The faerie heard the beholder growling off in the caves and fetched her battle wand.
“Come on, kid. Adventure calls.”
Followed by the absurdly happy soldier, Escalla fluttered off into the shadows. Private Henry checked his crossbow, set his helmet to a jaunty angle, then marched off in pursuit of the smartest, prettiest, most competent girl he had ever clapped his eyes upon.
* * *
A beholder’s life was apparently a merry one. Having slaughtered a horde of ghouls, the beholder now amused itself with the corpses of the deceased. It had gnawed the faces off one or two and dragged out the intestines of others to create a vile, nose-blistering stench. All about the pit that the ghouls had uncovered, body parts lay scattered. Bleeding a noisome green ooze from a few cuts and severed eyestalks, the beholder hovered above its kills, chewing on a severed hand and scowling in thought.
Escalla’s plans were detailed, concise, and foolproof. In accordance with these directives, something went “chink” against the beholder’s armored shell, rebounded, and fell rattling to the floor. Utterly unharmed, the beholder swiveled around to look at the offending object. Lying on the floor, the drugged crossbow bolt lay pointing back down the corridor like an accusing finger.
Still frozen with his empty crossbow pointed at the beholder, Private Henry crouched behind a pile of rubble. The boy squeaked, the beholder roared, and a beam lashed out to blast a huge chunk from the rocks overhead. Henry ducked and fled like a hare. The boy’s wail of panic brought the beholder shooting out of its cave like a cork popping from a bottle.
Spells shot from the beholder’s upper eyestalks, blasting rock as Henry wove madly through the caves. With a shuddering roar, the beholder flew down the tunnels. As the monster flashed past, Escalla swung out of hiding. The girl gave a nasty little grin and fired her very best charm monster spell right into the beholder’s unprotected back.
The magic stabbed straight toward the beholder’s shell—a shell no longer guarded by its anti-magic front eye. As the spell struck home, Escalla hopped up and down and did a little dance of glee.
“Gotcha!”
The beholder screeched to a stop, whipped around, and gave a violent roar. Escalla stared for one brief instant, then screamed like a peeled weasel and flew madly up through the stalagmites. Death and disintegration beams blasted rock right at her heels. Utterly unaffected by her spell, the beholder barreled after her like a runaway wagon, smashing into stalagmites and shattering them like glass.
Tunnels and caverns opened up at every side. Escalla blurred inside a cave and rolled madly aside as a death beam stabbed half an inch below her nose. She saw a side opening and made toward it to escape, only to have a disintegration beam from the monster blast into the arch and bring the whole cave mouth thundering down in an avalanche. Trapped, Escalla squealed and wrenched aside. An instant later the beholder lunged into the cave after her, its central eye open and all magic instantly dispelled.
Even without its magic eyes, the beholder was well adapted for chewing faeries. With its jaws gaping, it charged straight at Escalla. The girl planted her back onto the wall, coiled her legs beneath her and launched herself away an instant before the beholder smashed against the wall. Finding long tufts of ragged hair hanging beneath the beholder’s belly, Escalla latched onto the hair and hung dangling like a puppet. Above her, the beholder roared and bashed itself against the walls, angrily trying to shake the little faerie free. It tried to blast her with its eyestalks, but was unable to see beneath its own fat shell. Escalla wailed and held on for dear life as the beholder began to buck wildly in an attempt to shake her loose.
A crossbow bolt flashed past a hair’s breadth beneath Escalla’s bottom. Hanging on to the beholder, the girl managed to look back and see Private Henry and his trusty crossbow.
“Are you crazy?”
“Sorry!”
Flung madly left and right, Escalla screeched and held on tight. The beholder went on a wild ride to dislodge the hanging faerie. Careering madly down the tunnels, it bashed against the walls, knocking the breath from Escalla and making her see stars. Racing through caves, it smashed its belly against the ground. Escalla flapped her wings in panic, towed along just inches behind the bottom of the monstrous sphere.
The beholder dragged her painfully across rubble, through a stream, and then ploughed her through a fresh dung pile. As Escalla emerged, choked and spluttering, the beholder roared and burst through a pile of old dry bones.
