Villains by Necessity (v1.1)

by Eve Forward

  Sam caught his breath and disentangled himself from the lady archer’s powerful embrace, letting her slump gently to the floor. He scooped up Dana’s dropped torch and hastened away, not stealing anything else from her out of force of habit. He walked quickly through the tunnels, looking for his companions or a way out... she’d be waking up in a few hours, and he wasn’t looking forward to encountering her again.

  “All right, I’ve got another one, I’ve got another one,” enthused Dusty. “Here, match this,” he said, digging around in his pocket and hauling out a small sapphire.

  Arcie appraised it thoughtfully, then took out of his own pouch an incredibly garish belt buckle, etched in bronze with dragons and pegusi. The Wilderkin’s eyes widened in admiration. They put the stakes on the floor between them and the Wilderkin closed his eyes to think better, and recited: Never have I been seen before Soon never to be seen amore A rainbow caught in a dome of sky In air I am born, to air I die.

  “Hmm, tricky,” admitted Arcie, rubbing his chin in thought.

  “You’ll never guess it,” chirped Dusty gleefully. Arcie thought for a long moment, his auburn-and-silver eyebrows knitting, then snapped his fingers in delight.

  “Pop! Soap bubbles!” he exclaimed. The Wilderkin laughed in admiration.

  “That’s right! You’re good at this!” he said with a grin, pushing the stakes over to Arcie’s side. “Your turn again.”

  “Och aye,” Arcie replied, and lapsed into thought.

  “Well enough, I have got one.” He put the belt buckle back into the stakes, and the Wilderkin thought for a moment, then put one of his embroidered cloth pouches in.

  Arcie nodded and sat back. He raised a hand for emphasis, and recited:

  Wizards and warriors, dragons and kings Flying forever on vast midnight wings Larger than worlds beyond mankind’s sight Yet small as a pinprick that lets in the light.

  “Wow, that’s a hard one too,” commented Dusty, twirling a strand of his long hair as he mused. “Hm, let’s see, large, small, forever ...”

  “ ‘Tis really quite easy,” apologized Arcie.

  “Don’t tell me, don’t tell me!” squeaked Dusty. “I’m thinking ... I’ve almost ... Ha! Constellations, right, Marzipan?” He grinned at the Barigan confidently.

  Arcie nodded with a wide-eyed smile. “And so it is! You’ve really now got the way of it!”

  “My turn again!”

  In another room, many tunnels away, two magic users faced each other. Frost and soot covered the walls. Several patches of dissipating noxious gases drifted about in the corners. A few uneasy newts padded about on the floor. A large chunk of ceiling had fallen in. A huge block of stone stood in one corner, and a wall of ice was melting on its side on the floor. Purple goo dripped from one wall, and the battered remains of a few magically summoned creatures littered the room.

  “Well,” said Tesubar after a moment. “I am about done. How about you?”

  “Quite,” replied Valerie. “The only spell I have left is False Magical Aura.”

  “I’ve got Wizard’s Logo,” offered Tesubar. They looked at each other.

  “All right then,” said Valerie, and hoarse voices changed, tired hands traced patterns in the air. Valerie caused a perfectly normal tile of the floor to show as magical to those with the sight to see it, and Tesubar left a runic

  “T,.” etched in soft magical letters on the wall near him. The two mages inspected each other’s work, and nodded to each other politely. Then they turned around and walked away in opposite directions down the halls of Putak-Azum.

  Elsewhere, the clatter and crash of armor and sword was drawing to a close. Sir Reginald had fought long and hard, but the great black knight seemed tireless, beating him back, blow for blow. He feared not death at the hands of this creature, but dishonor should the knight defeat him and leave him alive to face the humiliation.

  His fierce chivalric pride roared in his heart, and he attacked with renewed vigor, battling the dark knight around the room.

  The villain countered with blows and defended himself with his magical shield against the flashing sword, and Sir Reginald uttered a silent prayer to the Hero of all paladins, the great Hero Sir Pryse who had defeated so many of the dark forces in the War at the risk of his own life. Save me from dishonor! he thought.

