They searched around the cave trying to locate any exits in the dark stone. The tunnel they had slid down had disappeared from above their heads though it gave a hollow sound when prodded. Breaking through the stone ceiling would be an arduous task, and even then, the steep incline made climbing back impossible The three of them spent the next minutes tapping and gliding their hands along the stone walls trying to find any secret mechanisms that could bring them further than the obvious tunnel that remained. They were sure that the tunnel could lead them directly into another trap. Eventually, as they could not find another way, and no secret passages could be found the three of them decided to brave the tunnel. Migaal pointed his paw towards the dark passage and the little flame in his hand floated forward illuminating the way, he repeated this process until the cave and tunnel were completely bathed in light. Their options seemed clear, continue down the path or starve in this hole.
The Dark Lord walked down the path of carven stone, the tunnel seemed too perfect to be natural. He did not see any portions where they shouldn’t be and the surface of the stone was far too smooth. Whoever, or whatever had built these passages was extraordinarily skilled at masonry. Of course, the option remained that whoever currently lived there had simply conquered those who built the passages. The young goblin trailed behind his master holding a small dagger in front of him, the only sound in the tunnel was the sounds of his clacking knees. Glol did not stop moving his head back and forth afraid that something would attack them at any moment.
The three of them moved swiftly through the tunnels, there were no obstacles in the way and the path was perfectly lit making for a nice but rather boring stroll. Zal’Rodal hoped they would reach an exit soon. He counted their steps in his head to guess at a rough estimate of their current position within the mountain. Glol pulled on Zal’Rodal’s arm interrupting the count and knelt down to pick up something from the stone floor. The goblin raised a closed fist towards the Dark Lord, tufts of fur peeking out between the small green fingers. The creatures must have been inside here as well, they were getting closer, Zal’Rodal thought. He picked up the fur from the goblin's hands and inspected it in the light of Migaal’s flames. He noticed some strange things about the dark fur, it had no smell, and it felt too controlled and cared for to belong to any natural creature that didn’t spend most of its time grooming itself. “Do you recognise this?” Zal’Rodal asked Migaal before handing the fur to the demon on his shoulder. Migaal picked up the fur in his small paws and sniffed at it before scrutinising it with unwavering attention.
“I do not. It is not the fur of any living creature or at least not one I recognise. Perhaps none of these creatures have passed by any of the Hells. No matter we are sure to figure this mystery out soon. I can hear voices up ahead.” The demon responded. Migaal heard something that neither Dark Lord nor goblin could, his demonic ears had picked up the faintest of voices, though he did not recognise their speech. The demon was slowly regaining his powers a process that would continue as he adapted to living in the mortal realms again. They moved down the tunnel with renewed vigour eager to put an end to this charade, at some point both Zal’Rodal and Glol started hearing the strange voices echoing through the tunnels as well.
A light shone faintly against the rock in a bend of the tunnel. Migaal extinguished the magic flames immediately lest they be discovered prematurely. The three of them snuck up to the turn and leaned against the wall trying to hear. Zal’Rodal now heard the voices clearly though he did not recognise the language, Migaal on the other hand was swishing his paws in the air as if flipping pages in an invisible book. Suddenly the ferret stopped and pondered for a moment before tapping the air in front of them. The voices became clear.
“Who are they? We haven’t seen goblins in years!” an elderly voice said. “They have a leader now, some tall man clad in black. We saw them come up the mountain.” a younger voice responded. “Do you think they are the ones that stole the mountain heart?” a third asked. “They do not feel like the same intruders, the thieves were humans. Humans joining goblins is unheard of. It is still a danger to have such creatures near our mountains,” the old voice spoke again.
If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
Zal’Rodal risked peaking past the tunnel’s bend, his face shrouded in shadow, the black ferret leaning further over his shoulder to join the scouting. Mere meters ahead of them they saw the opening to a small seemingly unfurnished room, three creatures stood in the middle speaking in hushed tones.
