Chapter 66: Thorngorge Citadel

Argrave’s hand came alive with a spell matrix and a small ball of flame jumped up into the air above his head, illuminating the stone passage ahead. Thorngorge Citadel was distinct from the previous places they had explored. The tomb of metal guardians had been wide and spacious, the ruins hidden within the Cavern of the Lily’s Death had been meticulously carved, but the Citadel was surpassingly simple in design.

A straight cube-shaped hallway stretched ahead. Every so often, iron bars blocked the path. They had been broken, seemingly ripped apart, and the years had rusted them to uselessness. Some of the breaks left sharp points exposed. Argrave could see dried blood on the floor on and near the sharp parts—evidently the creatures roaming the citadel had cut themselves on the exposed metal.

Galamon stepped forward past Argrave, advancing first as he had been directed. Argrave could see his head moving about, scanning each bit of the hallway before proceeding. When they came to the first set of iron bars, Anneliese paused and peered at where they met the walls.

“These bars… they can’t open, nor can they slide out of the way,” she noted. “You called this place a citadel? Why are these bars like this?”

Argrave had been expecting that she would ask some questions and had an answer prepared. “It’s a mage’s citadel. The Order of the Rose had mastery in earth elemental magic. This entire place was built with magic alone. Supposedly, they could build one of these citadels in a day provided they had enough capable spellcasters. Their mastery was great enough to manipulate even metal.”

“I see,” she muttered, her curiosity sated somewhat.

Galamon took his bow off his back and took an arrow from his quiver. Argrave and Anneliese paused, and in the silence, the faint sound of choked breathing could be heard.

“Be sure it’s not just a head,” Argrave cautioned. “Like I said, we don’t want to get the attention of the Dire Eyes.”

Galamon’s white eyes fixed on Argrave briefly, and he nocked an arrow. “I am capable of remembering things you say. You seem to forget this often.”

“I just don’t want any—”

The bow twanged, and a black blur vanished into darkness. A rather unpleasant noise sounded out ahead, and Galamon walked forth. Argrave could only shake his head and follow along. When they finally reached what the arrow had hit, Argrave saw one of the eight-armed head creatures with an arrow sticking right out of its black eye. Its arms spasmed a few times, fingers clenching, and then it grew still.

Galamon put his foot on its forehead and pulled the arrow out. Argrave stepped back so that none of its viscera would land on his shoes. Galamon cleaned the arrow and then proceeded onwards. The hallway began to slope down ahead of them, but Argrave’s steps were confident. Galamon glanced back at him, brows furrowed.

“What?” asked Argrave.

Galamon shook his head, and then proceeded. The hallway levelled out again, and ahead of them finally opened up into a room. Galamon stopped Argrave with his arm, staring into the darkness beyond.

“I see one of those… heads… that you mentioned,” he said.

Argrave pushed his arm away and replied, “Then you know what not to do.”

Galamon nodded, entering the room. Argrave entered after him. The light of his spell illuminated some stone bedframes. The mattresses within had rotted away to nothing. When the light of the spell fell upon a head on a spike, sound filled the room, and both Anneliese and Galamon jumped.

The creature—a human-like head with a snout and a black nose—sounded like a Tasmanian devil with its rattling, dry growl interspersed with snorting. The sound echoed against the stone walls, filling the place with sound. Such a thing might’ve worried Argrave, but he knew most of the creatures in this place were deaf. The few that could hear were incapable of coming to the upper levels.

Argrave retrieved a decaying and decrepit canvas blanket and draped it over the head, and the sound faded somewhat. He turned back to his two elven companions.

“Noisy one, isn’t it?” Argrave spoke loudly above the din, wiping his gloves clean of the dust on the blanket. “This first level has the soldiers’ dormitories. The non-mages would sleep here. Rather kind of the Order to place them at the entrance of the Citadel, no? First line of defense, first to die.”

Anneliese took uncertain steps forward, eyes locked on the head still growling. “Are you not uneasy?”

Argrave was perplexed. “Why? Something amiss?”

“You are eerily calm,” Anneliese said. “These things…” she trailed off. “Why do they not bother you?”

Argrave frowned, turning his head back to the still-screaming head. Anneliese wasn’t wrong. These things probably should make him uneasy. That said, of every dungeon type in ‘Heroes of Berendar,’ abandoned citadels constructed by the Order of the Rose were likely the most common. They were largely uniform in design, and the biggest risks were the traps, not the enemies. Moreover, the player could summon each and every one of the creatures within these walls if they studied necromancy.

