a chisel. He's stronger than he looks, Solaufein realized, as the kobold smashed the stone golem's fingers. More useful, too. Free, Solaufein hobbled out of the clay golem's reach. As it followed, he leapt onto a stool and took a two-handed swing at the golem's head. The hollow head cracked open and the magic that animated the construct dissipated in a swirl of light.

Haer'Dalis fell out of the duct, cursing. Filth, streaked with sweat and blood, obscured the tiefling's pale skin.

With a savage pull of the rope, Haer'Dalis made the packs tumble down behind him. "I'm sorry I couldn't help with this," he told Solaufein and gestured to the destruction in the room. He bent to his pack and retrieved his weapon belt. "I got stuck."

The grig laughed and flitted down from whatever hiding place he'd used to evade the fight. "Looks like I'm going to have to call you Big Blacky and Little Blacky," he said. "What a laugh. I thought you two smelled bad before."

Solaufein panted. The golem had done serious damage to his ankle, he feared. Luckily Haer'Dalis had a good supply of healing potions. "I've had just about enough of you, little man," he said.

"Oh yeah? Well, I've had more than enough of you. What are you're going to do about it, Little Blacky?" He zoomed towards the ceiling and aimed his tiny bow. "How'd you like an arrow in your dangles?"

Solaufein suppressed the urge to cover his gonads with his hand. He limped forward and raised his club. "How would you like to be a smear on the wall?"

"Hah, hah, look at those red eyes glow. Are you pissed, Little Blacky? Ooh, I'm shaking, I'm so scared."

Solaufein took a swing at the grig. He forced himself to miss but the club clipped the lower edge of the grig's wing. Sharpbriar shot straight up toward the high ceiling. "You're going to pay for that." Solaufein narrowed his eyes.

"Let it go," Haer'Dalis said. "Ignore the little pest."

Sharpbriar made a loud flatulent noise. "Yeah, you better listen to Big Blacky. You mess with me, drow, you going to find yourself hurting in places you didn't know you had."

I should have killed him, Solaufein thought. They all spun when the door creaked open. Deekin, pressed into the farthest corner near a stack of books, squealed. Haer'Dalis's twin swords seemed to leap into his hands. Another golem stood in the doorway. This tall lanky construct was made of flesh of different colors, stitched together like a giant's rag doll. Or like a zombie, Solaufein thought, although it did not have the rotted smell of the loathsome undead. He tightened his grip on his makeshift club.

The golem looked around the room. Its mouth fell open.

"Ooh," it said. "My dad's going to be mad as fire when he sees this mess. You're going to get it." It took another step into the room and pointed at Solaufein. Those filthy nails carry disease, no doubt. "Drow? How did you get in here? Dad's going to have a great big fit when he finds out. He hates dark elves." The whole right side of the golem's face crinkled up. It's trying to frown? Solaufein had never seen a golem attempt a facial expression. He signaled Haer'Dalis. Throw me my sword! But the tiefling stared at the golem in fascination. This is no time for curiosity, bard.

The grig flew behind the golem and hovered over its shoulder. "It's all their fault, Berger," he said. "I didn't do anything."

"Oh, hey, Sharpbriar. Didn't see you there. These drow hurting you?"

"Save me, save me! That one with the club, he's so baaaad! He hit me. Tell Halaster to turn him into a fruitcake."

"Dad's kind of tied up right now," Berger said. "Guess I'll have to handle this myself. Hey," it shouted at Solaufein. "You there, naked drow. You're not supposed to be here. Leave my friend alone."

Sharpbriar danced in the air and turned to wiggle his buttocks in Solaufein's direction. He made another loud blat and giggled. Solaufein growled and took a menacing step toward the grig. I really should have killed him. His wounded ankle flared pain and he stumbled forward. The flesh golem yelped and raked its claws down the elf's shoulder and chest. Solaufein's eyes flared red with fury. With one explosive movement, he swung his club into the side of the golem's head. Berger crashed into the doorframe and slid to the ground. With horrified fascination, Solaufein saw that its skull was filled with repulsive dark putty. Gurrouh.

The golem's lips moved. "Dad's going to kill you." It died.

The grig buzzed down for a look and then flew back out of reach. "Blacky, you blew it. You just killed Halaster's son." Solaufein raised his club. The grig's wings blurred as he flashed further away.

"Easy, raven," Haer'Dalis said. He reached toward him but checked his hand before he touched the drow's arm. Solaufein noticed his hesitation. He gritted his teeth and lowered his weapon. "His son?" Haer'Dalis said. "That is a flesh golem."

"Yeah, well you know it's a golem and I know it's a golem, but try telling Halaster. He's nuts. He put a piece of his own flesh in him." He shook his head at Solaufein. "I can't believe you killed Berger. He's harmless."

Solaufein looked down at the blood that trickled across his ribs. He hoped the wound didn't fester. "It struck me first."

"Big baby. Tell Halaster if you think he'll care. I'm thinking he won't."

