TOMB OF THE GOLDEN IDOL

PART TWO

Andy Hoare

His head still reeling from the apocalyptic vision of war he had experienced before the golden idol in the Tomb of Destiny, Khargrim raised his hammer with one hand and his shield with the other as the first of the towering lizard-beasts bore down on him. The stone floor trembled with its every step and torchlight gleamed from the water still running from its toughened hide. Even as Khargrim braced himself, the beast bent forward and opened its huge jaws to reveal dozens of razor-sharp teeth. The creature roared a wordless war cry, so furiously that it felt to Khargrim like he was facing into a storm force wind. Though he guessed the beast had only dragged itself from its spawning waters in the caves below scant minutes before, it had all the language it needed. And from its rippling muscles and bunched fists, it had clearly come into the world fully versed in the ways of killing.

‘Ancestors’ oath,’ Khargrim cursed, knowing that the beast was blocking any hope of escape and that he had no choice but to face it. ‘Come on then!’

As if the dwarf presented more danger than the towering, charging lizard-thing, Khargrim’s companions backed away from him towards the now collapsed portal of the idol chamber. The sea-maiden Verdandi and the hunter Ovar had their bows drawn and aimed at the beast, but it was clear that both were afraid to fire lest they strike Khargrim by accident. The old Baersonling shaman Yngv was mumbling under his breath, and while the words were clearly some magical cantrip, Khargrim was struck by the notion that they would do no good. As the rest of the group backed away, only one other explorer remained at Khargrim’s side – the Slayer, Ghurni. Ghurni’s face was split by a bloodthirsty grin and his eyes were aglow with an intensity that Khargrim only ever saw under one of two circumstances.

‘Are you drunk?’ Khargrim shouted over the sound of the approaching behemoth.

‘Sadly no, old friend,’ Ghurni shouted back.

‘Then…’

‘Time to fulfil the Slayer’s oath…’ Ghurni shouted, spitting froth as he spoke.

‘Not again,’ Khargrim mouthed.

‘…or die trying!’ Ghurni bellowed, hefting his two-handed axe in both hands and starting forward towards the closing lizard beast.

Khargrim braced himself for the inevitable. As a Slayer, Ghurni had taken a powerful oath, one that pledged him to die seeking the most glorious death at the hands of the most powerful foe. Yet every time Ghurni had faced such an opponent he had somehow prevailed against all the odds.

Before Khargrim could say another word, Ghurni was charging at the huge beast, his axe raised above his head and his wild, turquoise-dyed beard whipping about his twisted face. Khargrim imagined he saw faint surprise glimmer in the beady eyes of the towering creature, but the moment passed and the beast redoubled its savage war cry. Then, the two met in the centre of the wide, stone-flagged subterranean avenue.

The beast’s reach was greater than the Slayer’s and Khargrim bellowed a warning to his friend even though he knew that Ghurni was gripped by the berserker’s frenzy and unlikely to heed it. The huge creature drew itself to its full height and balled its fists into boulder-like pile drivers that hammered downwards through the air towards the Slayer. Whether by intent or the intervention of the dwarf gods, Ghurni swerved as the mighty fists pistoned down and smashed the flagstones apart in an explosive detonation of stone and dust.

Stone shards ricocheted about the tunnel and forced Khargrim and the others to duck or risk being cut to ribbons. Ghurni and his opponent however ignored the potentially deadly shrapnel, though both sustained wicked-looking flesh wounds. In an instant, the Slayer was inside the beast’s guard and girding himself to strike his enemy about the midriff with his mighty axe.

But Khargrim saw that the huge creature had another trick up its scaly reptilian sleeve. Though Ghurni was inside the reach of its tree-sized arms, he was now vulnerable to the lethally barbed tail that lashed upwards from its rear to strike him a glancing blow across the side of the head.

‘Grungni’s oath,’ Khargrim cursed, seeing that he would have to intervene to save his friend’s skin. Hefting his hammer and his shield, Khargrim barrelled forward just as the beast stepped backwards to give itself room to pound the prone Slayer flat with its boulder-like fists.

Stepping past Ghurni, Khargrim placed himself over his dazed companion and braced himself for the inevitable. He heard Ghurni moan in pain or anger just as the beast roared directly into his own face and tensed its muscles to crush him to paste.

But that blow never struck, for Khargrim met it with the head of his runebound hammer. The potent magic of the ancestors channelled through the arcane symbols etched upon its surface exploded in a blinding flash as dwarf-forged iron met lizard flesh. The resulting explosion propelled Khargrim as well as Ghurni back along the tunnel, and when the air cleared, nothing was left of the towering lizard-beast except a dripping purple smear across the ground, walls and ceiling.

Khargrim struggled to his feet, dragging the coughing, gore-smeared Slayer upright by his arm, ignoring Ghurni’s protests that he had the creature beaten. Expecting further trouble, he raised his still-smoking hammer and braced his shield, only to see that the other creatures had vanished.

His dwarfish eyes well able to penetrate the gloom, Khargrim could see that the beasts had not merely shrunk back into the shadows; they appeared to have retreated entirely, presumably back down the side tunnel towards the spawning chamber. Even as the ground trembled once more, Khargrim’s all-but blasted mind grasped the ramifications of this.

‘We cannot retrace our steps,’ he growled. ‘Not if there are more of those things down there, and if there aren’t then I’m a snotling… Karra? Karra, get here, girl, now!’

Khargrim glowered darkly into the gloomy tunnel. The Amazon came to stand beside him just as another tremor sent a shower of dust drifting down from above. It was clear that the girl wanted to be anywhere other than where she was, and by her sullen glare Khargrim could tell she blamed him entirely for her predicament.

‘Whatever is happening back there,’ Khargrim indicated the chamber the group had just fled from with a jerk of a thumb, ‘We have to get out of here, before the roof comes down or the lizards come for us.’

‘Or both,’ Ghurni added.

‘Or both. Karra, do you know the way out?’

The Amazon fixed Khargrim with a stare that confirmed his worst suspicions. Clearly, Karra was regretting agreeing to act as Khargrim’s guide, but as far as he was concerned, that was her own problem. In the meantime, she had a job to do.

‘Well?’ he pressed.

Karra’s only response was to curl her lip in obvious disgust, before scampering off into the darkness, her serrated blade in one hand and a torch in the other.

‘I think that is a yes,’ said Ghurni, patting Khargrim on the shoulder as he started after the stealthy Amazon. In a few moments, the remainder of the expedition was dashing past, the half a dozen surviving thralls arguing amongst themselves. At the last, the most powerful tremor yet ground through the stone and Khargrim set off into the dark after his companions.

