http://www.willbeck.com/artblog/page/11/

His brow slick with sweat, Gregor faced two dozen blood-stained warriors that stood gathered all around him behind a jagged stone cleft that overlooked the ravine. The bridge where they had fought to cross, was littered with piles of their dead that they had been forced to leave behind. The blackened scorch marks where the fire had rained down in waves had left behind gray ash, burning embers, and smoke in the air. Gregor also very much doubted that another assault would prove any more effective than the last.

Gazing up at those thick solid walls made of heavy slabs of stone, he could see the battlements packed to the brim with crossbowmen, mages, and warriors, and Gregor had to admit that he could see no weaknesses to exploit. Even his powers were useless here with some type of barrier erected around their defenses. Its shimmering glow was the only sign that it existed, that, and the bloody remains of the vanguard who lay dead a few feet away from them. Unlucky bastards, the lot of them, who had tried rushing the gates.

Saying nothing as he studied the demons around him, Gregor knew that their deaths were partly his fault, but mostly that blasted witches. She could have at least warned him of the danger. But as it was, with no one else to blame, he could sense a bit of resentment growing toward him. Her voice, which caressed the back of his mind, did nothing to ease the tension in his shoulders. “And what difference would knowing have made, my sweet champion?”

Growling an oath under his breath, he muttered back, “It would have saved a few lives at least.” And he saw Kilgorn shoot him a quizzical expression, the tall sinewy hellion that had come with him, raising a snowy white eyebrow. “I did not hear you, Herald? Did you say something?”

Coughing to clear his throat, Gregor let out a sour grunt, “I said we should look for another way inside. There’s no way we’re getting through that shield without a damn powerful wizard on our side.”

His head crooked to the side in a look of confusion, the demon asked, “But the mother–”

“--I said I ain’t strong enough to break through, lizard, and believe me I’ve tried.” Which stung a little, considering what he had gone through to attain his new powers. It was also the first time in his life that Gregor had admitted that he could not do something, and he wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about that. Frustrated perhaps?

In either case, Kira was safely away back at camp with Leyora, and they seemed to be at a stalemate, with the enemy refusing to come down and face them. Still, Gregor figured that their odds weren’t bound to improve, so it would be wise to do something to even out the playing field. To that end, he could think of several ways. First, brute force, throwing everything they had at those walls until they broke through. Second, was to search for some type of weapon that could bring that barrier down, or third, explore the tunnels around them for a way to slip in undetected. Maybe it was time they tried out this Ungraven Road.

Glancing back up at the walls of the stronghold, where helmeted heads bobbed up and down in the dim gloom, Gregor finally asked, “This Ungraven Road, tell me more about it.”

His heavy-lidded eyes blinking at him in surprise, Kilgorn bowed his head thoughtfully and scratched his chin. “What did you wish to know?"

“What can we expect to find there besides firetails?”

His lips twisted into a wry smile, the lizard warrior folded his arms across his broad chest. “I’ve never been there myself, but I have heard many rumors about that place. The other tribes of dekaram are a superstitious lot at best, but they say that there are many treasures, secrets, and dangers that lie along that path. There is also a tale that is well-known among my people. The Tale of Falgorn, and the legendary Dragon Armor of Bethal’Mashar.”

Unable to hide his interest, Gregor leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming. “Tell me more about this armor.” The other demon warriors who must have known this story well chuckled darkly in amusement and spread out to keep watch. Kilgorn, his expression somewhat bemused, smiled a toothy grin, and whispered, “The story speaks of a traveler, a surfacer much like yourself, named Falgorn Firestorm. It is said he traveled the length and breadth of Coroleya in search of adventure, and when he had nowhere else to go, he journeyed below to the underworld where he took the Ungraven Road.

“Battling the darkest monsters of hell, he discovered a lost city hidden away from time, and within dragon armor forged by master smiths, and heavily enchanted by magic. However, like most objects of great value, this one was guarded not only by a legion of undead but the blackest of dragons, Bethal’Mashar, a demon magelord. Of course when faced with such odds, and a creature of that power, Falgorn, was said to have turned back when he heard a voice in his mind. A voice that said it would help him. And that, my friend, is where the tale ends. Some say he died trying to claim the armor, others say he returned home never to shadow his doorstep, and some others say that he still wanders the Ungraven Road, unable to rest or die.”

“And you? What do you believe?”

Kilgorn let out a dry rasping laugh and clapped Gregor on the back of his shoulder. “I believe it is folly to believe in such foolishness. If such a man existed, he would have died down here a long time ago.”

