by Neil Hartley
"All I'm saying is that we zombies have been down-trodden long enough. It's about time we were recognized for the vital work we do..."
The imp was tapping his foot as Percy droned on at him when the others returned. He glared at Percy until the zombie shut up, and then turned to Dreth. "Well? What's your response? I can't hang about here all day you know!"
Dreth stepped forward. "Well, it's like this you see... NOW!!"
The imp squealed as the guardian leapt at him and pinned him to the floor as the wizard raised his hands and uttered a short spell, the words of Power booming around the corridor. A few moments later there was a brief flash of light around the imp, and the creature screamed.
Redthorne nodded at Dreth, who stood up, dusting his hands. The imp bawled a stream of obscenities, but remained still, frozen in place by the wizard's spell.
"Now we'll see who's in charge," he said with satisfaction. "My wizard friend here has cast a spell on you. You won't be able to move or teleport until he lifts it. So it's in your best interests to co-operate. We'll start with an easy one: Who do you work for?"
"Not saying! Let me go! You'll be sorry when He hears about this!" The imp farted. A protest that sent the wizard gagging for air, but had no effect on the others.
Dreth delivered a vicious kick to the imps face, imploding several teeth. "Who is He? Tell us!"
"Owowowowoowow! You'll pay for that I swear!"
Percy squatted down next to the figure and poked the Halfling's foot into its eye. "Told you not to mess with us zombies didn't I? Look where you are now." He shook his head sadly.
"You zombies are getting above your station! When I get back I'm going to ask for a purge, get a new lot in and aaaaahhhahhahahahhh!"
"That's enough Percy, I want to extract the fingernails before we break his fingers." Dreth stepped up and pulled the undead away.
"Oh, you're in so much trouble," groaned the imp.
"You know," Dreth looked down at the red figure, "I've heard that you imps are very proud of your tails. You certainly have a long and sleek one. It would be a pity if you were to have an 'accident,' and it was somehow cut slowly away with my sword."
"Oh no. No, you wouldn't! Do you know how many centuries it took me to grow that?"
Dreth reached for his blade. "Of course, all you have to do is give us a little information." He looked at the imp, who tried to return his gaze before finding that Dreth was remarkably good at it and giving up.
"Oh very well. But you have to promise to let me go when I tell you what you want to know."
"Of course," said Dreth smoothly.
"Fine. The Management oversees the dungeon. Servant imps and other minions collect the treasure left behind by adventurers, the stuff that isn't kept by the guardians of course."
"And who is the Management?"
"I don't know!! They just appear as shadowy figures to me! Look, I'm just an imp okay? Not exactly high up in the hierarchy."
Dreth regarded him for a moment and then sighed. "Okay then."
"You don't believe him surely?" asked Redthorne. "He is a devil, albeit a minor one, the species is not renowned for telling the truth."
Dreth stood up. "The problem is, he'll just lie about everything, and how are we to know what's real and what isn't?"
"So, you'll let me go now?" asked the imp.
Dreth nodded at Cuthbert, who came forward with a long coil of thin rope retrieved from Dreth's bag. The zombie started to tie it around the imp's neck, cutting off a piece to secure his arms and tail behind his back.
"Hey! What's going on? You said you would release me!" the imp complained as Cuthbert rolled him around on the floor.
"Yes, I lied," responded Dreth. "Is he secure Cuthbert?"
The zombie tested the bonds. "He won't get out easily."
Dreth spoke to the imp again. "Now, my good friend the wizard is going to remove the paralysis. You still won't be able to teleport, so don't try anything funny."
"And here is me planning to nip off for a quick drink down the bar," the imp said dryly. Sprat poked him in the eye, and the little demon hissed at him.
Redthorne moved his hands about above the creature, and the imps legs began to waggle furiously.
"What's your name imp?" asked Dreth.
"Ichabod."
"Well Ichabod," Dreth picked the imp up with one hand as he spoke. "We just need one more thing from you."
"What's that?"
