by C. M. Carney
“There is, through the wyrmynn camp and then through the under lake where Gryph had so much fun and then through the Warrens and then through the Grove. At least Gryph killed the arboleth for us.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad,” Wick said. “The Grove sounds lovely.”
“It’s the home of a dark dryad and her army of wolf spiders.”
“Oh, well maybe the death shaft is all right then,” Wick said and once again stared down into the unknown depths. Gryph knew Wick was covering his fear with sarcasm and knew that fear wasn’t only about the chasm below them, or the wyrmynn or even a troop of wolf spiders, but a deep fear for his missing love. Gryph grabbed his shoulder and squeezed.
“We’ll find her,” Gryph said.
“How can you be sure?” Wick said, his mask falling away and his eyes pleading.
“Because the Barrow King doesn’t want Tifala,” Gryph said. “He wants me.”
Gryph cast Animate Rope and ordered his rope to secure itself to the piton. Ovrym nodded as Gryph spun around and dropped. For a sickening moment gravity tugged him down into the unknown, but then the rope held, and Gryph’s feet came to the wall.
“Just like old times,” Gryph said.
“You and I have very different old times, buddy,” Wick said. Gryph gave one last glance up and thought he saw a look in Wick’s eyes. A look that said, ‘I’ll give you to him, if it saves her life.’
Gryph reached the next piton and secured his rope to it before moving on. Ovyrm picked his spots well, suggesting he had some caving experience. As Gryph descended, ancient fears built inside him. The deep dark shaft was a scary place on Earth, in the Realms it was downright terrifying.
“Is there anything in here we should be afraid of?” Gryph said in a whisper when the group had gathered on a large outcropping to rest.
“A dose of healthy fear helps one survive.”
“Yeah, that is the worst way you could have answered that question,” Wick said in a low voice, his eyes moving to and fro.
“Just stick to the path and we should be fine. But it is best if I lead.”
“Should be?” Wick said. “I’m pretty sure I hate you.”
Ovyrm said nothing as Gryph helped him over the edge, but Gryph could see a buildup of apprehension as the man eased himself down. Despite the thundering of his heartbeat they traversed three more rope lengths before the terrain changed.
This latest stop was on a small rock bridge that traversed from one side to the other as if it was some kind of support beam. As Gryph’s feet hit the bridge, Ovyrm brought a finger to his lips, requesting silence. Gryph’s eyes scanned the area, but the darkness was too great and even his night vision couldn't make out any details.
Gryph helped Wick down and motioned for his silence as well. The gnome didn’t exactly have a track record for being quiet. Wick nodded and likewise cast an apprehensive look. Ovyrm hung over the side of the bridge and pointed his hand straight down. Silent chanting resulted in a pulse of purple energy firing from his hand. It travelled about a hundred yards, where it hung in the air, illuminating the area.
Gryph noticed how much slimmer the shaft became and a dread feeling of claustrophobia built up inside him. Then he saw that the walls were moving.
Gryph snapped his gaze up to Ovyrm, whose grim look did not ease Gryph’s fears. Wick clapped a hand over his own mouth to prevent his natural outburst. A moment later, he pulled his hand away and mouthed “What the hell” to the other men.
Ovyrm eased himself down and clipped his rope to the piton sunk in the underside of the bridge. Then as gently as a mother caressing a babe’s brow, the tall warrior eased his way down. Wick went next with Gryph bringing up the rear.
About a dozen yards down, a rough horizontal line bisected the entire shaft. Gryph realized that it was a vein of silver. It shone a dull purple in the light of Ovyrm’s spell and whatever horror clung to the walls seemed incapable of passing the silver barrier.
Gryph pushed back a feeling of panic as he lowered himself past this barrier and into the maw of the pulsating shaft. A sickening sensation dug into his gut.
Ahead of him both Ovrym and Wick had stopped. About two yards below Ovyrm’s dangling feet another stone causeway bisected the shaft, but this time instead of naked stone, this bridge swarmed with roiling motion.
Gryph found his eyes drawn to the inky movement. Gryph had no real-world equivalent for what he was seeing unless crude oil somehow learned how to pulse with some wretched mockery of life.