“Fear comes from uncertainty… the unknown,” Argrave said slowly, speaking only as the answer came to him. He knew Thorngorge Citadel like the back of his hand. After all, [Electric Eel] was one of his favorite attack spells, and this was one of the easiest places to get it. He had seen these creatures a thousand times before; their unusual appearances did not bother him even if they were far more realistic than he was used to.

“I know what lurks in here. We’re more than capable of confronting anything within. What’s there to be fearful of?” Argrave concluded, thumping the screaming creature’s forehead. Anneliese stared at it as it growled beneath the canvas. She blinked a few times, then took a deep breath, nodding.

“Right. I envy that knowledge.”

Argrave snorted, and then made to proceed. Opposite the hallway they had entered from, another identical one sloped gently downward. It proceeded onward for a short bit, and then opened up into a curved hallway going left and right. Argrave knew from past experiences that these two paths formed a ring containing many other dormitories along the way.

In the silence following their pause, Argrave heard a faint noise. After it repeated, he recognized it as a whisper. On the inner wall of the hallway, there was an empty space acting as a window into the portion beyond. Anneliese walked past him, leaning down and gazing into it. Argrave followed after her, staring out just as she did.

The inside was hollow and descended for a long way down. One could see the other levels of the citadel, each with an opening identical to the one they looked out of. The source of the whispers dominated most of their vision, though. Branches of bone extended upwards from the ground far below. At points, what looked like white roses bloomed. Argrave knew they were not.

The ‘white roses’ were humanoid faces. Each had been morphed into the shape of a rose, twisted and bent unnaturally like some terrifying modern art given life. Their black-and-gold eyes were beautiful and decidedly feminine, and each blink was exaggerated by large lashes. Their mouths would open at times and whisper haunting phrases that Argrave was well familiar with; calls for help, calls for death, questions of where and what they were… even expecting this, Argrave could not help but shudder.

He spotted movement in the corner of his eyes and noticed that Anneliese was shaking. He grabbed her shoulder, and she flinched slightly. “Take it easy. Those things can’t move. They’re one of the least dangerous things here.”

“Right. Right,” she nodded quickly as though trying to reassure herself. Argrave turned her away forcibly, leading her away from the inner wall. Galamon stared out beyond, expression passive as though he was unbothered.

She’s been to war before. I doubt that it’s the gore rattling her. There’s something else at play… that, or I underestimated the psychological impact this place might have, Argrave reflected. He bit his lips, thinking, and quickly made a decision. “Alright. Let’s hurry this up. Galamon, this way,” he directed, placing Anneliese on the side opposite the inner wall and hurrying Galamon along with a wave of his hand.

Their progress was much faster than it had been before, but Galamon still maintained a cautious pace, pausing only to dispatch some of the eight-armed creatures lurking on the walls or ceilings. The Tasmanian devil-like screams of the disembodied heads filled the halls, setting the mood tenser yet. They wound around the ring, heading to where Argrave knew the main stairwell would be.

Fortunately, unlike in the ruins nested within the Lily Lurker’s cavern, the stairs were not placed far from each other. The main stairwell descended all the way to the bottom, spiraling down steadily. Anneliese was quite reticent during this time, focused more on the path ahead of her than the things around her. Argrave could not deny he felt some worry, but he tried not to distract himself from the matter at hand.

On the second to last floor, Argrave led them off the stairwell. Bits of the bone and flesh plant in the central room pierced the stone of this floor, some rose-faces exposed in the hallway. It was difficult to avoid their voices. Argrave made sure to proceed past them quickly, but sometimes they were directly above or beside the hallway, peering down and whispering.

After a good deal of walking, they came to a room that had a wooden door—an oddity, considering most other places were simply empty doorways. Argrave stopped Galamon.

“This is the place—the commander’s quarters. There’s a great hulking creature within. It’s rather unobservant, but it’s quite powerful. If you shoot one of its legs, it should be largely immobilized and easily dispatched. Each leg is about yea big,” Argrave demonstrated, creating a width about the size of a basketball. “I trust you can shoot that?”

“If I couldn’t, I might have to set the bow aside for the rest of my life,” Galamon said, weighing his weapon in his hand. “Does it move quickly?”

