Kamep the spear-sharpener stood at the table where the heads were piled.  Sye-nitch nearly pitied the low-ranking tribe-mate, as he told again of how a gang from the Blister-foot tribe had brought them into the Druntuss section of the undercity, staying only long enough to dump them in front of him, toss him the victims’ necklaces, and walked, back to their own area, laughing out loud.

Sye-nitch looked at Croll, as he also stood over the heads.

Company leader Imep had whispered to the young one – Sye-nitch had heard – it was good to have gotten them out of sight so quickly.  But these boys were killed by the bounty hunters on the surface, not by the Blister-foots, he said, as he pointed out the missing right ears.

Amid utter silence with all those gathered, Sye-nitch watched, as their volatile regiment commander had already killed one bearer of bad news.  The flush of Kamep’s cheeks started glowing with its tell-tale warmth.

Croll instead turned to the gathering, totally ignoring Kamep.

Croll most surely saw the impending doom – not that Sye-nitch did not see it for all of them – of being so mocked.  How long would this entire regiment live, when Chief Ingruk found out their fighters were being poured out like garbage?

“Well, boys,” Croll finally said, very quietly.  “Looks like these humans want to get our attention.  If these packs were so pathetic they fell like this, then they’ve winnowed out the weak for us.”

Everyone looked at him.  Red eyes glowed with intensity, as Druntuss fighters and pack leaders bit their tongues, and waited.

“When they see this pack, have the boys gather their comrades three-fold.  If anything moves in that forest, we bring it down.   Spread the word.  We’re to protect our territory.  Send more lookouts and find these ground-crawlers.

“They’ll be our trophies! We’ll bring’em down, and their life-force’ll feed the Oolar’s efforts!”

Sye-nitch half-heartedly joined in with the enthusiastic cheers.

“Three-fold?” Division commander Tolga asked.

“Aye.”

“We bring’em, without killin’ ‘em?”

“That’s right,” Croll answered darkly.  “That’s the orders.  An’ we’re gonna follow’em.”

“What about going up with so many?”

“The Oolar and the chief don’t watch the inner city close enough.  We’ll go around those orders, and follow the more important ones.  Besides, this pack of humans is a handful of bounty hunters.  They ain’t gonna tell anyone what they’ve seen.  It would cost’em their gold.”

Now that, Sye-nitch had to admit to himself, was a smart thing for brutish Croll to say.

“What if the Oolar asks why we’re replacing our fighters?”

For the love of grit, Sye-nitch thought, Tolga should keep his mouth shut.

“I don’t care!” Croll yelled, his calm façade dropping away.  “These humans think they can take us down.  They’re wrong.  Take’em and bring’em!  Let’em feed to the Slime!  Let’em suffer!”

“Then, how many Wanderers do we send up?”

“Same as for an attack.  Three times what we’re sending now.”

The whole room heard it.  The assembled fighters looked quietly at each other.  He was really going against the Oolar’s orders to save his neck.  Would Ingruk care?  Croll would take the fall.  But those in his regiment would, too.

Everyone in this room – this cold, solid stone room, which to Sye-nitch’s thinking suddenly felt more like a tomb – was risking their lives.  If they did not stop the losses, they would all be dead anyway.

No arguments were forthcoming.

“Get going!”

As he traversed the tunnels that separated the tavern from the other dwellings, Sye-nitch was aware of Tolga walking beside him.

At a nudge, the two ducked into an alcove, where no other eyes could be upon them.

“They’re too dangerous,” Tolga hissed.

Sye-nitch nodded.

“There’s no reason for us to risk our lives for this.”

“What do we do?”

“The life-force to feed the Oolar’s Slime is less important.”  He leaned in closer, the intense glow coming from his three beady eyes.  “You’re a quiet sneak, Sye-nitch.  Not that I’m complaining.  You make sure the regiment knows, and they didn’t hear it from you, because you sure didn’t hear it from me.  Beat them and make them surrender, just like the orders.  Everybody carries blades, not clubs.  If we have to persuade them hard enough, so be it.  If anything’s alive, bring it back.”

Sye-nitch nodded.  Tolga walked away without another word.

