The preparations for travel were made hurriedly and in unusual silence. Devrik rejoined his companions after seeing messages off to both his wife and to her two guardians, Ser Alakor, Constable of Dür, and her brother Black Hawk, alerting them to be especially alert for any attempts from their enemies.

“This whole thing has the smell of a trap or feint,” was all he would say to Vulk as they loaded their packs. “But if a feint, to leave Raven and my unborn child unprotected, they will find find her far from so… unless they send an army, in which case even my sword would be of little more aid…”

That last sounded more like Devrik trying to convince himself, but Vulk wisely said nothing, merely making affirming noises and assuring his friend that they would all be back at Raven’s side in half a tenday or less.

An hour before noon the group rendezvoused at the entrance to the Western Deepway with Toran and his two men-at-arms, Khorez and Dembhor. The Khundari soldiers were older men, taciturn and uncommunicative beyond a polite but laconic “yes m’am” or “no sir” in response to direct questions or requests. They seemed competent enough though, and, Mariala sensed, mildly amused at Toran’s obvious nervousness about commanding older and more experienced men.

Cris, bitterly disappointed at being left behind to oversee the group’s affairs, and especially their horses, waved the group off as they entered the dimly lit tunnel. Toran and Devrik led the way, with Mariala, Vulk and Korwin immediately behind, followed by Erol and Jeb, with the two Khundari guards bringing up the rear.

At this eastern terminus, the Western Deepway was still in good repair – twelve meters wide, the walls smooth stone that arched overhead to a ceiling six meters high, and intricately carved pillars and arches every 20 meters or so. The floor was smoothed gray rock, with a an inset of paved flagstones of a mellow, golden sandstone running down the middle, three meters wide. Occasionally the road would come to a small river and arch up over the rushing black waters in a graceful curve of stone, beautifully carved in traditional Khundari patterns.

Every ten meters, midway between the pillars on alternating sides, the crystal panels of glowstones cast pools of rich yellow light. Although dim by surface standards, they gave more than enough light for even the humans to see well enough to maintain a brisk pace. Even so, Vulk and Erol each carried a lit torch just to be sure. Toran explained how cunningly designed vents allowed air to move down from the surface, causing the slight, fresh breeze that made the flames dance.

After several kilometers the nature of the passage began to change… while the overall dimensions remained the same, as did the smooth sandstone pathway, the walls became rougher, the verges of stone floor more uneven, the evidence of artifice more utilitarian. The lights remained steady, but the natural effects of water and time began to be seen, stalactites and stalagmites sometimes narrowing the passageway, slowly covering up the work of the ancient Khundari.

After several hours of steady traveling, Korwin decided to break out his flute and lighten the grim mood with a sprightly tune of the Shattered Sea. To everyone’s surprise, he was actually quite good, but what was really shocking was his success in cajoling the morose (and usually monosyllabic) Devrik into singing! Devrik’s singing, sadly, was no more appealing than his speaking voice, and Vulk quickly put an end to the musical interlude by pointing out that they didn’t want to attract the attention of whatever might be living in these depths, like bears or what have you…

“I hardly think there are bears down here,” Korwin sniffed, as he grudgingly put away his flute.

“Actually –” Toran began, but Korwin plowed on.

“But that does put me in mind of the tragic tale of the wreck of the Sea Princess and the fate of Captain Ratclif Mastborn…”

Korwin was barely launched on his story, however, when the air was suddenly rent with a tremendous roar. Out of the darkness to their right, a huge form lumbered into sight, an enormous bulk that growled menacingly as it towered up on two legs. Up and up and up…

“You’ve got to be kidding!” Korwin squeaked as the giant bear, all four meters of him, loomed over them and let loose another deafening roar.

Vulk, heart pounding, leapt forward with his torch, waving it frantically in front of the great creature, dancing about and yelling incoherently. Rather than fleeing, or even pausing, the bear turned its massive head toward him and lashed out with a great razor-clawed paw.

“That won’t do any good,” Toran yelled as the cantor leaped back. “It’s a cave bear, it’s completely blind!”

“You might have said so sooner!” Vulk muttered as he dropped the torch and reached for his sword.