It wasn’t long before the band encountered more foes. A mere hundred paces along the tunnel Khargrim heard the sound of fighting up ahead and soon discovered that they had run straight into a group of savage lizard warriors. Fortunately, these were far smaller than the lumbering brute Khargrim and Ghurni had faced before, but they were also a lot faster. Pushing his way to the head of the party, past the shaman Yngv who was still muttering his mystic cant, Khargrim came upon a chaotic and confusing scene.

The Bjornling marauder Thorkell was wading through a darting shoal of bipedal reptilian forms, each around half his own size. His sword was flashing in all directions, each thrust and sweep cleaving lizard flesh and drawing hisses and shrieks from his assailants.

‘Skinks,’ Khargrim growled, his eyes narrowing as he took in the darting forms. He knew this particular strand of lizardmen of old, for they were the most numerous and the most often encountered as they patrolled the winding paths of their kind’s jungle realm. They were armed with short, hooked blades and small, buckler-like shields made of reptile hide, and they were as fast and vicious as goblins.

But they were easily spooked if attacked in sufficient numbers, a tactic that Khargrim had used on many occasions. His hammer raised, he uttered a war cry in the tongue of his ancestors and barrelled headlong into the mass of lizard-kind, his companions copying his example as they followed on close behind.

The first skink Khargrim came upon never saw its fate, his hammer smashing into the back of its crested head and crushing it utterly. Against these foes, Khargrim had no need to invoke the power of the runes etched into his hammer, and to do so would be to draw too heavily upon what was a finite reserve of ancestral power. As the body of the first skink collapsed twitching to the ground at his feet, a second turned and hissed right into his face. Khargrim almost didn’t see the sickle-shaped blade that cut upwards towards his gut and it was only the flash of torchlight on bronze that saved him from spilling his innards across the stone floor. He raised his shield just in time, deflecting the blow and returning one of his own, caving in the skink’s pointed snout in a welter of blood.

As the squealing lizardman stumbled away, its claws grasped over its ruined snout, battle was fully joined. Ghurni fought at Khargrim’s side, hacking left and right with his massive axe while Karra darted to and fro, every lick of her serrated blade felling an enemy. A flash of motion told Khargrim that Verdandi was hanging back to fire sea bow arrows into the mass of skinks where it was safe to do so, while Ovar added to the weight of fire with his own short bow. Arrow after arrow thudded into the periphery of the mass of lizardmen, each one skewering a hissing skink so that soon the verges of the battle were littered with their pale blue reptilian bodies.

For a brief moment, Khargrim found no assailant nearby and he paused to take in the situation. The lighting was erratic at best, for the torches the party had used to illuminate the path had been flung to the ground the better to fight the skinks, but Khargrim’s superior eyesight compensated for this as he scanned his surroundings. Then he saw what he was looking for, a side tunnel through which still more of the vicious lizardmen were streaming. Knowing that the party would soon be overwhelmed, he cast about for a means of blocking the passage and stemming the inexorable flood of enemies, even as yet another tremor rumbled through the ground.

In that moment, a solution came to him. ‘Yngv?’ he shouted over the clamour of the ongoing battle and the noise of the quake.

‘Over here, engineer!’ Verdandi shouted. Spinning about, Khargrim located the sea-maiden and saw that that Yngv was near her. But before he could make for the pair, a hissing skink appeared at Khargrim’s side and suddenly he was plunged back into the raging battle. The creature darted first one way then the other, its short, hooked blade lashing out time and time again. Another of the creatures appeared at its side and the dwarf saw that the skinks meant to surround the party and cut them off from escape. Gritting his teeth, Khargrim raised his shield and barged his way forward, crushing one squirming assailant against the stone wall while he brought his hammer crashing down upon the head of the other. Releasing the first, he finished it off by stomping its head against the ground, and soon he was standing before the rambling shaman.

‘Yngv,’ he said, panting with the exertion of the fight. ‘Yngv, listen to me!’

The man’s bearded face twisted and his eyes were wide with madness. Verdandi stood nearby, firing arrow after arrow into the ever-swelling mass of skinks. Casting Khargrim a wry glance between shots, her expression said she clearly believed the old Baersonling shaman had snapped.

‘Yngv!’ Khargrim demanded as he rounded on the ranting shaman. So strident was his tone that it drew the man’s attention, if only for a brief moment, which Khargrim grasped for all it was worth. ‘I need you to do something, and if you succeed you shall be known as the greatest shaman on this entire continent!’

A small portion of the madness shining from Yngv’s eyes diminished, and he focused, if only in part, on the dwarf standing before him. Khargrim grabbed the shaman’s arms, shaking him as he continued, ‘They shall all know it, Yngv! All shall know you as the greatest mage this side of the Great Ocean!’

Yngv’s eyes widened as something resembling sanity returned.

‘But only if you do this for me, Yngv,’ Khargrim pressed, glancing over his shoulder at the battle. Thorkell was on the verge of being overwhelmed even though he and Ghurni were fighting back to back, a pile of broken and bloody reptilian bodies strewn all about the savage pair.

‘Do what?’ the shaman demanded urgently, his eyes suddenly filled with determination and resolve.

‘There,’ Khargrim pointed towards the stone lintel above the passageway through which the skinks were swarming. ‘Bring it down and we live!’

Yngv followed Khargrim’s gesture, understanding dawning upon his wizened features as he nodded resolutely. ‘You’d better get back!’ he shouted, filled with purpose.

‘Thorkell, Ghurni!’ Khargrim bellowed over the noise of battle. ‘Ware the tunnel!’

Both fighters turned, and in a moment were working their way back towards Khargrim and the others, axe blades cutting down any enemies who dared approach too near. But Thorkell was visibly slower, his body marked by a dozen and more gashes where lizardmen blades had scored glancing hits in the chaos of the melee. Soon, Ghurni was dragging Thorkell behind him, the old warrior all but collapsing to the ground.

‘Verdandi, Ovar!’ Khargrim shouted. ‘Cover them!’

Almost before Khargrim had completed his order the sea-maiden and the steppes hunter were unleashing a storm of arrows into the pursuing skinks, even as Yngv started up a loud incantation. A dozen reptilian bodies went down in what seemed like the blink of an eye, feathered shafts skewering them one after another. It was clear that Verdandi and Ovar were competing for kills, both making a good account of themselves and matching the other opponent one for one.