Jerked and flung madly about beneath the monster, Escalla managed to wipe dung from her face and give a snarl of rage.
“You goggle eyed git! You’ll pay for that!”
The beholder had traveled full circuit through the caves. It blundered into the cavern filled with dismembered ghouls and then tried to bounce like a ball and squish Escalla into the filthy guts of its last prey. Escalla flung herself left and right, swinging on the beholder’s dangling hairs, felt herself land in something best left unidentified, then flailed out with one hand and caught hold of a prize.
A crossbow bolt!
Frustrated at its inability to dislodge the troublesome faerie, the beholder saw a long line of stalagmites down a side tunnel and roared with glee as it raced toward the stone spikes. Escalla took one sharp glance at the onrushing doom, hefted the drugged arrow, lined it up on a bleeding claw gouge in the beholder’s carapace and rammed the weapon home.
“Take this!”
Above her, the beholder gave a scream of rage then quite suddenly took on an odd expression. With eyes wide in shock, it went plunging down to the ground. Escalla flew tumbling free an instant before the creature hit the ground. The beholder bounced onward like a titanic ball straight down the passageway.
Ten stalagmites stood in its way. Nine fell immediately with the blast of impact. The tenth cracked at its base and wobbled uncertainly in a spin. As Escalla climbed to her feet, the final stalagmite toppled and fell, landing with a crash upon the motionless beholder.
“Yes!”
Escalla leaped into the air and gave a highly immodest scream of victory. With one fist raised, she suddenly paused, sniffed, and made a little face of dismay.
“Ewww!” Blood, bat dung, mildew, and beholder fluids had wreaked havoc with her grooming. “We have to get that hell hound back and get me a bath!”
Running dazedly in pursuit, Private Henry blundered toward Escalla. Weighed down by chainmail and carrying his crossbow, the boy screeched to a halt and folded over with a stitch, too crippled by exhaustion to make any meaningful comment. He waved a hand at the beholder, wheezing something as he tried to catch his breath. Bruised, battered, but triumphant, Escalla slapped her hands, gave the boy a thumbs up and turned to view her prize.
“Knocked ’im out!”
The beholder had been paralyzed by drugs provided courtesy of the drow. The monster lay with its eyestalks stiff and staring into blank space. Escalla gave it a kick in what should have been its side, closed its upper eye stalks for it, then pranced and posed up and down in front of the creature’s one main eye. She slapped her backside in its torn silks for the monster’s delectation.
“Ha! Here it is, faerie butt, primo, perfect, untouched prime!” Escalla put her bottom almost between the monster’s jaws. “Oh all right, you can eat me! Ooops! Paralyzed! What a shame!” The girl turned a pirouette and ended up leaning casually on the huge carnivorous sphere. “I’m so hot! I may have to start donating my old clothes to temple shrines!”
Peering over the top of the monster, Private Henry seemed a tad confused.
“My lady?”
“Quiet, kid! I’m having a moment, here!”
Collapsing to sit on the stump of a shattered stalagmite, Henry could only sit in a daze and stare at the monster.
“So this was part of the plan?”
“Part one of a beautiful plan!” Escalla lounged atop the angry beholder. “Flawless execution, kid! It’s a joy to behold!”
“Are we rea
dy to go yet?”
“Almost!” Escalla happily patted the paralyzed beholder. “I guess we’ve got at least three hours before ol’ friendly here begins to wake up, so let’s get this show on the road!” She patted the beholder’s armored hide. “Grand Rescue Plan phase one: First, catch your beholder!”
* * *
Phase two was perhaps a tad less structured than phase one. Still, it held a certain amount of promise. Escalla unshipped one of her magic lights and left Private Henry watching nervously from afar as she drifted carefully back into the cavern of dead ghouls.
The ghouls had been very concerned with tossing objects down into the pit at the center of the cave. Escalla shined her light down into the pit and saw a rough stone chimney shaft that dwindled hundreds of feet down into the darkness below. The girl took a brief look about the cave making sure that the ghouls were definitely dead, then jumped down the shaft.
