Chapter 13:

A Warlock's life.

I am The Master Researcher, Chief Librarian of the Black Flame. I am the left hand of the Keeper. My name is Drahuliska. When my Keeper first approached me, in private in my quarters, I knew that it was for something rather unusual. I assumed that he had come to inquire as to whether I had made any actual progress in discovering the route that would return him to his home world. I have made some progress with that endeavor. I also presumed that he was curious as to the progress regarding his "special weapon". I was correct in both assumptions. But no calculated path had lead me to expect his third demand.

I believe that I have found the portal necessary to allow him to return to his own home world. It's the location which is the greatest problem: Skybird Trill, the homeland of the Avatar of the Heroes, who is Lord of all who reign above. I have to meet with my Keeper to explain this, as well as why it will be necessary to conquer every single land that rests between our present place and Skybird Trill. To put it simply, the surrounding lands of Skybird Thrill all contain the necessary artifacts of power to activate the dimensional gateway that can return The Keeper home. Furthermore, the Avatar himself holds the "key" that will unlock the portal and actually allow for the destination of the gateway to be set.

However, when my Keeper's third request was that he wanted an account of a "day in my life" within the Dungeon, I was somewhat taken aback, albeit momentarily. According to him, my contribution would be the first outside contribution to what he was calling the "Saga of the Black Flame," that would detail the exploits and accomplishments of him and his forces in detail. However to provide an accurate portrayal, not only must the grand and glorious conquests be recorded, but also the lesser considered aspects – the "back of house" operations in the form of the Workshops, Graveyards, the roles of the Imps and so forth. My contribution is to provide the view of a Researcher, and how the Library and its research facilities "fit" in the big picture. Suffice to say, I found myself to be a most willing and honored participant to pen a contribution to what would undoubtedly become a valuable text documenting the continued rise and success of the Black Flame.

In the lands that make up the empire of the Black Flame there is relatively little in the way of sun – little of it penetrates the massive banks of damp dark clouds that hang low over the land, and those clouds make the day seem like night and make the night become the darkness of your nightmares. Couple this lack of sunlight with the lack of any natural form of lighting so far beneath the surface, means that there is no regular biological rhythm that is of any use. Every minion has to adapt to this situation, and I am no exception to this rule.

Strangely enough, Keeper Firestorm runs our calculation of time and dates in a simplistic manner, following the calendar system of the realms above. He keeps every Dungeon constantly at work, whether in mock combat in the training room, within the quiet confines of the library, or even hammering away in the Workshop – the most recent addition to the long list of assets possessed by the Black Flame.

I awoke, as was my custom, after a restful nine to ten hours of relatively comfortable sleep, in my own personal Lair, just after dawn, the rising of the sun, to ensure that I would maximize my productivity and waste no time. The Keeper values his warriors, and as hard a task master as he is, one of the perks of being a member of the Inner Circle of the Black Flame, is that we get our own private Lair with attached Hatcheries all placed within close proximity to whatever suits us most. My personal quarters are but a few paces away from the Library of the Black Flame.

With this land being relatively secure due to the nature of its geography, the heroes were keeping their distance from us, staying upon the Northern banks of the river of fire, while we had tightened the grip of the Black Flame upon the South Bank. Such security and the presence of the Gem Seams in this Land makes it the jewel in the crown of the Empire. Those funds had not been squandered needlessly, as the Keeper had created a library and research facilities that are the equivalent of the Lost Libraries of Tal Rasha, destroyed during the first Great War between Dark and Light, eons before my existence.

Having one's own personal and private quarters, with attached Hatchery, is one of the special dispensations made by my Keeper, and I take full advantage of it. It allows me to avoid the aggravating squabbling that comes with having to live in the more communal living spaces of the Dungeon that is commonplace in the numerous Lairs scattered elsewhere within the Dungeon. Even in my private quarters, I can still hear the throbbing pulse that is the pulse of life and the existence of everyone within this Dungeon I reached for one of the potions that rested upon a shelf near the doorway to my quarters, popping the cork and downing its contents, and I found myself waking up as my mind came to life fully, the effects of the substance, something that my Keeper had discovered in the Lands above and enjoyed himself, kicking in. A substance that my Keeper had named "coffee," effective at awakening a not fully functional mind still cloudy due to the detritus of sleep. .

I reached inside my robes to draw out a small parchment book, of which there are only three in existence to date. The devices were crafted by Rhahimidarigazz and myself to ease the tasks of government and rule. The Keeper, Gazz, and myself possess one each. These small magical artifacts allow the Keeper to give orders without having to communicate them personally to us. It speeds up the already time consuming task of rule, and I have a personal preference for receiving my instructions in this matter as everything is recorded on paper, and as such, it easy for me to make note of what I have done and which of my Keeper's orders have still to be carried out.

