The Flame of Destiny

What is this place?” Spark coughed as she crawled out of a hole in Samira’s tattered dress. Somehow, they had survived the horrendous fall.

Samira sighed and slowly scuttled into a sitting position, wiping her face clean from dust and soot. With a painful grimace she looked at the fresh bruises and scratches from the long descent. Only when she finished her grisly inspection, did she glance around to inspect the boiling hot cave desperate for some good news.

“It can’t be Tartarus,” she said, “the realm of dead souls that Diokles told me about, but it sure looks like it.” Smoke and steam rose up from holes in the rock floor. There was a faint reddish glow in the distance.

“Do you think they’ll search for us down here?” asked the little fairy hopefully, “perhaps we’re safe for a while.”

Samira ignored her little friend. “How could they do this?” she stammered. She couldn’t shake off the image of hatred she had seen on her father’s face. “And even Jaro betrayed me. Why? He’s my brother! I always cared for him.” Tears welled up in her eyes.

“I know what you’re going through,” said Spark in a soothing voice, “let me...”

“You’ve got no idea!” snapped Samira whisking away her tears with a nervous gesture, “I wish they were dead or I was dead or all of us were dead, anything better than this. Not this… this betrayal.”

“I’m sorry,” said the little Peri, “please calm down, don’t get angry.”

“Don’t get angry!” repeated Samira mockingly, “why not? I’ve had enough of it all. Everyone is against me.”

“Not everyone,” squealed Spark, “I’ll help you, I’m on your side.”

“That’s true,” sighed Samira. She plucked a fat, gray worm from the rock, she had to eat after all, and sat down with a sigh. She tried to think about other things but the terrible images kept floating to the foreground. “Even Jaro betrayed me,” she mumbled with a mouthful of the wriggling worm, “… and where was mother?”

Spark had no answer. The fairy nervously fluttered back and forth. “Let’s move on,” she said and tugged at Samira’s ear, “then you don’t have to think about it. Let’s follow Fingo’s advice and look for Fingard.”

Meekly, Samira stood up and started walking. She had lost everything but her desire to live hadn’t completely deserted her yet. Under a constant stream of encouragements from the fluttering Peri, she crawled deeper into the smoke-filled caves. They came across bubbling pools of mud, showers of steam, and had to jump over brooks of lava. Strange creatures watched them from behind a curtain of smoke and steam, or from within dark slimy holes. There were black crabs with thin spidery legs and large bulging eyes, red striped fire lizards almost a foot long, slimy woodlice the size of rats. Giant bats licked the luminous blue-red slime that oozed out of pores in the walls.

The corridors widened and it got so hot they could barely breathe. Wearing only flimsy sandals, Samira’s feet were scorched by hot rocks and her legs were bruised by sharp boulders.

Finally, the corridor emerged into a gigantic cavern. The ceiling was so high they couldn’t even see it. In the distance a lake of bright red-hot lava stretched out until it was obscured by thick wisps of smoke and vapor.

Samira stared at the scene with her mouth open. “This must be the sea of ​​fire that Fingo was talking about,” she said.

Wonder soon gave way to despair. With no bridge in sight and black cliffs rising almost vertically upwards behind them, where could they go?

“Look there!” exclaimed Spark pointing upwards, “can you see that?”

Hundreds of feet above them, high above the dark fumes, a narrow bridge was suspended in the air. The structure seemed to float as it ran from one end of the massive cave to the other. Priests and Cultists walked back and forth in their dark robes, but at this distance they looked like tiny ants.

On one side, the bridge led to a square dotted with giant statues of demons and other scary creatures. Behind it they could just see part of a large black building. “That looks similar to the black temple,” said Samira, “perhaps it’s another exit.”

From the suspension bridge, it was a vertical drop to the sea of lava. With a shock she understood why none of the slaves ever came back out of the temple, not even as a corpse.

“But look carefully,” said Spark cheerfully, “all the way up. Don’t you see?”

How can she sound so happy? Samira thought irritably. She followed the Peri’s gaze and looked at the ceiling of the huge cave where bright gems shone a pale light, just like above the black city. “What is it? There’s nothing special.”

“Look carefully,” said Spark.

She noticed how the tiny lights from the ceiling faded and then came back. That was strange, she hadn’t seen that before. Then it dawned on her. “These are stars! It’s the outdoor sky!” She exclaimed, “Oh, how I missed this. I prefer twinkling stars a thousand times to the shiniest of gems.”

“You see! You should never give up hope.”

