Iceblade Ascendant

13: GATEHOUSE

The huge, wooden doors closed behind them with a deep, ominous creak, followed by a solid thud, the sound filling the air with a distinct sense of finality. Jaewyn turned and pulled on the heavy, brass rings hanging from the door handles. The doors didn't budge. She looked up, and saw that once again parts of the wooden panels had been broken, revealing the mechanisms beneath. The architecture of the dungeon had been built into the bedrock of the mountain with massive, stone blocks and metal beams in a dazzling array of mechanical artifice. Instantly the elves were filled with both dread and understanding.

There was no going back the way they'd come.

They were standing on what looked like a broad, stone bridge with parapets on either side. Crimson banners stood periodically along the parapets. Adorned upon each was sewn, in gold thread, a skull and a claw, the sigil of Deathclaw Dungeon. A fair way ahead of them was another set of large, wooden doors with brass studs and iron ring handles. Above the doors the stone wall curved into an archway then faded up into blackness. Flanking the doors on the left and right were narrow, stone towers sheathed in ornate, brass edging, with arched, black-glass windows and arrow slits.

"Well I think it's time for a break," Zephyrle groaned. She walked over to the parapet, sheathing her swords and rummaged in her satchel. Jaewyn joined her, wondering what sorcery was keeping the flags flapping. Beyond the confines of the bridge there was only darkness. The rock face faded down into the impenetrable blackness below.

"Seems like we've no choice but to continue on into the dungeon," Thalleron mused. He crouched to examine something on the floor. Kalethe, seemingly not satisfied they were trapped, unsheathed Isaku and strode regally to the doors they'd come through. Swinging the massive blade, he snarled in frustration as the weapon clunked off with little sign of impact. Several more blows followed, each producing a deep boom as the sword's usually awesome power was thwarted.

"It's no use Kal," Jaewyn sighed and moved to see what the mystic had discovered. It was a blue, lapis luzuli, stone tablet set into a flagstone, a paragraph of gold letters flecked across its dusty surface.

"There's something written here..."

"It won't be anything important," Kalethe snapped, his mood obviously dark, "probably just some spiel about the Atlantyans glorifying their love of bloodsports. Let's move along, shall we?"

"No, it looks like instructions, or a message. I'll read it out..."

"We're stuck down here anyway," the warlock groaned. "May as well waste some more time..."

"Will you shut up?" Jaewyn glared at Kalethe, meeting his icy shards with her emeralds.

"Welcome to the Dungeon. You are here because you have committed crimes against the noble government of Atlantys. Now you will pay. Your crimes will be forgiven if you prove yourself worthy by surviving the dungeon. Lucky for you, no fiends of the Underverse inhabit the glorious Gatehouse. This is your chance to hone your skills before venturing into the Black. You are safe here, for now..." Thalleron stood, leaning on his staff. "Sounds like we should prepare for battle."

"What do you think I've been doing," Zephyrle purred.

Jaewyn glanced over to where Zephyrle was slouched against the parapet, blowing dust from her fingertips. An open bottle of Sunlight Special was sitting on the parapet beside her.

"If sharpening your bitch nails and gulping wine equals preparing for battle, I'm Esmeraedyn's sex slave." Jaewyn smirked.

"What?" Zephyrle pouted. "I think it's been pretty full on." She stowed her nail file and pulled out a packet of dried bird meat strips. "Mind if I scoff some Goldclaw appetizers?"