“Isn’t there an easier way to get to this portal?” Beren asked as he struggled up the rocky path towards the top of the jungle peak. Calliope had no such difficulty, she didn’t quite float but she clearly had no difficulty with the ascent.

“Certainly, if you ask me to I would be pleased to fly us to the top in a blink,” Calliope replied sweetly. Beren scowled but continued climbing. At least the view was worth it. The jungle spread away in all directions like a carpet of emeralds. Here and there steam rose  and colorful birds cawed and flashed in the tree top. It took nearly an hour to approach the peak, the path growing narrower and narrower as the mountain tapered to its rocky pinnacle. Ahead of the a stone doorway appeared. It was twelve feet high and half that wide, three vast stones stood in a lintel atop a natural diaz of granite.

“How do we activate…” Beren said but before he could finish the thought the vines begant to writhe and then seemed to pour into the doorway until it was filled with writhing green. Abruptly the curtain parted and something stepped out of the gateway. It was huge, ten feet tall and covered in coarse brown fur. It’s mouth was huge and filled with yellowed fangs in uneven rows, like a lamprey and its eyes were pits of cold starlight. Two curved horns curled from its skull, one behind he other like a crest. The icy eyes pivoted to fix on Calliope and Beren.

“Profane One,” the beast rasped in the Firbolg tongue. Calliope realized she might be the only person alive who spoke it.

“Let us pass, in the name of Iskandrin,” Calliope responded in the same tongue, or her best approximation of it. The beast a Firbolg, a denizen of the deep earth threw back it’s head a laughed with a sound like boulders cracking.

“You dare speak the name of that dead wizardling? His spells lost their potency years ago, first I shall consume you and with your power I will open the gates and lead my people to feast on this plane once again!”

Calliope narrowed her eyes. These creatures should have been bound by Iskandrin’s spells to serve him. How could those spells have failed and yet the geas that bound her still be in effect. There was no time to ponder it. The creature charged at them, spreading its clawed paws wide to rend her limb from limb. Calliope lifted a hand and spoke the Aklo word for wind. A hammer blow of air smashed into the creature, hurling it through the air. It crashed against the portal and rolled into a heap. Shaking itself like a dog the Firbolg clambered to it’s feet. It spat out a word in its own language and hundreds of vines speared towards Calliope. She lifted her hand and spoke another word in Aklo. The tips of the vines flared into white fire, burning inch by inch as they reached for her, never able to close the distance. The air filled with a smell of burning greenery and smouldering leaves. The firbolg roared and charged at Beren while Calliope was distracted, eager to rend him limb from limb.