Dusk Over Arcath

Chapter 20

The first thing to hit Canth was the smell.

It curled through the air, violating his nose with a bitter odor. Black ash, scorched stone, and a deeper, more rancid stench drifted in gloomy clouds.

The second thing he noticed were the rocks.

As they walked, the trail widened and the scraggly trees were replaced with the occasional blackened stump of wood. The dirt of the path began to slosh under their feet. Not far away Canth could hear the drumming of what must have been a shallow river, melding with the dust to form the freezing mud.

Above it all, rock spires protruding like a hundred splinters from the earth, each at least fifty feet long. The tips were chipped and inclined into the air like half-completed obelisks never completely raised. Like the columns in some hellish wall, the cruel black stone speared from the ground to form a jumbled barrier curving out of sight away from the path. Shapeless masses of black smoke rose from behind the brutal barrier, wafting with putrid laziness into the gloomy cliffs above.

Averting his eyes, Canth suddenly realized how far they had come. The muddy stretch to their right rose vaguely upward for a ways before abruptly disappearing. Hundreds of feet below the drop-off, rolling green hills stretched in stoic stillness.

He shivered at the height and the memory of the frigid wind blowing across the plains before Threror yanked him onward.

The dismal party paced through the mud amid the squelching of boots to a small opening in the ring of black stone. On either side of the opening a pair of metal statues stood. Heavy hammered plats of metal formed the jagged forms of two Dwarves. In place of heads were octagonal helmets faced with a mask of metal beard and stoic expression. Their hands were hidden by huge bracers, one hand carrying a rectangular shield and the other chained to long pikes that ended in devilish points several feet above the statues' heads.

The orks passed between the statues without so much as a glance. As Canth attempted to follow, however, the left statue came to life. In a single motion its shield smashed against his chest. He splashed against the muddy ground, tumbling awkwardly with his hands still chained behind him. The grime seeped into his eyes and mouth until he was left sputtering and gasping for air.

Blinking away the brown muck, he found a spear point a breath away from his throat.

"They come with me," Threror stated flatly.

The statue fluidly returned to its previous posture. Canth spat a wordless protest as he battled to stand back up. As he regained his footing, Threror was dragging them again through the entrance.

Wiping mud away with shoulder, Canth limped along, accidentally tripping over the metal foot of the statue.

The figure moved again to stare up at him. Through the deep grooves in the helmet and face mask Canth caught the glow of a pair of eyes.

Prey, he cursed. Those are armored Dwarves.

He felt a tug on his chain.

"Come along, storyteller," Threror was shouting. "You're to see what you thanked me for."

His heart was already climbing to his throat as he turned around. The sight did not disappoint.

Front inside the gate he could see the sharp, tilted columns did indeed form some cruel wall. Inside the ring of black stone, deep gouges penetrated the earth like the remnants of some sickening disease. Mud and stone puckered around the trenches and cave entrances. Beside them, short, stout figures stood around scorched wood piles that pat plumes of black smoke.