Chapter 36: The Cloakwood Mine
A hillock near the mine compound offered not only an excellent view of the buildings and people within the lair, but also a welcome opportunity to make some strategic decisions.
"Do you think you can handle this?" Edwin asked Imoen as the group started down the hill. "(She had better; it is a great responsibility.)"
"Don't worry, Eddie," Imoen said cheerily.
Edwin rolled his eyes at her. When will she stop calling me that? he thought, but he didn't say it out loud; experience had taught him that the girl would rather be encouraged to repeat the offense if he did. The familiarity still grated at his sensibilities, though; all things considered, tutoring someone as effervescent as Imoen would have been rather unbearable if not for her considerable intellect. He had found in her a vast capacity for magical learning, she understood arcane concepts without the need for him to simplify his speech, and her choices in how and when she'd used the few spells she'd learned so far could only be characterized as resourceful. What she did to that wyvern... In that moment, the circumstances of his tutoring her (all for the sake of the mission) had been insignificant compared to the pride he'd felt.
The body of one of the Iron Throne mercenaries that had guarded the hilltop was blocking his path. "(Simians,)" Edwin muttered as he lifted the hem of his robe and stepped around the obstacle.
---
As soon as Ember and her companions had dealth with the two guards on the bridge that led into the compound, a group of four people exited one of the buildings. From the hilltop, they'd watched this group wander around the lair; two of the men were heavily armored, while the other two wore mage robes. All wore dark clothing except one of the mages, who was dressed in flamboyant robes of red, purple and gold.
"Draw your daggers and spells and lets have at 'er!" one of the armored men shouted. "You've crossed our employers and this is as far as you're going to go, my friend. Should've known that lazy bounty hunting rabble wouldn't get the job done. Never settle for second best, I always say!"
They were waiting for us. For me. "You want to know what I always say? Always kill the mouthy one, that's what I always say," Ember shouted back.
The man laughed heartily. "A good saying! I will use your head for a puppet and make it say it over and over while we drink large amounts of mead! Life is pretty good, you know?" he said.
"Now," Edwin told Imoen. She nodded briskly and began chanting a spell; moments later, the four mercenaries were shrouded by a cloud of noxious fumes. A squirrel that had ventured down from a tree and into the grassy patch between the compound's buildings fell unconscious to the ground, as did one of the mages; he had set up a mirror image before Imoen's spell landed, with the result that a pile of six mages in garish robes lay in the middle of the affected area. Visibly struggling to abide the stench, the man that had spoken to them ran out of the cloud and charged at Ember. He held a a golden morningstar with both hands, and raised it high above his head in preparation to strike.
"Fear the wrath of Minsc!" Minsc bellowed, and stepped between Ember and her attacker. He blocked the morningstar easily with his great sword, and dealt the man a blow that sent him reeling backwards. Ember joined Minsc in fighting the man, while Coran and Kivan fired arrows at the other armored man, who was in turn trying to hit them with throwing axes. Imoen and Edwin had broken the mirror images of both mages with magic missiles, and were locked in combat with the dark-robed mage. Faldorn was the only one who did not immediately join the fight. Instead, she drew a deep breath, ran into the cloud, picked up the squirrel and staggered back to safety. Wheezing and coughing, she gently deposited the squirrel under a tree.
"(What a waste of time.) Do your part!" Edwin yelled at the shadow druid. She scowled at him, raised her nose in a decidedly arrogant fashion, and finally conjured up a thundercloud over their enemies.
The fight was soon over, and the clouds dissipated shortly thereafter. A quick search of the bodies turned up a letter on the body of the man that Ember and Minsc had fought; evidently, his group had been hired by someone named Rieltar to protect the mine from an expected incursion. There was no mention of Ember, neither by name nor description.
"He went straight for me, though," Ember said.
"You were the one talking back at him, remember?" Imoen pointed out.
"Who cares?" Faldorn said. "The abomination of the mine is within reach!"
Ember was close enough to Kivan to hear him sigh quietly. "Then let us enter, and be done with it," the ranger said.
---
The guards at the mine entrance offered little resistance, and they soon descended into the mine itself.
A horrifying sight met them.
Haggard men dressed in rags and shreds of clothing stumbled around in the darkness, pushing ore carts, coughing, chipping at the walls, crying. Guards were posted here and there in the tunnels, and they watched the miners' activity with drawn swords.
One of the guards approached Ember and her group. "Hey, who are you?" he asked. "Drasus didn't say there'd be more mer-" Ember cut him off by ramming her sword into his gut, and he fell gasping to the tunnel floor. The miners around them stopped in their tracks and stared.
"You're no guards," one of the miners muttered.
"That's right," Imoen said. "We're here to help!"
"To ...help?" the miner said, a glimmer of hope in his voice.
"We shall destroy this place," Faldorn said.
"What's going on here? Get back to work!" A handful of guards moved towards the miners, who had clustered together near the entrance.
"There will be no more work for evil!" Minsc cried. He fell upon the guards, accompanied by cheers from the miners.
"How many of you are there here?" Kivan asked as some of the miners hauled the dead guards away.
