Hammerhold Tales: Thrallborn Read online

  The hallway before him was dimly lit by the light seeping out from under one of the side doors. The hall was about eight feet wide, twenty five feet long, and five feet tall. Sawain had to crouch to walk in. There were three other doors in this room. The one spilling light from the crack was on the right wall and the other two were spaced six feet apart on the left wall. The ceiling in this room was vaulted, like the bigger room he just came from. And the doors were rectangular, with an arched top that curved up into the vaulted ceiling.

  Sawain decided to try the lit door, hoping to find some help. He walked up to it, reached for the handle, then thought to himself.

  If someone is in there, it might be a private room. I had better knock first.

  He followed his own suggestion and knocked on the door with three moderate raps. He waited a moment, but there was no call of any kind. He pressed his ear against the door. He could hear what sounded like the bustle of a busy street. It reminded him of the sounds he would hear in Anvilheim on one of his evening walks.

  Sawain tried to open the door, but found it was locked. This was not a problem, since the locking mechanism was on his side of the door. He unlocked it, then opened the door. More light filled his vision. He stared out in awe at a cobblestone street as wide as one of the streets in Anvilheim.

  Sawain stepped outside to get a better look. This looked like a residential district of Underfell Town. The street was at least twenty feet wide. It was paved with cobblestones from wall to wall. The walls of this wide tunnel rose up thirty feet into the air, arching at the top as well. Hundreds of small twinkling lights shone down with blue light from the ceiling. The houses were built into the wall itself, but instead of mere doors in an earthen wall, Sawain could see mason work around the doors that made it look like the houses themselves had merged with the walls. To make them look even more house-like, alleys had been dug out just as tall as the ceiling, between each house, that connected to other streets beyond this one.

  Torches lined the columns made from these strange houses, just above the mason work. These burning sentinels cast their light throughout the street, making it look like day time. There were several halflings going about their daily businesses. Some were pushing carts of produce along the street, hawking their wares, while others were going to and fro on personal journeys or just standing on the street corner chatting.

  Everyone nearby stopped what they were doing and gawked at Sawain with wide eyes. Sawain felt incredibly uncomfortable about the unwanted attention that was drawn to him. He grew slightly irritated as the awkward silence dragged on. He quickly had enough of this treatment, so he raised a hand in salutation to the onlookers.

  “Good… Um, good morning? Evening? Hello?”

  The crowd of gawkers hesitantly returned the salutation and replied with a chorus of nervous good mornings. Some of them hastily went on their ways, some even going in the direction opposite of their original trajectory. A few of the loiterers went back to their chats, keeping a watch on Sawain out of the corner of their eyes. This uneasy and suspicious atmosphere set Sawain on edge. He approached a pair of well dressed halflings in cotton shirts and trousers, gray wool jackets, and wide brimmed black hats. They both sported thin brown beards and curly brown hair.

  “Good morning sirs. Can you tell me where I am and where to find miss Tilly? I’m new to these parts.”

  The two men eyed him suspiciously. One jammed his hands into his jacket pockets and stuck his chest out, trying to look impressive, or so Sawain guessed. He cleared his throat before answering.

  “Ye don’t say? Hmm, yer on Ballynock Street now. Miss Tilly is most likely at the Infirmary on Hilltroder Lane.”

  Sawain waited a moment, expecting the halfling to go on, but he only received a stare that said Well, you got what you wanted, so be on your way. This further aggravated him and he was becoming conscious of the fact that it was showing in his voice.

  “Well, how do I get to Hilltroder Lane?”

  The halfling squinted his eyes arrogantly and smirked, “ It’s easy enough, surely a big folk like you can figure it out. Just go left to the end of this street and turn right. Count three alleys and turn down the fourth. Take the elevator down one level at the Gorge, then you’ll be on Hilltroder Lane.”

  Sawain nodded, feeling overwhelmed by the instructions. Instead of continuing this pleasant conversation with this friendly halfling, Sawain cut off the chat and started to the left. He paused and ran back to Tilly’s door, locking it from the inside before closing it.