The shaft was only two feet wide—too small for any normal humanoid to scale. With her frost wand on guard, Escalla whirred carefully down one hundred feet, then two, then three. Big orange fungi jutting from the walls showed wounds where something falling from above had ploughed through the fleshy plants. Finally the faerie saw her light shining on an open space below. She stopped herself at the threshold, peering into a surprisingly attractive little cave.
Huge toadstools fully ten feet tall stood beneath the shaft. Beneath them, bones had been spread nicely about the place, thoroughly picked clean. Bumbling around among the bones was a strange creature the size of a large dog—a creature with long feelers and a tail tipped with a paddlelike-blade.
Escalla felt quite pleased.
“Oooo! Rust monster!”
The monster in question was standing upon its hind legs and trying to reach something caught atop one of the toadstools. Escalla looked carefully below, saw a sheathed sword wrapped in rags lying half impaled into a toadstool cap, and then fluttered into the cave.
The rust monster was friendly enough. Swooping down, Escalla gave the rust monster a pat on its head. It craned upward and petted her with its feelers, seeking a taste of metal. Disappointed, the rust monster abandoned her and went back to clumsily trying to reach the toadstool top.
Escalla beat him to it. She flew up and landed beside the sword, walking around and around it with a proprietal glee. It was long and heavy—a sword of the kind the Justicar seemed to like. The sheath had been painted bright colors, and the sword had been wrapped in the torn and bloodied banner of a nobleman. Escalla tossed the rags aside, took a good look at her prize, and rubbed her hands together in satisfaction.
Long rust monster feelers came probing over the edge of the toadstool, and Escalla irritably kicked them away.
“Scram! Go on!”
Time was wasting. Escalla decided to free the sword and get it back upstairs where it could be put to use, but in tugging the weapon free from the toadstool, she almost gave herself a hernia. With a blade almost twice as long as she was tall, the sword was heavy enough to crush Escalla flat.
“This thing weighs a ton!” The girl kicked petulantly at the sword and hurt her foot. “Trust me to find a fat sword!”
I should hardly think anyone smeared in hat dung was in a position to he insulting!
The voice had the prim, lofty tone of a school Ma’am. Escalla whipped about, scratching her bottom with one hand while pointing her wand with the other.
“All right, who’s the loud mouth with the death wish?”
It is I. Words seemed to form in Escalla’s mind—a phenomenon familiar to anyone who normally hung out with sentient hell hound skins. And kindly refrain from scratching yourself like that in public!
The sword was shivering slightly in Escalla’s grasp, irritating her skin and making a slight humming noise. The faerie sighed and turned a world-wise eye upon the blade.
“Oh goody. Talking cutlery with an etiquette fetish.”
It costs very little to keep up standards. The sword seemed to sniff in prim disdain. You seem a tad young to be wandering on your own. Does your father know you dress like that in public?
“Yeah! Dung stains and skin abrasions are all the rage this year!” Escalla sat down and glared at the sword. “So Spiky, what’s your story!”
With enormous dignity, the sword cleared its throat. Had it been a mortal, it would have placed spectacles upon its nose. I am the sword Benelux.
“Beni-what?” Escalla scratched between her antennae.
Benelux! It is an onomatopoeic word from the old Flannic tongue, derivative of—The sword suddenly made an irritated noise. It doesn’t matter! In any case, I am an enchanted blade, lost here through the worthless incompetence of my subordinates.
Escalla drolly rested her chin in her hand as she sat. “Meaning your owner you lost a fight and got pasted.”
If you must put it so crudely… yes.
Annoyed by the sword, Escalla slipped into sarcasm as her first, best defense against authority. “So who was your owner? Who pasted him, and what’s your claim to fame?”
I don’t reveal my powers to just anyone who asks. The sword gave a superior little snort. I am the weapon of champions! I am not for the use of any scruffy, winged little vagabond who happens to go past.
“Well, that’s all right.” Escalla gave a shrug and began hauling the weapon over to the edge of the toadstool. “We’re kinda encumbered right now, anyway. I don’t think we have much room in the party for a sword who failed at sword fighting.” As the rust monster pranced happily down below, Escalla dragged the sword closer to the toadstool’s brim. “Can’t just leave you to fret and die, though. Kindest to get it over quickly, I guess.”