But that faint hope quickly faded as they saw a group of soldiers with more killer hounds descending the nearly vertical cliffs. The black warriors followed a staircase that hugged the rock. It was so narrow that it seemed to Samira that they were crawling down the wall like ants.

“They’re coming after us!” she cried anxiously.

“Where can we go now?” Asked Spark. “I don’t want to go back and we can’t cross the lava sea.”

Samira’s gaze was attracted by a shining object on the edge of the fiery lake. It was intermittently visible through the thick smoke and fog. They hurried towards it.

“A bell,” said Spark, “what’s it for?”

“For ringing, of course,” Samira replied and jerked the rope that hung under the bell. It rang eerily in the cavernous dark.

A strange rustling and rattling sound came from underneath them.

“What have you done?” squeaked Spark.

“Did you have a better suggestion? Do you want to wait for these hounds to tear us into pieces?”

Spark darted around nervously.

“Look,” Samira said, “something’s coming.”

Floating on the sea of ​​fire, a black shape slowly emerged from the fumes. It had roughly the shape of a ship, but everything from fore to aft was colored matt black. A dark hooded figure stood on its deck, its lower body covered in mists.

“Let’s leave quickly!” Spark whimpered, “this is way too scary. A ghost ship floating over fire, it doesn’t even have sails?”

“Spark, stop whining and use your eyes and ears. Don’t you hear that clatter? It doesn’t fly at all, it is pulled by chains. You just can’t see them through the fog.”

“I still find it scary,” sniffed Spark, “How do you know this ghost will help us?”

As the creature came closer, they saw two burning eyes gazing at them from under its hood.

“Please, Spark, help me,” she hissed, “we must appear confident. Like the great heroes in the stories of master Diokles. Like Orpheus who crossed the River Styx to save his love. We can’t show any doubt.”

Samira shivered. There was little in that story to comfort them. Even a great hero like Orpheus, favorite of the gods, couldn’t hide his fear from the lord of the underworld and he lost everything. But she had to try, and besides, this place was scary but it wasn’t Hades or Tartarus, the twinkling stars were proof of that.

The ship slowed down as it approached to within a few feet of the platform. It stopped when it almost touched the side.

“Who calls me?”

The boatman’s deep voice thundered from the black wrought-iron ship. Under his dark hood, Samira caught a glimpse of a hideous white face. The sight churned her stomach and she wanted to turn and run. Instead, she mustered all her courage and looked straight at his angry eyes

Her clear voice was like a ray of sunshine in the misty darkness of the lava lake. “Tell me your name,” she answered, speaking solemnly in the language of Homer as if she was reciting a play, “and I’ll tell you mine.”

“You know my name,” thundered the voice, “I am Charon the boatman of the Underdeep.”

“I am Samira, guardian of the Original Fire,” she said with all the confidence she could invoke. She pulled out the amulet and held it up. As the strange metal caught the faint but natural light of the stars it reflected in a thousand colors, even brighter than in Fingo’s cabin. “I do not belong here and I implore you to take me to Fingard at once.”

Charon took a few steps back, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the unexpectedly bright rays.

“Take us to Fingard,” repeated Samira as she gathered courage from his retreat.

[Picture lava sea]

The boatman recovered and laughed. “Why should I help you?” he said scornfully, pointing to the approaching gang of the Dark Cult warriors. “My friends will pay good money for your pure soul.”

This worried Samira and she sounded a lot less confident when she repeated her request, “you know I don’t belong here, please take me to Fingard across the lake. That’s your duty ... Those cultists, they’re not your friends. And you’re certainly not their servant, Charon the boatman. You are master of the River Styx.”

She remembered how the dead were given a coin to pay for the crossing into the underworld and took the silver coin that Spark had stolen from the temple. “And I’ll pay you,” she announced stretching out her hand with the coin.

“Halt!” an angry voice roared from the approaching group of temple guards, “don’t let her go aboard. She’s our slave.”

Charon’s eyes flashed with anger. “I don’t follow your orders!” he roared.

Slowly the boat came closer until it touched an iron quay with a loud clang. Charon stepped off the deck and towered over Samira. A hand emerged from under his robes.

The girl almost choked with horror, but managed to drop the silver coin into the skeletal hand.

Charon’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the coin. He still wavered and that terrible moment seemed to last forever even as the Cultists were fast approaching. At last, the boatman shrugged with casual indifference and beckoned her to board the ship.