Toran wasted no breath pointing out there had hardly been a sooner, instead swinging his battle axe in a two-handed blow that met the bear’s left shoulder as it came back to all fours. It was a mighty blow, but the bear seemed to shrug it off, responding with a backhanded blow that Toran neatly dodged.

Devrik’s own battlesword was out and whirling in a deadly flash of light on steel, and the bear turned its rage on him now. But neither opponent did any damage to the other as they gavoted around one another. Erol rushed forward from the back of the group, hefting his trident, as Mariala attempted to cast a sleep enchantment on the monstrous ursine and Korwin summoned up his frost blade. Vulk could be heard praying up his holy armor.

The bear took another lunging swipe at Toran, who again nimbly ducked under the lethal blow, but was unable to connect with his own weapon. His attack did distract the bear long enough for Erol to stab with his trident, driving the triple points into the beast’s paw. It reared back with a roar that seemed as much surprise as pain, almost wrenching the weapon from Erol’s hands.

After a tense moment of stillness, as everyone paused to catch their breath, the cave bear apparently decided it just wasn’t worth the effort. With a last rumbling growl it turned and loped off into the shadows, back to whatever hidden lair it had emerged from.

“Not a music loving bear, apparently,” Vulk said at last, when it was clear the creature had truly departed.

“Nonsense,” Korwin snorted shakily. “It wasn’t my flute that enraged the beast, it was obviously Devrik’s singing!”

This got a general laugh and even Devrik smiled, saying, “Everybody’s a critic.”

“It’s about time to call a halt for the night, in any case,” Toran said, once the laughter had quieted and everyone’s nerves had settled. “The first of the old Deepway Inns is just a short way ahead, that should give us a secure camp.”

The place he spoke of was the first of three long-abandoned hostelries that had once served this underground road between Dürkon and Khorakas. A few minutes more brisk march brought them to the first branching that yet seen in the central pathway of the road, off to the left. This led to an elaborately carved archway set into the tunnel wall, without door or gate. Passing through, the group found themselves in the “front porch,” a rectangular area of paved stone 20 meters wide and seven meters deep, with a fluted vault ceiling. Six glowstones had once lit the space, but now only three provided a dim illumination.

Two more archways were set in the rear wall at either end of the porch, with steep stairs leading up into darkness. Taking the torches, Toran and Devrik led the way, with Erol and Jeb bringing up the rear, lighting two more torches. The inn itself was dark and cold, it’s oak floors and walls black and hard as iron with age. They decided to camp together in the common room, rather than try to light, heat and guard the upstairs sleeping rooms. They were probably as stripped of furniture and fixtures as this lower floor, in any case…

With a fire going in the great fireplace, a hot meal inside them, and time on their hands, Korwin decided to try his hand at magically turning some of their water into beer. This was an abject failure, however, and he was relieved when Mariala pulled out her Tarot deck to query their course, which drew everyone’s attention.

The Three of Coins, the King of Swords, the Seven of Cups atop the Three of Swords, covering the Ace of Swords… while Mariala felt this was somewhat ambiguous, Korwin was quite certain it all fit together, that they were certainly on the right track!

Devrik remained dubious of his father’s involvement with the Vortex, and opened up somewhat to his friends around the fire that night. He talked of his sometimes difficult childhood, a distant but still respected father, the assumption that he would be recognized and made heir one day, until the birth of his half-brother…

“He was always a man of integrity,” Devrik summed up. “Which never made him an easy man, or a particularly kind one. But always an honest one.”

•••

The next “morning,” as their Khundari companions assured them it was, the group set out again at the steady, kilometers-eating pace they had set the day before.

“At this rate we should arrive in Khorakas around the evening bell,” Toran assured them. But around midday, as they passed the second of the abandoned inns, which marked the halfway point, their plans were suddenly altered.

Ahead of them, out of a darkness where several glowstones seemed to have been destroyed or removed, there was a sense of movement, a rustle of cloth and creak of leather armor… and moving into the light was a mass of Gülvini! Practiced eyes told the warriors in the group that there were 15 of the smaller güls, five of the great black güls, and… was that? Yes, towering over them all, at the rear, was an enormous cave troll!

“I thought those things were extinct in this part of the world,” Toran muttered as he readied his battle axe. Vulk was already chanting to raise his holy armor of the goddess.

