The ravines ended a few miles to the south, rising up into a mountain range that ran through the middle of Nosgoth’s eastern lands. To the west of the lowlands of these mountains was a vastly sprawling tundra, a dry grassland with patches of eternal evergreen trees intermixed with shallow running streams. Herds of moose and deer roamed the wilderness, being stalked from hidden copses by packs of wolves. There were a few encampments of hunters here and there, carcasses of their kills turning on spits with their pegged out skinned hides drying in the air. Here in the wilderness the concerns of nations doing battle was a faraway, alien thing, unknown and of little interest.
Eventually the land began to flatten out and the trees became more and more scarce. The grass began to disappear to be replaced by a rough, rocky terrain that was a mixture of gravel and lancing columns of basalt rock. The only animals here were some aquatic mammals that lived in various large pools feeding on the crabs that scuttled from the water.
The black winged bird flew on over it all and as it travelled, the bleak, uniformly grey clouds which had covered the heavens began to break apart and patches of the wintery sky came through. The weather began to turn warmer as the journey progressed south. The snowdrifts were not quite so deep and the winds far less frigid. In many places the snow was wet slush and wandering game had stamped wide paths of churned mud.
By the time he saw the actual lake itself, Vorador could already smell the sulphur in the air. It was so thick that in large patches even up in the air it was hard to breathe. As reported, the so-called Lake of Spirits was surrounded on all sides by geysers that spat hot sulphurous water high into the air at regular intervals. The lake was huge, larger perhaps than the Lake of Tears far to the west and its far bank was a smudge on the horizon. Reluctantly the raven he had become began to circle down towards the ground, slipping in between the bursting jets of stinking water before coming to rest on a flat outcropping of basalt beyond the spray range of the geysers.
The bird folded its wings upon landing and then began to swiftly morph, twisting and flowing until Vorador had reassumed his proper shape and form. Frowning at the stench all around him, he turned to look back across the water. The lake was never at any moment still. Ripples ran across its surface from the regular emissions that boiled up from the lakebed.
-0-
“I found myself staring out at the stinking expanse of a sulphurous lake. Gasses trapped in the earth below often erupted to the surface and geysers vomited up boiling water. It was an inhospitable area where not even fish lived in the water.”
-0-
There was no sign of animal life of any kind here. The only exception was the bleached white bones of some creature lying scattered on the rocks by the edge of the water. The skeleton lay there as death had taken it, probably an elk judging by the antlers, collapsed near the lake’s boundary. The skeleton had been left undisturbed, his body rotting where it had fallen. No carrion eaters had risked coming here to pick over the carcass.
Nothing lived in this area. The waters were poisonous, the air a toxin and the ground itself sterile rock. This was a place that invited only death for any poor unfortunate who wandered in and stayed too long. As such this place would be perfect for something to hide, a remote, inhospitable region where there would be no prying eyes. If one was careful the hazards of this area could be avoided. So if this lake really was the rallying place for the arctic Werewolves then it would be perfect, a location for them to assemble without being seen.
But of course, now that he could see this land up close Vorador doubted that their lair was here. There was simply not enough cover and even if the Werewolves would be able to avoid the dangers, this place was not all that isolated.
A bubble of trapped gas from the bottom of the lake erupted out some distance from shore and the stink in the air intensified. Vorador, who had an enhanced sense of smell, wrinkled his nose in disgust and turned his head away. He was more resilient against hostile environments but even he would not be able to remain here forever without risking harm. It would be best if he went on with his search for any trace of the beasts. Once he found them he would wring the location of Bane’s grove out of their white furred bodies and be one step closer to the Lost City. Or at least he hoped.
He was just turning away, moving for a crevice that passed along the edge of the lake, when something caught his eye. It was the lay of the land as he turned, the shape of the rocks on the northern side of the lake from his position. It was the same flash of familiarity that he had experienced in Weirstein, a sense of having seen this place before.
