The dwarf held his fancy flask up for their inspection. "I'm not right as rain yet, but this stuff will quench a powerful thirst, among other things. Let's go."
CHAPTER 28
Sure 'nuff dat was one big rumblin' noise what come up dem stairs," the orc squad leader said. "Wonder who was dumb 'nuff ta go down dere."
"Whoever it were sure musta pissed off dat big lizard," one of his subordinates suggested. "I wonder if he tasted good."
This brought raucous laughter from the rest of the squad of orcs and the gaggle of goblins that had clustered around the stair to the Forbidden Area. The rumble of collapsing stone had caught their attention; a lifetime underground had taught them that there was no such thing as a minor cave-in.
"Don't know wedder I'd radder be et by dat lizard or caught down dere by Lord Darkmist," another orc said, hoping for the entertainment to work its way up the stair. That something might actually be amiss never entered their minds; no intruder could have gotten this far into the keep.
"Two coppers says it was a waglok what got et," one said, jingling it's pouch.
"Naw, it hadda be a goblin. Only goblins're that dumb!"
"I go down dere all da time. Big Boss tells me I can," boasted a little messenger that had joined the mob. But this admission only brought taunts from the larger beasts, not the respect and envy it had hoped for.
"You there!" The half-ogre Dukarr's voice sent a cringe through the crowd. Their fun was about to be interrupted.
"What's goin' on here?" the officer snapped, halting his troop of wagloks and striding forward. The atmosphere of the keep was generally one of repressed mayhem; brawls were commonplace, and screeches, roars and screams were no more attended to by the officers than a request for additional rations. But the keep's lowest level was forbidden, and the Dukarr took his orders seriously. "There should be no one down there, by Lord-General Darkmist's orders!"
The orcs turned away with a grumble, trying to ignore the officer, but the brains of one of their comrades spattering against the wall got their attention. The Dukarr lowered his mace and shoved his way through the mob. The initial reverberations had quieted, but a low rumble was still evident through the stone. He turned to the messenger; the little beast was hopping up and down, its gaze riveted to the stair, wringing its hands in anticipation.
"Messenger!" the Dukarr snapped, transforming its glee into dread. "Go tell Lord-General Darkmist that somethin's wrong at the entrance to the Forbidden Area. And hurry!"
A grimace of dismay distorted the creature's features at the thought of missing whatever was coming, but to take a message to Darkmist, well, that was important! Off it scurried, flat feet slapping the floor
"Mortas blast it to Necrol!" the Dukarr snarled, glaring into the darkness. Only by Darkmist's direct orders could anyone go further than this point, but if he were to lead a squad down there and returned victorious, his initiative would be rewarded. The problem was, if he returned empty-handed... A shudder traveled the length of his hairy back at the thought of his lord's wrath.
"Form up into ranks!" he ordered, swatting at the chaotic troops. "We'll wait here 'til Lord Darkmist comes."
The little messenger hobbled along, its endurance exhausted. It had been searching for hours, hunger and thirst beginning to win out over its inbred diligence, when it rounded a corner and ran smack into another of its kind. Both of the puny beasts sprawled to the floor and lay there shaking their heads to regain what little sense they possessed. They climbed back to their feet, looking sheepish and trying to brush the dirt off each other's grimy hides.
"Me sorry," grunted the exhausted one. "Me lookin' fer big boss Darkmush. You know where he be?"
"Darkmush? Me no know no big boss name Darkmush. Me lookin' for big boss Darkdish. You know where he at?" The other shook its head and started to move on. But before it had gone far, realization struck.
"Wait! Dis guy you lookin' for; big tall, all blue kinda skin wit black metal coat an' funny-lookin' hat?
"Yeah, dat him. Why, you lookin' fer dat guy, too?"
"Yeah. Me thinkin' we is lookin' for da same guy. What you callin' him Darkdish for? His name Darkmush."
"Whatever," the messenger shrugged. "Me best git goin'. If you find dis guy maybe you tell him me lookin' fer him, huh?" It started to turn away, but a rare flash of insight stopped it in its tracks. "Hey, maybe you tell me where you looked so I won't look dere too, huh?"