“Back the way we came,” Devrik called, drawing his own weapon. But as they turned to flee, the sound of boots on stone rang out behind them. Another group of Gülvini had somehow appeared behind them, and was closing fast. And they, too, were accompanied by a massive cave troll…

“Damn!” Erol cried. “Devrik, the hostel, we have to get inside, we can hold off an army there!”

The dark arch of the front porch was just behind them and to the right, and as they made a mad dash for its shelter a massive, gleeful howl went up from the throats of forty or more bloodthirsty gülvini, counterpointed by the deeper roar of the two cave trolls. One of the last under the arch, Erol saw one of the four-meter tall monsters twirling two great stone axes about its head, before the walls blocked his view.

As Erol and the two Khundari soldiers held the narrow passage against the horde, the others briefly debated the best course – try and hold this single entry, or retreat up the twin stairs, where there were at least solid oak and iron doors to bar the way? But as the rear guard was forced back, step by step, it was clear that, with the trolls to contend with, they would have to retreat eventually. Best do it now, while still in some semblance of control…

With the bodies of several of their comrades momentarily blocking the passageway to the Gülvini, Erol and his Khundari companions disengaged, and the group split in two, retreating up the dark staircases behind them. Devrik, Toran, Korwin and Dembhor dashed up the lefthand way, while Erol led Vulk, Mariala, Jeb and Khorez up the righthand stair.

Kowrin attempted to send a blast of ice across the stairs behind him, but his concentration was too divided, and the spell sputtered out to no effect. Mariala, on the other staircase, had better luck with one of her remaining light grenades, tossing it into the pack ravening up behind her. The whirling explosion of solid light blades whirled out in a scything sphere, taking out several of their pursuers… two would never rise again, and the others were bloodied and dazed.

Korwin, muttering to himself to pull it together, frowned in concentration and tried again – and this time a blast of white mist leapt from his outstretched hands, aimed straight down the stairs, which suddenly became coated in a crust of shining, slippery ice! As the maddened güls tried to mount, their feet could find no grip and they stumbled and fell in a writhing mass. Those behind began to climb over the prone forms of the fallen…

But it gave Devrik enough time to slam the great door shut – only to find that it was not the solid bulwark they had expected. Unlike the inn they had spent the previous night in, this one was a burned out shell, a great empty space 30 meters square and eight meters high, with nothing but a few smoke-blackened stone support walls around the edges, and charred timbers on the floor. The doors themselves were half burned through, and the on on the left had several gaps in the weakened wood.

“Toran,” Devrik called over his shoulder as he pushed against the door, slashing at the clawed hands poking sharp things through the gaps. “There must be a back way out of here, right?”

“Yes, there should be,” the young dwarf replied. “I think I know where to look…” With that, he dashed off into the darkness outside the circle of shifting light cast by the group’s torches.

Swords, tridents and spells kept the gül at bay – Mariala’s Fire Nerve spell and Erol’s trident slowing the fight on the right, while Devrik’s sword taught the left some caution… although his attempt at a Fireball fizzled out, it being tough to fight and cast at the same time, even behind a door. Behind him Korwin gathered his concentration and prepared to try the Breath of Arandu once again…

Suddenly, there was a lull in the attack, a restless silence from beyond the damaged, splintering doors… and then they shook, boomed, and bulged as the a cave trolls took stone axes to each one! Toran returned at that moment, with bad news.

“It’s no good,” he grated furiously. “The rear exit is blocked with rubble; if we had half a day, I could clear it, perhaps, but –”

“These doors aren’t going to hold another half a minute,” Devrik growled, “much less half a –”

At that point, both doors blew inward in a shower of charred splinters, and the two cave trolls lumbered triumphantly into room as the defenders reeled back. A few of the more daring güls darted in around them, although Erol spearing one with his trident, and the sight of its guts slithering to the floor, briefly slowed its companions… but the trolls took no notice, roaring and swinging their two great stone axes.

Devrik, with a roar of his own, leapt at the troll before him, his great battle sword flashing a lethal arc, and met the downward force of an axe – which went flying, along with two troll fingers. This just seemed to enrage creature, which roared in fury and moved in to bear its smaller opponent down with shear mass… only to be hit by a blast of icy air that knocked it back and to its knees. Two of the güls near him were also caught in Korwin’s freezing cone, and dropped like frozen stones.