Ovyrm eased his satchel open and removed a flask of silver laden liquid. He thumbed the top open and poured the contents in an even swath along the bridge. When the silver solution touched the ooze, it reacted as flesh to fire and retracted as it burned. Tendrils rushed away from the burning liquid and the smell that reached Gryph’s nose forced him to hold back a retch.
Gryph Analyzed the retreating blob.
Behemoth Black Ooze: Level 66: H:2,200/S:4,044/M:0/SP:0
Black Oozes are sentient aberrations born from the misuse of soul magic. They start off small, but over time they can grow to be incredibly large and deadly. They are intelligent, but incredibly alien and have no sympathy for any other beings in the Realms.
Strengths: Unknown. Immunities: Unknown. Weakness: Unknown.
Gryph’s mind reeled in horror. This thing was one massive organism, and it completely surrounded them. Its total health dwarfed even the arboleth. Below him, Gryph could hear Wick’s breathing become erratic as panic invaded the gnome’s mind. Ovyrm’s eyes snapped up at Wick, which only caused the gnome to breathe heavier.
The ooze seemed to sense the noise and stretched out tendrils from the surrounding walls. First one then another, then dozens, then hundreds. Above and below them tentacles searched. Wick was about to lose it. Gryph quickly cast Mind Shield on Wick, hoping that it would ease his fear.
After a moment, Wick got his breathing under control, but the tendrils of ooze continued to search, and they were getting closer. Ovyrm reached into his bag again, but this time he threw the vial against the wall a dozen feet below the bridge. It exploded and cast a silvery wave of liquid in all directions. The ooze spasmed in pain again and pulled back from the spot of the attack. Better yet, nearly all the tentacles grasping towards the party retracted and reemerged around the point of the attack.
Ovyrm dropped silently to the cleared bridge and motioned for the others to do the same. Soon all three crouched on the bridge. Ovyrm pointed down and the ball of violet light barely illuminated another bridge about thirty feet below. Ovyrm tied another length of rope around the bridge and motioned for Gryph to take point on the next leg.
Gryph eased himself over and climbed down. A few feet above the next landing, Gryph paused and tossed his own silver grenade onto the pulsating mass of ooze. Once again, the ooze instantly retreated allowing Gryph to land softly.
He looked up to see Wick easing himself over the edge and down the rope. Wick was barely halfway down when Gryph saw the ooze advancing once more. Ovyrm was running out of space. He shot a quick glance down at Gryph, who nodded in understanding.
Hurry, the look said.
Gryph tossed a frantic look at Wick and motioned for him to hurry. The gnome nodded and increased his pace, seeming to control his fear. Above him Ovrym eased himself over the edge and moved down the rope by alternating tight and loose grips.
Wick dropped into Gryph’s waiting arms, jumped down and pulled two of the silver grenades from his pack, eyes trained in all directions. The tendrils came close a few times, but Wick ducked under them, keeping his cool.
Gryph looked back up to see Ovyrm about halfway down. Despite the speed of his descent, Gryph could see that the ooze had reached the rope and was eating through it. He will not make it. Gryph realized. He pulled his rope from his side and cast Animate Rope. The length of spider silk twined itself around his waist, and then around the bridge he was standing on.
Ovrym slid down the rope again, bu
t this time when he gripped the rope to slow his descent, the force on the acid damaged rope proved too much and it snapped. To his credit, Ovyrm did not scream as he fell. Gryph moved to catch him, but Ovrym hit the bridge mere inches from his grasp.
Ovyrm’s head smashed against the stone with a wet thud. For a moment it seemed as if he’d be able to hold onto the stone trellis, but the impact caused him to lose consciousness. His grip went slack, and he fell over the edge.
Without hesitation Gryph leapt off the edge. He dove at the tumbling man, arm outstretched. Just as Ovyrm was about to pass the limit of the rope’s length Gryph grasped him by the ankle.
Gryph held on with all his might and was happy he’d tossed a few points into Strength the last time he leveled. He felt his shoulder nearly dislocate and Ovyrm’s ankle snap as the rope arrested their downward spiral.
