Uldan was a five-day ride from Magika by cart. Oh, a messenger on horseback could make the journey in just under two days, but carts loaded with goods were significantly slower. And not only were we trying not to look out of place, but we also had to be on the lookout for troops from the Thedran army, or breakthrough elements of the invading celestial foes. Which meant we were going at the normal speed of a cart, pretending to be ‘normal’ as much as possible.

Fortunately, the smuggler’s den was at the halfway point between the two cities, so it was midday on the third day when we arrived at a turn of the road, marked only by a pair of boulders that looked as though they’d been dug up and pushed to the side of the road when it was built. There were others like it along the way, but we’d been taught the signs, so we recognized the ‘graffiti’ as the sign we were looking for. Instead of turning right to follow the road, we instead turned left, and passed between the boulders, which were, conveniently, far enough apart for the wagon to fit through, with room to spare.

As we passed the boulders, we pierced the illusion set up there. Instead of forcing our way up a short incline and into the dense forest undergrowth, there was, instead, a road cut out of the forest, and leading downwards at a gentle incline. I could see the road disappearing into a tunnel, heading belowground. It was a sensible means of dealing with disguising the den, as it limited the amount of area that needed to be shrouded with an illusion.

I also noted that the illusion was not the only defense in place. Two men drew swords as we passed the barrier, and two more behind them readied arrows on the string. One of the swordsmen challenged us. “A bar you get no beer from, on a plate you cannot eat. You put it on to take things off, from hair down to your feet.”

A riddle, but one we’d already been told the answer to, since it was the first of the passwords. Looking the man who spoke in the eye, I said, “A bar of soap.” When he nodded, I continued with the second part of the challenge, “Mates unbalanced, or so they seem; but paired in tandem, a deadly team. She so gently rounded, him so firm and straight, yet when they are compounded, woe to them they hate.”

The one who spoke nodded once, and sheathed his sword, causing the rest of the men to relax their weapons as well. “’Tis a bow and the arrow.” The passcodes done, he looked us over in earnest, and said, “Not seen the likes of you here before. Is this your first time making the trip?”

“Aye. Trystrem in Uldan gave us the passwords, and a letter of recommendation for the other side. He also said that there were rules, that you would go over?”

“Very good. Master Thelvor will go over the rules with you. Continue down the path to the bottom, and he will be waiting for you.”

With a nod, we continued down the path, underground. The road curved slightly to the left, but it was clearly made for a cart to easily manage. Sconces along the walls were lit periodically with magical lights, allowing even those without darkvision to see easily.

Looking at the walls, I could see telltales that they had been made and shaped with magic. The walls were too uniform, too even for this to have been a normal tunnel, even a manmade one. The reinforcing timbers made it look like an old mine shaft, but they, too, had the look of being magically treated. No one wanted to deal with the potential hazards of a cave-in, after all, and planar smugglers would have the coin and magic to do the job right.

Eventually, the tunnel opened up into a wide, rectangular room, thirty feet tall and at least sixty across, stretching what looked to be one hundred and twenty feet long. The first two thirds were given over to a warehouse space, with boxes and crates stacked high, and a ten-foot space barely large enough for the wagon to pass between the stacks on either side. This must be where the smugglers stored wares that they had speculated on, but had not yet been able to sell. Or, perhaps, where they were storing them while waiting for whatever search had begun for items that were ‘misplaced’ to die down.

As we moved into the final section, I saw a portal, wreathed in white, easily able to fit our wagon without issue. Beyond the portal, I saw a dark room lit only with silver flames, giving the white stone a luminescent look. That was, no doubt, one of the higher planes.

Between us and the portal were eight burly guards, outfitted in full plate armor that practically burned with enchantments, and armed with two-handed swords to match. I could not tell their race or sex, for their helms were all closed, so that I could only judge roughly by height and the thickness of their bodies. Most were likely humans, of some sort, but the shoulders on one of them suggested an orcish heritage, perhaps. Either way, all eight looked as though they meant business.

In front of these sentinels was a beady-eyed man with the looks of one who has been too long counting coin, obsessing over wealth rather than living life. Whether that was true in his case, I couldn’t say, but I could say that the way his eyes moved over our bodies gave me the creeps. Fortunately, I had grown used to such things. It helped that I knew that anyone who tried something would find that I am no helpless victim.

The creepy man nodded, “You are the ones Trystrem spoke of, hmm? Very well. I am Thelvor. You have arranged to use the portal, for your own ends, and I understand that you paid Trystrem for the privilege. But that passage is only one way. If you wish to return by our portal, you will have to pay again, and follow the rules.”

“And what rules might these be?”

“The rules are simple, and there are only two of them. Rule One: Do not get caught. It is to all our benefits if you conduct whatever business you have in the celestial planes quietly and discretely, without causing trouble. Business is already shaky, due to the idiots in Magika, so anything that further endangers our business is… discouraged.

