by Neil Hartley
Thus decided, she stepped forward and entered the shop.
It was dark inside, and smelled of strange and unpleasant herbs. The room was plain, furnished only with a small table in the middle. Two chairs, one at either side, were pulled up against it. The far wall boasted a curtain, currently drawn.
"Hello? Anyone here?" M asked.
"Just a minute, be right there." A high pitched woman's voice came from behind the curtain. "Take a seat."
M briefly wondered where she would take a seat to, before realizing she was supposed to sit. She shrugged and sat down on the nearest chair just as the curtain twitched to one side.
A figure walked in. She was seemingly human, still fairly young, dressed in a long pale dress which covered her figure. Her head was devoid of hair, and eyes were covered with a black cloth. In one hand she held a long white staff.
"Sit child," she said.
"I am."
"Oh. Yes, so you are." The seer stumbled into the chair opposite, bumping her shin in the process, which produced several interesting curses. Eventually, with much groping around, she managed to sit down.
M watched impartially.
"Now child, what can I do for you?"
"Firstly, stop calling me child. I doubt you're any older than I am."
The seer's shoulders' slumped. "I'm sorry. It's just everyone expects an old seer. Why is that? I thought if I just called everyone 'child' it might set the mood a bit."
"Oh. Well." M blinked in frustration. "Look, I'm here because I don't know anything about myself. Can you help me?"
The seer nodded and produced a pack of cards from somewhere. She placed them on the table face down, spreading them out. "Turn one over."
M did so.
"Death!" exclaimed the seer dramatically.
"No it isn't."
"It isn't? Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. It's some kind of..." M leaned over and tried to make out the picture. "Some kind of devil I think."
"A devil? Are you certain it isn't death?"
"Positive."
"But it's always death!"
"Nope, sorry."
The seer scowled and bent over the cards, fiddling with her blindfold as she did so.
"Hey!" exclaimed M. "Are you peeking? You're not blind!"
"What? Of course I am. Blind as a bat. Totally without vision. Sightless oh yes."
"No you're not! I can see you peeking!"
"Oh fiddlesticks." The seer pulled at her covering, revealing a perfectly good pair of eyes beneath. "Sorry about that. It's just if the seer isn't old, then apparently they must be blind. It's an image thing you know?"
M pulled a face. "Are you a real seer or not? I just want a reading, or whatever you do."
"Of course I'm real! Gifted with the Sight from birth." She looked at the card M had turned over. "Well well, it is a devil. How odd."
"Why should that be odd?"
The seer didn't answer, but flipped over a card. It was death. She flipped over another. Death. Another and another. All death.
"Oh, I see," said M.
"Give me your hand," said the seer. "Enough of the show stuff."
M complied, and the mystic closed her eyes as she held it in her own. For a minute there was silence.
M was just about to say something when the woman spoke.
"I see something. It's shrouded in mist, as if far back in time. I see a village. A young girl running. It's you. You're a child, perhaps nine or ten. Your mother is calling you. M?" The seer frowned. "Em? Emerald! Your name is Emerald."
"Oh. M. Of course."
"Wait! There's more!"
The room dimmed suddenly, and a cold wind seemed to sweep through it, chilling the occupants.
"A figure. A dark figure. Powerful. Dangerous. It... It's taking you. Your mother... your mother is trying to stop it. It...It... Oh!" The seer gasped, and her eyes flew open.
M looked into them, and saw an image. A young woman, weeping, pleading before a shadowy outline. A child crying. Movement. A bright red splash of blood. The screams of the child, louder now, and a laugh. A laugh of pure evil.
"It killed your mother. Took you." The image changed. Fogged. For a moment there was nothing, then the fog turned red and the seer screamed, pulling backwards, away from M, falling to the floor.
Emerald stood in alarm, running around the table. The seer looked at her, blood running from her eyes. "Leave here! Never return! Your future is pre-ordained! Leave here now. GO!"
Emerald stumbled back, turned, ran out of the door into the street. She moved quickly away from the seer's shop, before leaning against a wall, panting hard. What was that about?
