by T. H. Lain
Sighting down the bow, the elf whispered a single word. Magical light flashed out over the arrow, forming tiny, blue crystals along its shaft, tipped in a frosty white. He released the string.
The arrow jumped across the room like a thunderbolt. The head of the projectile impacted against the efreeti's chest, and an explosion of light surrounded the monster. Bits of ice and flakes of snow swirled in a magical pool of mixed purples and blues, and the room went suddenly cold.
Fingers of crystallized ice reached out and wrapped themselves around the efreeti, squeezing it like a giant hand. The fingers grew as they cascaded over the monster's shoulders and chest. The efreeti squirmed, and dropped its blade. As the icy cold enveloped its head, it let out a terrific howl that echoed and re-echoed until the room vibrated with the intensity of it.
Tasca lowered his bow. The efreeti was entirely encased in a glistening sarcophagus of blue-white ice. Its features were frozen and distorted-the face was still fearsome, but the eyes were frozen in a terrified stare.
The room was now almost completely dark, lit only by the barely flickering flame of Regdar's discarded torch. The three men looked at the frozen giant for a moment more before Whitman-the flames in his beard now extinguished-bolted over to Regdar, lying prone on the floor. Tasca crossed over as well, while still keeping one wary eye on the efreeti.
Regdar lay motionless on his back with a large wound across his chest. Even though his arms were flung straight out to his sides, he had managed to keep a grip on his greatsword.
Whitman knelt beside him.
Clemf rubbed his hand over his face. "Is he alive?"
Whitman put his hand to Regdar's throat. The dwarf cocked his head to the side, almost as if he were listening for something.
"Well?" asked Tasca.
Whitman remained quiet for a long moment.
Tasca kicked the dwarf in the back. "Hey, you little oaf, I asked you a question. Did that fire burn out your tongue along with your beard?"
"No," replied Whitman.
Clemf's sword clattered to the ground.
For the second time since they had opened the door to this room, Tasca felt his heart miss a beat. He lowered his head.
"No," repeated Whitman, "he's not 'well'. Give me a potion."
A thrill ran down Tasca's spine. Dropping everything, the elf flung his pack from his back and dug frantically inside for a healing potion. Flasks clanked together as he fished around. Pulling out a vial, the elf shoved it at the dwarf.
Whitman uncorked the bottle, cradled up Regdar's head from the floor, and poured the magical liquid down his throat. Halfway through the bottle, the human fighter coughed and gagged. His arms came to life, flailing around like a drowning sailor's. Whitman pulled back, keeping the rest of the potion in the bottle, as Regdar gasped for air.
Clemf picked up his sword, then walked over next to Whitman. He leaned down, putting his face right next to the dwarf's.
"I don't claim to understand the little games you and the elf play," he said. "Sometimes the two of you even amuse me with your constant bickering." He leaned in even closer, his nose touching Whitman's. "But if you ever again joke like that about someone dying, I'll cut your beard off-and maybe I'll leave it attached to your face."
Whitman swallowed hard but remained silent.
Tasca held his breath, not quite sure what to make of the exchange.
"So we understand each other?" asked Clemf.
Whitman raised his eyebrows and nodded.
"Good." Clemf leaned back, slapped the dwarf on the shoulder, and broke out laughing.
Tasca sighed and chuckled. "For a quiet guy, you're pretty funny."
Clemf smiled. "You think so?"
"Yeah," interjected Whitman, "a real riot."
Regdar woke up coughing.
Whitman stood over him with an uncorked vial in his hand. Clemf stood over the dwarf, saying something into his face.
Regdar gagged and gulped for air. The other three were laughing.
"Oh," said Regdar between gasps, "so when I die, it's funny?"
Whitman shook his head and handed Regdar the half-full flask. "I'm going to poke around." The dwarf left the room, headed back down the corridor.
Regdar downed the rest of the healing potion, then fished in his pack for another one.
Tasca picked up the torch and scanned the walls. "It's possible they teleported out of here so that we'd just come to a dead end. This is the last openly accessible room on this level."