With trembling knees Samira stumbled forward onto the iron deck. The chains rattled and the ship slowly started to move. “Don’t look back,” he commanded in his raspy voice. The Cultists yelled and screamed from the dock when they saw the ship disappear into the fog, but Samira didn’t look back, not even when they shouted the vilest of curses.

Shivering and trembling with fear, they made the crossing. Charon showed no sign of acknowledgment as a relieved Samira gingerly stepped off the boat. She offered a timid farewell, her voice barely more than a whisper in the vastness of the cavern. For a fleeting moment, as she glanced at his spectral face, she thought she saw the ghost of a smile flicker across his features. The boatman didn’t linger near the shore and the creaking vessel doubled back, soon disappearing in the swirling vapors, leaving behind only the eerie echo of rattling chains that reverberated against the smooth, looming cliffs..

With the sea of lava behind them, Samira and Spark entered a new, even larger complex of caves. Is this Fingard, the girl wondered? The caves were narrower than those on the other side. They saw how moss and mushrooms grew lavishly around hot, smelly springs. Long lines of fist-sized ants carried sliced ​​fungi to their nests. Warm alcoves were full of blubbery eggs the size of apples.

As they went deeper into Fingard, it became colder and darker. The light that shone bright in the great central hall of the Underdeep had become pale and weak, dimmer than a moonless night. The twinkling stars were just a vague memory. Instead of walking on damp fungi, they traversed dense cobwebs and dry gravel and the ants were smaller and fewer.

Fingard also had its pleasant sides. “Those mushrooms taste great,” said Samira. Spark didn’t answer. She had her mouth full with sweet mush that ants reserve for their queen and was blissfully dreaming of faery lands.

They traveled for long hours, and took little rest. After squirming through yet another thicket of cobwebs, Samira noticed a circular opening in the rock face. It looked clean and regular, wholly different from the caverns infested with giant insects and smelly pools.

She stooped and sniffed inside. No sulfur fumes came out, instead it smelled good! She had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. After weeks of eating dried insects and pickled mushrooms she couldn’t believe what her senses told her. “This smells like food!” she said in amazement, “people are living here.”

“Must be small people,” remarked Spark, “perhaps Gulla. Be careful.”

Instinctively Samira touched the round medallion Fingo had given her before cautiously entering. The tunnel went on for about ten paces, at the end was a small round iron door. To their surprise, the door wasn’t locked and they went inside.

“What a friendly place,” remarked Samira. A comfortable hut was the last thing she expected to see. There were woolen carpets on the floor, a small fireplace on one side and a stove in the corner. In the center was a tiny table with four small chairs and the walls were filled with cupboards and cabinets full of stone jars, porcelain vases, and silver goblets. There was an opening to another room partly covered by a thick curtain. The place was small, like her house in Ligeia, but looked so much cozier and more welcoming. “Who would live here?” she wondered aloud.

“They’ve just left,” said Spark, “there’s food on the plates.”

“Hello!” called Samira, “anyone home?”

“Shhh,” said Spark, “we’ve no idea if they’re friendly.”

Samira ignored her and kept calling but nobody answered. Then she sat down at the table. “I’m so hungry, we can’t let this food go to waste.” She started eating everything off the plates. Spark also took a few bites. They threw some crumbs at a mouse that was hiding in a corner.

When the plates were thoroughly emptied, Samira was still hungry and ransacked the kitchen. She devoured a jar of dried ants and a plate of fresh mushrooms while Spark dove into a jar of honey.

“I feel so bad, invading this friendly home,” said Samira when her belly finally stopped growling, “let’s clean up our mess.”

Together they put the place back in order, cleaning the plates, swiping the floor and putting everything back in the cupboards. When they were done, they crawled through the opening behind the curtain in the back wall. There were four small beds. At the sight of those soft, warm beds, Samira felt tiredness overtake her body. “Let me rest for a while,” she said, yawning already. She crashed down on the largest bed. “Just for a little while.”

Having barely slept for two nights, the bed felt so soft and comfortable that she thought she was in heaven and dozed off.

“Don’t worry,” said Spark, “I’ll stand guard.”

The little faery nestled herself comfortably with her back leaning against Samira. She scanned the room back and forth with her eyes. Before long, she got bored and yawned and within moments also dozed off.

Just as Spark was dreaming that she was dancing with a handsome, red-haired Fire-Peri she woke up with a shock. She pricked her ears and listened to the noise in the adjacent room.

“There was someone here,” said an angry voice from the main room behind the curtain.

“They’ve eaten our food!” cried another one.

“I told you to fix the lock,” whined a third voice.

