The Adventures of Larson and Garrett - Trouble in Atjibur

Trouble in Atjibur

Larson and Garrett Adventure the Fourth by Aaron Dennis

Published by www.storiesbydennis.com August 2015

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any form, including digital and electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes for use in reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Freshly arrived in Fargo, Larson and Garret promptly stabled their horses under the wavering glow of torches. Due to the poor condition of Larson's armor from the recent fight with a khalkataurus, the warrior struggled a moment to remove the worn, steel plates, leaving only his chain mail and leather leggings as protection. He also switched his great sword for a double-headed axe.

"Expecting more trouble?" Garrett smirked.

"One can never be too safe, " Larson replied. "Besides, I'd feel nude without a weapon. I don't see you leaving your rapier behind."

"I'm a world class fencer."

"Are you, " Larson asked dubiously.

The sun had set hours prior to their return. They trekked the cobbled, city streets from the stables back to the coal miner's tavern, passing burning torches mounted on posts along the way. Inside the well-lit building, they took empty stools at the bar. An aging woman with a tired visage approached them, but before they ordered drinks, a stout dwarf with long, auburn hair in one, big braid advanced.

"Heya', lad, " the dwarf cheered.

"Seanessy!" Garrett smiled. "Haven't seen you in a spell."

"Oh, aye, the two of us been busy in our respective fields, eh?"

"Who's this then, " Larson asked, indifferently.

"Seanessy Tidwell, at yer' service, " the dwarf said with a bow.

Larson scrutinized the pint sized dwarf. He wore a brown tunic over black, leather leggings and had a large, two-handed hammer strapped to his back.

"Seanessy Tidwell?" Larson mused.

"Aye, " Tidwell grinned and grabbed his braided beard. "Local brew master for over two decades, " he beamed.

"Brew master, huh?"

"That's right, " Garrett said. "He brews the Axe and Hammer Brown Ale."

"An' it sells for a pence, " Tidwell added. "Lassie, " he called the bar keep. "Pint o' the Axe an' Hammer fer me friends."

The aged woman nodded and poured them each a pint of the thick, brown ale. While Garrett sipped his, and Larson gulped a huge swig, Tidwell writhed up onto a stool next to the travelers.

"So, " Tidwell smiled. "What do yas' think?"

"Nutty, oaky, " Larson said. "Very good. Nice job, Tidwell."

"Aye, call me Seanessy, " the dwarf said and lightly nudged Larson with his elbow. "What brings the two o' yas here tonight?"

"Trouble in elf town, " Larson mumbled between swigs.

"Killed off some goblins, " Garrett explained. "There was a wicked sorcerer among them, and then a khalkataurus appeared from out of nowhere."

"A khalkataurus?" Seanessy exclaimed. "Why thas' dang, blasted crazy!"

Garrett chuckled, adding, "It took Larson's finger right off."

Seanessy leaned in to peak at Larson's hands, which were fine. The dwarf then narrowed his eyes, giving Garrett a look of skepticism.

"I got better, " Larson admitted.

"Golfund, the elf, healed him, " Garrett clarified. Seanessy shrugged, knowingly. "And where have you been scuttled of late?"

"Narry a dull moment 'round Fargo, " Seanessy said. "Sold a crate o' the Axe an' Hammer ta' some merchant goin' ta' Wind Break." Larson laughed at the end of the comment. "What? Ya' don't believe me?" Seanessy bore a look of indignation.

"Of course I do, " Larson smiled. "I just like the name of that town. It's a fart!"

They all laughed and ordered another round of ale as well as some smoked ham. Larson and Garrett, who were obviously starved, devoured the meal. Conversation returned to the khalakataurs, and Seanessy found the finger incident extremely humorous. The tavern door flew open then. Three, young men walked in looking disheveled.

"Someone, anyone, " one of them called out. "We need help."

What few patrons there were-tired from a full day's work-barely gave them a glance. They were local boys all between the ages of fifteen and eighteen. Two had long, dark hair, and one had short, red hair. Larson noted their peasant's clothing-drab tunics and torn breeches.

"Please, our friend Darrell is in trouble, " the red haired teen whined.

Garrett squinted and looked at them. "What's happened, boy?"

All three approached and encroached upon Larson's personal space. He fidgeted, turned, and purposefully crossed his legs so as to tap the closest boy in the hip with his boot. The boy scooted back.

"Darrell went off to the caves of Atjibur, " the tallest one said.

"Not this again, " Larson complained and turned back to the remnants of his smoked ham.

"What's all this then?" Seanessy grumbled. "No one's dumb enough ta' set foot in there."