I moved through the Library, nodding my typical "good morning" to Rhahimidarigazz who was busy clawing his way through a manuscript that he had sprawled out across the table in front of him. He nods in reply, a quiet gentle growl coming from the back of his throat. He has a complete distaste of any kind of interruption to his work, but he also understands the need for polite civility and respects it as such. The other Warlocks are not yet awake, and the few still at work looked as if they were ready to collapse into an exhausted slumber. Inefficient and incompetent are the only words to describe these young fools who do not understand how to pace themselves to prevent exhaustion. It matters little however, for they will learn or perish.

Stepping outside the silent area of the library, I press myself against the wall as a pair of Imps, Crickel and Nomed - the only left handed Imps in service to the Black Flame, make their way with all haste for the Gem Seam to continue the endless task of harvesting the precious ores. I opened the small, book like artifact with ease, every order written in the Keeper's scrawl – messy but still legible, and fortunately I had yet to actually consult him due to a failed attempt to decipher his writing. There were several matters for me to deal with during the coming day but nothing highlighted in red or gold, meaning that nothing of overriding importance that needed to be attended to. It would be a relatively peaceful day, barring a pestilent hero invasion. Not that they have tried as our hit and fade raids have carved through many of their small patrols. The heroes no longer dare to venture too close to the Northern Bank of the Lava River with the sentries ever vigilant and ever vicious to all who cross their path.

I cut across the Dungeon, using the map imprinted in my mind to take the fastest and most efficient route to the Workshop through one of the secondary Training Rooms, and tiptoeing through the mass of sleeping, and rather repugnant smelling Trolls – the fastest way does not necessarily mean the most satisfying to one with enhanced olfactory capabilities. I still don't understand how Trolls, or any other creature, can actually sleep with such noise so close by. The pounding hammers on metal, the quenching of metal, the sounds of thunderstorms in the making and Trolls are still capable of sleeping through it all.

Fortunately, the noisiest areas of the Workshop were not where I was supposed to meet Erk, the Head Troll in charge of all manufacturing operations. He was working within what passed for a chemical laboratory, which was poorly designed and very unsafe, especially when one considers that highly volatile substances are placed in an enclosed environment where there are numerous razor sharp objects and creatures with dullish minds and extremely short tempers. It is my belief that this combination could lead to a relatively entertaining catastrophe. Suffice to say that having one of these dull witted creatures – Erk - holding a phial of refined Sulfur, interspaced with chunks of Calcium, while adding a solution composed of two parts Hydrogen and one part Oxygen, is a textbook example of this recipe.

I waited and found my infinite store of patience being worn down, having waited for close to ten minutes while he continued to move at a rate averaging two thoughts per minute, with an absolute standard deviation of negative three that has an occurrence of one hundred percent. Frustration set in as I final rapped my knuckles against the glass pane that separated the crude chemical laboratory from the rest of the Workshop. The sudden shock shattered his overly fragile concentration as incompatible quantities of the two substances came into contact. The immediate chemical reaction was violent and it bubbled, frothed and slipped from his grasp.

The following few seconds passed in a form of hyper compressed speed although I was able to view everything as if happening in slow motion. The look of absolute horror that crossed Erk's face, before he dove directly towards the laboratory door with unnatural, acrobatic grace, rolled back to his feet and slammed the door shut behind him, quickly scampering away from the door. Erk had moved with astounding speed as the phial had yet to strike the floor, where I had noted the presence of a barrel of the explosive black powder used to keep the fires burning and next to that the barrel of fire igniters that started fires in the Workshop Foundries, resting next to a case of mana infused trap detonators.

I dropped to the ground, casting the shield charm with one hand, even as I cast a Barrier spell within my shield. Erk, for all his slow stupidity appeared to have an understanding of how to use time magic effectively, suddenly appearing next to me, howling at full volume, "Fire in the hell-hole!"

I noted the practiced ease with which every Troll stopped their activities, dropped whatever it was they were doing, and then slammed themselves to the floor, hands over their ears just milliseconds before the chain reaction occurred. The phial shattered against the powder barrel, and the addition of an explosive substance to the heat and energy from the exothermic reaction with the phial spilled over, detonating the barrel, sending burning, dagger like shards of coal the length and breadth of the laboratory before the fire igniters lived up to their name and ignited with the fury of a volcano. The entire reaction took several short seconds and the door of the chamber exploded off its hinges, flying with unmatched force and ferocity, scything through a trio of work benches and an unfortunate Troll, who was swept up the floor and plated skull first in to the wall, that cracked and buckled beneath the assault. The wall would repair itself as soon as the corpse was removed from it. Upon the heels of the flying steel door came the flame wave that roared out and over the heads of every flattened minion, burning the walls black while it disintegrated work benches, tool racks and everything else caught in its passage

In comparison to my brethren or even the tougher Dragons or their immature forms – Demon Spawn, Trolls are stupid creatures, but their innate regenerative abilities make them hard to injure and even harder to kill. Several left, grumbling as they smoldered from the heat, even as their burns began to heal. I suppose it can be termed the advantage of having little to no intelligence. If they lack intelligence, nature grants them the ability to heal and recover from the most grievous of wounds… why natural evolution would want such stupid creatures to continue to survive, however, is somewhat beyond my comprehension.