The voices they were hearing belonged to the creatures in that room. The scouting reports had not been entirely inaccurate. The creatures seemed to be covered in plates of stone with fur protruding past each individual stone, they were slightly taller than Zal’Rodal goblins and were rather round in shape. One of the creatures turned its frame around to face the tunnel in which Zal’Rodal was hiding, a small set of yellow piercing through the darkness and resting on the Dark Lord’s face. The creature took a step back before raising a stone fist at him.
“They have come through the peak entrance” the creature yelled. Immediately the other two turned, three near identical faces with identical yellow pairs of eyes now looked at him. The Dark Lord stepped into the light of the room. He raised himself to his full height, no longer trying to hide. The goblin behind him stood behind his legs and holding the dagger tight, doing his best to appear threatening. “Who are you?” the older voice asked.
"I am Zal’Rodal,” he swept his cape aside as he entered into the light, “I am lord of the castle and it’s surrounding lands, you are within my territories and your watching eyes harass my followers day by day.”
“These are our lands! Given to us by the mountain itself!” the oldest of the stone creatures exclaimed, “you cannot take them from us!”
Zal’Rodal directed a look at Migaal and prepared to sit down as a chair materialised under him, “Let’s not dwell on what I can or cannot take, it would be a very short conversation.” the Dark Lord said as he crossed his legs, “I am looking for more followers to join my empire. This could be a mutually beneficial deal, you do what I say and you receive as many mountains as you wish to call your own.”
“We have no desire for further mountains than those we call home. Our people only wish for the heart of the mountain to be returned to us! Thieves came days ago and have stolen it from us after finding one of our tunnels,” The older creature said, growing angrier with each word spoken.
“Let’s say that I find this heart of the mountain and return it to you. You would join me then?” the Dark Lord spoke, looking for Migaal’s approval and noticed the ferret nodding along.
“If you did bring it back to us, then we would be willing to join you. You would have proven yourself to be a generous and magnanimous ruler. However, I do not know what my kin can do to be helpful to you. We are not creatures of war, none of have known combat for many lifetimes.”
“I am impressed by your work in these tunnels, your people appear to be excellent masons. Builders are just as invaluable to an empire as a warrior. But you mention your kin, are there more than the three of you present here? I have not heard or seen your kind before?”
“We are Stenjin!” the younger voice proclaimed raising its stone shoulders, it appeared to be a sign of excitement, “we have lived under the mountain for eons. Ever since the great Dornon dissapeared our people have started to crumble. Without the heart of the mountain even the last hundred of us will turn to dust.”
“Very well, we shall return this mountain heart to you, in exchange you will serve me. Are we in agreement?”
“The Stenjin are in agreement, we shall give word to our own that you are searching for the heart with us. They will help in finding it. We must return it soon, our lives are tied to the magical roots of the heart of the mountain, and both our lives and deaths spring to and from it.
The two camps came to an agreement and the Dark Lord and his group were led out of the tunnels by the youngest of the Stenjin, who called himself Spen. They passed through many rooms carved into the mountain in which more of the strange creatures resided. He saw one of the Stenjin stop its digging with a rock the size of his fist halfway to its mouth as he approached. Spen informed everyone that Zal’Rodal had promised to return the heart of the mountain to them. The creature seemed impressed by this but Zal’Rodal was still unsure on how to evaluate their lack of facial expressions.
The underground tunnel network was a complex labyrinth in which the walls themselves could change places making navigation nearly impossible without a guide. The creatures owned no furniture and the few of them that appeared to be resting, simply merged halfway into the stone and closed their eyes to rest. He also noticed that their fur had different shades, upon asking Spen, he learned that they signified their role in the colony. When Zal’Rodal left the tunnels a couple of the creatures offered to guide him towards the last known location of the thieves, which they claimed was in the forest near his castle. He would gather his goblins find the thieves and expand his empire.