No! The sword squealed in fright. I can be useful!
“Useful how?” Escalla propped the sword up and leaned on it. “Come on. Tell Escalla!”
I’m more than just enchanted. The sword went into an awful sulk. I cut things!
“Oh, real unusual power.”
I cut them really well! The sword had become peevish. I’m always sharp.
“A a real labor saver. What? There’s a whetstone built into your sheath? I met a gnome with one of those once.” Escalla peered into the sword sheath. “Hoopy!”
Sharper than that! A sneer crept into the sword’s voice. I was forged from pure metal from the positive energy plane.
“Do tell.” Escalla matched sarcasm for arrogance. “Meaning?”
Meaning that I have an adverse effect upon things of darkness and creatures that draw power from the negative energy planes.
“Ooo! Like ghouls?”
Yes.
“And ghosts and wights and mummies?”
Yes.
“And demonic spider queens and liches?”
Yes! Thoroughly annoyed, the sword had lost its temper. Negative energy influenced creatures.
“Hoopy!”
The sword made a sneer. I had no idea education standards had dropped this low.
Giving the sword a wry look, Escalla pulled her nose. “Hey, Spiky! Do you get out much—you know, hang out with other swords and stuff? Or don’t they like you either?”
I can afford to be choosy. The sword gathered its dignity. My last owner was a perfect gentleman. I must say, you are hardly an adequate substitute.
“Lady, do I look like I’m going to be waving you around my head and smiting the smitable?” Kicking away a probing rust monster antennae, the faerie struggled to drag the huge sword to a safer place. “I’ve got you in mind for a friend of mine.”
Full of suspicion, the sword hummed and hawed. What sort of friend?
“Oh, a warrior for good, upholds justice rather than the law, death on wheels, cleaves things apart, that sort of thing.”
Is he skilled?
“I hope to kiss a duck the guy’s skilled!” Escalla dropped the sword. “You’ll like him! Remember when you were a little kid at school?”
I am a magic sword. I was never a child at school.
Escalla ground he
r teeth. “Then remember when you were a little baby poniard in the cutlery barrel?”
No.
“Hey! Just gimme the benefit of some creative self-projection here!” Escalla slapped the sword’s sheath in annoyance. “Remember when you were young and other critters came to bully you? Remember how you wished some big kid would just stroll in out of the blue, scare the bad guys off, and look after you?”
The sword’s voice sniffed in suspicion. You’re saying your friend is similar to that big child?
“Yes!” Grabbing the sword sheath, Escalla dragged it underneath the shaft. “If that kid was about six foot six, shaven headed, could tear mountain lions in half with his bare hands, and hung out with sentient hell hound hides.”
The sword seemed confused. That doesn’t seem a close match to your comparison.
“So few metaphors stand up to close examination.” The girl waved her hands in annoyance. “Are you coming to help my friend fight for justice, or are you staying for lunch with mister rust monster over there?”
Supremely calm, the sword gave a huff. I believe I shall ascend and render assistance to your friend.
“Great. Could you quit grousing and try giving me a hand here?”
Prim and proper, the sword gave a snort. What is it now? What do you need?
“Well, if you don’t want to end up as rust monster food…” Escalla swatted at a probing rust monster antennae yet again. “I suggest you help me make a plan to get you up this shaft!”
You could use the rope over there in one corner of the cave. The sword sighed. Just give it to your friend and have him pull me up.
“What rope?”
The one over by the backpack full of scrolls.
With an unkind glare at the sword, Escalla wandered over to the edge of the toadstool. Amongst a collection of dismembered skeletal remains lay a backpack, a rope, and a broken lantern with all the metal bits missing.
“Stay here!”
Escalla whirred over to the rope and managed to retrieve it. With much picking, she peeled away enough hemp stands to make a three-hundred-foot long strip of hairy string. She tied one end about the sword, scared the rust monster away with an illusion spell, then zipped up the shaft to find Private Henry anxiously waiting for her return.
Descent into the Depths of the Earth Page 19