“And I told you to use a protective spell,” replied the second voice.

“I did!” said the second voice. “Somehow it didn’t work.”

“You just forgot,” said the third voice.

“No I didn’t,” objected the second voice.

“Silence!” hissed the first voice, “the intruders could still be here.”

“Surely a dirty Gulla,” the second voice said grimly, “we’ll teach it a lesson.”

“Or worse,” shivered the third voice, “if it has broken the spell.”

“D..d..do you think it’s something more powerful? Could it be one of the dark priests?”

Spark heard a sword being unsheathed and shivered.

“Take it easy,” whispered the softer voice, “do you think these brutes would clean the kitchen?”

There followed a fierce whispered discussion. Spark pulled at Samira and spoke in her ear, “Samira, wake up !” but the girl was so fast asleep, she didn’t even budge.

The curtain was thrown back in one fell swoop. Spark barely had time to hide as two little men rushed in, each armed with a short but viciously curved sword. The lean creatures were about Samira’s size but had the face of grown men and one of them boasted a thick beard.

The bearded one approached Samira and looked at her face, which was covered with dirt, blood and sweat. Her dress was in shreds and drenched in mud and soot. Her long dark-blond hair was a tangle of muddy straw.

“I told you,” he cried, “this is Gulla vermin.” He poked his sword in her side and shouted, “wake up you imp!”

Samira woke up slowly. She calmly stretched her arms then froze when she looked into the tip of a sword. Behind it, she saw two fiery eyes that angrily stared back. “Don’t move evil Gulla,” shouted the Gnome. Then he pointed with his sword to the amulet that hung on her neck and asked, “where did you steal that?”

“I didn’t steal it,” Samira said indignantly, unimpressed by the little men, “and I’m certainly not a Gulla.”

“Liar!” shouted the angry Gnome, “I can smell Gulla vermin a mile away.” He sniffed contemptuously, “and you smell like a very dirty one.”

“Sir, please,” Samira said calmly, “where are your manners. I’m not a Gulla.”

“Liar, liar!” cried the bearded Gnome as he jumped up and down angrily, “tell the truth now or I’ll pierce you with this sword.”

“Fabo, stop it!” said the female Gnome behind him, “don’t you see? This is a girl.”

“A what?” stammered Fabo in astonishment, “a human child?” this muddy ape?” Have you lost your mind?”

The woman pushed Fabo away, “she’s a girl, but she urgently needs a bath... and clean clothes.” She scowled at the two men, “the two of you get out of here, and let me take care of her.”

The two Gnomes with the short swords hurried away while the female Gnome smiled at Samira. “Don’t worry my dear, you’re in good hands.”

A few minutes later Samira relaxed in a pool of naturally hot, slightly sulfuric water. “Forgive Fabo,” the woman told her, “he’s a bit nervous. Gulla and dark men are patrolling everywhere since yesterday. As if they’re looking for someone. But you can trust us, you’re our most welcome guest. I’m Fahriye by the way, and you’ve already had the pleasure to speak with my husband Fabo. You’ve have also seen my son Fionn and my daughter Filiz.”

“I’m Samira, daughter of Ophelia and Georgios,” replied Samira politely, “but what did you say about Gulla and dark men? Who are they looking for.”

Samira wanted to ask a million questions, but Fahriye had none of it. “Shhh, child, you’ve got to rest. We can talk about unpleasant things later. You’re safe here.” She rubbed a warm wet piece of cloth over her back, “if your body is muddy, then your thoughts are muddled. Trust me, I know.”

She wiped off the blood and dirt. Apart from the many scratches, Samira’s skin was clean and shiny. Only now did she notice how pale she had become in the sunless Underdeep.

While Samira soaked in the hot water, Fahriye held up her tattered dress. “Dear child, I cannot begin to imagine what you’ve gone through. I’m afraid this is beyond repair. But don’t worry, I have an idea.”

A little while later she returned with a pile of laundry so high that she could barely see over it and she almost fell headlong in the pool. Samira giggled.

“Now let’s see,” said the woman as she fumbled through the heap of clothes, “You are my height, so there should be something that fits.” She began lifting up the dresses one by one, eying at each and then at Samira, “too wide… too long …. ouch, did I really wear this?” Soon the pile of discarded clothes was larger than the original pile, but still she hadn’t found anything suitable for Samira. “I used to be slimmer, you know, so perhaps something from last century would fit you.” As she reached the end of the pile she suddenly stopped. Her eyes gleamed with pleasure. “This is it.”