He stood there looking at that scene for just a moment. That was all he needed for the full memory to come flooding in. It came in a rush. An unbidden smile crossed his lips.
-0-
“And yet this desolate land was familiar. Yes, I knew this place well now. It was to here I had fled as a young boy from the intended unmanning planned for me by the shaman. Here I had fallen, broken, tired and hungry, awaiting death to claim me in one form or another.”
-0-
He looked for the exact spot and found it. Just across the water from him there was a flat rock that jutted out over the water. He remembered in a blurry sort of way that that had been where he had collapsed. He had run for days from Weirstein to arrive at the shore of the lake. But like a fool he had rushed out onto the edge of the rock to be met with a blast of toxic gas from the lake. Already weakened and weary, he had been overcome and had fallen to the ground on the edge of death.
He frowned then. There was something else as well there in that memory, something that seemed very out of place. He could remember that as he lay there on the stone he had thought he had seen something out in the water of the lake. He had not had a good look at it but it had seemed to be a glowing set of eyes looking at him from out of the water. He remembered two pairs of eyes with a circular fifth right in the middle.
He shook his head, dismissing the image from his mind. Obviously he had been overcome by the gas and had been hallucinating. There was something far more important to remember than some vision produced by breathing in a noxious air.
-0-
“And then...yes, I remembered. Janos had appeared. He had descended from the skies, an angel of blue skin and black wings, come to deliver me from death or mutilation.”
-0-
Ajatar had said that Janos had come to the East as part of some expedition. Vorador knew nothing about that but whatever his reason for being there; Janos had scooped him up from the ground as easily as one might lift a hen from inside a coop. He must have been awake long enough to see this as he could recall the worried expression of Janos’ face now, but after that nothing. He must have passed out again.
-0-
“From this point on he had been my father, a figure far more suited to the role than the barbarous Human who had ploughed my mother, content to let me be neutered for their obscure religion.”
-0-
The once compelling lure of the past of Weirstein was now all but gone, lost in memories of a past far more deserving of remembrance. He ran over in his mind his life under Janos’ tutelage, growing up in his household and the Citadel itself. As he matured he had displayed intelligence and great aptitude for learning and combat, so Janos had sent him to join the Serioli Order and learn their elemental techniques.
Those had been happy memories, memories of those who had cared for him, who had nurtured and protected him, who had taught him much and showed him how to be all that he could be. Ajatar-Cadre had in many ways been a mother figure to him, although he would never say so to her face, but it was Janos who was undisputedly his father.
But as wonderfully nostalgic as all this mental revelry was, it was distracting him once more from his primary goal. With a nod of determination he turned from his past once more to place his attention firmly back on the present.
He began a methodical search of the area, going back and forth in his explorations. He made sure he missed nothing, crisscrossing his path several times. He knew what to look for in his search of the beasts and what to sense and feel when a geyser was about to erupt or poisonous gas drifted his way.
While he did not immediately find a trace of the white Werewolves, when evening came and the setting sun cast long dark shadows, he did find a small encampment. He came across it quite unexpectedly, hidden in a wide ring of stone. It was sheltered from the worst of the free floating noxious gas of the lake by a large crag of basalt that stood in the way.
As soon as he saw it he remained out of sight of the several dozen marksmen that stood around its perimeter as watchers. Vorador studied the camp from a distance. He was perhaps several feet above and hidden by the rocks so he could afford a leisurely contemplation.
The camp was moderately sized, perhaps able to hold over a thousand soldiers and its military purpose was quite clear. There were many armed men within it and there were stands of weapons and crates and barrels of supplies here and there, all tightly wrapped up for preservation against the harsh, wet conditions of the immediate environment.
The Vampire could tell immediately that this was not a force of men from the Central plain. These were more of the native men who belonged to the opposing force. They had that same leather armour and angular features.
-0-
“Here I discovered a camp, no doubt belonging to this mysterious ‘Dogma’ which controlled the East. William would want to know of this force so close to his army. But his scouts could bring that information to him. I was not one of them.”
