“Warn me?” Drakis stopped at once, crouching down and turning slowly, his senses heightened. “What is it?”
“The Hak’kaarin,” Belag started again. “They love to. .”
In that instant, ten thousand torches flared into life; their light banished the blackness from the enormous chamber.
“WELCOME!!!”
Drakis screamed in shock, his body reacting at once in fear. When he came to his senses once more, he was crouching, his sword drawn and shield held high as he stared in wonder.
“The Hak’kaarin,” Belag sighed, “love to surprise guests.”
The torches illuminated hundreds of caves that honeycombed the walls of the mud cavern. Branching caverns could be seen in several directions, now completely visible in the bright light. But it was the eyes staring back at him that astonished him the most; each of the hundreds of caverns was filled with short, reddish brown creatures with enormous eyes and hooked noses. They wore hides, pelts, and tanned leathers for clothing, and each held a torch in large hands with long fingers.
Drakis was standing next to a great blackened pit filled with dried grass bundles and even a few dead trees. As he watched, two of the small creatures scurried forward and tossed their torches onto the pile. The pit erupted into a towering fire, and the thousands of creatures in the caverns lining the walls broke into an enormous cheer.
“Where in the abyss have you been?” Drakis yelled at Belag, trying to be heard over the noise.
“Here,” Belag roared back. “They caught me last night trying to get a better look at them. They have a rather impressive defensive plan that. .”
“Not now,” Drakis yelled back. “Why didn’t you come back?”
“They wouldn’t let me,” Belag replied. “We need their help, and I didn’t want to hurt any of them.”
“So you just sat here?” Drakis barked.
“No,” Belag shook his great head. “The Hak’kaarin are mud gnomes. . wanderers of the wasteland. About the only thing they love better than surprising other creatures is hearing their stories.”
Drakis was not sure he heard the manticore correctly over the noise. “Did you say ‘stories’?”
“Yes!” the manticore bellowed in reply.
Drakis looked up, suddenly aware that the cheering had become rhythmic.
“Oh, no!” Drakis’ murmured words were completely obscured by the chanting.
“DRAKIS! DRAKIS! DRAKIS! DRAKIS!. .”
The human warrior turned to the manticore and smiled grimly as he yelled. “I think I can guess which story you’ve been telling!”
“Soen Tjen-Rei, Inquisitor of the Iblisi,” the brilliantly robed gnome shouted from the far end of the Great House Hall, throwing his chubby arms wide. “My dear old friend! The sight of you fills my eyes with joy!”
Soen bowed deeply at the hall entrance, dust billowing from his robes as he quickly returned upright and threw his own arms wide, his narrow face split into a sharp-toothed smile. “Argos Helm, Caliph of the Dje’kaarin and my most honored citizen of the north! The burdens of my journey are lightened at your sight!”