I knew I was going to be in trouble for all this. Trolls, however, do have an acceptable level of intelligence – though marginally so – as they need to know when to stop banging on something with a hammer because they have created a functional… something or other. Fortunately, it would take Erk quite a while to process that I was the cause of such an accident, and I would be upon my way well before that happened. I would actually have to speak to him about the necessary affairs that had brought me away from the peace and quiet of my Library.

Erk did not speak in any real sense of the term "speak" and what that implies. He looked around his domain with charcoal covered walls and soot all over the Workshop floor. The Imps would clean it up; have a lot of work to do, and very little time to do it. Still, even as he looked around at the mess, and grunted or rather growled at me, "You here to see trap?" He certainly looked none too happy at the four dark charcoal covered walls.

I could only sigh at the stupidity of this question, "Yes," and it gave me a headache simply trying to simplify my language to talk down on his level, "Also here about Bridge for Lava River."

He growled at me as he reached up to a cupboard and pulled down a mass of wires, little tubes and nozzles. Erk claimed it to be pretty fine piece of work. That was all well and good, only that he had failed to elaborate on what exactly the massive tangle and jumble he was holding was, "What that thing?" My head began to throb in time to the rhythm set by the Dungeon Heart, "What thing do?"

"Me's a call this un … Stinky. Yep… Stinky. We make. Erk Make. Make bad smell, worse than Bile Demon … bad smell only stronger! And tubes hold gas. When heroes step this thingyz on floor, smelly gas cum out 'em little nozzys' and gas 'em. Good? No? Yes? No?" he grunted at me.

The idea actually is workable and I've seen it done. And while my headache was throbbing louder than the Dungeon Heart in my ears, I knew that at least he wasn't as stupid as some of the other trolls that I have had the misfortune to work with and heard about. The pounding in my head as I exited the workshop evolved from a headache in to a full blown migraine that left me holding my head in my hands. The trap showed promise, and it would be tested later on today – probably using an Imp or two as test dummies. I would have to report back to my Keeper on that afterwards, and I think that I would have to come up with a better name for it than "Stinky."

The small pads of hide bound parchment are actually useful in other ways as they allow me and Rhahimidarigazz to communicate with each other as well. When the message is of any kind of importance – from my Keeper – then the pad grows warm within its "pocket." But a message from the only other member of the Black Flame's Inner Circle means that it turns cold, which helps determine how important and how urgent the message requires a reply.

I sidestepped the passageway that would have lead me to Dungeon Heart as I retraced my steps by passing the Workshop and its adjacent, repugnant Lairs to return to the Library, where Rhahimidarigazz reported that he had something rather impressive to show me, a spell that he had, at last, perfected. Considering that he had spent the better part of six weeks tinkering and fine tuning with the spell's incantation to achieve what he considered to be the most "desirable outcome or effect," I was hoping for something outstanding at least, but amazing would be preferable. Rhahimidarigazz wanted an unbiased and objective evaluation of the spell's capabilities before presenting it to my Keeper for his personal evaluation.

While part of the Dungeon of the Black Fame in this land, the Library also has its own set of rules that must be followed by those who enter it. Entering, I walked almost on tiptoe, even though the heavy carpeting would muffle all but the heaviest of footfalls – perhaps those of a Bile Demon – thankfully they seldom make their presence know in any Library, though their scent was detectable from a fair distance. No spoken word went above a mumble within the confines of the stacked tomes of knowledge or within range of the work tables. It's hard to read when you have to tune out aberrant noise, and a single mistake when working with the only Ink that the Keeper allows to be used in his libraries has potentially catastrophic consequences – Magestain cannot be altered once it touches parchment, making whatever is written or mistakenly dotted, blotted or spilled also completely impossible to remove.

I feel that it is worth pointing out a salient piece of information regarding the system that ensures that the same collection of information is available to all, in any library of the Black Flame Empire simultaneously. The Libraries are all interconnected, using the same mana transference system that allows the mana to flow between the differing dungeons of the Black Flame. The mana flow that interconnects the Dungeons also allows for the Libraries to use a similar method of matter displacement to allow the knowledge and the tomes themselves to be in multiple locations and simultaneously employed by differing cadres of researchers. Of course, magic allows us to store a mind boggling quantity of information without having to be concerned with spatial considerations.

Upon the topic of researchers, the research that is conducted by the Black Flame in all of the different libraries is also linked in the same way, so long as the research materials and notes are updated and placed back upon the shelves accordingly. The transference system will keep the libraries and the research in all parts of the empire up to date and concurrent.