Fahriye presented a long silken dress in deep purple with shades of turquoise.

Samira gasped. The dress was more beautiful than anything she had ever seen. Even the pure-bones in Ligeia didn’t wear this when they strolled across the Agora on a festival day.

Fahriye held the dress against her body and looked dreamily into the distance, “this was my wedding dress. I haven’t touched it for over two hundred years. It was such a wonderful day.”

“But you can’t give me your wedding dress,” stammered Samira from the bath, “I can’t accept that.”

“I want you to take it,” said Fahriye, “you can use it, I’ll never fit into it again.” She sat down with the dress on her lap, “look, it’s not very practical right now but we can adjust it so it doesn’t hamper your movement. It’s already a bit wide, which is good. The fabric is of the best silk, supple and strong, and it is really thick. Come and feel it, this will not shear on the rocks. You’ll have to cover it with a cloak, but it’ll be warm and comfortable.”

An hour later Samira cautiously stepped back into the main room. She wore the precious dress, adjusted to her size. Her skin was smooth and shiny. Fahriye had even managed to tame her long, muddy tresses into a fine braid that was stylishly rolled up and held together with a golden hairpin.

She could hear Fionn and Fabo talking softly. “A human child,” scoffed Fabo, “from what mud-hole did she emerge, I would like to know?”

“More like a Gulla tramp,” chuckled Fionn but then he spotted Samira and his jaw dropped. Speechless, he gestured to his father.

Fabo turned and fell off his chair when he saw Samira’s clean skin and the beautiful silk dress. Fionn simply gaped at her.

“My brains must have been eaten by worms,” said Fabo, slapping his head, “how could I mistake you for a Gulla?”

’W ... w ... welcome to our house,” Fionn stuttered.

A few minutes later Fahriye brought platters of dried biscuits topped with mushroom jam and the occasional drop of honey. Samira still felt hungry and ate until she was full. After tasting some honey. Spark fluttered wildly about and delighted the Gnomes with her aerial acrobatics.

Later, they sat on the thick carpet and Samira told them her story. She explained them how she was captured in the dark temple and how she managed to escape with the help of Spark and the rats. She talked about her family who abandoned her.

“Poor child, that’s awful,” said Fahriye.

She talked about the three-headed dog and the sea of ​​fire.

“You were so brave,” said Fabo.

“I owe it all to my friend,” she said, “to Fingo. He was my best friend. He helped me escape.”

“Fingo!?” shouted Fionn. “That’s Grandpa! You met him! We thought he was dead. How is he?”

Samira started crying.

The Gnomes looked at her in astonished silence.

“I think he’s dead,” stammered Samira, “and it’s all my fault.”

“Don’t say that,” said Fabo sternly, “it is not your fault. It’s the Dark Cult.”

Samira told them everything she knew about Fingo. She told them about the ceremony and about how she was captured. How she tried to free Fingo from the temple but failed.

“We’ve got to find him if there’s the slightest chance he lives,” said Fabo, “I know someone who can help.”

“You mean that sneaky Uzh?” Fahriye said skeptically, “I really don’t trust him.”

“He’s a Gulla and a merchant. Of course, he can’t be trusted,” replied Fabo, “but do you want me to wander into the Dark City and bribe the temple guards? With what?”

“Take this,” said Samira putting the shining amulet on the table, “perhaps you can pay with that. Fingo gave it to me.”

They gazed at the gleaming medallion, their eyes stretched wide in sheer amazement, like she had just dropped a gigantic chunk of gold right there on the table.

“That’s so sweet,” said Fahriye looking at her as if she was an angel, “but I want you to keep the amulet. He gave it to you for a reason. We have enough gold to get him out.”

“But what are we going to do about you,” said Fabo as he played with his beard. “The Underdeep is no place for a human child. We need to get you to the surface as fast as possible so you can make your way back home.”

Samira’s face brightened. “Can you do that?”

“Of course,” said Fionn, “When you have rested, I’ll take you to the northern gate. It’s not far. You’ve done the hardest part already.”

Fabo was less certain. “It will be dangerous,” he said, “The Gulla and cultists are looking for her.”

Fionn promised that he would be very careful and would bring her all the way to the surface. He was certain the Gulla wouldn’t venture beyond the gate.

Samira was scared of the vicious Gulla - she had heard many scary stories - but was even more determined to get back to the surface.