  Strength flowed through his arm, and he struck a mighty blow across the other knight’s breastplate. The dark figure staggered backward a step, backing heavily into a corner... and the whole corner flipped open into a dark chasm. With a great clattering, the silent knight slid down into the darkness as Sir Reginald slashed triumphantly at the air where he had been.

  “Ha! Coward!” he roared. “Come back and fight, you spawn of darkness! Come back and fight!” The trap slid shut as swiftly as it had opened, and Sir Reginald, flushed with success, flipped up his faceplate and sat down, panting for breath. As he sat there, thinking on his victory and murmuring prayers of thanks to his deities, soft footsteps made him look up, gripping his sword in apprehension.

  But it was only the blue-robed mage Tesubar, who looked mildly surprised to see him.

  Sam ducked into a side tunnel as he heard loud footsteps approaching. A quick glance soon allayed his fears though, and he stepped out to greet Blackmail as the knight wandered down the hallway. “Ho there, Blackmail,” he said. “Where have you been?” The mailed shoulders shrugged. Sam noticed that the dark armor had a number of scratches and here and there a dent or two. “Hey, big guy, you look kind of scuffed ... get in a fight?”

  The helmet nodded. Sam grinned. It must have been someone either very strong, or wielding something magical, to have damaged that dark armor. “Did you win?”

  The black gauntlet waggled in a non-committal sort of way. “Was it somebody from a bunch of adventurers out looking for us?” he asked. The helmet seemed to think for a moment, then nodded. Sam nodded also. “Yeah, I met one too. A lady ... well, a woman, at any rate. Seen any signs of the others?” The helmet shook no. “Well, let’s go look for them, then.” They set off down the hall.

  “Well, that was a lot of fun,” enthused Dusty, collecting his treasures and getting to his feet. “I’ll have to teach that to Thurbin and Tasmene and the others,” he added.

  “Well, ‘twas certainly fine meeting ye, Dusty,” replied Arcie with a smile, getting up and shaking the Wilderkin by the hand. “If you ever find yourself down in Putak-Azum again, stop yourself by an’ have a cuppa tea.”

  “Why, thank you, Marzipan,” answered Dusty happily, “I will!”

  “And o’course feel free to bring your friends,” added Arcie. “Sure you can find the ways back well enough?”

  “Oh sure,” answered Dusty confidently. “I’ve got all the maps.”

  “Well, good luck to you, then,” said Arcie, as the Wilderkin began bouncing back up the hallway.

  The Wilderkin, with his spare torch held aloft, vanished into the tunnels. Arcie had the other torch, as well as a good number of small precious stones. The Wilderkin had swapped them in stakes for a lot of nearworthless items Arcie had been carrying around. They were both quite happy with the trade, and Arcie had even snagged one of Dusty’s pouches. He laughed to himself, chuckling in the dim tunnels of Putak-Azum. He turned and wandered down the halls, until he heard a faint cawing noise. Quickly hurrying to the spot, he found Valerie sitting against a wall, feeding her raven.

  “Well, took you long enough,” she greeted. “Where have you been?”

  “Playing at riddles with a Wilderkin,” answered Arcie.

  “And yourself?”

  “Spellfighting with a very nice young man in blue robes. Do you have a bit of cord, Barigan? I used the last scrap for one of my spell components, and I want some to have in case I need to cast that spell again,” she explained.

  “Cord? Aye, I’ve some right in here, in the pouch with my repair kit and ... um ...” Arcie fumbled around.

  “Here! My pouch are gone!” Arcie slapped at th
e place where his pouch had hung, eyes wide in surprise. “That Wilderkin...”

  “Oh well, never mind ...” began Valerie, then frowned. “What are you laughing at, Barigan?”

  Sam and Blackmail walked down the halls, looking about. The strange confusing tunnels seemed to go on forever. Suddenly the assassin saw something out of the corner of his eye and motioned to Blackmail to hide, snuffing his magical torch as he did so. The knight ducked into a side passage and pulled the assassin in after him.

  Another torch like the one he held was coming down the hallway. Assassin and knight waited in silence as the torchlight drew closer, and soon voices could be heard.

  “And I were thinking you said the magic could find the ways out,” said a familiar voice with just a trace of skepticism.