Clemf agreed. "Even if we do find a hidden stairway or a secret door, this whole thing is probably some elaborate trap." He walked up and helped Regdar get back to his feet. "Besides, pardon me for being honest, but your woman didn't exactly seem thrilled to see you."
Regdar gritted his teeth and glared at Clemf. "That wasn't Naull." His expression softened. "It looked like Naull, but it must have been an illusion or a doppelganger or… or I don't know what, but it wasn't Naull."
"Okay. All right." Clemf held up his hands in front of him, showing his palms to Regdar in a sign of nonaggression. "Just calm down and think about this for a minute. If it wasn't Naull, then what are we doing here?"
"If you hadn't noticed," replied Regdar, feeling rather indignant, "the black-armored men we fought in the entry hall were outfitted and uniformed exactly like the ones who attacked the duke's keep."
"Really?" said Clemf. "I thought black was just a fashionable color for evil minions, whatever the season." The tattooed man shook his head. "Didn't we cover this before?"
Regdar ignored the jibe. "It's likely that blackguard, Lindroos, is the person behind the attack at the keep. She's certainly in charge of the soldiers here, and if they're all on the same side, then by staying here and defeating them we're defending New Koratia." He straightened himself up. "Besides, Naull or not, that blackguard is the last person I saw alive with her, so she knows what happened." He looked Clemf right in the eye. "I intend to find out the truth."
Tasca finished searching and returned to the other two. "Personally, Regdar, you know I'm always up for a fight" He shrugged. "But in this case, I've got to side with Clemf. If the blackguard is behind the attack on the duke's keep, and if there's more to her plan, then we should go back and alert the duke." He looked Regdar in the eye. "We can come back with the rest of the army"
Regdar put his hands to his temples, massaging the wrinkles in his forehead. "We can't go back," he said.
Clemf laughed. "Of course we can go back. It's just a few days walk…"
Regdar shook his head.
Tasca narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, 'we can't go back'?"
Regdar threw his hands in the air. "We can't go back, okay!" he shouted. He turned around and began pacing. "The duke, he…"
"The duke what?" Clemf took a step forward, his fists clenched.
Regdar looked at him and shrugged. "The duke…the duke told me I couldn't leave. He never gave his permission. In fact, he said that if I came out here looking for Naull, then I could never return to New Koratia." His eyes shifted from Clemf to Tasca and back again. "I resigned my commission."
Clemf took another step forward. "You told us we had the duke's blessing." He grabbed Regdar by the collar. "We came out here with you as a favor, risked our lives for you, and you lied to us!" The tattooed human shook the big fighter, nearly lifting him off his feet. Clemf's face turned red, and spittle flew from the corners of his lips. "The duke thinks we abandoned our posts, Regdar." He shook the big fighter again, spraying saliva in his face as he talked. "Our careers as soldiers are over." Regdar's armor clattered louder as Clemf became more violent. "We left our homes, and now we can't even go back-and for what? To chase a dead woman!" Clemf's lips curled up in a sneer, and he thrust Regdar backward, pushing him hard to the ground. "You lying-" Clemf fished around for the right words. "We trusted you with our lives." He took a menacing step forward.
Tasca stepped up and put his hand on the man's tattooed arm, but Clemf pulled away, continuing to mena
ce the fallen fighter.
Regdar just looked up from the ground, not bothering to even try to get up.
"You're right," said Regdar. "You're right."
Clemf pulled his fist back, winding up to punch Regdar in the face.
"As much as I'd like to do that myself," said Whitman, now leaning in the doorway, "there's not much we can do about it now. The only way we'll ever get back into New Koratia and clear our good names with the duke is if we stop this blackguard before she completes whatever wicked scheme she's concocted." He pushed off the door, hefting his hammer onto his shoulder. "If we bring Duke Ramas her head on a pike, he'll let us back in." The dwarf turned and headed back down the passage. "Come on," he said over his shoulder. "I found a stairway."
11
Regdar got up from the ground and dusted himself off. He headed out the door, avoiding Clemf's stare.
Whitman led the group to a spot on the unbroken northern wall of the passageway. He stopped, looked back at the other three men, then put his hand on the stone.
