Shadowrun - Earthdawn - Lliferock (7 page)

Jak Koke

“Chaiel and Bintr are coming with me,” Pabl said. “We leave in three days.”

“Very well. May Floranuus guide your steps in this and all ventures,” he said, his expression stern and solemn. “But ex-ercise caution, my brother, for Ohin Yeenar is the last of his brotherhood. He knows what we all might have known if it hadn’t been for the sacrifice of Garen Dne. Ohin Yeenar knows what it is like to outlive his liferock.”

This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected])  Chapter Seven 

Brilliant flash of lightning. Thunderous loud crack, splitting the air in the camp. The first raindrops came heavy and large like cold reptilian tears, streaming down from gray clouds whose bellies were dipped in the deep crimson of a Servos Jungle sunset.

“Get that canvas over the Nuinouri! Now, you Horror-meat!

Those tunnelers don’t like to get wet.” Gingreth’s voice rang from across the encampment, yelling at the mercenaries.

Sarbeneck sat in his wicker chair, sheltered by the awning of his tent, and watched Gingreth drive the other orks to get the tunnelers out of the rain. Gingreth’s mass of brown hair shook wildly as he cracked his whip, snapping the air near the workers. He’s treating his own kin like animals, Sarbeneck thought. Which is just fine if it gets the job done.

The rain increased to a steady pour, then a torrent until it became hard to see through the gray haze of water. The deafening sound of the rain prevented Sarbeneck from catching anymore of what the ork was yelling, but he could still make out the periodic crack of the whip. He leaned back, relishing the smell of clean, humid jungle air, and peered through the 48

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haze. Luckily, Gingreth and his workers were nearly finished erecting the magician’s tent — a huge pine-green structure designed to hold the Nuinouri.

Riann and Jehrad, the elementalists, were out in the rain, helping to keep the earth elementals calm. The huge beasts were made of rock and soil, towering eight or ten dwarf-lengths high. They didn’t like being forced to mine, especially with tunnelers, and could destroy the entire camp if they became agitated. And that was exactly what would happen if Riann and Jehrad lost control. Even though Sarbeneck had only seen one accident involving elementals, that one time had been devastating; three people had been killed, and valuable equipment destroyed.

Next to the drenched elementals a temporary tarp had been erected to cover the tunnelers — the Nuinouri. These Horror constructs were very useful for mining, but quite dangerous when angered. Underneath the tarp, Nancri, the nethermancer, chanted a spell to keep them dormant. Sarbeneck didn’t want the tunnelers to eat anyone, especially Nancri.

He liked her — the intensity of her blue eyes, the shine of her braided black hair, and the way her pale skin flushed when she was happy. She was the only magician he knew who could keep the tunnelers under control, and Sarbeneck had grown to respect her more and more over the years.

Finally, the green tent was completely constructed. Riann and Jehrad directed the elementals to lift the dormant tunnelers and carry them inside. Sarbeneck took a long draw on his pipe and breathed out slowly, trying to bring relaxation to his muscles. He was looking forward to a nice dinner and a glass of wine.

The last two days had been hard. The roads had narrowed to almost nothing before reaching the tiny village of Rabneth, nestled up against the cliff face of the mesa, called Tepuis Garen by the locals. After Rabneth, the caravan had been This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock 

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forced to widen paths into roads, cutting and clearing away the jungle.

The locals will thank us later for building the road for free.

This Raggok-cursed jungle is by far the worst site I’ve mined.

Sarbeneck was sick of the bad weather, the biting insects and the constant chattering of monkeys. Even some of the plants were carnivorous. During their stop in Rabneth, one of the orks of his hired cavalry had wandered off and gotten stuck to a large red flower whose petals glistened with dew.

The shining dew was like clear glue, holding the ork’s body against the flower. The plant had nearly digested through his armor by the time his screaming had brought enough others to kill the flower and release him.