Which wasn’t exactly a good omen considering that Gregor too had journeyed into the underworld. Nonetheless, he thought the place was worth investigating. Armor or no, there had to be some way past those defenses, and it would do them good to work together on their own. Hopefully seeing some action, he could help Kira to remember him somehow.

Still, as he wandered back to camp deep in his thoughts, all he could see was her falling into that pit. Her echoing scream reminded him that he needed to keep her safe, and not take unnecessary risks.

But as he arrived back at their temporary campsite, he also knew it wouldn’t do her much good to keep her penned in like a chicken. She needed to learn how to survive on her own. And as much as Gregor did not like to admit it, she had done pretty well on her own for quite some time now.

Seeing the steam rise from cookpots as the evening meal was prepared, he saw more than a few sentries, and patrols nod their heads to him. The varied tents that separated each of the factions, came in all shapes in sizes with the hellions using spider silk, the ulgaks, thick black fur, the slyraks, shedded snake skin, and the gamorns, animal hides. And at the center of it all was Leyora’s small brown tent.

Heading in that direction, he noticed a young lizard warrior sharpening his blade before a small fire when the gamoron leaped to his feet and bowed. “Herald, it is good to see you still alive. Leyora said to leave a message for you. She’s taken a small group out into the western tunnels. Something about trouble in that direction.”

Blood draining out of his face, Gregor grabbed the boy roughly by the neck, and asked, “And the surfacer with her? Where is she?”

His golden eyes flickering nervously, the young lizard replied with a shrug, “I do not know.”

Shoving him away with a snarl, Gregor ran towards the tent, uncaring of the looks he was getting from all around him, and burst in through the flaps. His heart about ready to burst out of his chest, he scanned the tight confines and saw Kira asleep on a pallet made up of straw. At the sound of movement, however, she flew up into a crouch, her silver eyes wide with worry. “Danger?” She asked, but even as she spoke, a dagger materialized in her palm.

And Gregor didn’t know why, but he grinned, “I’m glad to see you remember some of the lessons I taught you,” the tightness in his chest easing.

Shooting him a quizzical expression, Kira gazed at the curved dagger in her hand, before she shook her head. “Are we leaving?”

Wincing a little at her reply, Gregor nodded his head and wondered how long he could keep hoping to see his Kira. But even as he thought that he rebuked himself, the young woman had been through a lot, and all he could think about was himself. “Come along, lass, it’s time we checked this Ungraven Road.”

Waiting for her to collect her knapsack and slip it on, Gregor wandered over to the wooden trunk where Leyora kept her few possessions. Having been permitted to take what he needed, he flung it open and saw dozens of red vials, a piece of flint, a compass, an hourglass, some rags, and what looked to be fermented cheese.

Taking a moment to consider what he would need, he went with a piece of flint and a compass. In the tunnels, either one of those items would come in handy, and he pocketed them away.

Standing up to see Kira waiting for him by the tent flap, he noticed she had strapped on a shortsword to her hip. She also took a stance that showed that she was comfortable with it, as though it were a part of her.

Nodding his head to the blade, he asked, “the sword got a name?”

Gazing down at her waist, Kira considered the question for a moment, before she nodded her head. “Leyora called it Mi’shan, Moon Shadow.”

“A good name for a mighty warrior.”

Her cheeks were suddenly red with embarrassment, Kira smiled, her silver eyes gleaming. “It is.”

Heading back out together, Gregor could see the quiet bustle of movement as warriors prepared themselves for battle. The few demons that saw them leave, said nothing as they entered the system of tunnels. All but one, a veteran snake warrior with golden rings in his ears, and sharp green emerald eyes. “I’d be careful out there, Herald, it’s nesting season for the firetails, and they don’t much like being disturbed. And another thing, if you see Leyora, send her back. There’s trouble brewing in camp, and it won’t be long before there is blood.”

His left eyebrow raised at the disrespectful tone of his voice, Gregor asked, “What is your name, Slyrak?”

Fangs peeled back in a sneer, the snake warrior replied, “Nemor,” then as his eyes glinted dangerously, “you murdered my family.”

Taking a step back at the raw accusation in his voice, Gregor looked away, his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to remember. He then shook his head, waved at Kira to follow him, and moved on into the darkness. If he had truly killed the snake’s family, there was nothing he could do about it now, and in any case, he had other problems to deal with.

But even as he entered the gloom of the passageway, he could feel those penetrating green eyes on his back. And as he gazed at Kira, he could see a silent contemplative look on her scarred face. Whether it was disgust or loathing, he did not know. All he knew was that he had to get her out of here.