  Another familiar voice, colder, answered haughtily, “It could have, if you hadn’t completely rearranged the entire complex with your bungling.”

  “Here! Arcie! Valerie!” called Sam, stepping out of hiding with his torch. The other two started in surprise.

  “Great to see you again! I’ve found Blackmail ... any sign of that idiot centaur or any dragons or Druids?” he asked.

  “Nae luck,” reported Arcie. “I did find a Wilderkin though. He knew some fair good riddles, too. Bet you canna get this, Sammy my lad, it goes-”

  “Not now, Arcie. Those goodys are still crawling around here somewhere. We’ve got to put some distance between us and them,”

  “Very true,” agreed Valerie. “And as soon as we have, I’ve got to recover my power.”

  They set off together down the halls.

  About an hour later, they stopped to rest.

  “Yon place is fair regular maze!” gasped Arcie, sitting down on a stairstep.

  “Wait until we enter the Labyrinth, Barigan,” retorted Valerie ominously. Sam looked around, but saw no indication of any way to go other than further corridors.

  Even Blackmail seemed to be getting tired. His great shoulders gave a sigh, and he leaned back against a wall ... and fell through it with a clatter. The others stared.

  “Baris and Bella! An illusory secret door!” gasped Arcie in surprise.

  “Come on, let’s go after him,” suggested Sam, and they quickly hurried through the section of wall.

  A few minutes later, the sound of voices drifted into the room. The White Tigers, all together once more, walked past, comparing notes.

  “You say you fought with a black sorceress?” asked Lord Tasmene of his brother. Tesubar nodded. “And she got away?” Tesubar scowled.

  “I fought her with all my powers, to my last atom of energy, to my last spell ... but she was most foul and devious and escaped,” he rasped.

  “You’re rasping again,” complained Thurbin.

  “I’ve been chanting all afternoon, Northerman,” retorted the blue-robed mage.

  Dusty had found the pair of barbarians curled up in each others arms and had woken them with a shrill blast on his shiny new whistle won from that nice Marzipan.

  The two lovers were now back into public behavior mode, pretending to be aloof from one another. Later he’d found Dana and Thurbin, the lady archer looking rather woozy and cross, and neither of them seemed to want to hear his newly learned riddles, so he was trying them out on the two brothers as they walked down the hall arguing.

  “Hear, hear, Tesubar, I’ve got a riddle ... why is a raven like a writing desk?”

  His cheerful voice and the mage’s snarled reply drifted away into the dark tunnels as the heroes moved on. The rooms the villains were traversing now were far different than those they had walked before. Whereas the previous tunnels, halls, and chambers had shown signs of much looting and combat, these seemed to still have much of the grandeur and glory that had once graced them. Carvings and murals decorated the walls, mosaics still showed through the dust of the floor.

  “Will you gander at this place!” enthused Arcie, holding his torch aloft and looking about in delight. “Now this are real adventuring!” They were walking through what must at one time have been a great hall, with a great pavilion at one end and a huge arc-shaped open fireplace at the other. A great stone table spanned the length of the room. Thick cobwebs hung in the shadows of the arched ceiling and its buttresses.

  “Careful, Arcie,” warned Sam, as the Barigan hopped up onto the table and ran its length. “This is the kind of place where people get attacked without warning.”

  “I know what I’m about, blondie!” the Barigan assured him. He hopped down off the table at the far end and padded over to the fireplace, looked up the chimney, and a large hairy spider fell on him.

  “Eeeyuk!” he yelled, shaking it off in a panic and then bashing it repeatedly with his morning star as it attempted to scurry away. Sam snickered.

  “If you two are quite done playing around,” interrupted Valerie coolly, “May I suggest we find a place to camp?”

  “Aye, aye, right enough,” answered Arcie with a shudder, rubbing his face. He came out of the treacherous fireplace and led the way down into the ancient glories of Putak-Azum.

  “This must be stuff left over from about the time of the War,” mused Sam, touching a rotting tapestry that hung on one wall. It puffed into dust.

  “That could be,” agreed Valerie. “The Heroes probably weren’t interested in looting the place, and though it could be some other people have come through here since, either they didn’t do much or they didn’t get very far.”

