“Scaling that wall isn’t how we get into our tunnels anyway,” Feldspar scoffed. “We’re not spiders, you know. There’s a path. Well, there was a path. Some of it’s still there. Used it to climb down, and it wasn’t easy going. It’s around and up the other side. Connects up with the main trail farther back. We’re going to have to clean it off some tomorrow.” He rubbed at a spot on the glass of the lantern. “I don’t see why you’re so darn interested.”
“I’m not interested in your ore at all,” Feril repeated. Then, before he could say anything or stop her, she had moved up to the wall and was wedging her fingers into cracks in the stonework, using the wall as a ladder. The mortar between the stones was old and she could force her fingers and toes into it. The pale, smooth granite— like some she’d seen on the Isle of Cristyne—made for good footing.
As she pressed against the wall, she heard something, and looking over her shoulder, she saw Feldspar, with the lantern handle in his teeth, climbing up behind her. Despite his thick fingers, he was climbing without much trouble. Feril opened her mouth to warn him away, but she decided arguing with a stubborn dwarf was pointless and so climbed the rest of the way up, silently followed by Feldspar.
There was a narrow stretch of dirt just outside the opening, and despite the failing light, Feril could see all the dwarves’ bootprints leading inside. The tracks led up a thin trail that looked like it hooked over the top of the hill. The trail might provide an easier way down—but she could make that decision afterwards.
Feldspar was only halfway up, still following her. Feril ducked inside. If she waited for him, he might try to dissuade her, and she didn’t want to argue with the dwarf. He would probably just follow her inside anyway.
The tunnel was dwarf-sized—short and only a few feet wide; it forked after several yards, one branch twisting up into the darkness and the other, newer branch angling to the north and sloping down. There was polished stonework on the northern wall, indicating the castle ruins had reached this high and deeper into the hill. The left wall was earthen and might have concealed more stonework. It could have been built centuries ago. At a glance, she could tell that this passage had been dug by picks and shovels; it wasn’t naturally formed, and the quake must have brought tons of dirt down from the ceiling. The scale, she thought, was higher up in the mountain, so Feril took the tunnel branch leading higher.
“Dawnspringer…”
“I appreciate the concern you are showing for a stranger,” she said, turning to spot Feldspar behind her in the entrance. He was holding his lantern up, revealing pieces of stonework along the bottom of the left-hand wall, including one brick engraved with strange runes. “I’m not worried that there will be more tremors. Everything seems to have settled down.” Her jaw was set.
“What are you so bent on looking for?”
At first she tried to ignore his question. “I don’t intend to wander in your mine for very long, Feldspar.” Then she spun around, looking long at him. “I’m looking for something, not gold or silver, nothing like that, but I need to travel through your tunnels in order to find it.”
His hairy eyebrows rose. His face was red from the exertion of keeping up with her, climbing the stone wall. “What is it exactly?”
He didn’t seem a bad sort; better to trust him. “I’m searching for a lost dragon scale, and I think this tunnel will lead me to one.”
He scratched his head with his free hand. “Seen some scales in the mountains before, years back. We were talkin’ about that earlier, weren’t we?” He trundled closer until he was inches away, setting the lantern on the ground where the tunnel forked. He gestured toward the lantern. “You can do what you want I guess, Dawnspringer. We claim these tunnels for mining, but we don’t own the mountains. Reorx gave the mountains to all of us. Take that lantern so you can see better, though, and I’ll accept your word that you won’t take nothin’ that’s ours.”
Feril turned back to the ascending path. “I won’t need your lantern. I see better in the dark than in the sunlight, but thank you, Feldspar.”
The dwarf gave a noncommittal grunt. “Me, I wouldn’t be wanderin’ around just now, Dawnspringer, not until I knew for certain the mountains weren’t going to shake any more. And I wouldn’t…” Feldspar was talking to the air. Feril had disappeared from view. “Daft elf. Gods didn’t give ’em any sense.” He shuffled to the tunnel opening and shouted down to his companions, “The elf’s takin’ a walk in our tunnels, looking for something. Couldn’t talk her out of it.”
The young dwarf gave an angry exclamation and shook his fist. “Feldspar, you get her out of there! She don’t need to be poking around our hidden finds!”
Grannaluured was busy putting out her spices, preparing to cook. She tried to calm her companions as she oiled her skillet, scowling as Feldspar retreated back into the crevice. “Churt, Campfire, let’s eat first. I had a good talk with that elf. I trust her. I don’t know what would interest her in our mine, but…”
“Is this some kind of female trick? Bad enough we let you join us and we cut you in for a share. We’re not dividing our find again with an elf,” Churt said.
“Calm down, everyone. I’ll go get her,” Ragh said, walking purposefully around the pool as the three remaining dwarves watched him warily. The hill dwarves were making him uncomfortable with all their questions, even before Feril took it in her head to disappear. He glanced over his shoulder, making certain that Dhamon—still a shadow trailing him stealthily—was sticking close.
He froze as the ground rumbled under his feet. A minute later he was swiftly climbing the stone wall then heading into the tunnel opening.
The young dwarf shook his fist at Grannaluured. “Now we got an elf and a sivak trespassing on our property, poking around in our tunnel and mine!”
Ragh’s keen hearing guaranteed that he could hear everything they said as he climbed higher.
The dwarf woman tried to quiet her companions, but Campfire and Churt were adamant that the newcomers had to be corralled and sent on their way.
“Greedy dwarves, the lot of them.” The sivak took a deep breath and entered the tunnel, stooping to keep from hitting his head on the low ceiling.
“Dhamon, your elf friend’s pretty headstrong,” Ragh said. No reply, and his shadow had vanished in the darkness, but the sivak knew that Dhamon would be listening. “She’s too emotional, letting her heart lead her around all the time. I don’t like this at all, coming inside the mountain when the earth’s still shaking. This could’ve waited for tomorrow, waited for the dwarves to move on to another part of the foothills. Could’ve waited for tonight when they were sleeping. No need to alarm and annoy everyone. Could’ve taken our sweet time and waited to do this.”
The draconian stopped where the tunnel forked and stared at the ground. There was dirt, and dwarven prints heading down both passages. “Wonderful,” he grumbled. He stooped and looked closer, not seeing Feril’s slender footprints obliterated by the heavier dwarven tracks. Then he cocked his head, listening. All he heard was the soft groan of the earth and the continued argument of Grannaluured and the other dwarves below. He sniffed the air for traces of Feril. He could smell dust and the mustiness of the place, and of course the dwarves who had toiled here, but the lighter scent of the elf was difficult to separate.
“Dhamon, in all the levels of the Abyss, this is just marvelous.”
With a deep sigh, Ragh stretched out his right hand, silently rehearsing the words to one of the more practical spells he knew. Within moments, a pale blue globe of light appeared to rest on his palm. Thrusting it ahead, still stoop-shouldered, he took the northern passage that sloped down into the darkness.