The Sun Gnome shot him a sidelong glance. “Know where he’s going?”

“The Black Fathoms,” breathed Gorm, staring into the gloom.

“It’s almost enough to make you miss the Necropolish,” said Kaitha.

“Aye,” said the Dwarf.

“You miss the deadly traps, the razor-toothed horrors, and the predatory slimes?” Heraldin pointedly pulled an incisor like a dagger from the tatters of his cloak. “Really?”

“I miss knowin’ what I was up against,” said Gorm. “Traps and monsters and evil goo are part of the job. But this is… this is… what in the Pit is this?”

They stood on the edge of a bridge’s sheer drop. The suspended pathway looked to be carved from solid stone with a precise grace that rivaled the Khazad’im’s greatest ancestors. The path led to a walkway circumnavigating a massive pillar, as wide around as a watchtower, that rose from the black depths. The walkway had similar bridges spanning away from it to other pillars, which had similar walkways and ramps branching to yet more of the great towers. Above and below the party, similar networks of paths connected the pillars to each other and the walls of the cave. Some of these trunks were capped with ornate domes, while others had broken off near the top. The great monoliths stretched into the distance, filling a cavern wide and deep enough to fit all of Andarun inside.

All of this was illuminated by a wan, blue light that emanated from somewhere beyond the great pillars, like a moonrise through a titanic forest, a sacred glade for the gods of the earth and stone.

“I’d have thought the Black Fathoms would be… blacker,” said Jynn.

“Look down,” said Laruna.

Jynn glanced down at the cavernous depths below them, stretching farther than the thin light could reach. He looked back up again. “Ah,” he said.

“Do we trust the pathways?” asked Heraldin.

Something far behind them gave a long and feral roar. Gorm suspected one of the dungeon’s apex predators had found the trail of carnage they’d left through the Necropolish. “Do we have a choice?” he asked.

“They seem sturdy,” said Kaitha, taking a few experimental steps over the pathway. “Probably magical, judging by the… runes?”

“Just carvings,” said Gorm. The long, geometric grooves carved into the pathway and columns looked like someone had tried to draw a logical map of old oak bark.

“Possibly ritualistic,” said Jynn. “This is all clearly made by the Sten.”

“Careful, then,” said Gorm. “We’ll take it slow.”

The ominous bellow echoed through the Necropolish again, though notably less distant than before.

“But not too slow,” he added.

They filed across the bridge, eyes averted from the chasm yawning beneath them. On the far side of the platform ringing the closest stone trunk, two more branching paths led to another pair of pillars. There was also an archway set in the pillar itself, beyond which a set of stairs spiraled up to the next level of paths.

Kaitha scanned the stone bridges above them. “Good place for an ambush,” she murmured to Gorm. “Keep your eyes up.”

“Well, I sure ain’t lookin’ down.” Gorm yearned for the feeling of solid mountain beneath his feet again.

“Although there are paths down there as well,” said Jynn, peering over the edge.

“Where do you suppose all of these bridges go?” Heraldin pointed to a spot where a distant pathway led to an arch in the wall.

Gorm shrugged. “Elsewhere in the Necropolish, probably. The lower branches could lead to the Underheart, or even have secret passages back toward the Reeking Deep. And some of the upper paths…” He paused, feeling the weight of the mountain around him and gauging distances as the old stonesmiths had taught him as a lad. “They could be passages to pockets above the Pinnacle, or even to some of the unexplored caves on the surface.”

“Those holes could certainly account for some of the alleged bottomless drops in the surface caves.” Laruna gestured toward the top of a crumbled pillar in the distance. Above it, a wide circle in the ceiling clearly marked where a staircase had once led to some unknown heights.

“So where does that go?” asked Kaitha, nodding. Directly ahead of them, one pillar extended from all the way to the ceiling of the cavern.

Gorm ran through his mental map of the mountain, and his eyes narrowed. “Let’s head that way,” he said, setting out across another bridge.

“Why? Where does it go?” asked Heraldin.

“Can’t say for sure without climbin’ the steps.” Gorm glowered at the spot where the trunk of the stone tree met the cavern’s granite canopy. “But if I had to guess, I’d say somewhere behind the palace.”

Laruna scowled. “But… there isn’t anything behind the palace. It’s just solid rock.”

Gorm shared a meaningful look with Kaitha. “Solid rock, and wherever that staircase goes,” he said.

“No. I understand what you mean, but there is no way for you to enter the dungeon there.” The guard captain’s voice was deliberate and, with the exception of a nervous crack at the end, calm.

“There’s a door!” thundered the Troll, with enough force to nearly blow the slight man from his feet. He gestured furiously at the giant door set in the Ridge.

To his credit, the officer stood his ground, a feat that most professional heroes would not have attempted when staring up into the face of a raging Troll. “Y-yes, b-but the Dungeon Gate requires several keys and-and-and a lot of paperwork to open.”

“And oxen!” called a less bold guard from behind a grandstand.

The Troll loosed a furious bellow, prompting the guards to take a step back. “Why?!” Thane yelled, shaking his fist at the city proper. “Why would it take paperwork to open a door?”

“W-well, it’s for s-s-security,” said the bannerman, whose conduct was beginning to slip over the thin line between bravery and natural selection. “It’s d-dangerous to open the door. There are all… all sorts of horrors and monsters b-b-beyond… uh… it.”

The Human’s explanation died in his throat as the Troll squatted down, and he found himself staring into a pair of bloodred eyes above a mouth like a cutlery drawer. “Then which side do you think I belong on?” Thane growled.

“Oi, Captain!” came a holler.

Troll and bannerman swiveled their eyes up to the top of the southern watchtower, where several helmeted heads peeked out over the top of its ramparts. Most of the Dungeon Gate’s contingent of guards had retreated to relative safety to learn from their leader’s example or, failing that, get a good view of the consequences.

“Why not tell him about the other passages?” hollered down a lieutenant.

Thane’s diamond-hard stare swiveled back to the captain, who cleared his throat. “Uh, right. Right. If you climb the Ridge and head up onto the mountain, there are numerous caves that theoretically…”

But the Troll was already away. He leapt past the dumbfounded guard, ran toward the Ridge, and then vaulted up onto the rock. The huge Shadowkin climbed quickly, punching handholds into the stone when there were none. By the time the other guards joined the stunned captain on the ground, the Troll had disappeared over the top ledge of the Ridge and sprinted off up the mountain.

“Think we should have warned him about the monsters?” asked the lieutenant.

The captain shook his head slowly, still staring at the holes in the solid rock that the Troll had made as he climbed. “Better to warn the monsters about him,” he said. “I pity anything between a Troll and whatever it is he’s after.”

“Poor, stupid bastards.” Gorm shook his head. “Never saw it coming.”