Their time in Rabneth had been all too brief. Sarbeneck had wanted to give his own men a longer break from Sarahem’s cooking, but he hadn’t wanted to frighten the villagers. A caravan of that size, especially with the cavalry along, was enough to put the townspeople on edge. As it was, he felt that the cavalry had acted about as civil as anyone could expect, considering they were orks. They had left a phenomenal mess behind. Their horses and thundra beasts had fouled the air with the stench of waste. The warriors drank their brewed Butriol, making a ruckus late into the night, teasing unsuspecting villagers. Yet, thankfully, no one had been killed.

Sarbeneck had lied to the townspeople, subtly as was his gift. He had told them that the caravan was headed farther on than Tepuis Garen, especially since some of them had expressed concern that the obsidimen of the tepuis considered it sacred ground.

I hope the rock folk around here won’t cause trouble, because in less than two days I will unleash the elementals and tunnelers. They will rip into the hard, red flesh of the rock in search of the most precious metal in all the world. Orichalcum!

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That word shone brightly in Sarbeneck’s mind.

Orichalcum was the reason he’d accepted this expedition, despite obvious danger and secrecy. It was everywhere in this stone; he could smell it. He just hoped the precious metal ran in veins as he had been told. If so, he would insert his version of a needle into the rock’s vein and drain it of the ore.

Sarbeneck combed his fingers through his beard and watched as Gingreth released his workers to the mess tent for dinner. Through the sheets of rain, he looked over his camp.

Three large tents crowded the small clearing next to the cliff, the sheer face of which rose up and up — a massive wall of stone extending into the layer of cloud and above. He had chosen the location with care; it was hard to see from the trail nearby and it was close to the mining site. The clearing was a bit too small to accommodate the whole camp, but that was a minor difficulty. Tomorrow more trees would have to be cut.

Yellow light peeked under the walls of the two large brown tents which housed the miners and equipment. The green tent which held the Nuinouri in slumber shimmered slightly with a crackling aura of magic. Without the tunnelers, Sarbeneck’s job would take ten times longer. They were dangerous and hard to move around, but worth it once the digging started.

The space around and between the large tents teemed with the small hut-like structures of the orks and their families, in addition to many wagons and carts. Smoke poured from a center hole in one of the large tents, and the smell of cooking meat came from it: Sarahem’s domain. In the trees adjacent to the kitchen and mess tent was a huge pen, roped-off to contain the oxen and pigs. The corral for the horses and thundra beasts was out of Sarbeneck’s view in the trees on the other side of the camp. The cavalry was supposed to have set up a perimeter guard against any threats, but Sarbeneck didn’t think that had been done yet.

This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock 

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He pulled his leather coat tightly around him. It was almost dark and getting cold. Tomorrow he would go with a small team to peruse the rock face and look for a good place to begin the dig. He remembered the conversation with Pontin Nemish back in Throal. Pontin was a thin dwarf with a pleated red beard, and he had spoken with a high voice, telling Sarbeneck about the orichalcum in this rock. Where to find the tepuis. Where to find the vein of ore.

Pontin had told Sarbeneck that it was foolish to refuse his offer; there were other mining companies eager to accept.

Pontin had chosen Sarbeneck because of his excellent repu-tation for discretion and for following instructions precisely.

Pontin had shown him a pouch of jewels — a fortune which he claimed was merely a down payment.

Back in the comfort of Throal, Sarbeneck had cast aside his curiosity and suspicions even though he hated Pontin’s whining voice and arrogance. Sarbeneck had accepted the job.

With that kind of profit, he could afford to retire after this. He wanted so much to just live out the rest of his days in peace.

Now, he caught sight of Gingreth hurrying through the rain toward him, mud splashing up around his boots. The ork coiled his whip and hooked it into his belt.

“Nice day,” Sarbeneck said, wincing as a concussion of thunder shook the air around him.

“Just lovely.” Gingreth stepped under the flap of tent and shook water from his long, curly hair.

Sarbeneck stood to meet him. “What brings you?” he asked.

“The dwarf from the town is here to see you. He said it’s important.”

Sarbeneck looked past Gingreth, catching sight of three dwarfs on miniature horses being detained by a huge ork mounted on the horned back of a thundra beast. “Let them through, I suppose.”