As Thorkell and Ghurni staggered into the midst of the rest of the group, a trail of dead skinks behind them, Yngv’s chanting reached a fever pitch, his long hair and beard seemingly charged and standing on end as magical power surged all about. Khargrim was almost overcome by a wave of nausea far worse then he normally experienced in the proximity of the magic of men, and by her expression he saw that Verdandi was feeling the same thing.

Yngv shrieked a victory yell as he concluded his incantation. Palm forward, the shaman gestured towards the passageway entrance as if pushing hard against an unseen barrier. His expression strained and his tattered robes billowing, he pushed harder still, and with an explosive detonation his spell was finally unleashed.

The air itself turned to a solid thing that powered thunderously down the tunnel. The skinks were pulped in an instant, their remains smeared across the ground or flung before the invisible force like flotsam before a fast rising tide. Seconds later, the mystical projectile struck the monolithic lintel over the passageway, staving it in as if the clenched fist of a god had struck it a mighty blow. So powerful was the impact that the huge lintel cracked in two as it was pushed backwards into the fabric of the wall, stone blocks set in place millennia before violently shaken loose.

With a bone-jarring crash of ancient masonry, the side tunnel collapsed, instantly crushing the dozens of skinks that had been dashing along its length in an effort to overwhelm Khargrim and his companions. A tidal wave of dust and powdered stone billowed out, obscuring what little remained of the skink corpses scattered across the ground. As the last few stones settled, silence fell.

For what seemed an age, no one said a thing, so dazed were they all by the stunning forces that had been unleashed. Then, another tremor started up, the stone beneath Khargrim’s boots visibly vibrating.

‘Yngv?’ said Khargrim. ‘What did you just–’

‘He just siphoned off a portion of the geomantic web,’ Verdandi mumbled in disbelief.

‘He did what?’ said Khargrim.

‘I didn’t mean to…’ Yngv stammered in shock at what he had done. ‘I really didn’t think I could...’

‘Engineer,’ Verdandi snapped urgently as she rounded on Khargrim. ‘The Baersonling has just inadvertently unleashed the power of the earth itself. If this place was unstable before, I think it is about to get a whole lot worse. I suggest we–’

If the sea-maiden ever completed her warning, Khargrim didn’t hear it, for the very ground lurched upwards and the air was filled with the apocalyptic keening of splitting rock. The flagstones at the party’s feet shattered into thousands of jagged fragments and great fissures appeared in the ceiling above. As Khargrim and his companions fought to remain upright, great chunks of the ceiling split away, torrents of debris cascading from above.

Khargrim raised his shield above his head, and not a moment too soon, for a large section of the ceiling directly overhead cracked, a shower of rocks falling straight down upon him and a thrall at his side. Khargrim’s shield took a pounding from the hail of boulders, but he braced himself against the torrent as stones rebounded all around. When at last the fall ceased, he was surrounded on all sides by scattered debris, and the thrall’s body was a bloody mess half buried nearby.

His eyes filled with stinging rock dust, Khargrim could barely see, but he felt a tug on his arm and heard over the roar of grinding rock the voice of his friend Ghurni, though he couldn’t understand a word the Slayer was saying. Khargrim allowed himself to be shoved across the heaving floor towards what he guessed must be the portal Yngv had so spectacularly destroyed with his disastrously powerful spell.

Suddenly, the roar of falling masonry was behind him and the ground beneath his feet was almost stable. Shaking off the grip on his arm, Khargrim stopped, bent double and took a great gulp of air before wiping his sleeve across his face to clear his eyes of the dust that had all but blinded him. The instant he did so he was almost blinded again, but this time by the blazing light streaming into his eyes

‘What by the ancestors…’ Khargrim mouthed, his vision coming into focus in time to see a lithe figure silhouetted against a jagged line of white light ahead and above him. Another tremor rumbled through the earth and the sound of hundreds of small stones pattering down a slope came to his ears. Then the sight snapped into sharp focus and Khargrim realised with a shock what must have happened. The figure was Karra Lakota, and she was crouched before a huge opening into a far larger space.

Yngv’s magical attack, far from blocking the side passage, had inadvertently blasted it wide open. So much power had clearly been channelled that the passage had not just been widened, but extended, and so far that Yngv had created a short cut from the subterranean avenue the party had been fleeing along and out into a vast, brightly lit space. His head aching from the residue of arcane power still seething through the air, Khargrim stumbled forward and was soon scrambling up the sloped pile of rubble towards the massive fissure and the Amazon girl waiting at its summit.

Coming to stand beside Karra, Khargrim found himself looking out into a vast basin, its upper half open to the sky. The bottom of the basin was a mass of churned earth and its walls were ragged with twisted, freshly exposed roots. At the basin’s rim hung a confused mass of jungle foliage, massive trees and vines spilling over the edge. The sky above seethed and arced with arcane power, as it so often did above the Lustrian jungles. It was clear however that Yngv’s spell had disturbed the normal balance of power boiling through the skies, for great vortexes of magic spun crazily overhead.

‘Valaya’s teeth,’ Khargrim cursed as he took in the sheer scope of the destruction that Yngv’s spell had wrought upon the earth. The crater was oblong in shape and must have been a mile long. Half way along its length the waters of a rapidly flowing jungle stream spilled over the rim to scatter into a fine spray in the air, its course evidently split by the devastation. Despite his awe at the sight before him, Khargrim got a grip on himself and turned toward the Amazon at his side.

‘Do you know the way out, girl?’ he asked.

‘I think we’re a mile or so due south of the Obsidian Altar,’ Karra replied. ‘If we can scale these walls, we should be able to make it back to the river. Unless…’

‘Unless?’ Khargrim pressed as Ghurni and several others of the party appeared at the pair’s backs. ‘Spit it out, girl.’

‘Unless the sentinels that guard the Obsidian Altar discover us,’ said Karra, her expression dark as she scanned the rim of the crater uncertainly.

‘I do not think I want to know,’ said Khargrim, turning to take stock of the remainder of the expedition. Every one of them, apart from Verdandi, was a ragged mess, their clothes cut and torn and covered in dust and their faces bruised and cut. The sea-maiden, as ever, appeared nonchalantly untouched by the devastation around her, though Khargrim could see from the vaguely haunted expression in her eyes that she was deeply disturbed by the things she had witnessed over the last few hours.

‘Is everyone ready?’ Khargrim addressed his companions as he prepared to move out before the lizardmen discovered them.

‘Aye, lad,’ Ghurni said encouragingly. ‘We are ready.’

‘Skarl’s dead,’ one of the thralls muttered. ‘And Erik, and Keld…’

‘Good,’ said Khargrim, shrugging his shield onto his back as he turned towards the open crater floor. ‘Let us get moving then.’