-0-
No doubt they were here to hide their force until they could surprise the Central invaders in some ambush. Vorador cared little. He paused long enough to ensure that the men in the camp were not making any move to scout the surrounding wilderness. No, they seemed content to sit in camp and tend to their cooking fires. If he kept clear of the camp they would not bother him on his own search.
Suddenly he felt the unmistakable lurch of a translocation spell being enacted. Someone was moving through space to his location. Alarmed, he turned sharply and watched as five figures materialised out of their individual hazes of light. Quickly he drew Marrow from its sheath even before the five of them had finished their transfer.
There were five men and at first glance they all seemed identical. Their facial features were almost exactly the same and they all had long drooping moustaches and shoulder length, slickly oiled hair. Their eyes were all the same, a pale sky blue that almost had the appearance of those with cataracts but they were all looking at him intently. They all wore robes made of fine silk, delicately embroidered along the edges with arcane-looking markings. Across the chest of each one was a symbol. A creature’s claw outstretched and talons wrapped around the circle of a pearl outlined in white.
The only way to tell them apart was by the general colour of their robes. One of them wore red, another wore blue, another yellow and yet another wore green. The man in the middle wore a white robe and he came forward a few steps, his eyes never leaving Vorador. Despite the fact that he had not seen any of them before in his life, the Vampire had a sudden foreboding feeling.
“So we find you as...” The man in the white robe began in a heavily accented voice.
 “...our spies told us.” The one in the blue robe finished the sentence in that very same voice, as if there was only one speaker and it had simply shifted who it was using to talk through.
 “You meddle in affairs that...” The green robed man said.
“...are not yours.” The red robed man finished. All of them frowned in equal measure, the exact same synchronized expression at once.
“Your efforts are...” The man in the yellow robes began and predictably another of them, the man in the blue robe, finished his sentence. “...futile against us, Vampire.”
Vorador glanced from figure to figure, Marrow still tight in the grasp of one hand. He frowned at the effort to go from speaker to speaker simply to follow the thread of a sentence. It grated on his nerves immensely. He glared savagely around at them all. They formed a semicircle, keeping him with his back towards a rock pinnacle.
 “You presume I even know who you are.” He said, keeping Marrow at his side. As one, the five robed men deepened their frown.
 “Do not play us...” The man in the red robes began.
“...for fools.” The one in the green finished. He made the first unique gesture out of the five of them and pointed vaguely in the direction of the north.
“We know you have been...” The man in blue robes started.
“...fighting on behalf of William De’Segnir.” The white robed man completed. Vorador took a moment to assess the men before him. They were clearly able to use magic of some degree and if what he was seeing was to be believed, the five of them were linked in their minds so that a sentence started with one and finished with another.
 “A mere conspiracy of circumstance, I assure you.” He replied flatly. As one the men took a step forward. They even walked in unison, putting their right feet first.
 “We are not willing to...” The blue robed man began.
“...take that chance.” The yellow robed man finished. Their shared voice had taken on a darker tone and behind that were the implications of impending violence. Suddenly as one, the five men straightened and began to talk.
 “We are the Mandarins. Rulers and prophets of the Dogma.” They said all together. Their voices were exactly the same, right down to the inflections. “We are the voice of order, of purpose and unity.”
Vorador pressed his lips together into a thin line. So these were the so-called rulers of the East, were they? Why had he not been aware of them functioning in this time? He doubted he would have been so distracted with something else to not at least have been aware of such a peculiar ruling power.
 “Nosgoth has for all its history been...” The white Mandarin started.
“...a cauldron of chaos and conflict.” The blue one finished for his peer. “We will smother all disputes...”
“...under one controlled voice.” The green Mandarin continued on. “We offer you...
 “...this one chance.” The speaker was the white Mandarin again. “Join with us and be secure, for...”
 “...even Vampires will be welcome amongst our faithful.”