  He followed the halfling’s instructions to head to the left end of the street, ignoring the amazed and shocked stares of the passersby, all halflings. The street went along for a quarter of a mile in this direction, curving gently to the left as he walked on. He turned right at the end and counted three alleys on either side of him. When he got to the fourth, it was another double alley, one on each side of the street. He was irritated that the halfling’s information was incomplete, but he took the left one on a hunch.

  He stepped out of the alley on the other side and was dumbstruck at what he saw next. A massive gorge extended out before him. It was around three hundred feet wide and stretched as far as he could see to the left and the right. There was a complex series of cables that stretched across the gulf at different intervals. He watched as suspended trolleys made their way slowly from one end of the gulf to the other, stopping at respective stations built into the walls of the gorge. There were at least three dozen of these trolleys that he could see traveling along the vast steel web. He also noticed cable systems that spanned the height of the gorge’s walls. Similar trolleys climbed up and down these cables, stopping at different times in stations that lined one of the varying streets that were carved into the rock itself.

  Sawain walked to the edge of the street he was on and leaned over the fence that was little more than railing for him. The gorge was so deep that he could not see its bottom. This stirred a feeling of sickness in his head, so he pulled back and stopped looking. He took a moment to recompose himself before looking for the thing the halfling called an elevator. He remembered that the halfling said to go down, so he assumed that the trolleys going up and down the walls were elevators.

  He looked to his right and saw a wooden platform that extended out past the street, over the gorge. It had two steel cables, fifteen feet apart and about five feet away from it that ran vertically. He strolled over to the platform and read a sign above it.

  ELEVATOR TO HILLTRODER DOWN – GREENTON UP

  Sawain was elated to find himself in the right place. An attendant stood on the platform. He was wearing blue cotton trousers and a matching jacket. He and the small crowd waiting on the elevator received Sawain with the same courtesy he had come to expect from these depth dwellers. He sighed as he walked up to the wide-eyed attendant, whose mouth was hanging slightly open. Sawain waved and smiled as he addressed the attendant.

  “Good morning, sir! I need to go down to Hilltroder Lane.”

  The attendant shook his head a little as if just waking up, “Oh, er, right, well, I suppose you can fit in the elevator if you ride it alone. There will be one here shortly. If you will stand in line, you may board the next one after these fine people.”

  There were three other halflings already waiting on the elevator. Sawain snorted and crossed his arms. He scowled as he got behind the group, who never spoke a word to him. A few minutes passed before the elevator going down arrived. The three waiting passengers boarded it quickly, as if they were unnerved by Sawain’s presence. Sawain stepped forward, but felt a small hand on his knee that made him stop and look down. The attendant had grabbed onto Sawain’s trousers and was staring up at him, pale as a ghost.

  “Look here, lad,” His voice was rather shaky, “You’re going to have to wait for the next one. I just don’t want to risk overloading the trolley. They’re not built for bigfolk, you know.”

  Sawain scowled harder, squinting at the attendant, then looking at the trol
ley with the three halflings still on it, looking worried. Sawain sighed and decided not to cause a scene.

  “Alright, fine. I’ll wait. How long will it take?”

  The attendant looked more relaxed as the color returned to his face, “Only a few minutes. There are multiple trolleys on each line that continuously circle the two lines. It really is a marvel of halfling ingenuity.”

  Sawain could not shake the feeling that he was being advertised something as he listened. The attendant pulled a lever nearby that unlocked the brakes on the line. Shortly after, the trolley slowly climbed down the cable until it disappeared from view. The attendant pulled a golden disk from his pocket. The disk bulged out from the middle on either side, making a sort of clam shell shape, though it was more circular. The attendant pressed a button and it opened up. He watched it intently for a few seconds, then pulled the lever again.