The crack through which Khargrim’s party emerged was half way up the side of the crater, but the walls nearby presented no obvious means of climbing to the rim. Instead of attempting an immediate ascent, Khargrim determined to descend into the newly riven valley and seek a better route, and to do so quickly, before any vengeful lizardmen could discover them, or indeed blame them for the damage to their realm.

The path down to the crater floor was made possible by a steep ramp of rubble and debris leading from the tunnel mouth, and Khargrim himself led the descent. The only thing that slowed the descent was the need to aid Thorkell, who was still shaking off the effects of so many glancing strikes by skink weapons which, Karra advised, were coated with a variety of jungle poisons. It was fortunate indeed that as a Bjornling Thorkell was well used to imbibing all manner of toxins and as such he was eventually able to shake off the worst effects.

Even with Thorkell affected by the skinks’ poison, the going was relatively good for the rubble was made of huge, flat boulders and after half an hour or so the party reached the raw floor of the crater. There, the full extent of the devastation was revealed to them. The ground was strewn with cut blocks that could only have been the remains of the outlying reaches of the Tomb of Destiny as well as a large stretch of the subterranean avenue along which the party had been travelling. How many long millennia those blocks had sat so far beneath the ground none could say, and now they were reduced to little more than scattered rubble. Fragments of broken lizardman symbols adorned some of the scattered blocks, and Khargrim was struck by the notion that a great blasphemy had inadvertently been performed here. Swallowing hard, he pressed on across the crater floor, leading the party as he sought a route up the towering walls to the jungles beyond.

‘Everyone keep an eye out,’ Khargrim ordered as he advanced across the rough ground. ‘For a way up, and for more lizardmen.’

‘What if we can’t get out?’ said Ovar, his eyes wide as they scanned the sheer crater sides. ‘We’ll starve...’

‘I consider starving the least of our worries,’ Khargrim replied, drawing a look of horror from the hunter.

‘Perhaps Yngv could summon forth some more food,’ Khargrim said distractedly. He had far more pressing concerns.

‘I really do not think that would be advisable, engineer,’ said Verdandi from further back along the line of marching adventurers.

Khargrim almost dismissed the sea-maiden’s statement, but something in her tone made him halt, causing a grumbling Ghurni to almost stumble into him as he turned. ‘Explain,’ he said flatly.

‘Yngv is lucky to be alive after tapping into the lizardmen’s web of power the way he did back there. In fact, I believe we are all lucky to be alive. If he tries to manipulate the winds of magic in any way at all he could bring about something even worse still.’

‘Damn it,’ Khargrim cursed. ‘I have seen him summon a magical bridge and walk across it before now. You’re telling me he can’t do that here, even to escape this trap we are in?’

‘Absolutely not,’ the sea-maiden replied in a sharp hiss, casting a glance towards the shaman. Yngv was stumbling along using his staff for support. Though he was muttering feverishly he was evidently fatigued almost to the point of collapse and Khargrim had no choice but to agree with Verdandi. ‘We must find a conventional route out of here,’ she said.

Trudging onwards once more, Khargrim scanned the lip of the crater for any sign of a path upwards. The air ahead was a silvered mist, made hazy by the newly created waterfall, but even through it Khargrim caught traces of movement.

‘Do you see something?’ said Ghurni, following his gaze.

‘I think I do,’ Khargrim replied, his eyes narrowing as he focused on a mass of tangled vines and roots spilling down the crater wall from a jumble of tumbled rocks high overhead. The vines had moved, probably stirred by the jungle breeze, and that had caught his eye.

‘Looks like a way out,’ Khargrim announced, picking up the pace. A round of approval went around the party, even Thorkell visibly brightening now it looked like escape was possible. ‘Karra, can you lead the way up those vines?’

But the Amazon didn’t appear to be listening. Instead, she had stopped and was staring intently at the broken rocky outcrop that reared over the mass of vines. Her brow creasing so that it twisted her war paint into the semblance of some evil beast, she raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun.

‘What is it?’ Khargrim said, his heart sinking once more.

‘I don’t know,’ she replied distractedly. ‘I thought I saw movement…’

‘So did I,’ said the engineer. ‘The wind stirred the vines.’

‘Not amongst the vines. Above them. The ruin at the crater edge.’

Verdandi stepped up beside Karra, her gaze following the Amazon’s.

‘What was it?’ Verdandi said to Karra. ‘Before it was ruined.’

‘It is hard to be certain, with the landscape so changed. But I believe it was a… I don’t know your word for it. A place where…’

‘What is your word for it?’ Verdandi pressed, not taking her eyes from the ruin.

‘We call it an irahx,’ said Karra.

‘An aerie?’ said Verdandi.

‘It’s where the terradons roost…’ said Karra uncertainly.

‘The what?’ Ghurni interjected, just as Khargrim saw the vines stir once more. This time, there was no jungle breeze to account for the movement.

‘Karra,’ said Khargrim, gripping the Amazon’s arm with one hand while pointing towards the movement with the other. ‘That’s one of these… terradons, isn’t it?’

The girl simply nodded, then looked down at Khargrim with horror-filled eyes. A dark shape detached itself from the lip of the crater, followed moments later by several more.

‘We need to run,’ the Amazon croaked. ‘Right now.’

Khargrim spun about, searching wildly for any scrap of cover. Though the crater floor was covered in boulders, not one of them was large enough to shelter the party from the dark shapes speeding towards them. Then, he saw the only way to escape whatever these airborne beasts were.

‘Everybody listen!’ Khargrim shouted. ‘When I give the word, run for those vines and climb as fast as you can, got it?’

Though Ghurni nodded his understanding, the rest of the party looked back at Khargrim as if he were mad. The shapes resolved into at least three wide-winged beasts, flying lizards with what looked like skink riders on their backs. The terradons banked, shrieking as they fixed their beady eyes upon the choice morsels below, then started what could only be an attack dive.

‘Run!’ Khargrim bellowed as he pointed towards the base of the vines from which the terradons had launched themselves. ‘That way. Go!’

In an instant, the majority of the party was speeding for the vine-choked crater wall, but two had held back. One was Ghurni, the Slayer bracing himself with his axe held ready, and the other was Verdandi, who was squinting down the shaft of an arrow as her target screamed down towards her.

‘Get moving, engineer,’ said Verdandi calmly.

‘You get moving!’ Khargrim replied coldly.