It passed right through.
"Illusion," said Regdar.
Whitman's hand, disguised by the illusionary wall up to the wrist, came back into view, and he waved Regdar forward.
The big fighter nodded and stepped into the imaginary stone. He felt his hand slip effortlessly through, then speckled black brick filled his vision, and for a split second, everything went dark. When his eyes emerged from the illusion, he had to squint to protect them from the bright light.
On the other side, a worked-stone arch marked the opening to a hallway. Torches lined the walls every few steps. Though it was bright, the illusion had blocked the light from illuminating the outer hallway. A stairway led up at the end of the hidden passage, rising so steeply that from where he stood, Regdar couldn't see the top.
The others came through the illusionary wall, and as a group the four men headed up the stairs with Regdar in the lead. Moving carefully onto the first step, the big fighter rose. Above him, the stairs climbed higher, the angle of the ceiling still preventing him from seeing where the stairway ended.
"I don't like this," he whispered, and he drew his sword.
The others followed suit.
For several tense moments, Regdar climbed, craning his neck as he did, trying as best he could to get a glimpse of what was up ahead. Silence enveloped the stairwell, broken only by the sounds of the flickering torches and the scuffling of four large men ascending the rough stone stairs.
Finally Regdar caught sight of the top. Five steps away, he could see darkness spread out over the last step. What lay beyond, he hadn't a clue. He stopped and turned back toward the others.
"I can see the top," he whispered into Whitman's ear. "Good place for an ambush."
Whitman nodded.
"We go up fast. They know we're here. No sense in trying to surprise them. Let's just minimize the danger to us." Regdar looked Whitman in the eyes then pointed to Tasca, standing one step below the dwarf.
Whitman nodded again and turned to the elf, repeating the message in his ear.
Tasca responded in kind, relaying the information to Clemf behind him.
When all three nodded to Regdar, he turned back toward the top step, took a deep breath, gripped his sword tightly in one hand, and charged.
His armor made a tremendous clank as he ascended two steps at a time. As his head breached the level of the landing, his right foot struck the second to last step with a loud click. Looking down the well-lit corridor, Regdar saw nothing but more hallway.
A moment later, stairs beneath the fighters' feet collapsed, turning into a steep, smooth chute, and Regdar tumbled backward.
Whitman cartwheeled to his right, kicking away from the falling fighter and spinning gracefully through the air. He reached out and caught hold of one of the sconces. Regdar fell underneath the acrobatic dwarf, clanging and crashing as he slid back toward the elf.
Tasca bent his knees and jumped forward, diving over the tumbling fighter toward the top of the chute. His midsection cleared Regdar, but his feet smacked into the back of the falling man's head. Landing on his stomach on the smooth chute, Tasca reached for the top lip where the end of the last stair used to be. His fingertips grazed the landing, but he slid backward with the tilt of the steep slope.
Regdar felt Tasca's feet hit the back of his head, and his arms flailed wide, reaching for anything that might stop his descent. He caught nothing, and he fell backward.
Clemf continued running forward, his feet slipping with every step. His body was in motion, but he made no progress, managing only to stay in place.
Regdar landed on his shoulders and struck his head against the ramp. His feet tumbled up and back over his twisted body. He somersaulted out of control backward down the chute. He saw the black stone ceiling, then his feet, then Clemf's comical, stationary run. When Regdar's feet collided with the tattooed human's chest, the two tangled up in a heap.
Limbs flailed. Armor crashed and clanked. All of the air in Regdar's lungs rushed out in a groaning whisper each time his back smacked against the floor. Clemf cursed in several languages.
At the bottom of the chute, both men tumbled out of the secret chamber, shooting through the illusion and smashing into the opposite wall. Regdar lay on the ground with his back bent against the stone. Clemf rested on his belly, unmoving.
A moment later the illusionary wall wavered, and Tasca flew out. He too landed facedown. He whimpered softly, then let himself collapse completely to the floor.
Regdar took stock of his body. His hands and forearms were scraped up pretty badly, and his head hurt. He felt around and discovered a number of bruises, but nothing seemed broken, and his injuries were minor. Lifting himself up on his haunches, he got to his feet.
