Escape from Undermountain - Mark Anthony [81]
Artek gazed at the skull with troubled eyes. All this time he had been wallowing in his own self-pity, cursing the lot fate had drawn for him. Yet here was one to whom fate had dealt a far crueler hand, and he bore it far more stoically than Artek ever had. Artek felt ashamed, and knew he should. He could learn a lesson from the skull. Even if he had only a short time left, he would not simply throw it away.
"I can't pretend to know what you've gone through, Muragh," Artek said. He laid a hand gently on the skull's yellowed cranium. "But I want you to know that you aren't alone. Not anymore."
Muragh worked his fleshless jaw, but for once the enchanted skull was speechless. Artek laughed softly, then scooped up the skull. "Come on. I don't know how far away the others are, but they had to land somewhere. No matter how far it is, we'll find them." His orcish eyes piercing the gloom, he moved stealthily through the opening through which the ferragans had disappeared and into a twisting tunnel beyond.
He had gone only a short distance down the passage when Muragh found his voice. "Wait a minute, Artek!" the skull said. "There's something I need to tell you. I think I know where we are."
Artek stopped and stared at the skull. "Well, why didn't you say so before?"
"I didn't want to interrupt our touching moment," Muragh quipped.
Artek had no reply.
"Anyway," the skull went on, "I've never been here before, but if the rumors I've heard are even half true, then the name of this place is almost certainly Trobriand's Graveyard."
Artek sighed, hoping this wasn't a waste of time. Now that he had shaken off his despair, every second counted. "And just who is this Trobriand person?"
"He's one of Halaster's apprentices."
Artek swore.
"Didn't your father ever teach you a lesson about using foul language?" Muragh asked dryly.
"Of course," Artek replied. "Where do you think I learned all these curses?"
Ignoring the skull's groans, he thought about the implications of this new knowledge. Between the mad voyage of the pirate ship and the perils of the Hunt in Wyllowwood, he had all but forgotten their quest to locate one of Halaster's apprentices. If they could find Trobriand, maybe they could convince him to show them a gate out of Undermountain.
"Tell me more," Artek said, his excitement growing.
In the darkness, he listened as Muragh told all that he knew of Trobriand. There was not much. Trobriand was also called the Metal Mage, for his ultimate goal was to create mechanical beings that were stronger, faster, and smarter than any living creature. Over the centuries, this pursuit had both consumed and eluded him. While he constructed countless metal horrors that were swift and powerful, none approached the level of intelligence he desired. According to the rumors, the Metal Mage cast the failed results of his experiments down into a pit deep in Undermountain-a place thus known as Trobriand's Graveyard.
"It doesn't sound hopeful," Artek said when Muragh finished. "But there must be some way we can contact Trobriand. I can't believe that he doesn't keep an eye on his old creations, just to see what they're up to down here. But first we must find the others."
Gripping Muragh, he continued down the tunnel. Before long, a ruddy glow crept into the air. Clanging sounds echoed off the stone walls. Finally, Artek came upon an opening in the left side of the passage, and cautiously peered within.
In the chamber beyond, a pair of ferragans was busily at work. Artek could not tell if they were the same two he had seen earlier. They all seemed to look the same. One operated the bellows of a glowing forge, while the other hammered pieces of red-hot metal with its claw. In the corner sat a third ferragan who was missing several of its legs.
"Clkkk," emanated a sound from the broken ferragan's pincer mouth. "New legs good. Scrrr."
Evidently Artek was witnessing