  Sawain was curious as to what he was doing, but he was afraid to ask, since he did not really feel like getting a lecture on some obscure feat of engineering. The attendant glanced at him, as if expecting to be asked. Sawain resisted the temptation. After the way he had been treated thus far today, he did not feel like giving the halfling the pleasure. Instead, he stood silently with his arms crossed and an irritated look on his features.

  Several minutes passed before the next trolley down came to a halt at the platform. A group of halflings unloaded from the cart, each one stopping for a moment to stare at Sawain before remembering their manners and sheepishly scuffling away.

  The attendant grinned, seeing Sawain’s frustrated glare at the crowd, “You’ll have to forgive them, sir. No one down here has seen a bigfolk in Underfell town in ages. You’re a bit of a shock, especially to those who never go to the surface.”

  Sawain blinked in confusion, “You mean there are some people down here that have never been to the surface? They’re never seen the sun or felt a breeze or seen trees?”

  The attendant chuckled, “Oh sure, they’ve seen trees and even sunlight in the Crystal Grove Gardens, but aye, it’s a relatively uninteresting life we live down here. Everyone wakes up in a comfortable bed, goes on a nice walk to work every day, has three to six square meals every day, and goes back to sleep in their comfortable beds. That’s the way things are down here.”

  Sawain did not mind the sound of that lifestyle.

  “What do you do if this place is ever attacked? Does the city not have an army?”

  The attendant nodded, “Oh sure, we have an army. The Underfell Militia trains every day to stay sharp, just in case something bad does happen, but nothing ever does. This town is very well hidden from the bigfolk. There’s all kinds of wards and enchantments keeping us hidden, you know.”

  That knowledge did comfort Sawain. Maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad of a place to stay, if it was not for that nagging feeling of having to save Anvilheim from utter destruction in the back of his mind. After processing the information, he nodded to the attendant.

  “Right, good to know. Thanks for holding a trolley for me.”

  The attendant returned the nod with a smile, “Any time, sir. Enjoy your stay in Underfell Town!”

  Sawain strolled across the platform and stepped into the trolley. The ceiling was low, so he had to crouch again to get in. iron bars around the perimeter of the trolley made a sort of cage that kept anyone from falling out. There was no door, just a gate that Sawain shut himself and got away from.

  The attendant saluted Sawain with a wave and pulled the lever. The trolley lurched and dropped down, faster than the one he watched earlier. He held on tightly to one of the bars until his knuckles turned white. He watched the stone wall rise farther above him as he dropped. A few seconds later, the trolley lurched again as the brake system caught it.

  The trolley slowed to a halt at a platform similar to the one he just left. He opened the gate and stepped out to the platform, stretching his back and neck out, ignoring the stunned halflings around him. He walked up to the new attendant, who looked equally as afraid as the others.

  “Excuse me, sir, but can you tell me where I can find the infirmary?”

  The attendant, a halfling with a red mustache, blinked the surprise out of his face and stammered, “Uh, y-yes, of course. It’s on this street, just a short walk to the right from here. You can’t miss it. There is a sign hanging from the building that has a winged staff on it.”

  Sawain smiled as friendly as possible and nodded to the attendant, “Thank you very much.”

  The attendant returned the nod, still looking spooked. Sawain walked through the crowd waiting on the elevator and was secretly amused at how they parted quickly to make plenty of room for him to get by.

  This is kind of fun. Maybe it’s not so bad to have everyone scared of me.

  He turned right onto Hilltroder Lane and followed the street along the edge of the gorge. He was intrigued as he looked to the other side of the gorge, noting how many levels of streets stretched along its expanse. Underfell Town was less of a town and more of a vertical city.

  He finally made it to his destination after a few more minutes of walking. The Infirmary was a tall building that took up the entirety of the column it was built into. This building had round windows in it along its length, in three rows, spaced ten feet apart. Just above the red door, a sign hung, protruding out so that it could be seen by those walking along the street. It was a wooden sign with a winged staff carved into it.