A few wonderfully relaxing days later, Samira and Fionn were ready to embark on their dangerous journey. The girl struggled to say goodbye and when she was about to leave she said to the Gnomes, “you are the nicest people ... creatures I know. I’ll really miss you.”

She wore the purple-turquoise silk dress, but had it hidden under a gray travel cloak with a hood. She hid Spark in a bag that she wore around her waist. She also carried a dagger that was quite useless against a band of Gulla, but it made her feel safer. Fionn wore a leather tunic and an inconspicuous gray cloak. They both held a cane to keep their balance on the steep, slippery rocks. Even from a short distance, they were indistinguishable from two young Gnomes on a hike. From farther away, they could be mistaken for Gulla.

They walked through narrow passages and long tunnels. Fionn knew the area well and he was cheerful and confident. With such a guide, the journey was much smoother than when she was only out with Spark. He pointed at the hidden creatures and told her which ones were dangerous. They had plenty of food and warm blankets to sleep under. Only once did they have to duck to avoid a Gulla patrol.

At night, they slept in a small alcove that Fionn knew from one of his foraging trips. “Rest well,” he said, “tomorrow it’ll be a short stretch and then you’re outside.”

They left early the next day. Samira felt jitters in her belly, this was the big day and she was already longing to feel the warmth of the sun on her skin

After a short walk, they crawled on all fours through a narrow tunnel. Suddenly the tunnel ended and fell fifteen feet lower to a wide passage that seemed brighter than the caves they had visited before. It was even brighter than the central hall of the Dark Cult.

“This wide passage leads to the surface,” said Fionn, pointing to the right, “look over there, can you see the sunlight?”

Samira wanted to climb down at once, but Fionn urged her to wait until the sun was at its peak. “Gulla hate bright light,” he explained, “they won’t venture near the gate when the sun is high. That’s when you should go.”

While they impatiently waited for the sun’s slow rise to its zenith, they saw bands of Gulla lurking below in the wide passage. Samira had seen the small, stocky creatures before in the Underdeep. In the central cavern, under the gaze of Ahriman’s priests, they always stooped and acted subordinate to the Dark Cultists, hiding their hatred for humans behind a meek smile and docile manners. Out here, they looked taller and radiated confidence. Their movements were brisk and their eyes burnt with demonic energy. They carried spears, short vicious swords, and some had small, spiked shields strapped to their arms.

“Don’t get close to them, they’re really dangerous, even unarmed,” warned Fionn, “they have sharp nails and long teeth. They hate sunlight but in the dark, they can see much better than you.”

At midday, the passage became a little brighter and they hadn’t seen any Gulla for a while. Fionn told Samira that it was time to get going. He lowered a rope and Samira carefully made her way down the steep cliff while the Gnome kept guard on the rock.

“Farewell Fionn,” she whispered when she reached the passageway, “thank you for everything.”

Samira walked on alone, remaining close to the wall. The light seemed to brighten with each step, and she knew she was on the right track. After a slight turn, she saw a bright light in the distance. The exit, Samira thought, and she ran towards it.

The light seeped through a small crack, high up in the rocks. She was disappointed for a moment. This was not some grand gateway like she had dreamed of, would she even fit? When her eyes got used to the brightness, she saw that the gap was large enough for her to wriggle through.

Carefully she crawled on. Fionn had warned her about traps but she didn’t know what to look for. She saw nothing out of place and pulled herself through the narrow crack to emerge outside.

After months in near-darkness, the bright sunlight was simply overwhelming. The warmth on her skin felt better than a warm bath. But her eyes hurt as if she was looking directly in the sun. She dared not wait and staggered on with her eyes almost closed. She tripped over a thin wire that was invisible in the brightness. She got up quickly and carried on. I have to get away from the gate.

After a few minutes, she could fully open her eyes and look at the ground under her feet. Between the gray boulders there was green! The fresh spring grass was lush and there were beautiful flowers. Even the rocks were covered with moss and lichen. What a difference to the caves where everything was either parched and dry or moldy and slimy!

After a while, she dared to look a little higher up and could get a sense of direction. She walked on, gradually regaining confidence and her natural gait.

At the top of a crest, she sat down and lifted her eyes, looking around for the first time. She was on top of a grassy knoll. The valley before here was littered with rocks and stones as if they were left there by giants in primordial times. In the distance... The sight was breathtaking. She saw the snowy peaks and dark gray rocks of the high mountains. The longer she looked, the better she could see their contours. The spring sun warmed her skin like no fire ever did. She felt great and out of pure joy, she kissed Spark.

“Where are we?” asked the little Peri.