  “And such would be depending upon the presence of unpleasant monsters as roam the halls and eats unwary adventurers, eh?” added Arcie a bit nervously.

  “Well, just be wary, then,” said Sam.

  They found a large room that might once have served as a mage’s study. There were shelves with old, moldering non-magical books, and a lot of glassware, jars of antiquated spell components, and the remains of a stuffed alligator hanging from the ceiling. Best of all, it had a secure door.

  “We can camp here,” insisted Valerie. “I can see if some of these spell components are useful, and look through those books for a map or something. The rest of you can loot the place or whatever you want.”

  “Aye, well enough,” agreed Arcie. “Me, I’m going to eat.” He sat down and pulled out his rations.

  “I’ll scout around and make sure there aren’t any nasty monsters in the general vicinity,” offered Sam, walking back out the door. He was feeling restless, uneasy.

  “If you hear me screaming, run away,” he advised.

  “You never scream, Sam,” corrected the Barigan, his mouth full. Sam smiled.

  “That’s why you’d run away. You want to come along, knight?” he asked Blackmail. The knight gave a nod and followed him as he walked out the door; They searched the surrounding rooms. One appeared to be a sitting room of some sort, with another fireplace; Sam wondered where it led to, but decided not to stick his head up it. Another was a bathroom, dry and empty but with a sunken pool in the floor and tilework over all the surfaces.

  The last room was a bedchamber of sorts. There was a large old full length mirror on one wall, rimmed in patina brass and set flush with the wall. Sam, like many assassins, had a bit of a fondness for his appearance, and looked at himself in this mirror. His scruflmess disgruntled him slightly; he adjusted his collar and cloak and felt a bit better. He looked about the room again. A small desk and chair stood in one corner. Here, the furniture was well-preserved by the cold, dry air of the fortress. Small things scuttled away from the light of the magical torch. A large bed sat in another corner, with a chest nearby; Sam investigated it, but the lock was open and the container held nothing more than a carefully folded set of robes and a wizard’s pointy hat of a sort that had been out of style for centuries. In a spark of whimsey, Sam picked up the hat. It was conical, blue satin stitched with moons and stars, and empty. He showed it to Blackmail, who nodded politely. Sam put the hat on.

  It fitted pretty well, except for his ears, which stuck out slightly. He wen
t to check himself in the mirror. Well, how about that, he looked ridiculous. Playfully he struck a wizardly pose, and cackled at his reflection:

  Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, Bronze is green and glass is clear, Mirror, Mirror, hear my call And show me Arch-Mage Mizzamir!

  Sam jumped as his reflection suddenly vanished in a swirl of cloud within the mirror. He and Blackmail stared in mute astonishment as the image suddenly cleared, showing a blurred picture of the inside of a white room.

  Within that image Sam saw Mizzamir, in all his resplendent whiteness. Although no sound filtered through the glass, Mizzamir was obviously in deep discussion with a familiar gray centaur, who was bowing and scraping with all the respect and admiration in the world.

  The image vanished. He and Blackmail stared silently at each other a long moment, then they raced out and back to the study where they had left Arcie and Valerie.

  “Robin’s a spy!” panted Sam, bursting into the room.

  “We saw him on a magic mirror! He’s talking to Mizzamir right now!”

  “Sam, laddie ...” said Arcie, shaking his head, “I were thinking you said you were going to lay off the booze.”

  “Dammit, Arcie, I’m serious and sober!”

  “Then why the blazes are you wearing that stupid hat?” retorted the Barigan. Sam reached up, discovering to his chagrin he was indeed still topped by the ridiculous headgear. He ripped it off his head and threw it on the ground. It rolled in a small circle. Valerie, meanwhile, had turned to Blackmail.

  “Knight, is what this assassin says true?” she asked, raising an elegant eyebrow. The helmet nodded solemnly.

  Valerie picked up the hat and rolled it thoughtfully in her hands.

  “Show me this mirror,” she commanded.

  Soon they were standing back in front of the mirror, which, through Valerie’s careful magical ministrations, gave a clear picture of the conversation between the archmage and centaur, as well as a fragment of sound, distorted over distance.