"Five dozen or so," someone said, then coughed violently.
"We're not miners, you see," a young voice said. "Most of us are merchants. These brigands abducted us and brought us here to work the mine for Davaeorn. He runs this place; his quarters are at the bottom of the mine."
"Davaeorn, you say?" Ember asked. The miner nodded. We have our man, she thought with satisfaction.
"Are all of you working on this level?" Kivan asked.
"Aye, we work here, but we're not all up here. The prisoners are held on the level below us."
"Prisoners?" Ember asked.
"Yes, miss. Those who wouldn't obey... and Yeslick. He's a dwarf; I think he owned the mine, once."
"We'll find them!" Imoen said. "In the meantime, you should all get out of here, and then we'll get you out of the woods. We took care of the guards up there, so it's safe."
After the second round of cheering had subsided, the miners took them to a tunnel that lead to the lower levels. There were still a few guards left in the area, stationed at intervals in the tunnels, but each of them was easily dealt with.
The lower level was designed much like a fortress. The tunnels were well-lit, and the walls and floors were carved to form smooth, straight surfaces. There were guard rooms, weapon racks, and prison cells. The largest room appeared to be a mess hall; Coran had snuck close enough to discover that a dozen or so armed men and a mage were sitting there, eating and drinking. Edwin killed half of the soldiers and wounded the rest with a single fireball; the survivors were quickly disposed of with swords and arrows. A trembling cook in the sideroom directed them towards the remaining cells before she ran away.
"This way," Imoen said, and lead them to the cell doors. She immediately went to work with her lockpicks, and had soon opened every cell. The prisoners were in poor shape; the supported each other and limped out of the cells towards the surface, some of them pausing to take food from the adjacent kitchen.
In the smallest, darkest cell, they found the dwarf. He looked quite old, and had a white beard that hung almost to his knees. "Oh a fine sight are you, who ever you are!" he cried when he realized he was freed. "I canna be done with this place soon enough!"
"Are you Yeslick?" Imoen asked.
"Aye, I be Yeslick," the dwarf said. "I don't know who you are, but I'm glad to see you nonetheless, and if you be against the Throne you've my best blessings. If fact, I'll do you better than blessings."
"How so?" Ember asked.
"This mine was once my clan-home, and after that my clan-tomb. We breached a riverbank over a hundred years ago and most of us died. A few survived, but we left the mine flooded as a monument to the dead."
"And now evil is in the monument! Minsc will not stand for it!" Minsc cried.
The dwarf smiled. "I got trade-work at the Iron Throne smithing, but I then told my 'friend' Rieltar about my old home. They chained me up and tortured the location out of me, and now my home feeds the Iron Throne and their evil plans. I'd sooner destroy it again than have the Throne use it so! Here are directions to the lower levels, where Davaeorn is," he said, drawing a crude map on the dusty floor with a stick," and up here is where the breach was. They plugged the hole to the river, but knowing hands can loose it again! Davaeorn has the key to the plug. Get it from him, and flood the blaggards out!"
It'd restore his memorial tomb. And the Throne wouldn't be too happy, either. "We'll do as you wish," Ember said. She noticed an eager, almost hungry, expression on Faldorn's face, but decided it was best to not draw attention to the shadow druid.
"I must leave, I can bear the sight of this place no longer. I'll black a few eyes on the way out though! Clangeddin's might be with you!"
"There aren't many eyes left to blacken up there, my friend," Coran said with a grin.
"Perhaps you could help the miners get out?" Imoen suggested.
Yeslick nodded. "Aye. I'll do that. You've been good to me, friends. Bust some heads, will you?" He waved cheerily and ran down the tunnels that lead to the surface with a speed surprising in one of his obvious age.
One more level of quarters and and chambers remained before they'd reach Davaeorn's rooms. Most of the bandits in these rooms were hobgoblin troops, but they also came across an ogre mage who'd killed several prisoners for sport, a well-stocked armoury, and a female mage that'd almost managed to charm Coran before they managed to kill her. "(It would hardly have made a difference,)" Edwin had observed.
Not too long after they'd passed a room that held a giant ore smelter and a forge, a doorway opened up to one side. Within, they could see an altar, covered in brown stains. Above it, on the wall, hung an odd symbol; a skull surrounded by a river of tears. It seemed to remind Ember of something unpleasant, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.
"It is the symbol of Bhaal," Edwin said. "(Certainly even these barbarians must have heard of the dead god of Murder.)"
"Boo says it should not be here in Yeslick's clan-tomb!" Minsc cried. With a mighty roar, he slashed at the symbol. It broke into a pile of pottery shards.
"I think Boo was right," Imoen said, sighing with relief. "The room feels nicer already."
"A desecration has been destroyed, and now we must complete the purging and cleanse the wound! Come!" Faldorn said, and headed out of the room.
Ember sighed. "Let's go. I don't trust her out of our sight."
"Nor do I," Kivan said.
They followed the shadow druid out of the chamber and down the corridor towards a winding staircase which would take them to Davaeorn's quarters.
