The ceilings began to lower and were more crude-looking. Kormak walked up beside Ferik. “Was this the earliest built part of the city?” he asked.
“No, our ancestors dug down from the original mines and caverns. This was merely the part most of the Eldrim never came to. It was the home of the Underlings long ago. There were more workshops down here and those industries the Eldrim did not like to look on. The smell of some of them lingers on even after all these years.
“I cannot smell anything.”
“You do not have the nose of a dwarf.”
“It would look out of place on my face,” Kormak said. Ferik gave a short barking sound that it took Kormak a moment to realise was a laugh. He repeated the words to the other dwarves, and they too made the noise.
“Only the poorest of our ancestors would have dwelled here. Those with no reason to visit the courts of the Eldrim. The rememberers and the lawsmiths and runesculptors all lived above near the palaces. Some of them dwelled in homes almost as splendid as the least of the Eldrim. At least so the old stories say.”
The dwarf seemed happy to talk. Most likely it took his mind off other things. “Are your cities so splendid?”
“We have nothing like this on the surface.”
“Likely this must all seem very strange to you then.”
“Aye,” Kormak said. “It does.”
“Why did you really agree to come with us?” The question came out of nowhere. Kormak wondered if this bluntness was simply a dwarvish trait or whether it was meant to shock him into an unguarded response.
“I want my sword back.”
“As simple as that?”
“I swore an oath a long time ago, to protect my people from the Old Ones. I cannot fulfil that oath without that blade and I would be shamed to go back to my order having lost it.”
“It seems that your people and mine may not be so different then. You know what it means to keep an oath.”
“I confess I feel the need to repay Utti for taking it.”
Ferik shot him an angry glance. “Utti is mine, Guardian of the Dawn. He owes me blood for the life of my son. I will take his skull for that although it goes against all our laws.”
Kormak shrugged. If Utti got in his way, he would kill him. Otherwise Ferik was welcome to his vengeance. They strode along in silence after that, through low ceilinged halls that sometimes gave way to vast open chambers full of pillars. Kormak felt a draft of hot air blowing then and wondered where it came from. He guessed that given time he could trace it to its source but time was a thing that was in short supply now.
“How long till we reach the mines?” he asked Ferik.
“Ten thousand strides or more,” the dwarf replied. “Do not worry we will get there soon enough.”
Kormak fell back to walk with his fellows.
“It feels like we’ve been down here for months,” said Karnea.
“It always feels that way once you get past the first few hours,” said Sasha. “You lose all sense of time. After a while it seems like you’ve always been down here and the sun is just a memory of a dream.”
“I hope not,” said Karnea. “I would like to look on it again before I die.”
Kormak heard the fear in her voice. Karnea believed she was already as good as dead. She had no hope of ever seeing the surface again. Yet that did not keep her from looking around and drinking in the sights. It was something Kormak understood. He never felt so alive and alert as when he was on the brink of death.
“At least we are out of that cell,” said Boreas. “I never liked those.”
“You’ve spent time in the cells?” Sasha asked. Her tone was teasing.
“What mercenary has not?” Boreas replied. “You hit town with a purse full of silver and you spend it on booze and song and women till it’s gone. Mishaps occur and the local law-makers are rarely amused or forgiving. What about you, Guardian, have you ever spent time in a cell?”
“More than I care to remember,” said Kormak. “I liked it no more than you.”
They walked on, talking of inconsequential things, deliberately not speaking about what was really on their minds.
The corridors had taken on a rough look and Kormak could see that iron rails had been set in the floor. He assumed they had been put there for ore-carts. Ahead of them was a large area where dozens of such tracks met. There were metal wheeled-carts there and signs that goblins had passed this way. The air smelled of goblin piss and wolf excrement. Somewhere overhead Kormak thought he heard great batwings flutter.
“The mines go a long way down from here,” said Ferik.
“Guards?” Kormak asked.