The boys then explained that their friend, Darrell, didn't have the money he needed to continue providing for his sick mother and finally set off on the quest he'd been musing over for years-finding the treasures inside Atjibur.

"There's no treasure in Atjibur, " Larson argued without turning around. "Who is this Darrell, anyway?"

"The Dude, " Garrett said, flustered.

"Oh, for crying, " Larson muttered and shook his head. "I'm not going to save him."

"Please, Sir, " the red-haired, young man begged. "You're Larson and Garrett."

"An' Seanessy, " the dwarf howled out.

"Uh, yeah, " the young man noted in bafflement. "And, and Seanessy. You've got to help us. He's our friend."

"I told that mutt to stay out of that place, " Larson said while spinning around to face the young man. He then jabbed his finger into the boy's chest as he spoke. "You kids are all the same, dumb as a box of rocks. You get a sword and an idea, and you think you can run off into a trap laden dungeon to find nonexistent treasure. Well let me tell you, he's got what he deserves."

"Larson, " Garrett intervened. "C'mon."

"No! Don't you jump into this, too. I've done enough free work for the week." With a flagrant wave of the hand, he added, "I'm on hiatus."

Garrett winced and shook his head. "When did the Dude go out?"

"Um, you mean Darrell, " the shorter teen asked. Garrett nodded. "Yesterday, I guess. We didn't know anything about it, but seems he left his mom a note."

"I'm surprised he can write, " Larson murmured, chewing the last bit of ham.

"Then, his mom came to find us, and told us to go get him, but we can't go into those caves. There's like giant spiders, or snake people, or something in there, " the young man said.

"Snake people, " Larson snickered.

"Well, I don't know about you, lads, " Seanessy said and hopped to the ground, "but I'm up fer anythin'!"

"Confound it all, " Larson grumbled.

"I don't know why you're struggling to come to terms with this, Larson" Garrett said in his most mother hen of tones. "You know we're going to Atjibur."

"That's why I'm so damned mad!"

"Shall we, " Garrett asked.

"Will you really help us, " the red-haired boy asked.

"Aye, " Seanessy cheered. "The three finest warriors o' Ruvonia are comin' ta' the rescue!"

Larson shook his head in exasperation. "Daaamn iiit."

He then chugged the last drops of the Axe and Hammer and immediately bolted out of the tavern. Garrett followed suit, and Seanessy trailed behind.

"Oi!" Seanessy screamed. "Wait up fer the dwarf!"

"Keep up, or stay behind, " Larson howled over his shoulder.

Running down the deserted streets, by the light of torches, and the sounds of hissing cats and barking dogs, Larson and Garrett made it back to the stables. The fighter started grumbling all over again about the situation. The fencer rolled his eyes.

"I can never get any peace, can I?" Larson demanded of the Heavens. "I just want to find my family. Why must everyone beg me for help?"

Garrett laughed. "You're too much. What's a warrior without a war?"

"Argh, you're right."

By then, they had checked their horses and saddled up. As they were making their way out from the stables, Seanessy arrived out of breath. A scale mail had appeared over his tunic, but from where, no one had a clue.

"Gimme' a lift, lads, " he shouted.

"Where's your horse?" Larson accosted.

"A dwarf with a horse is like a monkey with a wagon wheel, " Seanessy argued and leaped up and down, making his armor jingle.

"What does that mean?" Garrett chuckled.

"It means I'm a dwarf. I'd be daft ta' own a horse!"

"Well, you're not riding with me, " Larson affirmed.

"He's not riding with me, " Garrett echoed.

"Pick me up, pick me up, pick me up!" Seanessy shouted, still leaping in place.

"Rock, paper, scissors, " Garrett asked.

"Fiiine, " Larson grumbled.

"One, two, three, shoot!" they said simultaneously.

Larson drew scissors, but Garret drew rock. "Looks like you lose, " Garrett said.

Larson had a pathetic look on his countenance. Seanessy was still jumping and shouting to be picked up.

"Two out of three, " Larson cheered.

"Just pick me up, ya louse!"

"Urgh, fine, " Larson acquiesced and stuck his arm down. Seanessy wriggled up and sat behind the warrior. "Easy where you grab, Seansy."

"It's Seanessy, " the dwarf corrected, vehemently.

"It's a long walk for a dwarf, is what it is, " Larson affirmed.

They both grumbled. Garrett shook his head in dismay then belly laughed before shouting out to Lola. Larson ran Duke in a circle, and the three galloped off towards the northeast, back towards the mountains of Lod, and out of Fargo to tackle Atjibur.

During the hurried ride down the beaten, dirt path towards the caves, Larson finally asked Seanessy about his armor. The ill-tempered dwarf grumbled about its fine, dwarven craftsmanship.