She looked up just as a large figure turned a corner in front of her. "Oh shit!"
"Gut see you!" the voice boomed. The giant started to run towards her, scattering a group of goblins in the process.
"Bugger!" Emerald ran.
~ * ~
Dreth emerged into the air and inhaled deeply. He was feeling quite content with the world. The feeling lasted for nearly thirty seconds. Looking up the street he saw a large and unmistakable figure, red eyes piercing the crowds as it scanned them.
"Oh Dreg!" hr exclaimed, stepping back against the wall. He waited until the golem was looking the other way, and then staggered quickly down the street, wishing he hadn't had so many drinks. He bumped into Cuthbert and Percy on the corner of the village square.
"The other way, quick!" he hissed. Then did a double take. "What'sh that??"
"Good isn't it?" said Percy, proudly extending his new leg. It whirred and ticked, glinting in the dim light. "Hey! Have you been drinking?"
"It'sh metal!" exclaimed Dreth, trying to focus and ignoring the comment.
"Clockwork," said the zombie. "Two days on one wind. You have to keep up with the times you know."
"Well, better put it on 'run' setting. Old shtone... stone face is behind us."
The zombies turned with Dreth and they started back down the other street, only to stop short.
"Hey. Aren't those Drow?" asked Cuthbert.
"Fug!" Dreth squinted at the scene, which appeared to be spinning slightly. "Back, back!"
The three ducked back, running into the square. "There's M!" Cuthbert pointed at the figure crouched next to the base of the statue.
They lurched over to her. "Hey! Fancy meeting you here," said Percy.
"Get down!" That giant is here." Emerald made shushing gestures.
"He ish not alone," said Dreth.
"Are you drunk?" asked Emerald, peering closely at him.
"Disgusting isn't it? Us in mortal peril and he hits the bottle," Percy said. He moved closer to Emerald. "Stick with me, I'll see you alright."
Dreth scowled and tried to speak clearly. "Over there, towards the exit." He pointed back to the first street.
Trying to run inconspicuously, the four moved quickly along the road. Dreth weaving slightly.
"Phew!" said Cuthbert. "Made it." He pushed at the gate and bumped into Redthorne and Sprat coming the other way.
"Elves! The Elves are coming," panted the wizard, jiggling the baby.
"They chased us through the woods," chimed in Sprat.
"You have to be kidding me!" said Dreth. "Shince when did we get sho popular?"
"Have you been drinking?" asked the mage, sniffing. "I can smell Blooded Mary."
"He's a lush," said Cuthbert.
"Shut up!" Dreth said, closing one eye in an attempt to see straight. "Come on, down this shide shtreet."
The fugitives made their way through down the alleyway, emerging near the main square again. Peering out from behind a crate, hand over one eye, Dreth assessed the situation whilst trying not to sway.
The golem was standing near the statue, looking around. Up one street he could see the Drow questioning several goblins, and the giant was up another road, scratching his head. No doubt the elves were heading in from the other direction.
He looked at the two remaining r
oads. One was Dock street, and the other was Desert Lane. Not the most promising prospect, though it could lead out of the village.
"What do we do?" asked Percy, polishing his new leg.
Dreth moaned. "I need another drink," he said.
~ * ~
"What do you mean he is somewhere near? I don't want somewhere near, I want results! Find him, quickly, or it will go badly for you!"
"As you command," the Golem replied in what could have been interpreted as a weary tone, had that been possible.
"Very well, I expect to hear some good news soon." The Master of the Dungeon waved a hand in an intricate gesture and the picture in the mirror faded, to be replaced with his own scowling reflection.
"Wretched automatons," he muttered to himself. "How hard can it be to track down a couple of undead in a tiny village?" The Master was about to turn away when the mirror pulsed red, an indication that there was an incoming message.
He frowned and made the activation signal. The red glare dimmed, to be replaced with a wavy image that crackled and jumped about madly. The Master swore and adjusted the vertical hold, fiddling with it, cursing all the while, until it finally stabilized and the picture could be seen clearly. Once it did so he rather wished the thing had remained broken.
