Carsinex

It had been three days since the riot and still the town square stank of death. The bodies had long been removed, cleaned and sorted, though the shattered stage still remained. Frayed ropes coiled on the ground, stained by mud and blood. One could still find ragged scraps of clothing or small personal trinkets if one looked hard enough. The faithful of the Order had been cremated and their ashes sent away to their loved ones, if they had any. Those that did not were buried in the holy ground of the church, their graves marked by simple wooden headstones. The followers of the Great Father were stripped of valuables and dumped in a mass grave to the east of town.

Last I’d heard, Father Alton had demanded a watch be put over the grave. He did not want priests of the Great Father to recover the bodies of their fellows.

I tried to think as little of the brewing war as I could. Despite my prior involvement with the Order of the Golden Sun, I hoped that I could remain neutral. I had seen enough of this world and its fascination with war and death. The time had come to once more put some serious effort into returning home.

I enlisted Lynessa’s help in gathering more information regarding the Duskknife and the Salts of Creation. Though she was not happy to see me go, she agreed that the best course of action was to help me leave this world. Even besides the brewing tension between the Order of the Golden Sun and the Church of the Great Father, there were other rumors that dripped in day by day. Demons had been sighted in large quantities, massing in the southwest. The Spirit Kingdom had begun increasing security along their borders. The dwarves of Carcinex reported strange fluctuations in magical energy stemming from an unknown point within their lands.

That last rumor had caught our attention most of all, for it was said that the keeper of the Duskknife, the evil wizard Galthranor, had reawakened after centuries of absence. With still no lead on the Salts of Creation, I determined that I would rather risk the wrath of that ancient and powerful wizard. After all, I was already wanted dead by demons and fanatics. Making more enemies could not worsen my situation very dramatically, whereas a quick escape from this realm could mean the difference between life and death.

We knew the Duskknife was hidden somewhere in Carcinex. I decided that was where we would take our quest. Imalor was eager to return to his homeland, and he spoke excitedly and at length about the different towns and provinces of his home kingdom.

“I cannot come with you.” Ser Erik told me when we explained to him our plan, “I must defend my faith in these trying times. If war should come while I am away, I would never be able to forgive myself.”

“You’re an honorable man.” I told him, “We’ll be worse off without your skill and guidance.”

Ser Erik shook his head. “You have all the skills you need, my friend. I wish you the best of luck, and I hope that if we ever meet again that it will be under better circumstances.”

“The future is uncertain.” I agreed.

“And you could have a hand in it.” He reminded me.

“No.” I said, “I’ve tried to be a hero for your world, but all I’ve done is created conflict. Every time I solve one problem, I create two more. We all will be better off once I’m safely back to my home dimension.”

“So be it.” He said. “Once more, you have my good tidings.”

We loaded up my truck with as many supplies and provisions as we could manage. I let Lynessa ride with me in the cab while Atlas and Imalor shared the bed. I far preferred the company of the mage to that of the tiger, whose mood had only grown fouler as the days went by. I still had not had a proper conversation with him since the night we had lost the Gem of Traversal, and I could still sense the hatred the big cat felt for me in every word he spoke.

Our journey took two weeks. Two weeks of jostling down dirt roads as we crept farther and farther into the northeast. Two weeks of sleeping in the cramped confines of the truck’s cab or in dingy rooms of taverns and inns that we passed on our way.

The terrain grew steadily hillier, the people we passed growing shorter and shorter. There was no definite line between when the human population ended and the dwarves began. Instead, the mixture of races slowly shifted more and more until a solid ninety percent of people we met were dwarves. Imalor handled most of the talking, speaking loudly and gruffly in his native tongue as he bargained for directions from a haggard looking innkeep.

“You don’t know the roads through your kingdom?” I asked him later.

Imalor laughed, “I know the roads fine. The important ones anyway. It’s just the ones above the ground that I forget.”

“There are roads underground?” I asked.

“Well, sure!” He said, “How do you suppose we get to all of our cities?”

“We’ve passed cities?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“Oh yes, plenty of them.” He responded, running a hand through his beard, “Fulandrell and Underhall, oh, and Caisman, which we just passed over.”

“So, most of the kingdom is underground?”

Imalor chuckled, “My friend, we are still in Folona. Carsinex doesn’t begin for another thousand feet beneath us.”

“It must have been pretty safe during the Demon War,” I said, “Being entirely underground, the demons would have had one hell of a time getting down to you.”

Imalor smiled sadly. “We thought that as well.” He said, “Earth-Eater and the Scourge of Carsinex had other plans.”

I wanted to ask more about Earth-Eater and the kingdom of Carsinex, though the tone of Imalor’s voice indicated that it was not something he wished to talk about. As we went, the mountains that had rimmed the horizon grew taller and taller, until eventually their height cast the land in shadow for the first half of every day. Now that we were closer, I noticed that some of the peaks had scars, deep gouges in their surfaces, as if large chunks had been ripped away by a massive finger. I shivered.

“The dungeon should be in one of those mountains.” Lynessa said, “All reports seem to indicate that the strange magical energies are coming from the southernmost peak in the range.”

“Aye.” Said Imalor, “But if we’re to get to it, we must first go under. Each of those mountains is a dungeon carved into stone. The entrance is always in the roots. More secure that way.”

“So,” I asked, “How do we get down?”

“The Pass.” Said Imalor, “It’s the only entrance to the Great Network capable of transferring your truck. We’ll be there within the day. From there it’s only a short jaunt to the gates of the dungeons.”

As Imalor had said, we made the Pass by the end of the day and descended via a massive cargo lift carved from stone. Magical runes glowed as the lift creaked under the weight of my truck, and we emerged into a dark series of tunnels. Fortunately, they were wide enough to drive through, and I followed Imnalor’s instructions to find the roots of the proper mountain.

I couldn’t make heads or tails of the tunnels. From the interior, they all appeared identical, shapeless, smooth-walled and dark. Eventually, the tunnel narrowed and ended at a massive set of stone doors. Glowing purple runes covered the surface of the doors.

“This is new.” Imalor said, “I’ve been to the entrance of this dungeon before. It has been sealed since before my birth, and the runes have never appeared before.”

“It’s in the Spirit Tongue!” Lynessa said, she ran over to the door and examined it closely.

“What does it say?” I asked.

“Foolish mortal,” Lynessa began to translate, “You have reached the lair of Galthranor the Grand, Keeper of the Duskknife, Terror of Carcinex and Lord Ruler of Space and Time. Turn back now, or prepare to be annihilated with impunity.”

“Well,” Atlas said, “He certainly thinks highly of himself.”