“Not if you hit it. It’s not very observant, so you can expect the first shot to be quite easy.” Argrave put his hand on the door, preparing to push it open.

Galamon grabbed Argrave’s wrist and pulled his hand away. “I go first, as ever.”

Argrave wasn’t in the mood to laugh at what may well have been a joke so he nodded and stepped aside. Anneliese, who had regained much of her composure, stared ahead as though refusing to look around. Galamon nocked an arrow in his bow, holding it pointed at the ground as he pushed open the door steadily.

The door pushed open slowly, the light of their spells peeking through the cracked opening. Something on the other side blocked its opening, and Galamon held up a hand to stop them from moving any further. He moved one eye to the cracked door, looking about. Evidently he found nothing out of sorts and continued to push open the door.

As the door opened, they could hear the sounds of clattering wood. Argrave could see debris being shifted about as Galamon pushed. Even Argrave was slightly worried that the beast within the room would be drawn to the noise, but nothing shifted within the room.

The majority of the room was covered in debris—splintered wood, chips of stone, or torn-apart books. It would make any significant movement impossible. Argrave could vaguely see their enemy in the corner of the room. What Argrave saw amounted to a hunk of flesh, but Galamon saw more. He drew back his bowstring, taking aim into what Argrave saw only as darkness. A twang echoed out, followed by an ear-wrenching howl.

The beast shambled out from the darkness, and Argrave saw an arrow sticking from its leg. Argrave was prepared to cast another spell to be sure it fell, but once its injured leg met the ground, it immediately tumbled and fell, exposing its great bulk in their spell-light. It crashed against the debris, sending splinters and chips of stone flying. Galamon grabbed the door and shielded himself with it, but Argrave felt some heated pain from his cheek as a flying splinter struck him.

Argrave ignored the pain and stepped back, examining the creature. Were it still standing, Argrave estimated its height at twelve feet. It had the same bulbous black eyes as on most of the creatures within Thorngorge. It was humanoid, but its flesh had uneven, clay-like burn scars marring most of its body. Its torso resembled a barrel on stilts, and both of its arms were very long and very thick—each was about the size of Galamon himself. It tried to use its arms to rise to its feet, failing in pitiful displays. Once that failed, it tried to grasp at the doorway, but it was just shy of grabbing it.

As time stretched out, Argrave gathered himself and stepped forward, one hand raised as the creature writhed. His hand followed its head, a spell matrix forming as it did so. Seeing the light of the spell matrix changed something within it. The creature grabbed something, throwing it at Argrave. Galamon swatted it aside with inhuman dexterity, but Argrave still flinched.

It crawled back vainly, shifting debris aside and letting out noises not so distant from a dog’s whimper. When its back hit the wall, Argrave saw his moment, and a spear of ice hurtled forth, taking the creature in the head. Its body convulsed once, and then came to be still.

Argrave felt a strange sense of discomfort for but a brief moment, but he pulled his gloves tighter and walked forth. He checked with Galamon to be sure that nothing else was in the room, and then proceeded in. Things had been shifted about by the creature’s struggle, but it did not take him long to find a black box tightly shut with two metal latches.

Though Argrave had expected Anneliese to ask about the multitudes of books destroyed in this room, she remained silent. Argrave could only open the black box in silence. The book was within, well-preserved. Argrave opened it, and a matrix briefly projected itself into the air. After a thorough examination, he determined it was, indeed, the spell he was searching for.

“Right.” Argrave shut the book, stowing it back in the box. “This is it. Let’s be off.”

Galamon had been busying himself pulling his arrow from the creature’s leg, succeeding just as Argrave said so. The elven vampire turned to look at him. “We’re not going to be dealing with these creatures? It seems like something you’d do.”

“They keep to themselves, and they don’t grow in numbers,” Argrave dismissed. “There’s a reason this place hasn’t been discovered yet. We can always come back at another time.” He held out the box to Galamon. “Carry this. Let’s go.”

Before Galamon could take it, Anneliese took it from his hands. Argrave was puzzled but did not protest to the arrangement. They walked back, taking the same path they had when they entered. After the initial entrance, very few creatures bothered them.

It did not take long before the grim Citadel was left behind them. Galamon shut the stone door, and it grated ever as loudly as it had the first time. Argrave stretched, feeling satisfied, but he heard something scrape the stone behind him and paused. There, Anneliese slumped against the wall of the ruins, hand held to her mouth as though nauseous.