‘I plan to,’ Verdandi said with a slight grin. ‘Once I’ve put them off…’

With that, she loosed her Graeling sea bow, the arrow flashing upwards like a lightning bolt to bury itself seconds later in the left eye of the lead terradon. The effect was instantaneous, the creature opening its pointed snout wide and screaming with deafening shrillness. Its wings beat suddenly out of time and its entire body twisted into a writhing mass of claws and leathery wings. The dive became a plummet, and seconds later the beast crashed into the crater floor a mere dozen yards ahead of Verdandi, impacting with a sickening, bone-jarring crunch.

‘Now,’ Verdandi said calmly, ‘is when I was planning on running.’

A second later the silver-haired sea-maiden was dashing past, leaving Khargrim alone in the open with Ghurni still standing, braced to face the remaining terradons.

‘Come on, Ghurni!’ he shouted, hauling on the Slayer’s elbow as he watched the rest of the party nearing the crater wall. Ghurni stood resolutely, determined he would not be moved.

‘I made the oath,’ said Ghurni as the shadow the terradon cast as it blotted out the sun passed over them.

‘Well I didn’t!’ Khargrim spat, a shouted warning from one of his other companions catching his ear.

Khargrim hauled on Ghurni’s elbow with all of his strength, and the two went down in a struggling mass the very instant an arrow flashed by overhead. Khargrim never saw the arrow strike the second terradon but he certainly heard the shriek that told him it had hit. But unlike the first terradon Verdandi had brought down, this one appeared to be carrying something in its huge claws, a massive chunk of the rock of its own aerie, which it had been attempting to drop upon the two the instant Verdandi’s arrow had struck. Its crude aim spoiled, the massive chunk of masonry hurtled from the air to strike the ground a mere dozen yards away. But instead of shattering, the stone rebounded with bone-crunching force, passing directly over the two prone dwarfs with a rush of air as loud as any cannonball before burying itself in the distant crater wall.

‘Grungni’s oath!’ Ghurni breathed. ‘If I had been standing–’

‘You would have lost your empty Slayer’s head,’ Khargrim finished for his friend as another silhouette bore down from the sky. ‘I shall not tell you again… run!’

This time, Ghurni did as he was ordered, and the two dwarfs ran as fast as their legs would carry them across the boulder-strewn crater floor, the shadow of the third terradon pursuing them all the way. Verdandi unleashed a third shot from her mighty sea bow, which missed the beast itself but struck one of the skinks riding upon its back. Though the shot did not slay the terradon it caused a moment of distraction as the second rider fought to regain control of the shrieking flying lizard, and a second later the two were at the base of the wall. Verdandi was waiting for them having climbed the first few yards of the vines as the rest of the party scrambled upwards.

The rest of Khargrim’s companions were already climbing the vines, which spilled down the crater wall in such a chaotic fashion that hand and foot holds were plenty. Ovar was already half way up, the hunter proving himself especially nimble. Behind Ovar scrambled one of the thralls, a Sarl warrior with shaggy blond hair and a helmet capped with mighty horns. The man appeared to have overtaken Karra, the Amazon scowling at him as he climbed ever higher towards the hunter. Lower down, Thorkell was dragging the still feverishly rambling shaman inexorably upwards. Only as Khargrim and Ghurni started to climb did Verdandi start upwards herself, stopping a few yards up to fire off another arrow at the last terradon, which banked and wheeled as its rider sought to find a way of attacking the party.

Khargrim gritted his teeth as he hauled himself ever higher, swearing colourfully every yard of the way, for this was far from the natural habitat for a dwarf. Verdandi and Karra made climbing look easy, the Amazon native to the twisted, dense jungles of Lustria and the sea-maiden well capable of the most acrobatic manoeuvres amongst the rigging of the far-ranging Norse vessels. Even as he climbed, Khargrim heard the shrieking terradon get closer with each pass, its mighty leathern wings beating the air into a violent storm as its pointed, serrated beak snapped and stabbed each time it soared through the air nearby.

Khargrim was almost half way up the wall and his limbs were screaming with pain when Karra shouted a sudden warning from much higher up. Cursing violently, Khargrim glanced urgently over his shoulder, only to see the terradon swooping in towards him, its skink rider drawing back its javelin in readiness to propel it towards him.

Entirely without thinking, Khargrim grabbed his hammer from his belt and hurled it wildly at the screaming enemy, pronouncing the word of command that would invoke its runic power. As the hammer sped through the air one of the runes etched into its head burned into white-hot life and the weapon struck the skink rider square in the chest, unleashing a blinding flash of arcane illumination that burned itself into Khargrim’s retinas for long moments.

The terradon’s rider vanished in the mystical explosion, its constituent elements scattered to ashes, and the hammer arced back through the air towards Khargrim’s outstretched hand, guided and sustained by the most potent of runes. Khargrim caught the weapon instinctively as a chorus of triumphant shouts sounded from his companions higher up.

But, even as his eyes cleared of the retinal burn inflicted by the arcane detonation Khargrim saw that while the terradon’s rider was no longer a threat, the beast itself most certainly still was. The terradon was clearly maddened by the explosion and the loss of its master, its loathsome cries so loud they almost shook Khargrim from his perch even though he was now holding on to the vines with every ounce of his strength.

Throwing all caution to the wind, the terradon swooped in for the kill, risking entangling its wings in amongst the mass of vines, its tiny, predatory eyes fixed solidly on him. Khargrim knew with dreadful certainty that he was its sole target. With both hands gripping the vines just to hold on there was no way he could cast his potent rune hammer a second time.

As the beast closed it opened its serrated jaw wide, sweeping its mighty wings downward to give it some stability and lift. Its head darted forward and its teeth snapped together with a sound like steel blades clashing in combat. Khargrim twisted his body and lifted his legs a fraction of a second before they would have been bitten clean off.

He kicked out wildly as the beast swept past, unable to maintain its lift for more than a few seconds. Moments later it was sweeping down and away from the crater wall, though Khargrim could swear that one of its gleaming black eyes was still focused on him.

Aware that he didn’t have long before the creature returned for another pass, Khargrim struggled up onto a larger branch of vine and ensured that he was securely nestled in amongst the writhing tendrils before he craned his neck to look up towards his companions.

A brief glance told Khargrim that Karra and Ovar were very nearly at the summit and that the blond-haired Sarl thrall who had shoved his way past the Amazon girl was even now pulling himself over the lip. Verdandi was attempting to draw a bead on the terradon with her recurved sea bow, but her aim was being spoiled by another of the thralls, who was trying to pull himself up the very same twisted branch she was perched in.