"Me has looked everywhere. Me is startin' to think dat dis Darkmush has disappeared fer good dis time."
"You try dat place where he live, wit dem big doors an' all dat magic stuff?"
"Yeah, me go dere first, but he just poof into nothin', den nowhere at all. Me lookin' all day, past two eat times already."
"Well, maybe he go back to dat place again, huh?"
This thought brightened the tired beast; any idea that might shorten his search had merit. "Yeah, maybe he do dat. What say we both go dere and see, huh?
"Dat sound good," the other said, and they trotted off together.
Worry creased the Dukarr sub-captain's iron-clad brow. The messenger was taking too long. Only his barked commands and a few more strokes with his mace kept the troops from drifting off in boredom. It would not be good if Lord Darkmist found a disorganized mob when he arrived.
As he finished policing the ranks, the sub-captain's keen ears caught a familiar noise, the soft hiss of a sword slipping from its scabbard. He turned to the stair, his troops breaking formation to crowd around him. The Dukarr's demon-enhanced vision made out a faint green glow from around the first bend in the stair. A quick spell sprang to his lips and he lifted his mace.
"Stand ready!" he snarled to the troops. As he began the spell, a sharp crack and the searing pain of a crossbow bolt piercing his leg sent the spell spinning from his mind, incomplete and useless. He looked down at the feathered shaft, and realization struck with no less impact.
"INVADERS!" he bellowed, raising his mace to lead the charge. "Kill them!"
A flash of green light blinded the sub-captain as Gaulengil exploded through his guard, severing his mace and ripping through his chainmail. The Dukarr stood stunned, looking at his shattered weapon, his heart's blood fountaining over his hands, before darkness descended and he tumbled to the floor.
Avari's throat burned with her battle cry as emerald light flared from Gaulengil. A monstrous waglok lunged at her, but the enchanted blade cleaved through its thick hide, parting flesh, sinew and bone. Then Jundag was beside her, sword and hand axe whirling in deadly synchrony. But their charge lost momentum as the closely packed troops surged forward. The tribesman took a heavy blow to the shoulder, Avari a deep gash in her forearm. They were outnumbered, with nowhere to retreat except back down the stairs.
"Too many!" Avari screamed, hoping that Shay and DoHeney would join them soon. As if in answer to her prayers, a harsh string of words rushed out from the darkness behind her. "DOWN!" she screamed, grabbing Jundag and diving down the stair as a spear of flame lanced past. As she fell, she saw the enemy line vanish in a fiery cyclone that filled the cavernous hall. Screams and the stench of charring flesh filled the air.
After the blaze abated and Avari disentangled herself from Jundag, she peered through the smoke and saw that little remained of the creatures closest to the door: only ash and the melted slag of ruined swords and armor. A few of the luckier ones had been sheltered by pillars and could still stand, but their morale was shattered. The ones that retained any sense at all ran for their lives.
"You never said you could command the very fires of the hells!" Jundag said as they stepped over the charred remains.
"You never asked," the half-elf pointed out. "Unfortunately, I cannot repeat the performance, and an alarm is about to be spread throughout this keep. We had best get moving."
"Which way?" Avari asked, wrapping a hasty bandage around her forearm. She looked to DoHeney, whose awe of Shay's spell had kept him uncharacteristically silent.
"Uh, that way, methinks," he said, pointing to a side passage. "It's a different way than we came, but it's on the maps, so we shouldna' get lost. The elf, er, wiz... pries... I mean, Shay, is right. We'd better hurry."
A great clamor followed as they rushed from the Hall of Pillars. What they had done before with stealth would now have to be accomplished with haste; their only hope was to outrace the spreading alarm.
Iveron Darkmist collapsed into the deeply upholstered chair with a sigh of gratification. His plans were proceeding perfectly. The training of the troops was progressing, and the preparations for the spell to focus the gems' power were well under way. His servant placed several welcomed platters of food before him. But as he eagerly picked up a knife and fork, a timid knock sounded at the door. Years of command had taught him that commanders rarely had the luxury of spare time. Iveron surged to his feet and stalked to the doors, flinging them wide.