"Overlord," he bowed low. "I'm honored to speak with you." He held the pose, trembling before the figure in the mirror.
The Overlord waited a calculated moment before allowing him to rise. "We are displeased," he said.
"Displeased?" The Master's voice wavered slightly as he mentally flicked through a list of private projects and wondered which one had been discovered. "Oh mighty one, what have I done to incur your wrath? I am a loyal and obedient servant, dedicated to the Greater Bad."
The Overlord leaned forward and glared at the Dungeon Master, who quailed under the gaze.
Fiery red eyes set into a scaled face with a flicking forked tongue. Horns perched on top of a head that was affixed to a long serpentine figure writhing over a pit of lava. Victims below, roasting in agony within the flames, whilst blood ran from eye sockets picked bare.
All of this was not present.
Indeed, any onlookers would have been surprised at the evident fear the Master was showing. The image was hardly one that most would immediately run from. The Overlord stared at the Master through thick round glasses. A comb-over crawled over a shiny scalp. His scrawny frame sat at a pleasant desk with a single flower in a vase to one side. Paper was piled up in neat stacks. In the background a comfortable sofa could be seen. Fiery pits with screaming victims being horribly tortured were, if anywhere nearby, in a soundproof room out of sight.
"I'm talking about Dreth," the non-horrific figure continued. "My reports indicate he has left his post, and is seeking escape."
"Dreth?" The Master said, puzzled at this interest. "The Undead Way guardian? You have nothing to fear oh great one. I've dispatched an agent to, er... dispatch him. I've just been in communication with it in fact, and expect positive news any moment."
"Fool! You have no idea who he is do you?" For a moment, a flicker of a moment, a spark of red seemed to appear in the Overlord's eyes. Perhaps it was just the reflection of the flower though.
"He... he's just a guardian your magnificence."
"Just a guardian he says." The Overlord rolled his eyes and made an 'I'm dealing with a moron face' as he jabbed a finger forward. "If he succeeds in escaping, your life will be extinguished as though it never was, though not before your broken body has been put through the most deviant and painful tortures I can think of." He sat back in his chair and tapped the desk. "The situation is beyond your understanding. Needless to say, I expect you to ensure that he returns to his post, or is removed from the picture in some way." He leaned forward again. "I hope I have made my... desires clear enough."
"Y... yes oh superb and ultimate Awfulness."
"Good. Get on with it then."
The picture winked off, leaving the Master blinking in bafflement. Eventually he pulled himself together. "As you command," he said belatedly, and turned away. This was going to take something special.
~ * ~
"Come on," slurred Dreth. "I have an idea." He squinted out from behind his cover, waiting until the various parties were looking elsewhere, then dashed out into the square, weaving erratically.
The rest of them looked at each other and followed quickly, Percy's new leg clanking and whirring all the while. They pursued Dreth down Dock street, keeping near the edge of the road and out of sight as much as was possible.
Dreth lurched uncertainly over the cobbles, round a shallow bend and on past various shops and buildings of a nautical nature, until they finally arrived at the docks. They were in luck. Two vessels were moored there. From one a line of creatures were shuffling, hopping, jumping and floating forward, moving slowly on to the ship, which appeared to be some sort of double decked boat lined with windows.
Moved towards it, Dreth pushed several creatures out of the way to get to the front.
"Hey! There is a queue here you know!" One orc complained as he was pushed backwards. He squeaked as Dreth stared at him, exhibiting an unusual sense of self preservation for one of his species. "I mean: please, after you."
Others weren't so easily cowed though. A high pitched voice came from further back. "Hey, you! Get to the back of the line! Robert, do something about these ruffians!"
A large ball shape floated over the orc, swooping down towards Dreth. "You heard the lady, you can wait your turn like... Oh! It's you!"
"Hello Bob, wha' you doing here?" Dreth looked up at the Beholder, trying to speak clearly.
"Ho ho! Same as you by the smell of your breath!" Bob winked several of his eyes. "Been sampling cocktails have we? Hur hur. The Missus and I are taking a break. We get one vacation every season. Pretty sweet eh?"