At the other door, Vulk swung his broadsword at one of the great black güls that had slipped past the troll in the doorway, but was blocked, while Jeb’s arrow was simply knocked from the air by the troll itself. It then lunged forward to swing an axe at Erol, who blocked and dodged aside. Toran leapt up beside Vulk and saved him from a savage blow from the gül.

At this point both of Erol’s psionic talents kicked in – time seemed to slow for him, and Mariala’s latest Fire Nerve spell was amplified tremendously. A swath of Gülvini in the righthand doorway and on the stairs went down in a mass of writhing agony, while Erol launched a flurry of attacks on the troll, the last of which ripped a chunk from the creature’s thigh, bringing it to one knee. But even as it staggered it landed a blow that drove Erol back, dazed and bleeding.

But before it could take advantage of this momentary respite, Mariala gestured toward the creature with both hands, and felt the power within her – the form was perfect, the power channeled properly – and suddenly every nerve the cave troll had was burning with a terrible fire. It collapsed to the floor, helpless in its agony, and Erol was able to dispatch it with a thrust through the neck.

Meanwhile, Devrik had counter-struck his own troll, dazing the beast and driving it to the ground. But before he could finish off the creature, there was a commotion at the door and his attention was riveted as a lone human pushed past the now-cowering Gülvini to stand just inside the room. Dark haired, sallow, pale skin that seemed never to have seen the light of day, face like a weasel, dressed in red and black – Devrik would never forget Kirdik Hanol!

Cantor of Korön, the Chained God of Fire, young Devrik’s nemesis from childhood, when the man had attempted to seduce him to the cult, for the sake of the boy’s natural affinity for fire. The man who had kidnapped Raven in an attempt to gain control of both Devrik and his unborn child, for the sake of some insane prophecy, in the name of freeing his dark god. The man he had sworn to kill at the earliest opportunity!

Even as Devrik lunged forward, over the unconscious form of the cave troll, sword dripping black blood and aimed at his enemy’s neck, Kirdik just smirked at him, pulling a small device from his sleeve. He seemed to press the face of the small rectangle of metal with his thumb – and he was gone! Before Devrik could fully absorb this, he cam e to a bone-jarring halt as he slammed into… solid air? He staggered back, stunned, his nose bleeding.

Not only Kirdik had vanished, the group quickly realized. Aside from the two cave trolls and a few scattered Gülvini bodies in the room itself, the horde of bloodthirsty gül were gone, apparently vanished into thin air! Before anyone could do more than stare in shocked bewilderment, Toran stepped over to the downed troll at Devrik’s feet, and dispatched it with a single blow from his battle axe.

“Better safe than sorry,” he said as he cleaned his blade.

“What the Void just happened?” Devrik said at last, wiping the blood from his face. He moved cautiously forward, hands out, until he met the resistance in the air again. It was neither warm nor cold, and not exactly hard… he could press into it a bit, but only so far, then his hand was stopped as if by stone. The others moved forward themselves, tentatively feeling their way, and soon discovered that the barrier, whatever it was, seemed to define the arc of a circle that almost filled the large room. And no amount of force could penetrate it, neither slow and steady nor fast and sharp, as Jeb’s arrows proved.

The arc also happened to bisect the body of the troll Devrik had fought, and when they tried to pull the body away, it proved immovable, wedged in place by the… whatever it was. Korwin was able to determine that it was in fact a squashed hemisphere – circular in horizontal cross-section, but not in height.

“Given the angles I can feel by climbing the ruined walls,” he said after finishing his calculations, “I’d say the apex just brushes the center of the ceiling.”

As everyone stared up at the ceiling, Mariala noticed something odd… all of the stone work in the room, and most especially the ceiling, was blackened with soot from the fire that had gutted the old inn – except for a roughly circular patch about a meter across in the center of the ceiling. No one could quite figure out what this area of sootless stone might mean, and after some minutes of debate they went back to trying to move through the barrier.

Erol, with the help of the Khundari guards, heaved the dead troll on his side of the room up and against the barrier, and they attempted to push it through. But even with Devrik and Toran lending their strength, it would go no more than a few centimeters before stopping dead. So to speak.