"What is it! Who—" Iveron stopped, curious, for not one, but two messengers beamed up at him. They shifted from one foot to the other in obvious delight.
"See, me tell you he be here," one of the creatures said to the other. "He near always here. Me take message here before."
"Oh, he here now, but first time he go poof, and no here no more," the other pointed out. "Then me search all over and—"
"Enough!" Iveron snapped, startling both of them. "Deliver your messages." Both messages spewed forth simultaneously, the result a confusing jumble that not even he could understand.
"STOP! Now, one at a time. You first." The commander pointed to the less bedraggled of the two. It smiled, then straightened and delivered its message verbatim.
"Somethin's wrong at the entrance to the Forbidden Area. And hurry."
"What could be wrong there?" He rubbed his chin in concern, then noticed the other messenger staring up at him. "All right, your turn."
"Ya got dat?" the little beast said, lowering its voice to emulate an ogre's. "Lord Darkmist. Tell him dat Captain Glurg has been killed, an' dat dere is intruders in da keep. Awright? Go!"
Iveron Darkmist's jaw dropped at the implications of the message. And when considered with the other... His fists clenched, and his teeth ground together. The gem! he thought. The thieving dwarves have come after the gem!
The growl of rage and the red flare of the demon-helm's eyes should have warned the messengers. As the crimson glow flashed in the Nekdukarr's pupilless orbs, they began to worry. A blinding red flash of magic from both pairs of eyes caught the two beasts full in its effect. The Nekdukarr whirled and snatched up Doom Giver, bellowing to sound the general alarm. He strode from his quarters to rouse his elite troops; if intruders had somehow managed to get the gem from Phlegothax, they could not be allowed to escape. On the way out he stepped over the two puddles of goo pulsating in front of his door.
Rumors of the cyclone of magical flame spread, and troops poured into the sooty hall only moments after the companions' departure. The wounded confirmed that this was not just another of Lord Darkmist's tantrums. A general alarm went out, but it was a disorganized search at best.
Iveron Darkmist arrived amidst the chaos, enraged at the news that the intruders had escaped. Troops scattered on his command, only too happy to be out from under his volatile gaze. He strode to the head of the stair to the Forbidden Area and descended. He reached the rock fall that blocked the tunnel, his fears confirmed. The intruders had obviously collapsed the tunnel to stop the dragon's pursuit, and Phlegothax would only have chased them this far if they had stolen the gem.
Darkmist's eyes narrowed behind the demon helm as he fought to control his temper. Like his sister Calmarel, he was quick to anger, but he liked to think that his military discipline helped him control his reactions. Nevertheless, the demon-helm's ruby eyes glowed like burning coals with his rage.
Iveron started back up the stairs two at a time. By the time he reached the charred hall, he had his passions under control. He visualized the bridge spanning the chasm, delved into his memory for the proper spell to take him there, and... nothing happened. His mind was a blank.
Cursing, he realized that, in his pursuit of other tasks, he had neglected to replenish his complement of spells. He had used both his transposition and flight spells, and would need considerable time to regain them.
Well, he thought as he strode toward the stair to the upper levels, this will have to be done the hard way. But they will pay for my aggravation.
CHAPTER 29
The four fugitives rode the crest of the spreading alarm, their frantic pace maintaining their head start at the cost of stealth and subtlety. The toll of that cost was paid in sweat, exhaustion and blood. Surprise, quick reactions and Shay's dwindling repertoire of spells were their only allies, but Avari realized that their success was also due in a large part to the divine meal Shay had provided. It had been hours since they had started to the lower levels. Without the god-given sustenance, they would have long ago succumbed to hunger and weakness.
"Which way?" hissed Shay as he swept his gaze between three similar passages.
DoHeney's stubby finger stabbed toward one of the dark apertures, the maps long since forgotten. "Left!" he wheezed, trusting his inborn sense of direction. His stubby legs pounded ahead, the others loping behind his slow but inexhaustible pace. The passage intersected a wide hallway and DoHeney turned to the right toward a set of double doors.