Only now did it dawn on her that she didn’t have the faintest idea where she was. She was far from home, that was sure as even the ever-present Mount Kazbek, which could be seen from dozens of miles away, was nowhere on the horizon. Which way should she go? Was she even in the lands controlled by Ligeia? She knew that to the south of the hidden city were the Mountain Kingdoms of Iberia, Albania and Armenia. According to Diokles, these were lands of fine palaces, large cities with marble temples and caravanserai with decent wine. Most importantly, they were on good terms with Ligeia. In contrast, the north was a dangerous wilderness inhabited by violent and lawless steppe barbarians that hated strangers. Merchants dropped everything if they heard rumors of the approaching nomads, mothers strangled their children if they feared capture by these savages. They knew no mercy, if you were lucky, they would simply torture you to death in a few hours, otherwise the agony would last for years as you became their slave.

But which way was north? Which way should she avoid at all cost?

“One thing is certain,” she said to Spark as she thought about the Gulla she had seen earlier, “we must get away from this place as fast as we can. We’re too close to those creepy monsters.”

She decided to walk downhill to a green valley in the distance. Rocks and peaks were beautiful and exciting, but valleys were warm and safe and even if she wouldn’t run into a farming village, she would certainly encounter a friendly sheep herder before long.

Fionn watched Samira disappear down the passageway. He sat for a while, his mind still grappling with what had just happened. How had this little girl managed to escape the clutches of the Dark Cult where so many had failed? Even his brave and resourceful grandfather Fingo, that knew the Underdeep as no other didn’t manage to get away.

And why had he given her such a medallion, forged like the ones in their oldest and most sacred songs. It was said that in the Age of Heroes, when Gnomes and Dwarves ruled the Underdeep, expert miners cut magic material out the densest rock from the deepest cracks. They fashioned these into special artefacts and gave them to the rulers of men. The peaceful Gnomes made jewelry, while the dwarves preferred to fashion the unique material into weapons. Both were said to bestow great power on their owner, but be useless to anyone else. Perhaps that’s why Fingo was able to hide the material of the necklace from the Dark Cult. For them, it was worth less than silver.

He froze when he heard angry voices of Gulla in the passageway. Something was different about them. Even from far away he could see they were even more jumpy and squeaky than usual. He hid himself deeper in the shadows and pulled the hood over his head.

At first there were just a few, but soon the passage was crawling with these vile creatures. There were at least thirty! They were not just random passers-by, many of them were heavily armed with long knives and vicious spears.

They were assembling a war band!

Are they going after her? Should I go out and warn her? But if they see me, I’ll only make it worse. Fionn decided to stay for a little while and keep an eye on the Gulla. That was the least he could do.

He soon regretted his decision. A great beast approached the patrol. The monster was taller than the largest human and had the width of an ox. Two horribly sharp horns protruded from its huge head. His enormous mouth was full of razor-sharp teeth and he carried a club the size of a tree trunk that weighed as much as an adult Gnome. A War Gulla! They were the most dangerous creatures of the entire Underdeep and he had never seen one before. What in Brokkr’s name is this monster doing here?

He waited nervously while the Gulla continued to linger and snarl angrily at each other. The War Gulla snorted and stomped on the ground with its hoof-like legs. As the illumination reaching the cave grew dimmer, the monsters became ever more excited. They’re waiting for nightfall, he realized.

When the light was nearly gone, the great War Gulla roared and a group of at least a dozen viciously armed creatures jogged down the passageway. The large horned monster closed the ranks and his steps rumbled through the caves. He had never seen the Gulla so belligerent and so confident.

Even before the echo of the war band had faded, the remaining Gulla dispersed. Soon the passage was empty again and Fionn was alone with his thoughts. What can I do against a dozen of their best hunters, he thought? I can’t even catch up with them, Gulla run too fast.

But the image of Samira, in her lovely garment, in the hands of the cruel Gulla, was more than he could bear. After all she had been through, he could not have her captured and tortured by these horrible creatures. Or worse, she could be returned to the Dark Cult to be sacrificed to their evil god. He had to help her, or at least try.

He carefully descended the rock wall to the passageway and walked up to the crack. When he crawled through, he could easily discern the cord a few inches above the ground which glistened in the moonlight. Damn it, he thought, that’s a warning mechanism and she obviously didn’t see it in the bright sun. I should have thought about that!

Fionn wasn’t a great tracker, certainly not in the unfamiliar outdoors at night. But these Gulla were so clumsy and unworried it was almost like they left tracks on purpose. He started the pursuit, hoping to catch up with them if they took a break. But he had no idea what he would do after that.

