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existing rock. It had been a testament to the This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock 
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Jak Koke
    possibility of living in harmony with nature. Its library had once contained many rare books of magic lore and history, and it saddened him greatly to find it obliterated.
    Jan and Celagri found him there hours later, underground, nearly catatonic in a self-induced hibernative state. They had not left him at all, but had followed from a distance. Jan had been too worried to leave. When he woke, Pabl was overjoyed to see them.
    Now, the visions continued as he pounded his fists against the rock. They plagued him for over an hour before he had purged them from his mind. The stone in front of him radiated heat, and Pabl used the heat to dry the tears which flowed now from his eyes. He took a deep breath, feeling refreshed and strong.
    He climbed down from Mynbruje’s arms as the first drops of rain splashed him. A thunderstorm approached; he could smell it. A chill passed through him as he walked toward the temple. The air crackled with the charge of tingling static which meant the imminent onslaught of lightning.
    Through the course of his ritual he had made his decision.
    All of his experiences indicated that truth and justice required an active defense.
    Pabl could not remain idle. He would seek out Ohin Yeenar. The ancient one was his only chance to find Reid Quo.
    Even if Ohin was dangerous, Pabl needed to see him. Even if Lyrthus Rewt had disappeared; even if the ancient one had made a deal with a Horror; even if all the rumors were true, Pabl had to find out what Ohin Yeenar knew about Reid. The survival of the liferock was at stake.
    This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected])  Chapter Five 
    Sarbeneck Haspain III stood atop a small rocky knoll and gazed out at the jungle in the distance. He took a deep breath of the clean, humid air and tried to ignore the ache in his bones. I’m getting too old for all this traveling, he thought. All this time sleeping in a tent instead of underground is taking its toll. His caravan had stopped for the night, a little earlier than Sarbeneck had wanted, but the threat of another thunderstorm had forced him to call a halt.
    From his vantage, the dwarf saw the jungle ahead of them darkening. Clouds, like blackened cotton, approached rapidly. Threads of blue and purple flickered in the clouds, lighting their bellies. The storm rolled over the giant mesas in the distance, still a day’s journey away, and Sarbeneck watched as the lightning struck the top of the stone monoliths over and over like insatiable snakes. He watched for a few minutes until the mesas were lost behind the blurry haze of torrential rain and black clouds.
    Sarbeneck stretched his back and ran callused and stubby fingers through his beard. He was a dwarf of Throal, as his father and grandfather had been before him. Ever since the 36
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    long burial of the Scourge had begun, his family had helped to carve out new cities in the kingdom. But Sarbeneck had always been more fascinated with minerals and mining than stonework. Since the opening of the old kaer, Sarbeneck had gradually shifted the family business from construction to mining.
    As a youth, all awkward and carefree, Sarbeneck had developed a taste for traveling. It was during his first journeys that he discovered he had an eye for seeing gold-and orichalcum-laden rock. His tent became his home. His job became his family. And that had fulfilled him for years. But now . . .
    Now he was tired. He was balding and what black hair remained had become streaked with gray. Wrinkles creased the corners of his once-sharp blue eyes, and his nose and cheeks glowed a steady rose color from drinking too much wine. Sarbeneck loved good cooking and was nicely fat; his feet hurt from the long journey. And while he was wealthy in the riches of the world, he was beginning to