Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part twenty-two

The temple was little more than a carefully-arranged pile of massive, irregular, un-mortared stones. The entrance had evidently been closed off with a massive stone block, now dragged out and set to one side. 

"That must have taken some work," the half-dragon observed quietly. 

Beside her, Yvette Fontaine nodded. Sun had never considered that a half-dragon married to a human would have quarter-dragon children, but here they were: Julien, who seemed to have bred true to his father, Yvette, with silver scales where an ordinary human would have hair, and Jacques, whose scales were hidden away. Did they have breath weapons, as she and her siblings did? Were they strong and resistant to damage? Julien certainly looked it, but Sun was less sure of the other two.

 "Oh, look at that," said Yvette, nudging her shoulder. There were reliefs on the walls, scraps of paint still clinging to them: gnolls building cities, gnolls harvesting grains, something that might have been a wedding or the signing of a treaty, gnolls marching to war. Formorians, Sun reminded herself. 

"The temple itself is small," Graznir Toothtaker was saying, "consisting mostly of the entryway, a small chapel, a room that was probably used for storage or temporary quarters... and the stairs that lead down to the complex beneath. Likely at one point there were other, less durable structures here on the surface, but if so they have been lost to time."

"Have you made a study of the carvings?" asked Jacques. 

"Only in passing," answered Graznir. "Our focus has been on finding our way down. The passage at the bottom of the stairs is blocked by a series of  heavy stones that were lowered from the ceiling to seal it off. That matches with out stories of the Sealed Vault, but lifting and bracing them has proven time-consuming."

"How far have you gotten?" asked Jacques. 

"Two stones barriers raised, and we're at work on another. It might be possible to raise them all from the other side, without the need for levering and bracing, but none of my people will go down there and we would not ask that of the farmers who labor for us." Graznir hesitated. "Would I be a fool to trust you?"

Jacques frowned and glanced back at the others. "Of course I'd say no, regardless of whether it was true or not. Would I be a fool to trust you?"

"I, too, would say of course not," Graznir admitted. "So... we either choose trust, or we choose betrayal. Would you swear to me, child of Tavros Fontaine, that you would work to get your father to grant us a barony, if not an independent kingdom, in what you call the Forgotten Desert?"

Jacques glanced back at Julien, who shrugged; then he locked eyes with Yvette, who nodded. He hesitated, then looked to Sun. "What about the rest of you? Thoughts?"

"The ruins in the desert are Formorian," Sun said firmly. "Stripped and looted by the Dark Army, but they may still retain some secrets. If they do, the gnolls are clearly heirs to those places, I would join you in petitioning for this, especially since a revived -- and friendly -- nation of gnolls would make use of an area that most avoid, and potentially provide a bulwark against another invasion from the east."

Jacques surveyed the rest of the group, and the True Elf paladin Ash said, "I'm in."

Sun didn't even have to glance at her brother Risk to hear the smile in his voice. "Sounds like fun."

"Then come around behind the altar with me," said Graznir, "and I'll show you the other way down that we discovered. If you can raise the stone barriers and open the way, you'll save us considerable work... and possibly keep our workers safe. That's if  you're willing."

"Wait," said a new voice, and a half-elf strolled into the room, dressed in a mixture of grays. 

"Who is this?" asked Graznir, looking betrayed. 

Sun looked blank; so did Jacques, and Yvette, and all the others. 

"I'm not really with them," the newcomer said, "but I know who they are -- and after several days of lurking in your camp, I know who you are too, Graznir Toothtaker."

"Okay," said Scar, golden-scaled and impatient. "So who the fuck are you?"

"Telorn Bissent," the half-elf said. "Firstborn child of the Silver Fox, Vendril, and the guardswoman Amra."