Vorador relaxed slightly and swept each of the five Mandarins with a slowly shifting stare, studying each of them in turn before moving on to the next. They seemed in no hurry for his reply, standing there silently waiting for his response. He was sure that they already knew what it would be and he scoffed at the arrogance they displayed by asking despite this.
“I know not by what sorcery you share your minds but clearly you are not an enlightened set of beings.” He said with heavy contempt. “You seek conquest as many an ambitious despot before you.” His lips parted in a knowing smile. “And as many an ambitious despot after you.” He waved his free hand dismissively. “Your offer is not even worth my time in considering.”
The five Mandarins did not look at all surprised by his reply. They simply stood there motionless and silent for another long moment and then, as one, they began to step back away from him.
“Very well. Let it not be said that...” The red Mandarin began.
“...you were not warned.” The white Mandarin finished. Then he raised his arms and flung them wide. “Come, rend this foolish Vampire...”
“...to quivering pieces.” This last they finished in unison and then they vanished as quickly as they had come into the light of a translocation spell. Vorador’s attention, however, was off them even before they vanished, for suddenly he was aware of something else.
Gathering in the rocks all around him were dark shapes. Large, fast moving things that darted from cover to cover. There were many of them, perhaps about twenty or more and they were all moving too fast for him to see.
It was only when one of them leapt up onto the top of a rock that he was able to determine what they were. He started slightly in surprise at the sight of a Werewolf, but not the arctic white Werewolves he had been searching for. This one was covered in black fur, dark as night. It seemed almost like a shade against the rock. Then more of its ilk began to appear one by one, all of them black Werewolves with long, shaggy fur coats that made them look more like bears than wolves. They quickly began to surround him, slipping over the rocks silently like shadows cast in evening. They were anatomically different from the white Werewolves as well, having longer arms and shorter hind legs. Their tails were also shorter and their muzzles longer, showing more of their teeth beneath their spittle covered gums.
Just where this new breed of beast had come from Vorador could not say. They seemed to have materialised out of nowhere, for he could not have been so distracted by the Mandarins’ bizarre talk that he would not sense the approach of so many. He did not have time to consider this further, however, as the beasts dove at him in a sudden rush. All of them swarmed at him at once, a dozen pairs of clawed hands and snapping maws.
The Vampire made no attempt to directly fight such an onslaught. Instead he leapt backwards and rebounded off of the rock he had been backed to. Propelled high into the air he soared overhead, spinning his body as he went to neatly slice off the head of one beast that tried to snap at him. He came down behind another. His speed was superior and as it turned in a lunge he sliced it open from the groin to the throat. Entrails and gore spilled out onto the stone before the beast collapsed onto its piling guts.
The others in this pack ignored their slain and gathered around, encircling the Vampire quickly. It was a common hunting tactic, to keep the prey surrounded and then attack from different sides at once. Vorador had seen such a ploy used too often in hunting animals to be so easily caught. He waited until the first of the beasts made its move, darting forward with mouth agape. He charged to meet it, bringing Marrow around in a cleaving arch. Blade met jaws and the blade proved to be stronger, slicing through the skull and severing the top jaw from the bottom.
As the corpse toppled to one side, another of the creatures came in from the left fast and with deadly intent with agape jaws trying to fasten on his side. Vorador ducked low under the lunge of the shaggy black Werewolf, his body arching around quickly and gracefully and bringing Marrow around to cleave the beast neatly from the hip to the right shoulder. The two halves spurting blood and trailing sliced globs of flesh fell apart to either side.
Two black beasts, one slightly larger than its fellow, charged at him from behind, snarling with their tongues hanging out past their dagger-like teeth. The smaller was the fastest and reached Vorador first, leaping forward bringing its claws up in an attempt to claw open his rib cage from below. Vorador neatly sidestepped the creature and sliced off its hands for its trouble. He didn’t leave it to suffer long as when he stepped forward past it, Marrow lanced back once and severed head from neck.