Ovyrm’s eyes snapped open as the pain awoke him. He nearly gasped but refrained. They swung in a loose parabola back and forth, coming closer and closer to the spasming sides of the shaft with each motion, before their spin calmed and eased. A small grunt of pain pushed through Ovyrm’s lips and tendrils reached out and towards him.
One entwined itself around Ovyrm’s waist, and Gryph could hear the dull sizzle as the acid ate through the warrior monk armor. Then another reached towards Ovrym’s face. It slid across the man’s exposed skin and ate at his flesh. Tears streamed down the xydai’s face and blood oozed from the corners of his mouth where he had bit his tongue to hold back from screaming.
But soon the pain was too much and Ovyrm howled. The ooze reacted with hunger and tendrils whipped out from the walls. They twined around both men, and Gryph felt himself burn. He too screamed. His health plummeted.
Debuff Added: Acid damage. 20 points/second.
Gryph was being eaten alive and knew he had mere seconds. Then there was a pop and another and another and plumes of silver laden water covered him. The ooze instantly retreated, and the solution counteracted the acid attack, easing Gryph’s pain.
He looked up to see Wick tossing a few more of the silver concoctions clearing most of the bridge. He then pulled his silver dagger and swiped at a tendril that came close. It cleaved through the gloppy ooze with a sizzle and a hiss. Three more tentacles met the same fate before the assault stopped.
“We need to get back up to that bridge,” Ovyrm yelled through gritted teeth. “There’s a tunnel we can use to escape this hellhole.”
Gryph nodded and commanded his rope to pull them to safety. Wick held guard as Gryph pushed Ovrym up onto the bridge. Both men downed a health potion. Ovrym pulled a few silver potions from his pack and advanced on the ooze-covered wall. He held the potions high and stared in silence at the pulsating blob. His eyes closed as if he were attempting to communicate with the beast.
After a moment's pause, Ovyrm fell to one knee. The tendrils withdrew their attack and the ooze in front of Ovyrm sluiced open, revealing a tunnel. “We have come to an agreement.”
“You can’t be serious. You trust this giant blob of acid snot?” Wick said as he eyed the now smooth surface of the ooze.
“Its mind is very alien, but it understands pain as well as any other living creature. I promised it far more pain if it did not let us pass in peace.”
“Will it keep its side of the bargain?” Gryph asked, eyeing the long tunnel ahead.
“I believe it will but hold your silver solutions in your hands and be ready to run.”
Gryph reluctantly nodded and watched for a moment as Ovyrm entered the tunnel. He had a flash of being stuck in the digestive tract of a massive beast and felt himself panic slightly. He breathed a few deep breaths before stepping in as well.
“I hate this fucking place,” Gryph muttered.
The party moved slowly through the tunnel as it turned and weaved. As they walked, the ooze parted like the red sea as they approached and flowed back in as they walked past.
“The walls are moving. The ceiling is moving. The floor is moving.” Wick grumbled as he forced back another bought of claustrophobia. “Absolutely nothing about this is okay.”
“Quiet,” Ovrym said in a calm but deadly tone.
As they rounded another corner, it dawned on Gryph that without Ovyrm’s parlay there was no way they’d have been able to force their way through this length on tunnel. Had this been a part of the plan?
Ovyrm turned another corner, and Gryph heard the man say, “Almost through,” in a calm voice. Gryph breathed heavily and tried not to run as he rounded the bend and light from the end of the tunnel came into view.
Ovyrm passed through unscathed. He smiled at Gryph and nodded, pointing his attention to the ground at the tunnel’s exit. Gryph saw a perfect crescent of silver embedded in the floor. As he crossed over the barrier, he craned his neck. The thin silver band crested the entire entrance way like the line of a magic circle. As his foot hit solid ground on the other side he realized he’d been holding his breath. The exhalation was as big a relief as any he’d ever experienced.
Ovrym motioned Gryph to stand behind him. “Keep those solutions ready.”
As Wick turned the last corner a huge grin crossed his face, and he ran. The sudden motion caused the ooze to flutter and pulse. “Slow,” Ovrym warned, but Wick would have none of it. Panic had taken him.