"Wasn't asking where it was made, " Larson argued. "I'm asking where you had it stowed."

"I tell ya' this, lad, a dwarf without a suit of armor is like a monkey without a banana!"

"What the Hell does that mean, " Garrett asked, riding up.

Seanessy crinkled his face in slight contempt. "It means he's got a firm grip on what aids him!"

"You're such a tool, " Larson jeered.

They pushed the horses hard for the better part of three hours. During their ascent, the chilly, night air morphed into sporadic gusts. Duke eventually tired from the added weight of the bulky dwarf. Slowing down for a moment as the great peaks of Lod seemed to reach for the sky before them, they rode off the beaten trail, and Garrett took the lead. Stars twinkled overhead while a thin veil of clouds quickly drifted towards the south.

"I suppose you know where the entrance is?" Larson mused.

"Sort of, " Garrett answered. "I've never actually been to the caves."

"Is there maybe more than one entrance?"

"Don't know, but I think I once heard that young boys around the Dude's age usually find their way to the caves–"

"No doubt to get lost and make the townsfolk scramble to rescue them!" Larson interrupted.

"Cool yer forge, lad, " Seanessy chastised.

"I'll drop you like a sack of potatoes, dwarf, " he argued back.

"Stow it, the both of you, " Garrett said in a tiresome tone.

Maintaining the lead, he took them down a valley beyond some cacti and squat shrubs, and by the time the moon was shining, they had all made it to a narrow foot trail that snaked around the eastern edge of the lower mountain. At a trot, Garrett was able to make note of some tracks. The Dude was a rather big fellow, and with big feet, to boot. Following the trail's slope for a while longer led them smack in front of a massive, dark opening at the foot of the sandy colored mountains. It was a menacing, black hole, uninviting.

"Looks like this is it, " Larson said.

"Yep, " Garrett agreed.

They dismounted and told the horses to stay put. The beasts appeared to understand; Duke snorted and Lola whinnied. Larson gazed up towards the mountain's peak. It was so tall, and they were so near the foot of the jagged mountain range, that he was unable to see the actual top of the mountain; several, rugged cliffs blocked the view even when looking straight towards the zenith.

"I really don't feel like getting lost in there, " Larson bellyached.

Garrett shot him an ever-so-tired look of contempt. "Can you stop thinking about yourself for one second?"

"I'm here, right?"

Garrett conceded with a shrug, thinking, I guess this his own gruff way. After fiddling around with torches, travel packs, and double checking their weapons and armor, Garrett lit his torch and traipsed right into the gaping entrance. Following inside, Larson and Seanessy caught sight of stalagmites and their wicked shadows. Larson looked up, but there didn't seem to be any sediment dripping from the ceiling.

"Where do wes' go?" Seanessy mumbled.

Garrett lowered his torch to the ground, but the stone was clear of sand and soil; there were no more tracks to be seen. He sauntered about aimlessly for a moment while Larson winced in displeasure. Seanessy performed a few warm up swings of his hammer.

"Hey, " Garrett called out. "Look at this."

When the other two arrived, they saw Garrett holding his torch before a short, squat stalagmite. Someone had carved a sort of rudimentary map into the stone.

"Looks like someone's done some exploring in these parts, " Larson remarked.

"Yeah, " Garrett agreed. "Likely, the town's boys have marked this rock to indicate their progress over the years."

Garrett then handed the torch off to Larson. While the fighter held the light aloft, the fencer removed parchment and a tiny rod of charcoal from his belongings. He laid the parchment over the stone before rubbing the charcoal on it to copy the map.

"Good thinkin', " Seanessy commented.

"Alright, " Larson coaxed. "Enough fiddle-faddling, let's move in."

"Fiddle-faddlin', " Seanessy asked with furrowed brow and a poorly hidden smile.

Larson cocked a brow at him. Garret snickered and retrieved the torch before starting off. They maintained a tight formation.

Further in, as the scent of moist rock tickled their pallet, the cave floor rose steadily. The craggy walls occasionally narrowed, and occasionally widened, and by the time they reached their first juncture within the extensive, subterranean system, the party of warriors had climbed quite a bit. Garrett checked the map.

"This portion of the caves is supposed to snake around, " he said. Then, he squinted at the wall and held the torch up to it. There was some scribbling. "Follow to big hole. Go to right. Follow downhill."

"Sounds simple enough, " Seanessy commented.

Garrett shrugged, and they followed the instructions. Only hundreds of yards in, they came upon the big hole previously mentioned. It seemed a bottomless pit in the midst of an extensive, open area. Scrutinizing their surroundings, and lacking the ability to gaze any further than what the torchlight provided, Larson snatched the map from Garrett's hands.