  Sawain approached the door and turned the handle. The lobby of the infirmary was abuzz with activity. Halflings in clerical robes scurried to and fro hastily while the desk attendant tried to tend to a growing mob of frustrated and even frightened patrons. He could not make out what the fuss was all about, but he thought he heard something about a curse being thrown around by the mob. The desk attendant was clearly flustered. No one even noticed Sawain come in. He could hear the attendant yelling over the tumult.

  “Please, everyone just stay calm! We are working hard to remedy the situation as quickly and efficiently as possible! Your loved ones are safe and the current situation is isolated to the top floor. Please, just settle down!”

  Sawain stepped inside, closing the door behind him, feeling completely uneasy about the terminology being used by the attendant. He cleared his throat, which had no effect on the nearly rioting crowd. Agitated, he spoke loudly so everyone could hear.

  “What’s going on here? Where is the healer named Tilly?”

  He was as shocked as the crowd at the authority in his voice. Silence fell over the room as every head turned to him. He tried his best to hide the nervousness he felt at all of the attention he just drew upon himself. After a moment, the attendant spoke to him.

  “You’re that bigfolk Tilly took in that the militia found out on the fells. I think you’d better come with me.”

  She hopped up from her chair and pushed through the now cowed crowd. She motioned for Sawain to follow and he did, the silent mob parting before him. She led him down a hallway and to a stairwell. He followed her as they climbed flight after flight of stairs. A few flights into the journey, she spoke to him again.

  “I knew it was a bad idea bringing you into town. I told em so, too. Old Jatharr wouldn’t hear it, though. Now three of our militia men are bed ridden with all sorts of nasty bites and sword wounds.

  Sawain was shocked to hear this. He did not think the gnolls were tracking him. He tried to think of what to say as he climbed on.

  “The gnolls are here? I’m sorry to have dragged you into this.”

  The attendant kept her eyes forward, turning another flight of stairs, “Gnolls? I think you have something much fouler than gnolls hunting you, boy. Right this way.”

  They reached the top floor and quickly walked through a maze of halls. Sawain soon began to hear the sound of someone wailing. It echoed down the halls and grew louder as he drew nearer, Next, a cluttered mass of voices blended in with the wailing until they grew loud and panicked. The nurse led him to a wooden
door. She looked back at him almost sympathetically.

  “You’d better go in and see for yourself what you brought upon us.”

  She pushed the door open and Sawain reluctantly stepped in. The sickly smell of blood and death filled the room. The room itself was a long ward with eight beds lining the far wall and six lining the near wall, all halfling sized. The beds were all empty, save the three closest to the door on the far wall. Two of the beds were occupied by two lifeless halflings. The sheets of their beds were soaked with blood from their wounds. Sawain could clearly see the jagged bite marks among the sword wounds. The wounds were oozing puss. He had not seen anything like it before. He third bed’s occupant was still alive, and was the source of the mournful wailing Sawain heard earlier. Four nurses surrounded him, two holding him down and two fervently applying salves and herbs to his wounds. He noticed that one of the nurses was Tilly. She, as well as the others, looked frantic and confused. The dying halfling’s words chilled Sawain to the bone.

  “They wouldn’t die! They wouldn’t die! Arrows were nothing to them! We chopped off arms and legs and even heads, but they kept fighting! So many! So many! Why wouldn’t they die?! Why wouldn’t they die?!”

  The nurses continued to work fervently on the patient’s wounds. No matter what they did, the bleeding wouldn’t stop. Tilly cried out from the chaos.

  “Why isn’t anything working? These herbs can clot even the deepest wounds! These bites really are cursed! We need a cleric!”

  One of the other nurses answered in frustration, “We don’t have a cleric, Tilly! Your husband was the only one in town, and since he’s gone to his god now, there’s no calling him in!”

  Tilly was already disheveled, this comment did not appear to help the situation. The wounded militiaman began convulsing violently. The nurses tried everything they could think of to stop it, to no avail. After several agonizing minutes, he lay still again, like the others. Tilly looked heart-broken.