Thomas Reid - The Gossamer Plain

"Ah," the priest said, nodding in understanding. "My weapon. I can perceive invisible things with it at any time, even without concentrating to detect them. I keep the scroll handy to aid others without the benefit."

"If we had noted them sooner, we might not have wound up in their 'care,' " Vhok said.

"And we might also still be arguing about where to take refuge," Zasian shot back. "Think of the potential benefits rather than the consequences."

Vhok grunted. "I am trying," he said, "but old hatreds are difficult to overcome."

They continued for some time longer until at last they reached a valley, a broad flat shelf cut from the mountain near its top. Steep-sided ridges huddled on either side of it and provided protection. A great stone wall made of the same igneous rock bisected the valley, with a large gate set near the middle. A stream of fire leaked through a low gap at one place in the wall, then meandered the rest of the way out of the valley until it plunged over the side and became a tumultuous cascade skipping down the mountainside.

Vhok could see more of the flame-haired folk manning the walls. As the group approached, a heavy portcullis made of bronze-or some similar metal-rose, admitting them entrance. Just like on Faerun, the clans of dwarves seemed to love mountain fortifications that were stout and forbidding.

Their escorts led them through the massive portal and into the enclosed space beyond, where a small village lined the main thoroughfare. Only a handful of buildings had been erected, constructed of stone and brassy metals. Vhok saw puddles of fire everywhere, and smoking vapors wafted across his field of vision. A handful of azer, gathering fire into large kettles or urns of brass, stopped and stared as the entourage passed. The cambion spied citizens of all ages, from the very elderly to the diminutive young. Vhok stared back at them all, trying to keep his distaste from showing on his face.

After passing through the small surface community, an advance outpost if the cambion read the situation right, Vhok and Zasian followed their escort into a great passage cut into the stone of the mountain. Twin valves of coppery metal could seal the great mouth of the cavern when needed, but they stood open, and numerous azer passed in and out under the watchful gazes of more soldiers, armed and dressed similarly to those who accompanied the travelers.

The interior of the large tunnel glowed the ember orange color of fire. Vhok observed that the stream that pierced the outer wall originated within the passage, flowing down from the ceiling and walls like thin syrup, then gathering into a pool upon the floor. From there, it wound its way through the village before disappearing over the side of the mountain.

The path was bisected by the great lava pool. A series of large stone blocks, several paces on a side, served as stepping stones. The top of each block sat perhaps the height of a man above the surface of the liquid fire, but Vhok still felt the great heat radiating from it. He realized for the dozenth time that he was parched and badly needed water. He wondered if it even existed on the plane.

Beyond the stepping stones, the path became solid again, rising higher into the mountain. Like many dwarf abodes, the central tunnel had been cut wide, ran straight, and bore many side passages. At one place, the route became a ledge within a gargantuan cavern where a lake of lava roiled and churned far below. The huge chamber featured stalactites jutting down from the ceiling. Unlike the familiar stone projections found in caverns in Faerun, the ones Vhok observed were formed from molten rock that cooled as it dripped down from above. From time to time, great bubbles of superheated gases erupted from the lava, causing gouts of liquid rock to spew upward, adding to the bizarre geological formations.

At last, the duo's dubious honor guard led them into a palatial audience chamber.

The builders had adorned the entire place-floors, walls, columns, and ceiling-with brass sheeting, giving the place a coppery hue. Caldrons of fire lit the chamber, as did great flaming jets that roared up from the floor at regular intervals. Warriors dressed in brass suits of armor stood at attention along a walkway leading from the entrance to a steep-stepped dais on the far end, where a throne rose up to tower over all.

Numerous cages hung from heavy chains attached to the ceiling. Vhok could see bizarre creatures of fire imprisoned within them. Some, like the serpentine salamander with its humanoid torso and flaming, fan-shaped spikes, he recognized. Others, he did not. He spied three-legged lizards with their mouths atop their heads, tentacled horrors that hovered rather than sat, and a dozen other things besides. They paced restlessly or lolled without any interest in the goings on below them. Some sat and watched, their eyes white-hot coals with gazes that bored through observers.

"Lord Cripakolus," the escort leader announced in a clear, ringing voice, "Clan Lord of the Everash tribe, King of Smoke and Embers, I present to you two travelers found trespassing upon our mountain. They come bearing gifts. They, uh, have not been disarmed, your lordship, as they claimed their belongings would burn up should they leave their hands."

Vhok cast a glowering sidelong glace at the azer and rolled his eyes. He and Zasian approached the dais. When Zasian bowed deeply to the azer reclining upon the throne, Vhok did likewise. The cambion stole a quick glance around the room and noted with satisfaction that the other fire-dwarves looked on with approval. The pair stood upright again, and Vhok gave the priest a nod to take the lead.

"Greetings, Lord," Zasian began in an ingratiating tone. "We are but two lost travelers seeking safe passage through your territory. As your servant has so helpfully pointed out, we do come bearing gifts-gems, in fact. These we would be delighted to bestow upon you, if you would but consider aiding us in our quest."

Vhok watched Cripakolus's reaction. The azer lord sat upright and stared down at his two visitors with what Vhok could only interpret as greed.

He rubbed his hands together. "Gems, you say. I would see them," he said, folding his arms across his chest. "Produce them now."

Zasian nodded while Vhok bristled. "Very well, my lord," the priest said, still in his obsequious tone. "I have some right here." and he reached into his tunic.

"If he withdraws a weapon instead of gems," the azer lord said loudly, "slay him."

Zasian paused as the attending guards disengaged from their posts and moved closer, warhammers ready. They left no doubt that they would carry out their leader's command instantly. Vhok reached for his blade, but kept his hand hovering over the pommel of Burnblood without actually drawing it.

Very slowly, the priest removed another small pouch of gems. He held it up so that all within the room could see, then he carefully drew the drawstring open. He tipped the little sack over and revealed a handful of rubies as they spilled into his palm.

Cripakolus made a noise of delight and leaned forward for a better look. "Excellent," he said. "You will hand them to my seneschal," he commanded, and a servant stepped forward from behind the throne.

Zasian slipped the rubies back into their satchel and held the container out. "As I told your fearless commander here when I gave a sack to him, you would do well to transfer them to a more sturdy container. That pouch will go up in flames in but a few breaths."

The soldier who had initially engaged them on the mountainside and who had accepted the first sack of gems gave a hiss of displeasure.

Vhok glanced over and saw him glowering at Zasian. It made the cambion want to laugh. Skimming off the top, eh? he thought.

"You will hand over those gems at once, Lakataki," Cripakolus commanded. "All gifts are my property until otherwise distributed."