The larger creature came at him then, tackling him with the full force of its bulk and forcing him to take a step backwards. It snarled as it pressed forward, jaws snapping inches away and spittle flying all over his face. Grimacing, Vorador grabbed it by the throat with his free hand and brought it sharply down, impaling its head on Marrow’s serpentine blade.
At the same time another creature from the far side lunged, trying to take advantage of Vorador’s supposed distraction. But the Vampire had been expecting it, waiting for it even. This was the moment where he could make his escape from this deadly game.
Grasping Marrow’s hilt in both hands, he turned and used the sword as a lever. With some force he flung the impaled body straight at the charging beast. The living and dead Werewolves collided in a crash and tumbled head over heels into several startled more. The tangled ball of fur, teeth and claws rolled a short distance before crashing into a large rock.
The other beasts began to converge, determined now to finish off Vorador in a single combined attack. The Vampire had seconds in which to act. He used them to good effect. With practised speed and grace he transformed into his own wolf form, the shape far more like the actual animal than these mutants. In this form he had an even greater edge of speed and agility and as the beasts came for him he darted through their outstretched arms and snapping jaws quick as lightning.
He broke from them easily and began darting away across the rocks, bounding for the safety of higher ground. But the Werewolves were not without their own speed and were soon following along behind, galloping on all fours like a combination of a dog and a monkey. They moved with surprising speed for such a gait, scrambling over the rocks in pursuit.
Vorador kept ahead of them but the disadvantages to this form quickly began to tell. The wolf was an animal suited to long distance sprinting and Vorador was being forced to constantly swerve and turn in the confines of such rocky terrain. The paws of the animal were not very good for climbing up steep rock either, constantly slipping over the smooth, slanted surfaces and unable to grip ledges.
Finally the Vampire had to give it up. The Werewolves were quite able to keep up over this terrain. A far better form would be one that could move fast but also scale obstacles easily. His newly acquired arachnid shape was perfect.
On the edge of a sharp precise he paused, watching the black creatures scramble up towards him. Quickly he flowed back into his normal shape and from there assumed the form of the giant spider he had so recently acquired.
At the sight of a spider the size of a pony perched on the rocks, the Werewolves all skidded to an abrupt and confused stop. That moment of startled immobility cost them. Vorador reared up and from his abdomen fired a thick spray of webbing all over them, entangling them all in a mess of fur and silk. They howled and thrashed but the more they struggled the more entangled they became. Soon all but a few of them were stuck together or against the sides of rocks, howling and snarling in impotent rage for their humiliating predicament.
The Vampire took the opportunity to scuttle away, climbing higher and higher over the rocks in his multi-legged body far easier and faster than any of his still unbound pursuers could. Soon he slipped over the top of a ridge and was beyond their reach. Still he did not wait around, for eventually those beasts would free themselves and find an alternate way up. He kept in this form, scuttling along and making far better time over the rocks than he would otherwise.
-0-
“Clearly I had made enemies. It would be the course of prudence to avoid unnecessary conflict in the future.”
-0-
As he continued along he went over the encounter with these so-called ‘Mandarins’ again in his mind. Some powerful magic had indeed been used to weld their five minds together. That synchronous talking and movement had been no act. No amount of rehearsal could allow individuals to achieve such coordination. They also had access to no small degree of power of their own if they were able to translocate themselves, a skill only adept mages could employ. But the biggest mystery was their apparent control over Werewolves and those of a different variation than the white, arctic subspecies he had been looking for.
Clearly there was much more going on here than he suspected. White Werewolves, black Werewolves, Bane, Nupraptor and now these five mind-linked mages. The Lost City was somehow linked into all of this, he was sure of that now. But just what was the importance?
He growled despite the fact his mouth was insect mandibles and doing so ought to have been impossible. Damn the Seer. She would have known what sort of complicated quagmire she had sent him into. Was this some sick Hylden joke, just so she could watch him squirm in confusion from afar? Was the so-called Celestial Arrow nothing more than a prank?
He was so caught up in his angry thoughts that when he came across the white Werewolves, he almost didn’t see them. As soon as he did, however, he shunted back into his regular form so quickly it was almost instinctive.