"Rude, " the fencer gasped.

Larson shook his head while gauging the map. The hole was clearly marked, and according to the parchment, there was another tunnel to the right, but without a compass and proper orienteering there was no way to know for sure which way was their right. Larson handed the map back and took a few paces around.

"What, " Garrett asked.

"Trying to feel which way is downhill...the instructions said to follow the path to the right, downhill, but it's hard to tell which way is which."

"Best be thankful ole' Seanessy is with yas', " the dwarf claimed. "Humans in caves is like–"

"You say monkey one more time, and I will punch you in the beard, " Larson cut in.

"Heh, heh, fine, fine, " Seanessy chuckled. "Only a dwarf can truly feel his way underground. C'mon, lads, downhill is this way."

The dwarf moseyed off at a pace, which was practically a crawl for humans. The other two smiled while following the pint sized brew master. It took some time, but by following the rude map and dwarven instinct they eventually worked their way through curling tunnels, beyond glittering stalactites, past a babbling stream, and way deep down into the caves of Atjibur. They finally came to a halt in a rather narrow corridor when they spotted a neatly etched arch in the natural stone; someone had clearly taken the time to mark the entrance into what certainly appeared to be the ancient temple of the White Wraith cult. Runes were carved into the arch marking the entrance, but even with the torch shining right over the mystical letters, no one was able to make any sense of them. They traded worried glances.

"Supposing the Dude followed the map, " Garrett started.

"Suppose he didn't, " Larson countered.

Grumbling, Garrett continued, "Supposing he did, this is the only way to go."

"So what are wes' waitin' fer, " Seanessy asked and moved beyond the arched entryway.

Larson and Garrett proceeded behind him. The party noticed almost immediately that the cave walls were expertly smoothed. A mischief of rats suddenly rounded the corner ahead of them and scurried towards Seanessy who cheered, drew his hammer, spun it, and brought it down squarely on one. It splattered the walls, pulling a belly laugh from Larson and a gasp from Garrett.

"Dinner fer later, " Seanessy remarked as he took the dead rat and stuck it right into his travel pack.

Revolted by that notion, the other two shook their heads before continuing through the corridor all the way up to a corner. Garrett halted, and shining his torch at the new hall, peered towards the darkness.

"They may have been running from something, " he said.

Larson arched a brow and took his axe in hand. Waiting a moment for a sign of a sign of something, muscles tensed and ears twitched. Seconds passed without so much as a sound. Accepting that the scurrying rats were simply roaming, they again pressed forwards.

For quite some time, nothing out of the ordinary presented itself. Their map showed each hall's end destination. Two were marked as storage rooms, one was marked a dead end, and one was marked as a hall of worship. An argument then ensued about which way to go.

"We should check the storage rooms, " Garrett suggested. "The Dude is looking for treasure, so he'll likely be checking those rooms first."

"Assuming he followed the map and can read–" Larson was saying.

"His friends said he wrote a note. Stop being such an arse, " Garrett chastised.

"Aye, but we're at least a day behind him, " Seanessy interjected.

"We rode on horses. He didn't, " Larson argued.

"Even so, " Garrett raised his voice. "We check the storerooms then the altar room."

A weird sound like dry branches scratching a wooden house interrupted their dispute. It vanished as quickly as it had come, so they continued.

"We'll run into him for sure this way, " Garrett stated.

"Let's just agree, so we can get a move on, " Seanessy acquiesced.

"Fine, " Larson conceded.

Following one hall, which was a rather long expanse with old torches in sconces, Garrett lit as many as he was able along the way to provide light and retraceable steps. The new light revealed bones and dust along the ground. It was difficult to tell if they were human remnants or something else from their size, but they certainly weren't rats. The fencer suddenly squatted, holding his torch over something.

"Footprints, " he whispered. "Looks like it's just the one set."

"Good, " Larson said. "Gotta' be the Dude."

He nabbed a lit torch from a scone before taking off and leaving the others behind. Garrett complained, but ran after him, which left Seanessy to complain, and do his best to trot after both of them. Upon reaching the storeroom-a barren, square room with crates, barrels, and shelves-Larson stopped short, looked around, and concluded that the Dude was not there. Garrett came up behind him.

"The tracks don't show he ran back from here, do they, " he asked the fencer.

"I didn't see for sure, but I think you're right."

Carefully scrutinizing the dark room, Larson noted an empty sconce. The torch was on the ground at his feet. He picked it up and placed it back in the sconce, intending to light it, but when he forced it into the steel holder, it rotated to the side, thus letting the torch fall out again. As the warriors looked at each other, a grinding sound from the right hand wall drew their attention; a secret door had slid out of the way.