"This should lead us to the chasm," he gasped, stopping before the partially open doors. "If they are guardin' the bridge, we'll have a hard time getting' across. If we could find another entrance, we might be able to—"
"I do not think we will be allowed time to search," Shay said as he turned toward the group. He had been staring into the gloom of the passage behind them. "They are upon us!"
A distant clamor echoed down the hall. Their foes were not yet in sight, but they were too close to stand around and discuss options. They had to cross the chasm now.
The four companions burst through the doors. To their overwhelming relief, there were no troops blocking the bridge. They were still ahead of the alarm.
Shay, Avari and DoHeney sprinted toward the bridge and started across. Jundag began to follow, but spied a pile of splintered wood and broken stone to the side of the doors. An idea came to mind.
Working quickly, he pushed shut the iron-bound oak doors against the sound of the hunters growing ever closer. The doors were designed to be barred from within, but pieces of wood wedged under the casement would serve from this side. As he hammered one last wedge in place, an impact shook the doors.
Jundag turned and sprinted toward the bridge, the rising frenzy from beyond the portal urging him on. Then, sudden silence brought him up short. The pounding had stopped.
They cannot have given up, he thought, looking at the smaller doors far to the left and right of the main ones. All was quiet; he turned toward the bridge. The others were already on the other side, waving him to hurry.
An earsplitting explosion reduced the doors to shrapnel. Jundag flung himself to the ground as the shockwave of debris blasted him, but several fragments lodged deep within his back. A guttural scream escaped his gritted teeth as he fell.
"JUNDAG!"
Her friend's scream of pain momentarily blinded Avari with horrific visions of her father falling onto their porch. Then her vision cleared, and the sight of Jundag's crumpled form tore a moan of agony from her throat. Behind him, a dense cloud of dust and smoke obscured the portal.
"Jundag!" Avari screamed again as she brushed off Shay's hand and bolted back across the bridge.
Her companions dashed after her, but as they reached the center of the span, a nightmare stepped out of the eddying smoke. Tall, dark, and crowned with a demon-helm, the Nekdukarr, Lord Iveron Darkmist, strode forth.
Fear they had only known under a dragon's gaze froze them in their tracks. Hate and corruption radiated from the Nekdukarr in palpable waves, pushing them back a half step. The very darkness of him—the ebon
y armor, flowing cape and gruesome demon-helm—froze the blood in their veins. Shay and DoHeney moved to Avari's side, their legs shaking, unsure. All hope fled in the face of such evil. And their friend Jundag lie sprawled only steps from the Nekdukarr, hopelessly out of reach.
Avari heard Shay and DoHeney praying to their gods, and knew she should call on Eloss the Defender, but found herself pleading with every god she had ever heard of. Please, please, don't let this happen again! Let him be alive. Let me be able to save him. Terror gripped her as the Nekdukarr approached Jundag, but his attention was on her and her two companions, not on the crumpled form at his feet.
Iveron Darkmist's pupilless eyes fixed upon his quarry, dismissing the mutilated body before him. Yes, one of those three has the gem, he concluded. I can feel its power from here. He strode past the bleeding body; a dire mistake.
Jundag lay still; his whole body screamed in pain, but he would not release it, either in a moan or to death. Warm blood pooled beneath him, and he struggled to draw each rasping breath. He knew darkness would soon descend, but he had heard Avari's cry. He could not allow his friends to sacrifice themselves for him. He had given his word to protect them; such a promise was not to be broken. He heard a click of heels on stone behind him and felt a swelling wave of evil; it was going to pass close by. Jundag shut his eyes, clenching his fingers around the blood-slicked hilt of the short sword underneath him. Squinting, he saw the black boots as they strode past.
The tribesman lunged, stabbing up at the figure. His aim was true, but a fractured bone in his supporting arm betrayed him. Instead of planting his sword squarely in the dark paladin's back, he stabbed it through a seam in the black armor into Darkmist's thigh.
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