The arctic beasts were making good time through a ravine just to the east, keeping down and well out of sight. He might have missed them had it not been for one of them hopping up on a rock to make sure the coast was clear for the others. They were still some distance away but there was no mistaking them for anything other than the white Werewolves he had been fighting until the black variety had shown themselves. They were moving quickly towards a large hill at the eastern end of the lake’s rocky area. Half of the hill had collapsed, resulting in a large, gaping cave mouth. As Vorador watched from his distant position, the white beasts galloped down straight into the cave and vanished from sight.
-0-
“After lengthy distractions I had found my quarry. The white Werewolves, allies in some way to the Druid, Bane. I would make them tell me where to find the elusive Guardian of the Pillar of Nature, but first I needed to bring the beasts to heel to extract such information.”
-0-
He paused to study the cave for some time. Could this be the rallying place he had supposed existed? That made sense, if other types of Werewolves called his bleak and barren area home as well. Making up his mind, the Vampire slipped down the rocks and openly approached the cave entrance.
Reaching back he drew Havoc and Malice, holding the twin axes in both hands, highly anticipating the arctic variation of these beasts to come charging out of the darkness straight at him. But as he came right up to the gaping maw of the cave nothing happened at all. Not pausing for a moment, he strode into the shadows.
He was quick to discover that this was no simple hollow ditch. The cave went back some distance and it was only after he had walked all the way in and could not see the far end that Vorador realised that this was no simple cave at all, but rather a tunnel. It was a natural route, twisting and turning around rocks and boulders but was steady in a northeasterly direction. The signs of passage of the vile beasts, old and new, were everywhere. Claw marks were left in the stone walls, the air was thick with the smell of wet fur and old bones cracked underfoot.
As he proceeded down and down into the darkness and he sensed that the wolves were nowhere nearby, he slipped Malice back into its sheath across his back and used his now free hand to summon some magical light to illuminate his path. The faint glow peeled back the darkness for some distance, allowing the Vampire to see where he was going. Several smaller caverns and tunnels led off from the main passage but Vorador ignored them, following the signs left by the passage of so many creatures.
The tunnel twisted on for some considerable distance and Vorador had the feeling that these tunnels covered a vast area. So this was how the wolves were able to come and go as they chose, employing these tunnels to move undetected beneath the land itself.
Suddenly and unexpectedly, the cavernous tunnel he was following opened up into a very different passageway. The ragged rocks turned smooth and seamless, completely circular like the tunnel made by a worm passing through the earth. Vorador paused there and waited, letting his senses probe the darkness.
He suddenly had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being deliberately led down in this direction, lured into a trap. But the white Werewolves had not seen him, had they? How could they have known he was following them? Had their black furred kin relayed his presence when they had lost his trail? He put nothing past those creatures, devious and cunning as they were.
With a frown he continued on, slowing his pace and letting his considerable powers of perception push out in all directions. If this was some sort of trap, he would sense it long before the beasts even thought to spring it.
The tunnel began to angle up and the Vampire knew that he must have crossed some considerable distance. It was entirely possible that he was now under the mountains that framed the eastern edge of the sulphurous lake region he had left behind. The seamlessness of the tunnel was strange to his eye. Even when the passage curved it was smooth and unbroken, as if it had all been formed out of one solid piece. Not even the artisans of the Ancient Vampires had been capable of that.
Suddenly, however, Vorador found that the passage ended and he stood before a large door blocking the way. It fit the circumference of the tunnel, which itself was a good thirty foot radius, a dull metallic grey barrier impeding his progress. Fortunately the key to the door was readily at hand, for off to one side on the edge of the tunnel there was a lever, a pole jutting out of the wall about a meter long as if the hand intended to push it was the size of a donkey.
Disliking this situation more and more, Vorador set to work budging it. With his enhanced strength it was not overly difficult, although the hidden mechanism inside the wall was old enough to get stubbornly stuck once. When the lever was finally shifted, the door shunted backwards sharply, dislodging clouds of dust, before it rolled off to the left and out of the way.
