CF is a genetic, inherited, disease that affects the lungs and digestive systems of about 30,000 children and adults in the United States, and 70,000 worldwide. A defective gene and its protein product cause the body to produce unusually thick and sticky mucus that:

-Clogs the lungs and leads to life-threatening lung infections;

-Obstructs the pancreas and stops the natural enzymes from helping the body break down and absorb food.

This disease used to be a death sentence. Now, more and more people with CF are living into their 30's, 40's and beyond. And that is thanks in large part to organizations like Cystic Fibrosis Foundation (CFF) and others who have supported and driven the research community with awesome fundraisers, studies, and media attention.

Please support
CFF.org
, Cystic Life (
cysticlife.org
), Boomer Esiason Foundation (
esiason.org
), or any other great organization that is helping to fight this terrible disease.

Thank you,

Tom Bielawski

C H A P T E R

Lordsdeep

Carym was numb. The wispy image of the ghostly soldiers danced before his eyes and were gone. His mind reeled as his body tried to return to its normal temperature and his brain tried to recall what had just happened. It was as though he had left himself, momentarily, and someone else had stepped in.

But who?

The horrific events of the day came roaring back and he fell to his knees, stunned. After escaping the pursuit of the dreaded Shugu’s fleet, the ship he and Zach had been traveling on had gone
below
the seas! Then it had been attacked by a pod of vicious sea-beasts and was critically damaged. He and Zach, the Keneerie woman, and two of the crew, only survived the encounter by abandoning the ship in a small escape craft.

The escape craft that surfaced in the long lost and forgotten realm far, far, below the surface of the world in the infamous place known as the Underllars. Zach had been overcome with greed at the sight of the buildings of pure sapphire and emerald and wandered off on his own. And that was when the spirit of an ancient defender of this lost realm, known in surface lore as Lordsdeep, and arrived and delivered a dire warning.

Any doubts Carym may have had about the supernatural nature of the ghostly beings faded as the images of the ghosts themselves faded from sight. When he turned to face his friends he saw that Gefar, the
Marineer’s
only surviving crewman, had apparently begun to thaw out and was stomping his feet and rubbing his hands vigorously, trying to stimulate circulation. The cold blast of air that heralded the presence of the ghostly warriors had nearly frozen them all to death.

“Well, that one sure took a likin’ to you! What did he say? And what did you say?” asked Yag, the captain of the doomed
Marineer
.

“What do you mean?” asked Carym with a blank expression. “Didn’t you hear him?”

“We all heard him. None of us understood a word he said,” replied the privateer captain suspiciously. “And we sure didn’t understand what you said, either!”

Carym looked to Gennevera for clarification but she only nodded thoughtfully. Carym shook his head.
And why not?
Now I’m talking to dead people!
He realized he was letting his thoughts slip and focused on what was happening. Taking the bizarre experience for what it was worth, he decided to translate for his friends.

“Evidently this is, in fact, a Dalcasian city; Roeyl he named it,” Carym paused for a moment to see if the name sounded familiar to anyone. He was unsurprised when Gennevera spoke up.

“Roeyl is the Dalcasian name for the legendary city known to us as Lordsdeep,” she said in hushed tones. Carym nodded and looked back to the men.

“You speak their language, Carym?” asked Gefar still rubbing his freezing hands together.

“No,” Carym shook his head emphatically. “I don’t know why the leader chose me, and I don’t know why I was able to understand him.”

Carym had a very real idea why he had suddenly been able to understand the man who was apparently a specter; and it had something to do with the stones in his coat pocket.

“He warned us to mind our manners and said that Zach may be in trouble; he may be placing himself - and us - at greater risk.”

“Of what?” asked Gefar.

“He only said that the powers of darkness are strong in the deep and went on to say they were fighting their own war. Although he mentioned we may find what we seek in the Blood Spire.” Carym looked to Gennevera. “What is your evaluation, Sister of Grymm?”

He was surprised to see that eagerness disappear from her eyes at the mention of her order. “With help from Grymm, I was able to hear and understand some of your conversation,” she said.

“I understand all who speak from the underworld, but the longer they are gone, the harder it is to hear their words; and these men are
very
long gone. I sense that this location is close to what we call a rift in the fabric of creation. These kinds of rifts sometimes allow beings from the underworld to enter Llars and allow mortals to cross into the Underworld.” Gennevera shuddered and looked into the distance as she finished. “The Underllars is but one step away from the Underworld!”

“Wonderful. We have to find Zach and find a way out of here,” said Carym urgently.

“Might be we ought to leave ’im behind,” offered Gefar, clearly back in control of his body. “He chose his own path, he did.”

“He has a point, Carym. We shouldn’t waste much time looking for him. Better to search the city for a way to the surface. Maybe Zach will show up by the time we’re ready to leave,” said Yag.

“Bad things are livin’ in the Deep Realms; troks, warves, oroks, an’ other nasties,” said Gefar, looking nervously about in the dim light of Dalcasia. “We ought to go.”

When Carym hesitated, Yag came to his side. “I know yer friend is gone, but he made his choice. Way I see it, if he comes back at all, it won’t be too soon.”

Carym grunted but said nothing.

“I say we give him till sunrise tomorrow.”

Carym let out a deep breath and nodded. There was little choice. They must find a way out of this city and away from the dangers of the Deep Realms; he only prayed that Zach would be ok.

After the companions rested and rationed their food by a small fire, they decided to move deeper into the city and find better shelter.

Carym and his three companions set out along the road that led to the city gate. The air was cool and still and every small sound they made seemed unnecessarily loud in the eerie quiet. The road was amazingly smooth and made from perfectly laid stone bricks of a mineral completely unknown the travelers. There appeared to be very little wear to the stones although they must have been set in place nearly a dozen centuries ago.

The silence of the massive cavern was chilling, the sounds of the group’s footfalls echoing loudly; the warnings of otherworldly beings and the dark races of the Deep Realms were ever present on their minds. More than once Carym peered quickly about at buildings lining road and thought he saw shadows flitting in and out of windows. Every now and then the group would call a halt to listen for something they thought they heard in a building, but after doing a quick search found nothing. The buildings here, beautifully designed and crafted, still had some remnants of the former owners though it was apparent that some raiding by oroks or troks had occurred over the centuries. Oddly though, some things were remarkably intact for being nearly twelve centuries old. The consistent temperature and lack of wind and rain perfectly preserved items in some buildings; furniture and paintings for instance. In one building, which was apparently a home of some kind, Carym found a child’s toy that resembled a covered wagon but had no mechanism for securing horses. Its wheels were made of some peculiar soft and squeezable substance. The toy fascinated him, for inside the covered part were seats with all manner of levers, buttons, and even another wheel.

Odd place for a spare wheel
, he thought.
Unless it’s meant to steer, like a ship
.

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