"We require a scout. Be a good fellow and see if anything is waiting for us down there will you?" So saying, Dreth threw the screaming imp down the tunnel and into The Dark. As soon as he entered the gloomy portal he disappeared from view, and his cries were abruptly cut off.
"Oooh, that's not a good sign," said Cuthbert.
They waited. After a moment the rope moved and a minute later started to pull away. "I feel like I'm fishing. I used to like fishing when I was alive." Cuthbert frowned as he let the line slip through his hands. "At least, I think so."
Dreth waited for another minute, watching as the rope slowly moved into the tunnel. "Well, whatever's in there it doesn't seem to be waiting at the entrance. Let's go." He pushed Percy forward and they followed him down.
"I can't see anything!" Percy.
"What happened to the torches? Are they still on?" Dreth squinted in the absolute blackness that had enveloped them.
"Let's see." A pause. "Arg! Yes, burning away." Percy again.
"Where are you Sprat? Don't wander off."
"'m here pa."
"It seems this area nullifies light," came Redthornes' voice. "Let me try a spell." There was a moment of incantation followed by nothing. "Evidently it suppresses magical illumination as well."
"The imp's stopped moving." Cuthbert's voice came from just ahead of Dreth.
"Give the rope a tug," said Dreth.
There was a distant yell. "Still alive then. Go on. Percy, lead the way."
"Don't see why it has to be me up front all the time," grumbled Percy. "Let's send the kid first."
"Hey! That's my son you're talking about!"
"It's not your real son. You just put him together from spare parts. He has one of my old hands even. You never did it with anyone."
"Ha! Shows how much you know," Cuthbert's voice oozed smugness as they felt their way along a narrow passage.
"You never!"
"Did so! Remember Emmy?"
"Her??? Didn't that fighter bash her skull in?"
"Yes, thank you for reminding me about that. Anyway, we did 'the dance' in the lower tomb."
"Are they talking about what I think they're talking about?" asked Redthorne of Dreth.
"Who knows?" said Dreth. "However, I don't recommend trying to find out."
"The social life of zombies seems to be more complex than I realized," mulled the wizard. "Not that I'd thought about the subject much. At all in fact."
Percy and Cuthbert were still talking, their voices echoing through the dark corridor.
"That bitch! She told me she was frigid!"
"What can I say, some zombies..." Cuthbert was cut off from a voice ahead.
"Finally you get here."
"Is that you Ichabod?" asked Percy, bumping into Cuthbert, who had stopped abruptly.
"No, I'm the tooth fairy with a back-payment."
"What are you waiting for imp?" Dreth asked.
"Do they give back payment?"
"I banged my head on something on the wall. I thought I would wait until you kind gentlemen came along to investigate, as my hands are currently tied behind my back for some reason."
"There are some torches here, quite a few of them," Percy's voice came from ahead, near the imp. "Oh, and some tinder boxes."
"Why would there be torches here? Ours still don't work," Redthorne's voice came from one side.
"Try and light one Percy," said Dreth, a suspicion growing.
There were noises as Percy fumbled with the tinder box. A moment later a torch flared up. "Hey! I can see again
!" he said.
They looked around, to find themselves in a standard looking dungeon corridor made from dark gray stone blocks. It stretched away into the distance in front of them.
Dreth frowned as he doused his old light. "Why do these torches work and ours don't?" he asked.
"Obviously some sort of special enchantment," replied the wizard.
"Hmmm, and why are they here? Why not at the entrance?" Dreth took one and examined it as Percy lit several others and handed them round. The torch seemed normal.
"Definitely some sort of magical emanation," said Redthorne.
"Give one to the imp," Dreth told Percy. "Imp, get going. You're still on scout duty."
"And how am I supposed to hold it with my hands tied genius?"
"Good point. Cuthbert, untie his tail, he can use that."
They waited as the zombie released the imp's extremity, and Percy handed him a light. The imp coiled his tail around the torch.
"Right then, off you go," said Dreth, gesturing ahead.
Ichabod gave him a nasty look, but staggered off down the tunnel without saying anything more.
Dreth looked on as the imp disappeared into the dark, until only his torch could be seen bobbing along like a Will-o-wisp.