"Halaster's not here," Solaufein said. "How will he know? Unless you plan to tell him."

"I don't got to tell him anything," Sharpbriar said. "He knows. He knows everything that happens in Undermountain. His eyes are everywhere."

"But he's a prisoner, is he not?" Haer'Dalis said.

"So? He'll still know." Sharpbriar laughed. "You are so doomed." He continued to hover like an obnoxious bumblebee.

"Doomed?" Deekin asked.

"Doomed, doomed, doomed," the grig told him. "On top of that, tallfolk oafs, maybe Berger could have told you where Halaster is being kept. Think of that, Blacky? Now you got to find out for yourself." He grinned at Solaufein's furious face. "Well, anyway, I'm out of here before any of your doom rubs off on me." He flew towards the open duct.

"Wait," Haer'Dalis said. "We need you to carry a message to Durnan."

"I ain't no pigeon. Carry your own damned messages."

"Deekin has more candy," Deekin cried. But it was too late. The grig was gone. Solaufein grimaced and pulled the flesh golem's body further into the room, out of sight of the hallway. He heard no signs of movement but was concerned about other defenses the wizard might have in place.

"What was I supposed to do?" he asked Haer'Dalis. "It struck me." In death, the golem did look more pathetic than dangerous. The tiefling gave a noncommittal shrug.

"You was mad at Sharpbriar," Deekin said. "You wanted a fight."

"It attacked me first."

Deekin shook his head. "Big guys always quick to squish little guys. Don't need much excuse. Poor Berger got squished."

"That monstrosity towered over me."

"You a warrior. That make you big guy. Golem, he more like Halaster's pet, Deekin thinking. Little guy."

"It attacked me!"

"You didn't have to fight back. Could have said sorry. Could have run away. That what Deekin do."

"You expected me to apologize to that—that repulsive thing? To flee from it?"

"See, that being how Deekin know you a big guy. It's not how tall you are. It's how big you are. You big like Sharpbriar."

Haer'Dalis chuckled. "Fascinating insight but what do we do now?"

"Clothes?" the kobold suggested. "You two look cold, especially looking from my eye level."

"What I wouldn't give for a long soak in a hot tub," Haer'Dalis said. They scrambled into their clothes and armor. Solaufein felt more relaxed with the weight of his sword belt snug around his waist.

"We really do need to get a message to Durnan," Haer'Dalis said.

"How?" Solaufein asked. Haer'Dalis turned his head toward Deekin.

"No," the kobold said. "No, no. Deekin not going back up that hole by himself. Deekin not wandering Undermountain by himself. Forget it."

Haer'Dalis shrugged. "Can't say that I blame you. For now let's search these rooms. Perhaps we can find some clue to where Halaster has been taken."

Deekin brightened. "Maybe find portal out of here. Durnan says Halaster has lots of portals."

The workroom opened into a long wide hall with other doors set at irregular intervals. Most doors were open. The three moved cautiously from room to room, searching for traps or guardians and finding neither. One room had three walls lined with shelves from floor to ceiling. The shelves were crammed with glass jars in all sizes from tiny to huge. There was a large rectangular pillar in the center of the room.

"Smells like a wine shop," Solaufein said.

"Looks like a nightmare," Haer'Dalis said. "Oh, joy. I suppose this is Halaster's eyeball collection. What is it with mad mages and eyeballs? Do you remember that mage we met in Draconis' lair?"

"The lunatic with the flock of flying eyes? Gurrouh. Can we leave?"

"These eyeballs not be flying," Deekin said. "They be floating. Pickled in some kind of alcohol, I guess. Think it be good to drink?"

"Gurrouh," Solaufein said.

"That's a lot of eyes. Why so many eyes? Look how big this one is." Deekin leaned over the jar. "What you think it came from?"

"I can't read the label," Haer'Dalis said. "What language is this?"

"That be Old Draconic," Deekin said and read the label out loud.

"Interesting. Can you read these others?" Haer'Dalis said. Solaufein rolled his own eyes and moved to the doorway with his back to the room and let the two bards discuss ancient languages. He feared they would be at it for hours but the kobold turned his head and sniffed.

"Deekin smelling something."

"All I smell is liquor," Haer'Dalis said.

"Deekin smelling something else. Different air." Deekin walked all around the room with his eyes half closed and his hands tucked into his belt. He stopped at one side of the pillar. "Here," he said.

Solaufein frowned and flicked his vision to infravision. "I think you're right," he said. "The pillar is slightly cooler than the rest of the room. Do you think we've found another air shaft?"

Haer'Dalis muttered the words of a spell. When he finished, they could all clearly see the outlines of a hidden door. They stared at each other a moment before Solaufein drew his weapon. He held it by his side and pulled slowly at the revealed latch.

"Stairs," Solaufein said.

"Where do they go?" Haer'Dalis asked.

"Down."

Drow Words:

gurrouh—yuck
iblith—crap
vith'os—"eff" you