Darkwalker on Moonshae - Douglas Niles [66]
Daryth stealthily crawled past the sleeping Firbolg while his companions breathlessly marked his progress. The Calishite reached down and seemed to fumble with his belt. In moments, he withdrew a curiously shaped metal object and inserted it into the keyhole. Carefully, he began to wiggle it around, holding his ear next to the keyhole.
The sharp click of the latch suddenly echoed through the corridor, and the sleeping guard grunted and smacked his lips. Daryth’s hand darted to his dagger, but the Firbolg soon sank into the depths of slumber again.
Slowly, the Calishite pulled on the door. The hinges squeaked in protest as it started to swing outward.
Again the Firbolg did not awaken, and soon the door stood wide enough for them all to see within. The light of the wall torch spilled through the door and into the room, which was obviously no prison cell.
The small light of the torch was reflected again and again, lighting up the entire chamber in gleaming dots of many colors. Gold coins lay strewn over the floor. Jeweled bracelets reflected a rainbow of colors. Crystal chalices and steel swords lay scattered casually about the room, as if left here and forgotten.
The fortune was greater, Tristan felt certain, than even that stored in the coffers of the High King’s treasury. And here it was, locked away in a Firbolg dungeon.
*****
Groth stood upon the low hummock and watched the Firbolgs – his Firbolgs – at work. A column of twenty marched stoically past him. Each carried a basket upon his head containing some four hundred pounds of coal. Grimly purposeful, the Firbolgs trudged down the trail into the thickness of the fens.
Smiling – if a gap-toothed, drooling grimace could be called a smile – Groth stepped from the hummock and followed the column down the trail. He decided to oversee the other part of this operation as well.
Soon the procession reached the shore of a murky pool. The dirt along the water had been trampled into mud, and the plants within fifty feet of the pond were broken and dead. Here, the coal-carriers emptied their loads into the water, and then turned along the trail to the mines.
Groth stood alone, after they left, admiring their handiwork. The chunks of coal bubbled and hissed as they sank into the water, dissolving quickly into a murky cloud of pollution. Groth could tell that the enchanted and pure water of the Darkwell was gradually being destroyed by the steadily increasing grime. Every day, as the coal fed the waters, the violence of the reaction increased.
Groth’s dim mind pondered the potentials. Although he had assumed rulership of the Firbolgs by his shrewd mental ability, such ability among the Firbolgs was no great testimony.
Still, Groth knew that Kazgoroth would be pleased.
Groth recalled his fear when the Beast had risen from the Darkwell on the night of the spring equinox. Kazgoroth had ordered the trembling Firbolg to feed the well with coal, as the Firbolgs had done in centuries past in answer to their master’s command. Before winter, Kazgoroth would return to the Darkwell – and Groth would see that it was ready.
Groth had used his acute – for a Firbolg – mind to separate the work into two tasks: first, they collected a massive stockpile from the mines around the vale. Now they were on the second stage: adding the black, dusty coal to the festering waters of the Darkwell, pouring in tons of the stuff every day.
Groth noticed that the sun had dropped below the level of the treetops. He turned and lumbered toward the temple, eager to shut the heavy door behind him before nightfall.
Overall, Groth felt pleased – in fact, very pleased. His Firbolgs worked diligently to pollute the well. Perhaps it was time they had a reward.
A line of thick spittle ran from Groth’s widespread lips as he considered the possibility of entertainment. Of course, he could not afford to slay the unicorn yet – he did not understand why the Beast had told him to capture it, but he would not risk Kazgoroth’s wrath by slaying his prisoner. Still, there was that other one who would