The Crimson Gold

Voronica Whitney-Robinson

The Crimson Gold

3rd Ches, 1373 DR

PROLOGUE

Adnama Stoneblood slipped farther into the inky darkness. He ran one callused hand along the wall to his left and let his heavily corded arm rest against the rockwork. He closed his eyes and let his senses spread through the stone, feeling every crevice and weakness. Nothing, he thought to himself. He opened his eyes, replaced his gauntlet, and turned to another of his senses. His darkvision revealed the sharp turn the tu

He moved along soundlessly, even though he wore chainmail over his thin shirt and trousers, and gauntlets covered his hands and thick forearms. His family was well-known amongst the gray dwarves for their metal craft, and his sister, dead nearly two years now, had been renowned for her oils and rendered fats. She could make anyone's equipment, no matter what its age or condition, as silent as a breeze.

Lucky for Adnama, she'd grudgingly passed along her secrets to her brothers just before she died of the wounds she had received in a skirmish with a band of marauding drow. Adnama carried a small pot of the arcane grease in his sack, no matter where he traveled. Silence was his ally and only friend. He recognized his lot in life, though that did not mean he didn't want to change it. And that desire had brought him here.

Turning to the right, Adnama spied an opening in the tu

The chamber, Ш amp; one other he had come across in his search, was lit with a diffuse light. Adnama couldn't see the source, but he suspected it was of sorcerous origin, considering where he was. While the chamber, really no more than a large cavity in the rock's natural wall, was devoid of anything resembling furniture, it was nonetheless frequented by something.

Adnama's keen eyes could detect the evidence of pick and hammer on the walls. The site had been worked recently and for obvious reasons. Every few feet, a clear light twinkled out like a star on a winter night. Adnama, certain that he was alone, re-slung his axe and moved closer to the clear, teardrop shaped glimmering objects.

"Kings' Tears," he whispered in awe.

He leaned one shoulder against the wall as he removed his gauntlet once again. He rubbed a grubby forefinger over one of the hard, smooth stones. The walls were littered with them. He turned and leaned back against that same wall, stroking his braided beard thoughtfully. Adnama realized that there were probably enough gems in this niche alone to keep him in wine and comfort several lifetimes over. In his mind's eye, he could see the envy on his brother's face while he dumped a sack full of the "lich weepings," as his people called them, on the tavern table. The thought made him smile, and he nearly unfastened his small chisel, caught up in the temptation. But he stopped himself and shook his head. Sadly, he caressed one of the tears before re-entering the main passageway.

The dwarf continued farther into the catacombs. Most of his explorations had proven uneventful, with the exception of the treasure trove he had just abandoned. He knew his luck could not last much longer, but he harbored a perverted hope that it might last long enough. Almost like a sign, the winding stretch of tu

Ormu, he thought to himself. This deep, the tu

"And if we hadn't been abandoned all those years ago," he whined to himself, "perhaps we wouldn't have suffered so. Perhaps we would look as hale and hearty as the others. And I wouldn't have to be here."

Still, the glow made it somewhat easier to maneuver, and he was able to use his senses for other purposes. Adnama could make out that the tu

Slowly going downward, Adnama's vision was slightly obscured by the increasingly dense steam hanging in the air. He could feel beads of sweat start to roll down between his shoulder blades, and he scratched at himself savagely. He was caught up in his own discomfort for a brief moment-a moment that was one second too long.

A volley of longspears whistled through the thick air. Adnama was caught off guard. One spear snapped on impact against his adamantine chainmail, and the other two bounced harmlessly off of the wall to his right. Adnama drew his stonereaver's war axe and sca

Only one of the two had on any armor at all, ragtag as it was, and it was worn by the one who led the attack. It drew its own axe, a bit of hewn stone lashed haphazardly to a piece of wood, and swung it menacingly in the dwarf's direction. Adnama easily blocked the swing with the handle of his own axe and thrust the chisel-pointed pick opposite the blade back at the trog. The lizardlike creature fell back a bit and tripped up its fast-approaching companion. That proved to be its undoing. Adnama pressed his assault, slashing back and forth with his stonereaver axe. His next swing cut through the trog's makeshift breastplate, and once that bit of vulnerable flesh was unprotected and exposed, he drove the pick into the trog's heart. Blood oozed from the wound, and the creature fell back shrieking and clutching at its chest.