"Right, after him then."
They started walking towards the light.
~ * ~
Ichabod muttered to himself under his breath as he stumbled down the corridor. "Stupid denizens, just wait until I get back, I'm going to file such a complaint." He stopped. The tunnel split into two. There was straight on, and now a new corridor off to the right. He looked down each one. Both disappeared into the gloom. Shrugging, he turned right and moved along the new way, which was remarkably similar to the old one except it wound about more.
He turned another corner and carried on into a widening space until a hiss next to his ear brought him up short.
"What have we here then? An imp!" The voice was hard as diamonds.
He gulped. "I will have you know I am a representative of the Dungeon management," he said. "If you..."
"Them!!" said the voice. There were more hisses. They sounded like snakes. Ichabod had always liked snakes, though he was willing to reverse his position. "They are the ones who imprisoned me here! Well, nice of them to send me a snack!"
Ichabod dropped the torch and turned to run, but several sharp stabbing pains in his back caused him to stumble.
"My pets like you it seems," the voice said, as the imp felt chunks of his flesh being torn from his body. He twisted to confront his attacker. No sooner than he did so he realized his mistake. He tried to raise his hands, but they were still bound behind his back. There was a feeling of heaviness as his eyeballs crusted over.
He managed one brief scream before it all went black...
~ * ~
"He's stopped," said Cuthbert.
"There is a junction ahead, goes off to the right," said Percy. "Our imp went that way. Shall we follow?"
"Give it a moment," said Dreth.
"Hey! Did you hear that? Sounded like a scream!"
"Pull him back!" ordered Dreth.
Cuthbert tugged on the rope and grunted. "Must be stuck, oh wait, here it comes." He pulled for a short while. "Seems to be resisting," he said. "Either that or he has gained..."
The zombie stopped speaking as the object on the end of the rope slid into view. It was a perfectly formed stone statue of Ichabod.
"Douse the lights! Quickly!" shouted Dreth.
They did so, just as something turned the corner. Dreth thought he saw a snake emerge into the corridor just as the torches were extinguished. He pushed Redthorne behind him, not because he cared for the wizard, but he had gone to a lot of trouble to get the man alive, and he didn't want to lose him at the first hurdle.
There was a hissing sound from ahead and Percy shouted. "Hey! Something bit me! Get off!"
There were sounds of a brief altercation, and another voice, a female one, screamed briefly.
"Hold!" shouted Dreth. "Who goes there?"
"Who dares trespass on my domain?" came the new voice.
"I'm Dreth. Guardian of the Undead Way, and who may you be?" He had his suspicions.
"Oh, a guardian. Well, that's alright then. Why don't you light the torches and we can all have a nice little chat."
"I don't think so," replied Dreth. "Percy! Don't even think about it!"
"Undead eh? No wonder my pet's poison didn't have any effect."
"You're a Medusa aren't you?" said Cuthbert, putting the clues together. "I heard there was one of your kind in the dungeon."
There was a low laugh. "Well worked out my undead friend. Still, it won't do you any good. You cannot escape The Dark without my help, you're prisoners here, just as I am, and all I need to do is get a light. Someone will peek in the end, they always do."
"I may have something to say about that," Dreth fingered his sword. "Your type can be killed too."
The laugh again. "But then you would be trapped here for ever! I tell you what, if you give me a couple of your party, I'll tell you how to get out. How is that for a deal? One guardian to another."
Dreth stared into the dark. Lose two of his party already? He'd only just started. One of the zombies he could lose, maybe the kid, but the others? It was too early, there was bound to be harder challenges ahead. He felt his blade again. Medusa were killable, but how many were there here? And was she lying about the way out?
He snarled as a snake slithered over his foot.
~ * ~
Smoke curled atmospherically around the edges of the door, swirling mysteriously along the gray floor before dissipating. The stone portal opened slowly with a dull grating noise, as if reluctant to spill forth its contents. There was a short pause, and then a heavy footstep. Another and then another, until a large figure finally emerged. It looked at the remains of Fallacy for a moment, her exposed lungs steaming in the chill of the room.