Seeing that it was unlikely that any of his companions would be able to help him, Khargrim braced himself for a second attack run as the terradon banked, swept its wings back and ploughed through the air directly towards him.

But before it had travelled far, a shout of victory rang from far above as the blond-haired thrall pulled himself to his full height at the lip of the crater. Glancing contemptuously down at the rest of the party, the man spat a colourful Sarl curse and turned his back on them, abandoning his companions to the terradon’s mercy.

But before he could travel a step further, the man froze. A bloodcurdling shriek of primal fear split the air and he turned back towards the crater, his face a mask of utter horror. A dark shape appeared behind him and in the blink of an eye another terradon had swept in from behind and plucked the man from his perch between its jaws before plunging into the air above the crater.

Consigning the man to his deserved fate, Khargrim prepared himself for his own, only to see that the first terradon had changed course and was sweeping upwards to meet the newcomer, the thrall struggling in terror as the razor-sharp beak gripped his body with its vicelike grip.

The first terradon unleashed a fearsome cry as it closed with the other, and Khargrim saw that the second must have been a wild beast, for it was without both rider and saddle. It was immediately evident that the two beasts had regressed to their primal modes of behaviour, and with a wave of horror Khargrim saw what would happen next.

Deciding not to witness the thrall’s grisly demise, Khargrim bellowed for his companions to climb as quickly as they could while their attackers were distracted, and in seconds he was hauling himself upwards once more, Ghurni close behind.

As Khargrim and his companions climbed, the two terradons swooped, banked and wheeled in a lethal aerial dance that could only end in the death of one of the pair, the Sarl warrior screaming in pain and anger the entire time. The dance went on for long minutes, and as Khargrim finally dragged himself over the lip of the crater to roll onto the solid ground, he found Verdandi nearby, her Graeling sea bow tracking the duel as it swept across the skies.

Propping himself up on his elbows, Khargrim saw that the two creatures were approaching the inevitable end of their combat, and that the first was diving in upon the second, its claws outstretched to grab the flailing thrall from the other’s jaws. From his increasingly desperate cries, it was obvious that the man had seen his fate, a death Khargrim knew that no mortal being deserved.

‘Do it,’ Khargrim said grimly.

With a silent nod, Verdandi loosed her arrow, which flashed through the air and struck the writhing thrall square in the centre of the chest.

As startled as it was angered by the unexpected attack, the terradon screamed and dropped its prey. The man plummeted towards the distant ground, mercifully dead before he struck the crater floor. The object of their battle lost, the two primeval beasts clashed, claws raking leathern hide in a tangle of muscle and teeth, their savage cries splitting the air as they fought to the death.

Determined not to waste the opportunity the thrall’s death had afforded them, Khargrim dragged himself to his feet and turned to discern the path ahead. Before him was dense jungle, the twisting trees a mass of broken branches and shattered trunks, the result of the unleashing of Yngv’s prodigiously disastrous spell.

Then, Khargrim saw what was waiting for the party not three hundred yards away at the ragged verge of the jungle.

‘Grimnir.’ Khargrim invoked one of his race’s ancient gods. ‘What must I have done to anger you so?’

The jungle was filled with lizardmen of every type and size, all glowering with murderous intent at Khargrim and his companions. Swarms of writhing snakes and reptiles carpeted the open ground while cohorts of skinks lurked in the dense undergrowth. Rank upon rank of mighty saurus warriors stood ready to receive the order to charge, each taller than a man and as muscular as a black orc. Gold and bronze glinted in the midday sun and hundreds of cold, reptilian eyes gleamed as they regarded Khargrim and his fellow warm-blooded intruders trespassing into their ancient jungle realm.

‘Karra,’ Khargrim hissed urgently to the nearby Amazon, who was tensed as if on the verge of charging into the ranks of the enemy. ‘How far to the river?’

The entire party was frozen to the spot as if entranced by the gaze of so many cold-blooded lizardmen and the air itself was solid with tension. The lizardmen remained in place, barely moving, yet Khargrim knew they might burst into savage and murderous action at the slightest provocation. He had not a clue why they had not done so already, but he was determined to take any opportunity the gods might offer, no matter how seemingly insignificant.

‘How far, girl?’ he repeated, investing his words with as much authority and urgency as it was possible to do without provoking a reaction from the serried ranks before them.

With what appeared to Khargrim like great difficulty or reluctance, Karra tore her eyes from the lizardmen and the dwarf was struck by the depths of hatred she seemed to have reserved for them. He realised in that brief instant just how little he really knew of Karra’s people and the reasons she might have to hate the lizardmen so. When she did meet his gaze, Khargrim saw that Karra’s eyes were glazed over with impenetrable depths of bitterness, which slowly evaporated as if she was awakening from a trance.

‘What?’ she said, blinking rapidly.

‘The river!’ he repeated still more stridently, horribly aware that the unfathomable enemy might explode into violence at any moment. ‘We cannot be far from the boat!’

After another few seconds Karra’s eyes had cleared, and she nodded as she cast about for some frame of reference. ‘That way,’ she hissed as she indicated the direction with a jerk of her chin. ‘Just over that rise.’

Following her gesture, Khargrim’s heart pounded as he saw that they might just have a chance to escape with their lives, if not with much treasure. The tree-topped rise was just beyond the enemy’s left flank, and attainable, if not easily.

‘We need a distraction,’ Khargrim muttered, his mind racing. If they were to make that rise and the river beyond it the party would have to skirt the edge of the lizardmen army, and in so doing risk the attentions of several hundred of the enemy. His brow furrowing, his eyes settled on the Baersonling shaman, Yngv.

‘No, engineer,’ Verdandi hissed as she tore her gaze from the ranks of lizardmen and saw where Khargrim was looking. ‘He cannot…’

‘We have no other choice,’ Khargrim replied. ‘Yngv?’

The shaman was leaning upon his staff, his wide eyes fixed upon the enemy with a mixture of terror, madness and resignation. Nevertheless, Yngv seemed lucid, and he nodded in understanding of Khargrim’s request.

‘I really do not believe…’ said Verdandi, backing slowly away from the shaman, who was drawing himself to his full height. A low, sibilant hiss passed through the ranks of lizardmen, precious metal adornments clinking and hide armour creaking as they stirred.

‘Fear not, Graeling,’ said Yngv. ‘I now see my error. The normally diffuse winds of magic in this region are channelled into concentrated lines of power. I didn’t know that before, and unwittingly unleashed too much. Now, I know that all I need do is…’

A deep, rumbling growl sounded from the ranks of lizardmen and Khargrim felt that familiar wave of sickness that magic always brought on. Yngv raised his staff with one hand and traced an elaborate form in the air with the other, a glowing sigil appearing before him.