Rather than go back to his usual route, Sye-nitch turned, and quickly walked back to the tavern, as he had been previously instructed, where Imep waited with Croll.

“Everyone’s gone,” he reported.

Croll turned to the company leader.  “What’s this about?”

“I’m glad you want to move more of our fighters up above,” Imep told him.  “Me and a few of my lads have come up with a way to do that, quietly.”

Croll looked at him, intrigued.  Imep motioned him to follow.

Sye-nitch brought up the rear, as Imep led them out of the main tunnels, into some smaller ones that extended away from the undercity.

With all the twists and turns, Sye-nitch knew that even with the uncanny subterranean sense of direction of their race, he would have trouble finding his way back.

“I haven’t been down this way before,” Croll said.  “The tribes already looted everything worth taking.  The stunties’ tunnels are too sprawling to explore every one.”

“We don’t have to explore every one, Commander,” Imep replied.  “We just need to use a few that suit our needs.”

They passed members of their tribe, carrying buckets of the green-glowing Slime, sometimes going in the same direction, sometimes in the opposite.  There were little spots and drips of the ugly stuff on the floor.

“What’s this about?” Croll asked, casting a suspicious eye behind him at Sye-nitch.  “Nothing’s down this way.”

After navigating a few more unfamiliar tunnels, they passed into a large, high-ceilinged chamber.  “In here,” Imep said.

Mine tunnel entrances and tracks laced the floor above and below.

But the old dwarf things were insignificant, compared to what was in front of them, and Sye-nitch heard Croll give a start.  A small forest of shrooms populated the floor.  Some were only 10 feet tall; others were as high as 30 feet, wider than boulders, and reached up to squish against the chamber’s ceiling.

The bucket-carriers emptied their glowing loads into the depressions around the bases of the shrooms, fueling the magic fungus’ growth.

A smaller lookout spoke a command, and entered a shroom a few dozen yards away, taking himself to the surface.

Imep directed Croll to a hunched figure, sitting and quietly swaying, his arms held out in front of him.  Then he rose, and turned to face them.  The wrinkled face on his short, thin form acknowledged them, while his fourth eye – the blessing of the Umodt the Many-eye – darted this way and that as he pulled back his hood.

He was old and bent, and covered with a robe braided with sinew strings and the small teeth of different deepway predators.  More fangs hung in necklaces about his neck, complimenting his dried, hanging skin.

“All hail the Many-eye,” Croll said, as the highest ranking of the trio, as he, Imep and Sye-nitch bowed, showing reverence to the blessed cleric of their foul god.

“Commander Croll,” Hotchpik greeted him.  He held out an arm to display the room.  “What do you think?” he asked in a grating voice.

“Where did these shrooms come from?”

“We ripped some little ones out of the main chambers,” Imep whispered, “and carried them here.  Hotchpik made them grow.  I thought it would be good to have more of us able to go up at once.  Our tribe would be assembled before any of the others, and we could take the most glory on the Day of Conquer.  Sye-nitch helped us keep our actions secret.”

“Great Hotchpik, how can you work this magic?” Croll asked.

“I can’t,” the misshapen cleric replied.  “The Daghaivans’ evil spell is so thick, I’m able to invoke a blessing of the Many-eye, to guide the magic already in the shrooms.  Thus, they grow; and they work just like the ones in the bigger caverns.”

He was practically drooling with satisfaction, and Croll gave another slight bow in acknowledgement.

“The Great Cleric of the Many-Eye,” Imep said, “was able to tell these shrooms to take us to the same parts of the forest, as the ones in the big chambers.  We can use them to sneak more of the boys up to find those humans.”

“How many chambers like this do you have?” Croll asked.  Then he more sharply added, “How are you not discovered?”

Imep smiled with satisfaction.  “A few,” he answered to the first question.

“The Daghaivan aren’t wise to it,” Hotchpik answered to the second.  “They have their power.  But they don’t know the dark like we do.   They stumble in it, same as any surface scum.”

They turned their heads, to see another couple of lookouts activate the door of one of their stolen shrooms, and then enter one at a time.

“The fit is a bit tight,” Imep commented.

“Hah!  Never mind the details,” Croll said.  “Keep up the good work!”