Chapter 21

The Underworld

Stefan and the others were escorted by the Blue Dragonflight to the eastern edge of Coldarra. Along the frozen coast line, they found what Malygos had described; the Nerubian tunnel was a large, gaping maw that emerged from a large dune of snow, giant pillars of black rock laced in gold plating adorning the entry way.

"Either we've found a way into Azjol-Nerub, or the gates to the Underworld!" laughed Fineus.

The Blue Dragonflight left them standing before the giant black gates, shivering in the cold. Stefan approached them cautiously, watching for any betrayal of hidden traps or wards. When he found none, he came up to a circular hole that lay at the gate's center. He pulled the Nerubian key from the pouch at his waist and slid the cold artifact into the slot. It fit perfectly.

There was a tug, then the key was released, and the gates slid aside with a dull rumble, gathered snow tumbling from its disturbed perch to cascade over the dark entryway like a frozen waterfall. The eerie silence sent a shiver up Stefan's spine.

"Just to be sure it isn't the Underworld, I think we'll send Fineus in first," said Haydric. Though clearly a joke, the Gnome didn't find it funny.

Molgoby stepped forward to join Stefan at the front. Ahead, the darkness of the ancient tunnel beckoned. Looking at each other with anticipation, the Tauren and Human stepped in side by side, hands gripping their weapons for a moment's notice of danger. As they disappeared into the gloom of the Nerubian construct, neither Stefan nor Molgoby was certain what kept them from turning back. Perhaps it was the sheer amount of fear coarsing through their veins. Most likely, it was the sound of everyone else's footsteps behind them, reassuring them that if they died in the unknown depths of the world, they wouldn't be alone.

---

"Well? Is it working?"

"Give me a moment...Ah. There."

Geraldros' quizzical face lit up in front of Stefan as the Dwarf Engineer's lighting device hummed into life. A bubble of orange illuminated the darkness, and as one the entire group appeared out of the gloom. Fineus jumped slightly, his nerves on end ever since they had come into view of the gates. He had said it reminded him of Gnomeregan, and by the tone of his voice, it was not a cheerful memory.

"Let's keep moving," said Stefan.

"Do you know where we're going?" inquired Mae.

"Sure. North-east. For now, at least," he replied. "Though it looks like the tunnel winds off to the south up ahead. Let's hope it turns back north again."

Iyana came up next to Stefan, smoothly sliding her arm around his. "Do you really know?"

"The only thing for certain, my love, is that we'll last a whole lot longer sticking together."

"But how can the dragons be trusted? You know of the legends of Malygos. The ancient is said to have gone mad..."

"I cannot tell you why, Iyana, but I trust him. When he spoke to us, there was no madness within his eyes. Only the eldritch flame of centuries past," said Stefan, looking on into the darkness. "Or so I hope."

Something emerged from the tunnel ahead. Without thought Stefan had pushed himself in front of Iyana, and brandished one of his maces in one hand, and his pistol in the other. A moment later, and Lyra came into the light, her hands raised against Stefan's offensive. He dropped his weapons thankfully.

"Lyra...thank god...but...how the hell did you do that?" said Stefan, breathing heavily with excitement.

"I am a good scout, Mr. Dreis. T'was why Haydric picked me for your team, and why you agreed," replied the Troll, smiling.

"I picked you because you were a sailor and a good warrior," started Stefan, slapping a hand on her leather-bound shoulder. "Not a damn good warrior."

Lyra laughed at the compliment. "Well, I've spotted some old woodworks up ahead. Might be able to combine it with old rag, some oil, and a spark o' fire. Then we got us some torches."

"Well done. Would you mind sticking with us for the time being? I'd like to keep my britches unsoiled until a real danger comes," replied Stefan.