Now the air became charged with arcane power and Khargrim’s beard bristled wildly. Verdandi gave a low moan of despair and Ghurni swore colourfully.

‘This minor seal-sigil is a tap on this land’s power, but it is a small thing, and unable to hold such power at bay for long,’ Yngv said, his voice strained. ‘When it breaks, a great torrent of power shall be unleashed. I suggest we get moving, lest we be consumed along with the lizards.’

‘I do not need telling twice,’ said Khargrim. ‘Is everyone ready?’

Before any of Khargrim’s companions could answer, the ranks of lizardmen took a sudden step forward as one, the heavy tread of the saurus and the larger creatures causing the earth to shake. The party took a step backwards in response, finding themselves backed right against the lip of the crater. The thought of more terradons appearing from behind came into Khargrim’s mind, but at that very moment Yngv completed his spell, his arm sweeping through the air and etching the last flourish of the glowing arcane sigil.

Time froze, and just for a moment Khargrim thought that nothing had happened. Then he realised that the lizardmen too had frozen, in mid step, as had the swaying of the branches in the jungle breeze.

‘The seal won’t hold for long,’ said Yngv, his voice strained.

‘I said I do not need telling twice,’ Khargrim growled as he grabbed the arms of the two nearest members of the party, who happened to be Ghurni and Thorkell, and shoved them bodily towards the rise. ‘Move!’

Khargrim’s words broke the impasse and in an instant every one of his companions was dashing for the rise and the river beyond. With Yngv’s spell in effect, the air itself seemed thick and electrified, and the adventurers felt as if they were pushing their way through water. Soon, they were running perpendicular to the ranks of lizardmen and as they approached Khargrim realised that the saurus were straining against the effects of the spell as if they could break the invisible bonds with a combination of bodily strength and raw determination.

As he ran, Khargrim became aware of a fierce glow from behind him, its light visible even in the blazing midday sun.

‘Do not turn to look, Khargrim,’ shouted Yngv from nearby. ‘It’s the seal-sigil, and it’s about to fail!’

As if he needed any more encouragement, Khargrim redoubled his pace, his feet pounding across the open ground. In moments he and his fellows had plunged into the tree line and were forced to slow down lest they stumble on the twisted roots and vines choking the jungle floor. The leafy jungle canopy blocked out most of the blazing Lustrian sun, but that only served to intensify the white light burning from behind. Khargrim knew that to turn and look upon Yngv’s sigil would be to lose his eyesight for all time, so fierce was the mystical illumination.

The ground beneath Khargrim’s feet became suddenly steep, and he realised that he and his companions were climbing the rise and that the river, and their means of escape, was not far beyond the crest. That thought might have been Khargrim’s last though, for as he rounded a corner in the jungle path he almost slammed straight into the form of a huge, scaly lizard, its serpentine form snaking along the ground and its head surrounded by a multicoloured and wickedly-spiked crest.

Khargrim stumbled to a halt, Ghurni and Thorkell doing the same just behind him, then he realised that the creature was frozen in place, though its eyes were fixed savagely upon him and its muscular legs were shaking, so hard was it straining to break the entrapment.

At that very moment, the sigil-seal broke and the limitless reserves of arcane power backed up by its warding erupted forth. The sigil detonated, the resulting explosion hurling Khargrim and his companions to the ground as the air at their backs seethed with blazing mystical power.

Great arcs of raw magic spat outwards from the boiling white explosion, each earthing itself in the soul of the nearest mortal being. The lizardmen, suddenly freed of their magical bonds, powered forward, unable to halt as they stumbled into the blazing light. Arcs of power lashed through the air, striking the lizardmen and destroying them utterly in a second. Flesh seared from bones, leaving nothing but blackened skeletons silhouetted against the light. Moments later, the skeletons collapsed to ashes to be scattered on the raging winds of magic.

All Khargrim and his companions could do in the face of the howling torrent of energy was grit their teeth, clamp their hands tight over their ears, and pray to whatever gods they could that they would be delivered safely from the raging storm of magic. The serpentine beast that had blocked Khargrim’s path was evidently bereft of any such guardian deity, for even as it burst into sudden movement a snaking white arc of power lanced through the air, burned through the jungle canopy and seized the creature in its lethal embrace. The beast was reduced to ashes, which carpeted Khargrim, Ghurni and Thorkell’s bodies as they sheltered in the undergrowth nearby.

As Khargrim opened his eyes and raised his head, his face was struck by the hot wind raging from behind, which carried upon it thick, gritty ash. Spitting to clear his throat of the remains of the magically incinerated lizardmen, Khargrim struggled to his feet, the wind almost toppling him straight away.

As that gale thundered through the jungle it parted the trees in front of Khargrim, and his face was split in a wide grin as he caught sight of the river, its waters churning with the fierce storm. Upon those waters lay his wondrous steam-powered vessel, straining at anchor yet holding firm in the tempest.

‘There you are,’ Khargrim mouthed as his companions rose from their hiding places amidst the thrashing undergrowth. All bar one of the thralls, whose body was now ashes upon the arcane wind, were unscathed, though all were visibly shaken by the awesome power Yngv’s spell had unleashed.

‘I told you!’ the Baersonling shaman crowed as Khargrim started down the slope towards the riverbank, the desire to put as much distance between himself and the Tomb of Destiny driving him forward despite his weariness. As he stumbled to a halt at the river’s edge, he saw with indescribable joy that the handful of Norse thralls he had left to guard the vessel had kept the engine tended and that the great iron funnel was belching steam into the air. The huge paddle wheels were primed and ready to power into motion at Khargrim’s order, and to carry the party to freedom.

As his companions stumbled after him, halting at his side by the bank, Khargrim saw that the thralls on his beloved ship were waving. With a bark of mad laughter, Khargrim raised his arm and waved back, but the crew continued to wave, their gestures becoming ever more animated.

‘If they’ve been drinking my ale…’ Khargrim growled, then stopped in mid sentence as he became aware of a low, rhythmic tread shaking the ground beneath his feet. He turned, his heart filling with a mixture of dread and bitter resignation. Glowering into the tree line from which he and his fellows had just emerged he saw nothing but the leaves trembling with every unseen impact.