Korwin suggested burrowing through the body of the troll divided by the barrier, to disgusted noises from the others. But it was at this point that they noticed another strange fact – the part of the troll’s body that lay outside the barrier seemed to be decaying. Seriously decaying…

“It’s like it’s been dead for a tenday or more,” Korwin mused, getting as close as he could. And that’s when the hammer finally dropped, and they realized they must be trapped within some sort of temporal bubble, where time moved much more slowly than without. Vulk was particularly freaked out by this revelation, and kept denying it could possibly be true! But as the minutes passed and the troll’s lower half decayed more and more, there could be little doubt.

Now everyone, but most especially Devrik, was frantic to escape this trap. How much time had already been lost? Was Raven safe, or was this some part of a plot to seize her? Did she think them all dead? And what of their other allies?

They unscorched stones on the ceiling being their only clue, Korwin attempted to move or dislodge one with both his telekinesis and the spell Magic Hand, but while he knew they had both been successful, nothing had happened. They attempted to combine the mages’ powers and dispell any magic, but to no effect.

Mariala suggested physically poking the stones, so Vulk mounted the shoulders of Devrik and Toran, using his staff to prod the ceiling – only to see the staff pass through the stones as if they weren’t there!

“An illusion,” Mariala cried triumphantly. “I thought so!”

But what did it mean? Grappling hooks on rope, arrows shot into the area, nothing seemed to have any effect on the barrier. Finally, with Vulk summoning the blessing of Kasira, they built a human pyramid, with Mariala on top, allowing her to poke her head throughout the illusionary stone. There she was able to see a disc of smooth white – glass? But it was very, very hard – set into a metal ring embedded in the stone.

Unable to break it, the group decided to try a fireball, immediately followed by an ice blast – after a false start, Devrik managed to fireball the area, to no apparent effect, and Korwin was called on to use his Breath of Arandu spell to freeze the object. Unfortunately, nerves, exhaustion and tension led to a critical misfire of the powerful spell, and everyone in the room was engulfed in a sudden storm of icy, bitterly cold air.

Every inch of exposed skin suffered minor frostbite, to everyone’s annoyance and discomfort, but luckily the blast reached the hidden disc as well, and it proved to not be immune to sudden drastic temperature changes. With a sharp crack, the disc shattered, and suddenly the barrier was gone!

But how much time had passed, that was the critical question they now had to answer…

“Are there any portals along this road?” Devrik demanded of Toran.

“None, I’m sorry,” the Khundari replied grimly. “I’m afraid the quickest way out is either ahead to our destination – or back to Dürkon. We’re pretty much half-way between the two…”

“There’s no point in going on,” Devrik growled, pacing restlessly as he thought out the ramifications. “As we suspected, my father’s name was almost certainly a ruse to lure us into this trap. Kirdik want’s my unborn son… and he wants me to suffer, knowing he has him, I think. I think he planned to come back for us once he achieved his goal…

“But has he achieved it yet? How much time has passed?!”

There being no sure way of answering that without contacting the outside world, the group hurriedly set out back down the Deepway, towards Dürkon. Devrik set a brutal pace, and would have continued without stop, alone if need be, if Vulk had not eventually convinced him that there was little point in arriving too exhausted to take effective action. He allowed four hours for sleep, then drove his friends onward.

They arrived back in the Khundari city at mid-day, and brushing aside the amazed exclamations of “You’re all alive!” from the guards at the exit from the Deepway, Devrik seized one by the shoulders and shook him to shut him up.

“Never mind that, time for stories later – what day is it? HOW LONG HAVE WE BEEN GONE?!”

“A-a-a month, sir! It’s the 10th of  Margas, you’ve been missing almost a month!”

“Then there should be time,” Devrik muttered, turning to Mariala. “All the signs, and the midwife, pointed to the 15th as the likely birthdate, right?”

“Yes, Devrik,” she replied cautiously. “But these things are never exact, it could be off by a tenday, especially with a first child –”

“We need to hear the latest news,” Vulk interrupted. “There’s no point in standing here guessing, let’s find Lekorm Darkeye and see what he can tell us. If anyone knows how Raven is doing, surely it will be him.”

“Of course, you’re right,” Devrik agreed. “Jeb, find Cris and have our horses made ready. Whatever the news, we ride as soon as we can!”