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Gingreth waved his arm at the guard, then followed Sarbeneck into the tent.

“Wine, my friend?” Sarbeneck asked.

Gingreth nodded.

Sarbeneck pulled a wine skin from its hook on the tent’s center pole and poured two cups. He handed one to Gingreth just as the three dwarfs stepped under the flap of the awning, shaking themselves free of rain.

“Come and share wine with me and my friend,” Sarbeneck said.

Pontin pulled his hood back, revealing neatly coifed red hair. “Thank you, I shall.” The other two drew heavy battle axes and stood at the entrance to the tent.

Sarbeneck suppressed a sudden burst of laughter. As if these two dwarfs could do anything to prevent a hundred angry orks from killing their master if the orks were so inclined.

What he said was, “Horrid weather, eh?” He handed a glass of wine to Pontin.

“Yes, well, this is pretty normal.” He sipped the wine tentatively. “I have brought your first instructions,” he said, pulling a scroll case from inside his blue cloak. Sarbeneck noticed a beautiful brooch in the form of a scarab beetle pinned to Pontin’s cloak.

Very valuable, he thought. Probably magical even. Sarbeneck had an eye for these things.

Pontin handed the scroll to Sarbeneck, never looking at Gingreth.

Sarbeneck opened the scroll case, sliding out the parchment.

“You will notice the clearing on the west side of the rock,”

Pontin said. “There is a mark on the map, a little ways up the rock from the clearing. That is where you should dig.”

The map was three dimensional rendering of the rock and surrounding areas. It was expertly done, and quite unusual; This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock 

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Sarbeneck had searched the Great Library of Throal for detailed maps of this part of the Servos Jungle, but he had been unable to find anything.

“Do you see the spot?” Pontin said, giving a smug smile.

The encampment clearing was easy to find because it had been painted in brown in a space next to the rock. Sarbeneck caught sight of a small black dot on the surface of the rock. Impossibly thin filaments of gold ink traced meandering patterns throughout the rock, but they all came together in a twisting bundle connecting the black dot to the center of the rock. “Yes,” he said, “I see it.”

“Good.” Pontin sipped his wine. “When can you start digging?”

“Tomorrow.”

“And your security is going to be ready for possible retalia-tion by the rock people?”

Sarbeneck glanced up at Gingreth.

The ork answered. “The cavalry is itching for a fight,” he said. “I feel sorry for anyone who attacks us.”

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear,” Pontin said. “You’ve done an excellent job so far. Now, I must go. No one in this area can know of my involvement.”

“Understood,” said Sarbeneck, but he didn’t like it. Still, for this kind of money, he would put up with almost anything.

Pontin raised his glass. “To success,” he said.

“To a quick and profitable venture,” Sarbeneck said, swallowing his wine. But the taste was bitter and harsh against his throat.

Thunder crashed again, rattling the lantern against the tent pole as Pontin and his guards stepped into the rain. Sarbeneck’s stomach grumbled as he sank into his chair and closed his eyes. Raggok take this damned jungle, he thought, wishing he were somewhere else. Anywhere else.

This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected])  Chapter Eight 

Pabl found Jan and Celagri at Samson’s Inn, and when he told them about his plans to see Ohin Yeenar, Jan eagerly accepted the chance to come along. Pabl laughed at his friend’s fickle nature. The dwarf had only been in his hometown of Rabneth for four days, and he was already bored and itching to get away again.

By contrast, Celagri wanted some time to relax, so she decided to stay near Tepuis Garen and await their return. It had become her tradition to visit the local elven community wher-ever she traveled, and she’d discovered that there was a large grove of homes not too far from Rabneth.

Bintr and Chaiel joined them on the eastern-most path, and they all four headed deeper into the jungle. Bintr assured them that the trip to Othellium should take no more than two or three days, but they would have to acquire the help of a Cathan guide. The Cathan people had been described to Pabl as skittish and paranoid — short humans whose olive skin was camouflaged with elaborate patterns of white and green pigmented tattooing.