[Picture: Gulla]

Samira stumbled on all day while her vision was recovering slowly. There was no trail, she had to find her way over the sharp and jagged rocks.

After nightfall, she could see almost as well as during the day and she kept going. A few hours into the night, when the moon had disappeared behind the mountain, she was too exhausted to press on. The girl laid down on a soft bed of moss and was soon fast asleep.

She woke up with a shock. What was that noise, she thought, did I dream it? There it was again, it was closer. She looked anxiously around.

There, on the crest in the distance, darker than the night, she saw the scrawny silhouettes of Gulla running towards her. She could barely suppress a scream and sprinted downhill. She wanted to cry. Is there no end to our misery?

Spark tried to encourage her. “You can do it,” she shouted, “it’s almost dawn. They hate the light.”

But the Gulla got closer and closer. She heard their claws on the rocks. She caught their grunts and snorts. When they got nearer, she even heard their mean voices jeer and taunt her.

Suddenly there was a sound in front of her. Samira stopped, panting. Two Gulla appeared from behind a rock.

“Give up girl, you’re surrounded,” one of the Gulla called in the old tongue of the Dark Cult.

“Never!” shouted Samira and she turned around but only ten paces behind her was a large Gulla armed with a spear.

“We won’t hurt you,” said the creature but he smiled viciously when he said these words.

Samira ran back down. She tried desperately to escape but she was exhausted and surrounded from all sides. The terrain was very difficult and she had to jump from rock to rock, something the Gulla could do much faster with their long arms.

A Gulla grabbed her leg and she stumbled. She pulled it free and got up. Another Gulla tried to grab her hands. A third grabbed her hair. She fiercely resisted, kicked and screamed and slashing wildly with the knife.

But there were too many and she couldn’t get away.

One hit her arm and she dropped the knife in pain. Another grabbed her leg, this time the fell creature didn’t let go. She lost her balance and as soon as she hit the ground, two Gulla grabbed her arms and pinned her down. She struggled hard and bit one of them. When she saw the massive horned Gulla, her heart sank and her strength ebbed away.

Two of the creatures grabbed her arms and tied them tightly behind her back. One of the Gulla saw the shiny amulet and tried to snatch it, but the War Gulla hit his arm so hard that it broke. “Don’t touch the human child!” he growled, “this is a special delivery for the Black Master, and for him alone.”

The others shrank back. Samira saw the fear in their eyes.

“Can’t we taste a piece?” Asked one. “Please, I’m so hungry.”

But the leader was adamant. “No touching means no eating!” he blurted, “she’s worth more in one piece.”

“Sunrise is coming soon,” said an older, stocky Gulla as the others were arguing, “we’d better find some shelter.”

“All right,” said the leader, “let’s find a cave. There are plenty.”

When most of the band was searching for a place to sleep, one of the smaller creatures approached Samira. With a sudden quick movement his arm shot forward and he closed his slimy fingers around the amulet.

He screamed and wailed, “it burns, it burns!”

The amulet had turned into a burning ember but somehow failed to cause any pain to Samira. The Gulla looked at her in fear and amazement.

The others laughed and heckled. “I warned you,” chuckled the leader. They didn’t touch her anymore after that and even left her shiny hairpin in place.

“I found a passable cave,” said the old Gulla. He pointed towards a dark opening between some large boulders

“All right,” grumbled the leader. “We’ll rest over there and go home when it’s dark. Then we’ll get our reward!” The others cheered and rudely dragged their captive into the cave.

Fionn watched helplessly as the Gulla dragged a kicking and screaming Samira into the hollow. They hung a thick, heavy blanket in front of the entrance to keep the sun out. The War Gulla came out one more time just as the first rays of the sun peeked above the crest. He sniffed and looked suspiciously at the rocks behind which the Gnome was hiding. But then went back inside.

The Gnome waited an hour, then sneaked closer to the cave entrance until he could smell the dirty blanket and heard the monsters snoring loudly. Behind him the sun rose higher. The snowy peaks captured the first timid rays and colored the white snow.

Spark fluttered by and hovered before him. She cried big tears. “You’ve got to do something,” she begged him, “they’re going to eat her or take her back to the Cult, which is worse.”

“I’m alone,” said Fionn shaking his head wistfully, “what can I do against these brutes?”

Spark had no answer. All she knew was the she wanted to keep her promise and save Samira, but that had never looked more arduous.