“Rule Two: If you are discovered, do not lead the archons to our door. Our partners on the other side will be most upset if they have to change their location, and they will shatter the portal before they allow someone to lead an army back to it. This is your only warning.”

I nodded easily. Those rules were simple enough. No one wanted to get their business involved in other people’s problems. Not without a reason.

On the other hand, Trystrem had suggested that the only reason he was helping was because we were looking to sort out the trouble in Magika. If we could find a way to close the portal, and settle things down, then things could get back to a status quo. Even if we didn’t manage to fix everything, so long as we didn’t draw attention to the smugglers, they would only profit.

“The Sable Wings have no issues with those rules.”

“Excellent. Then, if you will wait here, we will give the signal, so that the other side can prepare. Wouldn’t want you to get caught in the defenses on that side, now, would we?”

A few minutes later, with messages being sent back and forth through the portal, Thelvor waved us forward. “All right, you lot are cleared to go through. Don’t know what you’ll be doing, and I don’t care. Just don’t go causing trouble for us.”

With that, we ventured forward, and crossed through the portal. One moment, we were on the material plane. Then there was a moment of whiteness, before it faded away, leaving us in the stone hall lit with silver flame that we saw before.

The hall itself was made of something that looked like marble, though not of any type I had seen before. The room itself looked barely large enough for a wagon like the one we had to turn around, with a bit of extra room for unloading cargo. Tellingly, there was no obvious way in or out of the room.

Standing by the far wall, next to a lever, was a drow-elven woman with white angelic wings. A half-celestial, if I had to guess. A safe bet, considering that she matched the description that Trystrem gave us of his contact. I slid from my saddle, and approached her with a smile, as well as our letter of introduction.

“You are Oriel, I presume? I am Melinda Rimedancer, and these are my companions of the Sable Wings. We come bearing a letter from Trystrem of Uldan, who will vouch for us.”

“Hmph,” the woman snorted, as she took the letter from my hand. “Easy enough to claim that someone on another plane will vouch for you. Don’t know what Trystrem expects you to do, with each of you simply reeking of evil, and showing off symbols of dark gods. That’s going to cause no end of trouble here.”

I simply shrugged, as she broke the seal, and began reading the letter. “Well, we’ll do our best to keep from causing trouble for you. We have taken some precautions against casual scrying and magic, at least enough to keep people from discovering us by accident. That should help, at least a little.”

The half-celestial drowess nodded slowly, as she read. “And see that you do. My position in the city is tenuous at best as it is. Especially with the portal’s opening.” She frowned slightly. “But I see here you’re intending to do something about that?”

I nodded. “Yes. We have some magic of our own to cross the planes, but it is wildly inaccurate. So, we came through the portal, to get closer to our destination. The way we figure, it should be easier to get to the new portal from this side, rather than fighting our way through two armies to get there on the other. If we figure a way to destroy the portal, then things will go back to normal.”

“Hmph. That’s not much of a plan, but at least it is something. Damn archons are causing nothing but trouble with this war. Sooner it ends, the sooner I can get back to normal business.”

“Can you tell us aught of the world outside? We would do better in solving our mutual problem if we could have a better idea of where, exactly, we were, and what the conditions are like. I must admit that I was shocked to hear tell of the smugglers actually having a contact in the higher planes.”

“You thought, what, that everyone on these planes would be of the goodness and righteousness type, smiting evil the first chance they got?”

I shrugged. “Well, that is the impression we get on the material plane.”

“Bah, that is just because the only ones who leave are the shiny archons who go about getting summoned by the very righteous types. But it takes more than them to make a place work, you know. And there are plenty of shit jobs that to force ‘impure’ souls into.”

She glared at us. “You want to know what this place is like? When my mother was captured by some drow during some ritual, her ‘friends’ and family left her there, saying it was her own fault for getting captured. When she finally escaped, she was an outcast. When they found out she was pregnant with me, she was shunned completely, and forced to work in the sewers, with the rest of the ‘trash’.

“Then I was born, and a constant reminder of what she’d gone through. Of how much she’d lost. So, she raised me to the point where I could take care of myself, and then took her own life. So, the Abyss can take all these pricks, for all I care, and take their rules with them.”

Oriel leaned back against the wall. “And then I found the portal, in an offshoot of the sewers. No one ever knew it was here, hidden as it was. Must have been fate that I found someone on the other side, of a like mind, looking to trade. And the rest, you can say, is history.”

She shook her head. “But, anyways, you want to know about the plane, right? Well, you are in, or rather under, the city of Geburatiel, upon the plane of Izrail, home of Torm, and the seat of his power. The portal has caused quite some disruption to the capital, as you might have guessed.”