By then, Clemf and Tasca were beginning to move. Both men moaned as they struggled to get up.
"Nice work, Regdar," spat Clemf as he checked himself out.
"And you would have known to avoid that step?" quipped Tasca. "We're lucky it was just a trap and not an ambush."
"Listen, Clemf," Regdar held his hands out, pleading, "I-"
"Save it," snapped the tattooed man, biting off his words as he stuck his upraised index finger in Regdar's face. "There's nothing you can say that's going to make me forgive you, so just keep out of my way, and for Pelor's sake, don't talk at me." Clemf spun around and limped back through the illusion.
"That went well," said Tasca.
Regdar wrinkled his forehead. "How come you're not mad at me?"
"I am," said the elf. "Eventually you'll have to sleep." Tasca smiled then turned and followed Clemf out of the hallway.
"Great." Regdar shook his head. He took a few moments to finish his personal examination before joining the others at the base of what used to be the stairway.
When he crossed through the illusion, Clemf was kneeling down and scratching at the stones on the floor. Tasca stood over him, looking up the chute.
"Whitman," Tasca whispered the dwarf's name. Receiving no answer, he repeated it a bit louder. He turned around and shrugged. "I don't think it's such a good idea to start yelling, but the last I saw, Whitman was hanging on to a torch sconce."
Regdar nodded toward the chute. "Do you think you could climb it?"
The elf nodded. "Yes, but not fast." Tasca looked down at Clemf. "Any luck?"
The tattooed fighter shook his head. "Just rocks. No lever." He stood up.
"Mechanism's probably at the top." Tasca scratched his chin. "Where the hell is Whitman."
A slapping sound echoed down the chute. All three men readied their weapons in a blink, and they stood, anxiously watching for whatever was coming down at them.
The noise grew louder, and Regdar squeezed the hilt of his sword. A shadow tumbled into view, skewed by the flickering torches. Regdar could hear the other men suck in their breath, then a long, brown, serpentine object unraveled at their feet.
Clemf lunged forward, smashing the thing with h
is sharp blade. His attack hit its mark, slicing right through. Sparks flew off the stone. A piece of the creature before them came off.
It wasn't a creature.
Tasca lowered his rapier. "It's a rope."
Clemf's cheeks flushed, and he sheathed his longsword. He opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and closed it again.
"Hurry up, will you," came Whitman's voice from down the chute. "We don't have all year."
Tasca sheathed his blade and grabbed the rope. He climbed up hand over fist, jamming the toe of his boot into the corner where the wall met the floor. In a few steps, he disappeared from view.
Regdar held his hand out and bowed his head. "After you."
Clemf glared up the twisting passage for a moment before grabbing hold of the rope and pulling himself up.
Regdar followed a few moments later, and shortly the entire group was reunited at the top. Whitman wound up his rope, shoved it in his pack, and slapped Regdar on the arm.
"This time, I'll lead." He smiled.
The dwarf led the party down another narrow, well-lit hallway. They took their time, examining the floor and the walls meticulously as they went. Though they were careful, they found nothing except a door at the end of the passage.
Unlike the dark hallway they explored below, this one didn't afford them the luxury of spreading out and taking cover while they opened the door.
"How does this go again?" asked Whitman, hefting his hammer to his shoulder. "Kick down the door, take the treasure, and kill the monster?"
"You got the door part right," said Tasca, nocking an arrow to his bowstring, "but you have to kill the monster first, then you take its treasure."
The dwarf smiled. "Maybe that's how you do it." Then he turned and kicked the door with all of his substantial might.
The wood and iron slammed away from the group, hinges protesting as it swung. Inside, a large, lighted room greeted them. At the back, a spiral, blackened-iron staircase wound up through a round hole in the ceiling. On the stairs stood a gnarled, hunched-over man wearing a green robe. His hands were curled around a long, wooden staff almost as gnarled as he. A narrow, purple bruise crossed his forehead. He was smiling, showing the few yellow and black teeth left in his head.