Beyond the door was a large chamber, beyond cathedral sized in its massiveness. The light from Vorador’s illumination would not even reach the ceiling of the expanse. But from what Vorador could see, the chamber had the same seamless quality as the tunnel which had led up to it. The walls seemed to curve going up and down, as if the entire colossal chamber were concave like the inside of an eggshell. From somewhere in the dark there was the sound of water cascading down and the rush of that same water over stone. Standing there, Vorador stared out at the vast and unexpected cavern chamber with a deepening frown on his face. Suddenly he remembered where he had seen this architectural variation before.
-0-
“I recognised this style of chamber as belonging to that strange set of ruins I had ventured through before, hidden in the cliffs of Nupraptor’s lair. It seemed whatever mysterious set of beings had made those ruins had ventured here as well.”
-0-
He had not known what to make of the first cavern he had found, discovered purely by accident. Its strange murals had been an enigma to him. Opening his hand out, palm up, he poured more energy into the illumination he was casting. The brightness increased gradually and the entire chamber began to emerge from the shadows. As it did, he saw that this chamber had great differences to the first.
He stood on the edge of a colossal circular abyss that dropped down so far that he could not see the bottom. Stretching across this deep gap was a large stone bridge wide enough for ten men to walk abreast. On either side of the bridge was a complex set of pistons and metal pillars that fed up from some deeply hidden mechanism to hold up an elaborately carved stone snake. It was very lifelike, with even the individual scales of the animal carved into the stone.
The snake at first glance looked like some corkscrew-shaped statue, the long body twisted around several times with the head at the top and the tail disappearing into the darkness below. Closer inspection, however, revealed it to be much more. The head of the snake rose up high with its mouth open, fangs arching up as if they were intending to strike. Into this, from a carved hole in the ceiling, poured a waterfall. This had been the churning and running water that he had heard in the darkness. The water travelled down the length of the stone snake, like an aqueduct, to flow from the tip of the tail into a waiting funnel just visible at the edge of the gloom.
All around the outside of the chamber were circular ledges that ringed the snake. From these the strange mechanism that held up the statue seemed to originate, feeding into platforms that jutted out at seemingly random intervals.
Vorador had only a moment to take the panorama of the cathedral-like chamber in before a snarl from the far end of the expanse got his immediate attention. Directly opposite him on the far side of the bridge was a set of stairs, leading up to another doorway. Standing in front of this doorway was the pack of white Werewolves he had been looking for. They crouched there on the steps, every single one of their number glaring straight at him as if they had been expecting him.
Before Vorador could do anything, the pack turned and bolted up the steps and through the open doorway. When the last of them was through, that one turned and looked back at the momentarily startled Vampire. The beast seemed almost to smile, showing off all its teeth, before racing through after its kin.

A moment later, both doors leading in and out of this chamber swung shut. Vorador turned sharply around, seeing too late the way he had come close shut after him. He was now sealed in this room, prevented from going forward or back. He turned again, hearing another grinding noise from directly in the centre of the chamber. The massive stone snake aqueduct was beginning to break up, pieces and segments of it coming apart as the mechanism that held it began to tug it in different directions. The snake separated into its head, several long body segments and its tail which all moved away until they were tight against the circling balconies that ringed the chamber. The mechanism performed smoothly, showing that it was a well-used machine and not some relic collecting dust.
The water was diverted from its course and was now falling uncollected down into the abyss below, a simple waterfall once more. Vorador stood there, the darkness kept clear by his single spell and glowered angrily. He was not trapped here, he saw quite quickly. The doors would open when the snake was made whole and the water put back onto its proper course. But figuring out this puzzle would be a mammoth delay and it grated on his already strained nerves savagely.
-0-
“Another hidden chamber and another puzzle to solve. If I was to catch the beasts I would need to solve this riddle quickly to open the way.”
-0-