Editing Fontainver (section)

==Escape from Yarlug==

So many of my people had died in the mines of Yarlug. We were driven hard and with no concern for our safety. Hungry, exhausted and weak from constant chiselling, I had fallen like the others. That’s when something odd happened; instead of crashing to my death in moments, I managed to slow my fall – control it, even! That was not all, I had felt that I was flooded with energy, my bruises clearing and cuts binding, quickly forming scabs before disappearing altogether. I realised that I had a power – something my mind controlled. At the bottom of the shaft I had landed in, I found bodies... well, skeletons – some very old and some more recent, but all decayed. The lighting strung across the seam above barely reached the bottom of the pit here, but amongst the dead something caught my eye. It was warm in the dark, not like the Brightbane they had us mining, which was cold in the stone, no, this was warm.

I tripped as I moved quickly, drawn to the tiny glow, and the clatter rang out, echoing up the shaft. I had waited, holding my breath... the Devils would look for me now – nothing got out of the mines alive. I desperately looked around, scrabbling through the bones to try to arm myself. I would not die without a fight, I was an Ironcloak! I found weapons and some bits of armour, some of surprising quality and easily repaired. My hand finally rested on a long-extinguished torch, and I hastened to search for something to light it with. I found a small box, just as a screech from above announced that I was missed. A second came from the top of the shaft; they knew this place.

There was hope, though, it was a tinderbox! I thumbed what seemed like a flint and struck its sharp edge against the flat two-inch strip of cold steel. Sparks flew, illuminating my immediate surroundings and momentarily blinding me. In that instant I saw the small warm item; it was, even now, imprinted on my mind. Lying amongst the many skeletons at the bottom of the pit was the body of a dwarf or gnome who had once been an important figure. Whilst his armour was ancient and broken, it was clearly once of quality. Nothing much was left of his clothes except for a robe which seemed untouched by age. It was what was on one of the fingers of the skeleton’s outstretched hand that captivated me.  I still saw its warmth even though the sparks had died. Another screech focused my mind on the task at hand.

Striking again and again, I managed to ignite a piece of age-dried cloth. It gave enough light to pull together more combustibles and wrap them around the metal shaft of a mace. I quickly gathered other items, assessing quality, size and durability. Astounded by how many lay dead here, I found what I needed. I replaced my ripped and torn boots and my stained clothes with things that had lasted the years even at the bottom of this cold, dark place. Then it struck me: there was no water here. Yarlug had many underground streams which permeated all the rock – indeed it was the water erosion had revealed Brightbane. There was not a drop here, though. Things had begun to disintegrate but not rotted, no, not even mildewed - there was not even mould... nothing grew here.

Something told me to take the ring; surely a glowing ring should not fall into the hands of the Devils above. They would see its warmth, as I had, so I must hide it. Quickly I stole it from its long-dead owner and popped it in the pocket of his cloak, that I draped over my shoulders. Then it struck! Claws ripped at me from above, trying to lift me. The screech was unbearably loud and piercing. Somehow, though, the cloak denied its grip, and I did not feeling the stabbing pain those talons could have inflicted. Indeed, even its sharp-ended, poison-tipped tail failed to penetrate the magical weave.  Wingless it floated above me, bemused, hissing and screeching. I smashed it with a staff, knocking it to the floor. It was confused, not used to such resistance. I did not give it time to collect itself, striking again and again, pouring all my anger and misery into the smashing blows. Finally, I plunged a blade into the nape of its long, green-black neck. Its eyes bulged in pain and shock, piercing the dark with a pale orange light before it collapsed, taking up home with its fellow dead.
  
There would be more, I knew. I desperately looked around for a way of escaping. I could not go up – certainly not unnoticed. Using the light of my make-shift torch and scrabbling across the skeletons, bodies I found it. There was a small fissure in the dry rock that opened to the torch light. I crawled through, pushing the torch forward as I went, staff between my knees. After what felt like hours of a slow ascent, I emerged into a larger chamber. My torch was spluttering and my back breaking, my knees scuffed and bruised. The room, clearly an old entrance to Yarlug, was again littered with skeletons. They had fallen when the devils came and here, I realised, could be the remains of my family.

I knew this way to the surface, and was glad to be able to pass without looking too closely at my surroundings. I had to get out into the light and away from these devil-held mines. Eyes shut for the most part, I edged along the walls, turning and twisting my way up. Another screech echoed through the caverns below – they had discovered what had happened in the pit. Every instinct told me to run, but I controlled myself – to fall here might spell the end. Yarlug was full of hidden traps and pits, so I had to be careful. I finally climbed a shaft that few knew was more than a source of light. As I began, I felt – for the first time – the dampness associated with the porous rocks of gnome hall. The dampness increased until water dripped down the dark grey surface up which I climbed. Forcing my legs straight and pushing my back to the opposite wall, I paused, breathing heavily from the exertion.  A few years ago, before they came, I could have climbed this in less than an hour.  Now, I was weak. I cupped my hands beneath a tiny stream of water and let them fill slowly, drinking before the liquid of life overflowed, leaving my grasp.

My head at last emerged into a pale darkness, the fresh air breathing new life into me. I was free! The stars were so bright above, bringing back a memory of old. I shook my head and took another deep, calming breath before hauling myself out onto the rock-strewn, uneven grassland of what was once Amorsland. I recalled stories of a great castle to the north that may have weathered the storm brought about by the ‘surfacers’. My legs were wobbly as I set off, tired from pushing against the wall they were not ready to lift and stride. I heard and felt the rage of hundreds of evil voices fill the complex beneath me, reverberating against the stone making the rocks over which I walked tremble in fear. I picked up my pace, willing my legs to get into a more natural stride. It was cold on the surface. There were puddles and patches of dark mud which I instinctively avoided.

Dawn confirmed I had been heading in the right direction. Pale orange the sun rose to my right. I must have been walking for most of the night. The terrain had not changed much from that I remembered as a child; however, there were low mounds of earth raised near one another in clumps of five or six and covered with purple-red heather. In other parts the earth was torn and rent, filled with water or churned up into some muddy gloop. Foul odours rose from some parts, making me gag or feel dizzy. Nothing now lived here, and I dared not drink from the puddles. My mind drove me forward, overcoming all need for food, sleep or water.

Eventually I saw the partial ruins. It had withstood Ragnorak – Fontainver lived. The river was drained, and the bridge thrown down, so I could easily walk across its ruin. The many breaches in the walls were patched up, but I knew it could not withstand a determined assault for long. The temple which once shone out high on the keep was no more. The wharves were broken and thrown into the tumultuous sea. The once-proud race of sea elves that made this their home were long dead. But still, I was drawn here… was this the salvation I had sought?  Would there be any there willing to help free my people?