The library itself is divided into three key sections. The first section is the storehouse of knowledge in the form of scrolls, tomes and books that is the sum knowledge of the Black Flame which actually leads of in two separate areas. The second area is more of a general discussion area with a small laboratory for minor alchemical or potion brewing. The final area is more of a general practice and discussion area. Normally, conversations within the confines of the library do not go above a whisper, making it difficult to actually have a discussion or conversation. The last area of the library is where I am moving towards. This particular area rests behind a very powerful series of spells and incantations, including a wall of silence, reinforced by numerous Protection, Shell and Barrier charms.

Rhahimidarigazz, being typically himself, was rather excited by what he had achieved, but he masked it with his usual stoic air of absolute professionalism but there as a certain undertone in his voice that gave it away as he cleared his throat, "This particular spell will have to be selectively employed to ensure it has maximum effectiveness, for it places the targeted subjects in a state of bloodlust enhanced battle rage. Subjects become increasingly dangerous as you close upon them and become their most lethal in hand to hand combat where the rage renders them incapable of feeling the pain from any would be inflicted wounds," he paused, clearly enjoying his moments in the spotlight, "If it were to be employed upon expendable warriors composed of primarily the Giant Flies, Giant Beetles, Giant Spiders and, should the situation warrant it, those Skeleton Warriors - despite the fact they do not feel pain - its potential is near limitless."

He waved several Imps through the Library and amongst them I noted the presence of Cepat, the leader of the Imps, and raised a quizzical eyebrow at Rhahimidarigazz, "Does the Keeper know about this?"

His lack of a reply told me all that I needed to know, and any attempts I could have possibly made to forestall his casting of his pet project met with abject failure as he already roared the incantation. Its effects were as he described. The normally quiet, shy and docile Imps changed, suddenly becoming rabid beasts that foamed at the mouth actively seeking an opponent to spill their blood. The normal, calm and placid mana signatures within them turned to one of pure chaotic energy.

I found myself unable to resist the temptation; "Do you have any "volunteers" selected Rhahimidarigazz?"

The feral grin became even more pronounced as a pair of Giant Beetles wandered into the area, looking relatively confused as to what they were doing here. With a wave of a claw, he masked the normal mana signature that marked every creature of the Black Flame, giving them a temporary, random signal. Cepat and the other two imps attacked almost instantly, shredding the pair of Beetles who never even had the fraction of a chance to save themselves before they were cut to shreds, an orgy of blood and bodily fluids splattering across the walls as the pickaxes made short work of the Beetles and their armored carapaces. An impressive and powerful spell and the Keeper would no doubt be pleased.

"Impressive Rhahimidarigazz, you have outdone yourself," I murmured to him, "Anything else?"

The glint in his eye should have alerted me that something strange was about to happen. For all his seriousness and his studious nature, he either had a vicious streak, or an extremely immature but malicious sense of humor. Dismissing the Imps, he summoned one of the helms that once belonged to a now butchered Dwarf, and passed it to me, turning it upside down in the process to reveal its emptiness to me.

His feral grin widened as he murmured the incantation, "wohs em eht livna!" with a swish of his tail, the helm suddenly became far too heavy for me to carry, even with both arms, and it slid from my grasp, coming to rest upon the floor with a resounding crash that amplified the still present headache back to its previous, devastating, post Workshop migraine level of pain.

This particular spell was nothing more than a childish prank with virtually no application what-so-ever, and I drove my point home, even as I braced myself against the wall, my throbbing head giving me the impression that there actually were stars and static dancing before my eyes. I growled at Rhahimidarigazz, unable to help myself, staring him directly in the eyes, "Elohssa na era uoy!"

It was several minutes before I regained my footing, and felt that I would be able to make my way out of the Library without knocking over an entire bookcase. My head rang as if I had been on the receiving end of a full scale beating from a group of heroes that left both my left and right eyes stinging painfully, and they would no doubt swell before I retired to my Lair for the day – I would have to put up with the whole series of "spectacled warlock" jokes. Fortunately, my robes were only slightly singed around the edges, nothing too bad. I made a personal note to ensure that I have a Shield charm and Barrier spell at the ready whenever I have any future dealings with Rhahimidarigazz to ensure my own personal safety, for the size of the fists formed when he clenched his claws was far greater than I had anticipated to be possible.

Fortunately for me, my growling stomach made it clear to me what time of the day it was, and I knew that it was dinner time, and when one considers I'm not a breakfast or lunch person, it us understandable that I am hungry around dinner time. Any kind of breakfast has the unfortunate habit of sending me directly back to sleep and so does lunch, and it is a sleep that nothing short of a full alarm with Dungeon Breaches will get me out of bed. But for now, I need to get something to eat.

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