Wick was near the end when his toe caught a ridge on the floor, and he went down. The vial in his left hand skittered across the floor before bouncing up and onto the wall where it burst. The ooze at the point of contact sizzled and disappeared, burned away under the power of the silver.
Wick struggled to get to his feet as the rest of the ooze pulsed in what may have been anger. Gryph could hear a deep rumble akin to the sound of water gurgling deep inside a network of pipes, but this was a hundred times louder.
Ovrym didn’t hesitate and lobbed several of the silver grenades into the tunnel. This opened a path for Wick who scrambled to his feet and ran again. This time tendrils erupted from the sides and the roof of the tunnel, tripping Wick.
Terror crossed the gnome’s face as he jerked to a stop and the noise from further down the tunnel grew to a cacophony. More tendrils lashed out, enveloping Wick. He screamed as the acid dissolved his skin.
Gryph drew his ice dagger and rushed back in the tunnel, hacking and slashing at tendrils that came his way. The daggers did not slice through the thick liquid the way the silver did, but the freeze damage seemed to stop them in their tracks for a few moments.
Unfortunately, he still felt the burning pain of dozens of tendrils latching onto his limbs and biting into his face. The cloying black ooze could just muster up more tentacles than he could cut. The world turned to black as the ooze sealed off the entrance, entombing them.
Gryph heard Wick’s low moans ahead and knew his friend was near death. If only he could get to him. Another tendril gripped him around the arm, and another around the neck. Deep, burning pain dug into Gryph. Death was coming for him.
37
Safe in the antechamber, Ovrym howled as the tunnel sealed with a plug of bulbous ooze. He tossed his last few vials of colloidal silver at the rancid beast, but only succeeded in burning the edges away.
His friends were trapped and they would soon be dead. Then a glow began to rise deep inside the tunnel and the ooze bubbled and boiled off like water sputtering off a newly forged sword. Rancid steam and bits off burning ooze erupted from the tunnel like over shaken champagne and Ovyrm dove aside.
*****
Inside the tunnel, the world went quiet as the ooze enveloped Gryph. He was in agony, but his outstretched arm found Wick. He found the gnome’s head and cradled it in his arms. Gryph then drew every ounce of mana he could from deep inside of him. When it had built up in his mind to bursting, Gryph fed it into his breastplate and ordered it to explode.
The burning stopped instantly as the healing light ravaged the black ooze, burning it away like the desert sun to spilt water. Gryph could hear a deep rumble and a splintering of
stone as the black ooze tried to force too much of itself into too small a space, desperate to get away from the scalding light. Gryph opened his eyes as the healing warmth of the light eased his pain.
He looked down on Wick who was inhaling deep ragged breaths. He was alive, but only just. His blue hair was shorn by the deadly acid and his skin was raw and blistered. Gryph upended a health potion into Wick’s mouth, again amazed at the healing powers of the Realms.
A moment later, he heard Ovyrm’s voice. “Keep a hold of him. I got you both.” Gryph gripped both arms around Wick’s child sized body and cradled him as Ovrym’s strong arms pulled them both into the light and airiness of the cavern beyond the tunnel.
Wick was alive, but unconscious. As Ovrym tended to him, Gryph downed another health potion. The warmth flowed through him, eased his pain and smoothed out the acid burns that covered much of his exposed flesh.
Ovrym carried Wick and led them to another tunnel at the opposite end of the small chamber. “The ooze shouldn’t be able to get past the vein of silver, but I’d rather not test that theory.”
“Seems rather convenient,” Gryph said. “A silver vein in exactly the right place to keep that monster at bay.”
“It is no accident friend. It is the will of the Barrow,” Ovyrm said as if that explained anything. They moved through the tunnel and came to what appeared to be a dead end. A slab of granite blocked the way forward. Ovyrm nodded to a small lever. Gryph eyed it a moment before turning it. A grinding of stone on stone rose as the slab of stone eased aside on a well-oiled track.
“What do you mean the will of the Barrow? You act as if this place is alive.”
“It is,” Ovyrm said as he slipped through the opening left in the wake of the grinding slab. He eased Wick down and checked on him again.