Swallowing hard, Khargrim tracked upwards, through the canopy, to the churning air above the jungle. A massive, blackened form… Twisted horns the size of trees, iron-hard skin steaming from numerous magically inflicted wounds…

Khargrim took a step backwards, stumbling into the shallows behind him as he craned his neck to take in the impossible form as it reared above the jungle rise. Whatever it was, it must have been created by the lizardmen or their long-lost gods, for it resembled some reptilian behemoth from the very darkest of prehistorical nightmares. Its head was like that of a lizard and surmounted by a huge, bone-armoured crest while from its snout at least five spiralling horns sprouted. Its eyes were tiny, yet radiated godlike, unreasoning malice. As it reared higher it crushed entire trees beneath its massive, hoofed feet and its vast body toppled still more as it shouldered them aside. With a final thrash of its massive, spined tail it huffed through its flaring nostrils then issued a deafening roar that could only be a primal challenge.

‘Everyone in the water,’ Khargrim mouthed, his voice little more than a croak. When no one moved, he coughed, then bellowed, ‘Everyone in the water! Make for the boat, it is our only…’

As his companions waded into the shallows, their faces twisted with fear, Khargrim saw that Ghurni remained on the bank, his axe raised two-handed as he looked up towards the huge beast.

Khargrim was just about to curse his friend for a fool once again, when the Slayer lowered his axe and started walking backwards. In a moment he was beside the engineer, his eyes wild and his lips frothing.

‘The oath calls for your death to have purpose, Ghurni!’ Khargrim called out, knowing the Slayer had no hope of victory against the monstrosity bearing down upon him.

The light of reason returning to his eyes, Ghurni nodded. ‘You are right, my friend,’ he said.

‘Never mind your thanks,’ Khargrim replied, shoving his friend into the water with as much force as he could muster. ‘We are not clear yet!’

Then Khargrim was swimming towards his beloved boat. All he could see was churning water as he and his desperate companions swam madly for safety, the sound of thundering hoofs at his back. Even as he sensed the shadow of the mighty beast pass over him, Khargrim was propelled forward by a bow wave, caused, he knew, by the creature ploughing into the river.

Gritting his teeth, Khargrim powered onwards, hating the water as only a dwarf could. His stinging eyes caught sight of his boat’s huge paddle wheels and the iron funnel rearing above them, and he heard the familiar, beloved growl of her steam-powered engine as it idled. Then he saw the slick form of Karra Lakota climbing effortlessly up the paddles and disappearing towards the engine room. He grinned insanely even as he swam desperately on, knowing that Karra was one of the few members of his party he had entrusted with the knowledge of how to operate the machine. A hand was thrust towards him and he grabbed it firmly, to be hauled up roughly onto the deck, another taking hold of Ghurni.

Khargrim collapsed onto the wet deck as he drew a deep ragged breath of air, but he knew he had not a second to spare. Hauling himself to his feet, he turned to the railing, only to see that the massive beast had entered the raging waters and was even now bearing down on Khargrim’s beloved boat. Its cavernous maw was opened wide and its beady, hateful eyes were fixated upon him, ready to swallow him whole and smash his vessel to so much driftwood.

‘No!’ Khargrim growled, the thought of his vessel being abused in such a manner filling him with bloody-minded strength and determination. In a single step, he was at the cannon mounted at the boat’s prow, and with a single motion he had yanked hard on its lever, a great gout of steam venting from a pressure valve. Hauling on another lever he armed the cannon as he hauled on its breech, swinging it around and bringing it to bear on the gaping maw that was descending through the air towards him.

And then he fired. The cannonball was powered not by gunpowder but by the pent-up force of steam drawn off from the vessel’s engine, which Karra had kicked into full output the second she had boarded. It was far, far more lethal than any other weapon of its size. The solid cannonball exploded from the muzzle at impossible velocity and struck the rearing beast straight in its ridged palate. In a shower of bone and blood, the creature’s head was atomised, the entire deck of Khargrim’s boat instantly covered in a thick layer of dripping, steaming gore.

Almost in slow motion, the headless, primordial body sank beneath the waves of the boiling river, and at the last, all was still.

Hours later, Khargrim stood by the railing at the prow, gazing absently into the deep green waters as his vessel steamed along the river at full speed. The skies overhead churned with magical flux and the distant forms of terradon-mounted hunting parties were visible over the jungle. Khargrim had decided he was done with this part of Lustria, and none of his companions disagreed.

‘Where to now, engineer?’ asked Verdandi as she joined Khargrim at the railing.

Glancing up, Khargrim saw that it wasn’t just the Graeling sea-maiden who had joined him, but the Slayer Ghurni, the Amazon Karra, the Varg Ovar, the Bjornling Thorkell and the Baersonling Yngv too. Every one of the rag tag, mismatched company was looking to him for an answer.

‘Hmph!’ Khargrim snorted as he turned to regard his fellows. ‘Have you not had your fill of tomb raiding and treasure hunting?’

‘You forget,’ Thorkell spoke up, his grizzled old face looking straight down into the dwarf’s. ‘We got away from the Tomb of Destiny with our lives, but not with any treasure. Some of us have debts to pay, and you made us a promise.’

Khargrim smiled as he considered Thorkell’s words. The wooden-legged Bjornling marauder was correct. He had made them a promise that he would make them all rich, but it wasn’t entirely true that they had escaped with no treasure.

‘Well,’ Khargrim replied, his hand drawn protectively towards the small leather bag at his belt, which following the encounter in the idol chamber of the Tomb of Destiny had become surprisingly heavy. As heavy as the large jewel that the golden idol had cupped in its webbed hands… ‘Karra here told me some time ago that the stretch of coast to the north of here is host to at least a dozen sacred sites, any one of which might yield a dwarf king’s ransom in gold, and that’s a lot of gold, right, Karra?’

‘Hmm? said the Amazon, her gaze suddenly fixated on the leather bag Khargrim was trying so unsubtly to hide. ‘Yes,’ she said, fixing Khargrim with a dark glare. ‘There’s plenty of treasure to go around.’

‘Well then,’ said Khargrim. ‘How about we all go get filthy rich?’

‘Again,’ muttered Ghurni, as Karra continued to glare sullenly at the engineer, her arms crossed over her chest.

‘Again,’ said Khargrim, and turned for the wheelhouse of his beloved boat, and whatever fortunes Lustria had in store for him and his companions.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ANDY HOARE worked for eight years in Games Workshop’s design studio, producing and developing new game rules and background material. Now working freelance writing novels, roleplaying game material and gaming-related magazine articles, Andy lives in Nottingham with his partner Sarah.

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Table of Contents

Cover

Tomb of the Golden Idol - Part Two

About the Author

Legal

eBook license