The soldier, whose name was Drumenir, proved to be talkative and personable despite the language barrier. He spoke continuously as they made their way through the broad, hand-carved tunnels, telling Torvald about the dragon attacks, the other Duergar, and his opinion on humans, who he cheerfully declared were all “sun-touched”.

  The mass of Duergar following behind them were a single group – most of the population of a farming village that had been raided and ultimately burned by marauding kobolds. They’d escaped into the tunnels only to be captured by the strange insect creature and led here. As far as the soldier knew, it had been alone, though he couldn’t explain how it managed to mentally ensnare all of them together. When Torvald asked what it was trying to do, he had scowled darkly and replied with a single word. At his confused expression, he elaborated. “Make more little ones. Many.”

  The paladin grimaced. He shuddered to think what might have happened if that thing had successfully reproduced. But it was done. Now, he just had to get all these people out of here.

  The thing’s lair – a temple of some sort – had only been part of what was clearly an abandoned settlement, perhaps an entire city carved into the rock. The doorways were low for Torvald, but sized perfectly for the Duergar. Ruzinia’s light led them straight through and out, but what they saw was enough to convince him that this place had been home to thousands of people once. Unlike the towns and cities that had just been cleared by the invading dragons, though, this one had been empty for a very long time. Massive stone doors lay flat on the ground, their iron hinges disintegrated into little more than rusty red smears on the heavy stone frames. Dead light crystals sat in stone sockets in the walls and the same sort of soil that had covered the wild tunnels above had developed on what should have been busy streets.

  Torvald waved to get Drumenir's attention and gestured around at the empty, dilapidated structures. “Who lived here?”

  From what he’d seen over the last few days, he would have expected this entire region to be wild and untouched. Why was there a Duergar-sized city here, and why did it have what he could only describe as a temple at its heart when the Duergar had no gods?

  The soldier only shrugged. “They are dead now.”

  Torvald couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so he just nodded and led the way out of the deserted ruin into a broad tunnel that curved slowly around and upward. Drumenir, meanwhile, had questions of his own.

  “How did you know?” he asked after a few moments, a complicated expression spreading over his features. “Why did your god send you to us?”

  The paladin opened his mouth to say something about his duty, then closed it again. Finally, he just shrugged.

  “I don’t know why,” he said truthfully, “and I knew because she told me.” Ruzinia hadn’t exactly told him what was happening, but she was never especially generous with the details. It was enough to get him there and to do the job. That’s what counted.

  Drumenir frowned intensely, his heavy white eyebrows knitting together. Then he hummed low and glanced back at the mass of people walking behind them.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “I will speak to your sun touched god, then. She will tell me things, too.”

  Torvald chuckled at that before he realized the dwarf was completely serious. He considered him for a moment, and finally nodded and smilled. If he wanted to talk to the goddess, he should pray to her. She would hear him and answer, or she wouldn’t. Before he could find the right words to say so, though, Drumenir launched into a wild story about a great war that ravaged the Depths some time in the deep past. There had been a cataclysm of sorts, not unlike when the Madurian Empire fell, but Torvald couldn’t follow the story properly. He really should have paid more attention to his tutor.

  Still, the paladin did his best to listen, trying to decide if he was being told actual history or some epic bit of Duergar mythology. When they finally got out of here, he decided, he'd find someone to translate for him and get the full story properly.

  Soon, they left the main corridor behind, climbing a mound of rubble to squeeze through a crack into a steep natural passageway that led up and away from the derelict tunnels. A few minutes later, the passage widened, expanding gradually into a large, narrow cavern that seemed to go on forever. The ceiling rose and finally disappeared into darkness above them, leaving them in what felt more like an impossibly deep canyon than a cave. Light shone dimly up ahead, and quiet voices echoed toward them.

  “There are people?” Drumenir asked. “Who is here?”

  Torvald only shrugged in response, though he could guess. As they approached, more of the Duergar behind them noticed the light ahead as well, their voices growing excited.

  He hoped they weren’t expecting a city.

  Sure enough, they were greeted a few minutes later by the sight of a few dozen Duergar and a single elderly human resting in clusters around a handful of light crystals and bioluminescent fungi. Water poured down the rock face next to them into a small, crystal clear pool and they sipped water from a random assortment of cups, skins, and pots. Above them hung a single glyph glowing with Ruzinia’s light – rest.

  Torvald called out to alert them and approached. It wasn’t necessary. Yebidiah and Hvani were already up and waiting. Hvani hailed them, and Drumenir responded and seconds later, the two began exchanging stories in rapid-fire Duergar. The old priest clapped the paladin on the shoulder, watching the near endless column of Duergar arrive and settle in.

  “I see you’ve been busy, brother,” he drawled. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

  “I had a feeling,” Torvald grinned tiredly, then looked over the growing crowd with concern. “Do you know where we can get these people some food? We had some communication problems, but I don’t think they’ve eaten in at least a day or two. They don’t have supplies, and I don’t think most of them even know what’s going on. Me included, actually.”

  The priest waved a hand dismissively and smiled. “Faith, brother. The goddess will provide. Has she yet given you cause to mistrust her?”

  “No, but I can see trouble when it’s right in front of me. What are we going to do with so many people?” Torvald sighed. “You pointed out already that it would be difficult to protect the ones we had. Now we have at least ten times that number, and we’re still stranded deep in the Depths without a thing or any idea what we’re doing!”

  It wasn’t that Torvald doubted Ruzinia. He’d followed her guidance faithfully, and seen it work often enough to trust. Still, it wouldn’t hurt if she would communicate a little more clearly. He couldn’t just ignore the situation they were in, and it would be nice to have some inkling how the goddess planned to save them, exactly.

  As usual, though, answers were not forthcoming. Instead, light flared into another glyph perhaps a hundred steps away and the goddess’ voice whispered in his ear.

  “Voices cry out for salvation, champion. An old name, long lost. A memory. Go. Go now.”

  Torvald turned toward the light with a small, frustrated sound and started walking, checking his sword. “She could have at least given me a moment to get a drink,” he grumbled. He was exhausted, and he wouldn’t have minded the chance to talk to Drumenir with a proper interpreter, either. Was it always going to be like this?

  Behind him, he heard Yebidiah chuckle. “Farewell, brother,” he called. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”