With a low rumble the gaze turned to the hooded figure standing behind the slumped body. The robed shape stood with knife in one hand, the blood dripping down the serrated edges of the blade into a dark pool on the floor.
"Messy," it said.
"I have summoned you!" cried the hooded man, holding his hands up in dramatic fashion.
"I know."
"You are mine! To use as I see fit, until I dismiss you! By the power of..."
"I know all of this. You do it every time."
The robed figure lowered his hands uncertainly. "I rather enjoy it, truth be told."
"Who do you want me to kill?"
"By what means do you know you will be required to remove life?" asked the summoner, who was finding it hard not to speak dramatically.
"I have never been summoned for anything else. It's always the same task."
"Yes, well." The man grimaced in annoyance inside his hood. "I do indeed have a task for you. Heed my words now, and follow my bidding..."
The newly summoned being leaned forward to hear its masters' commands...
~ * ~
"I don't think we're really ready for statue-hood yet," said Dreth.
"So you reject my generous offer! You will regret..." the Medusa started.
"Hold on, hold on here!" Percy's voice interrupted her monologue. "Such a bad temper Ms. Medusa. What could be the problem I wonder? Bad breath? Unfortunate wind? No, I know! Down here alone, with no companions and unable to use a mirror? You must be feeling a mess! I bet you would kill... er, cheer loudly for a good makeover. Isn't that right?" The zombie paused a moment, to a surprised silence. "Come now. No need to be shy. We're all friends here, dungeon denizens together and all that. You can share. How long was it since you had a good facial?"
"Well..." the Medusa began. "I don't know..."
Dreth heard Percy step forward. "Look, I used to be in the beauty business when I was alive. Good at it too I was."
"Really?" asked the Medusa.
"Really?" whispered Dreth to Cuthbert.
"Best Salon this side of the Dragon's Teeth," said Percy's voice proudly. "Now, I can't see you, not and remain able to shake my booty of course, but perhaps if I could just touch?"
"I don't know," the snake headed woman said uncertainly.
"Look, what's your name?" Percy was on a roll now. Dreth was quite impressed.
"Agnes. Agnes Lookstun."
"What a lovely name. My mother was called Agnes," said the zombie, working the charm for all it was worth. "Now, Agnes, let's just have a feel...Ow!"
"Sorry! My hair is very protective. Go on, try again. They won't bite this time."
Dreth heard Percy muttering to himself as he felt the Medusa's features. "Huh! Dry as a bone! Flaky skin, needs moisturizer for sure, oh, for want of a good set of tweezers! Now the hands. Oh my lord, when was the last time you had a manicure? "
"Well, you know..."
"Don't you worry. I'll have you feeling like a million gold pieces in no time. Do you have somewhere to work? It's going to be tricky with no light, but you're in the hands of an expert..."
~ * ~
Dreth sat back, resting on a statue in lieu of a chair, some sort of Paladin by the feel of it, whilst Agnes lay back with dungeon moss draped over her face. It was still pitch black. Percy was in a nearby room mixing various muds and alga together, mumbling about 'split ends' under his breath. Cuthbert and Sprat scuttled about finding the ingredients he specified, whilst Redthorne rested against a wall, a blanket of snakes wrapped around his body for warmth.
"Why do you go around turning people to stone anyway? What's the point?"
"It's how my species feed. We extract the life energies from the body. The turning to stone part is just a side effect really."
"You said you're trapped here? We just walked in, can't you walk out?"
"Ha! If only I could! You think I would be here in this dank pit? I was caught decades ago by a team of goody goody elves. I hate elves. They trapped me with an enhanced sleep spell. Next thing I knew I was in here." The Medusa paused as Percy dipped her hands into some sort of liquid in small bowls.
"Don't ask what I made this out of," the zombie said before scurry off, tripping over Sprat as he did so.
"So you're restrained in some way?" continued Dreth.
"The area beyond the torches is like a wall to me. I can't go through it. You won't be able to either for most of it. Still, I know one way out that you should be able to take. The Dark is a little weaker in one section. Still too strong for me, but I think others could push through."