"A vacation? That's just typical that is," Percy joined the conversation. "When did we ever get a holiday? Eh Cuthbert?" He didn't wait for his friend to answer. "Never! That's when. Blatant discrimination against the undead. I'm going to have some words with the management I am."
"Er, yes." Bob looked at Dreth. "In a rush are we? Only there seems to be plenty of room on the boat, and even if there wasn't, the tours leave once every hour. You wouldn't have to wait long for the next one."
"Ah, it'sh a bit of an emrgcnsy...emersyn...urgent shituation you shee," said Dreth, trying to tap the side of his nose and missing. "That Golem? He ish chasing us. We need to get away quickly."
Bob's eyes widened, an impressive site on a Beholder. "Indeed? Chasing you is he? Are we in any danger here?" He looked around a little nervously.
"No no no no," reassured Dreth. "Jusht after us he is. Listen, I've an idea. Do you think you could do ush a favor?"
~ * ~
Harm stared after the vessel that was rapidly dwindling to a dot on the horizon. "You sure they're on it?"
Primrose, who was currently not enjoying his elevated status, nodded. "They boarded just as it was about to depart apparently. The Beholders saw them go."
Harm looked at the two monsters that were floating nearby, and frowned. The creatures were too dangerous to take on without serious risk to his men. Not that he cared about his men as such, but their numbers were dwindling, and he would need them when he caught up with the wizard. "Is this true?"
"Oh yes," said the nearest one. "Quite rude they were. My wife commented on it at the time, didn't you dear?"
"Absolutely," replied the slightly smaller of the two. "But what can you expect from zombies?"
"Did you see a wizard and a baby with them by any chance?" Harm made an effort to be civil despite mounting anger.
"Yes, I believe there was. How strange," the first Beholder answered. "Now then, if you would excuse us, we have theatre seats booked. Not that we use the seats of course, but you know what I mean." The two swiveled about and floated off, bobbing over the Harm's head.
Harm looked about. "Faerie!"
> A small figure flittered close. "It's Fearie," Smudge said.
"Whatever," Harm waved a hand. "Fly out to that ship, see if the wizard is on board."
"What ship?"
Harm looked out over the lake again. The vessel had disappeared into the gloom.
"Elves!" Primrose interrupted Harm's would-be response.
"Dark scum! Prepare to die!" An elf noble, wearing jewel encrusted gilded armor, strode forward, drawing a blazing white blade. Behind him his warriors stood, weapons drawn.
Harm's face twisted with hatred. He drew his own Runeblade, which pulsed with a dull red light. The two magic swords crackled in the proximity of each other. His men readied their weapons in response to the threat.
The Drow leader faced the enemy, whose own features were lined with loathing. "It is your blood that shall be spilled here surface dweller. This is our territory."
"You stole one of ours. We're here to take vengeance. Where is the babe? Hand it over and you will at least die with a shred of honor."
Harm laughed. "Even if I were in possession of the infant, the seven hells would freeze over before I handed it over to you. My masters have other plans for that one. It shall not live to thwart Evil!"
"His destiny is already written in the future. You cannot prevent the will of the gods."
"My Lords think otherwise."
"Your thinking is flawed, Light will triumph! I, Hammath Highhand so declare!"
The two stepped closer, weapons held ready. The blades hummed and glistened with magic, each straining to reach the other. Sparks flew between them, and the air shimmered with energy.
"And I, Harm Undertow say otherwise!" Harm lunged forward suddenly, causing the elf to skip back to avoid being split open.
"Vermin!"
"Light dwelling slug!"
The two leaders circled each other, looking for an opening and growling at each other.
"HOLD!" A shadow fell over the combatants. "There shall be no fighting in the village of Dume, by order!"
The elves looked up as one. A large flying beast, scales glinting in the dull light, hovered above, wings beating against the air with a dull noise, reminiscent of thunder. The Wyvern bared its fangs and hissed down at them from a mouth packed with sharp teeth. A small green figure could just be made out hanging on to a saddle at the base of its neck. Above it, another two of the dragon-like monsters, complete with their own riders, circled.