Downfall ds-1

by Jean Rabe

  "You're worthless," Rikali hissed at the kobold. She shuddered when she glanced down at a dozen skulls, all with protruding daggers. A few were small, kender, or perhaps human children. She hoped not children. Although she didn't care for dwarves, she was certain they wouldn't have done this. Not to children. But who would have been capable? "By my breath, that one had to have been a tiny baby." She paused to stare at a particularly tiny skull. "Who could've done such a thing, and why? Who…" She stopped herself. No use asking Dhamon, she decided, he didn't seem in the least bit interested.

  Dhamon had stepped away from her, finally extricating his hand, and was climbing the narrow black steps. He glanced only perfunctorily at the pedestals. Standing at the edge of the dais, the green light haloed about him, casting a sickly hue across his skin and making his wet hair look like strands of seaweed. He moved near the center of the dais and stared at the floor. "Odd."

  "What is it?" Rikali asked. She edged ahead of Rig, who was also moving toward the dais. "What? Is it valuable?"

  Dhamon knelt and stretched out with his hand. Rikali scampered up the steps, settling herself next to Dhamon. Fetch was curious, too. The kobold, still wringing out his robe, arrived close on her heels.

  "All right, what is it?" Rig found himself asking. "I don't suppose you've found a way out."

  "No," Dhamon replied, pushing himself to his feet. He was still looking down at the dais, the prickly sensation persisting on the back of his neck. "And that's what we need to be looking for, not staring at this all day."

  "It's beautiful," Rikali said. "I want to touch it, and…"

  "Well, don't touch it," Dhamon sternly reproved her. "We don't know what it is or what it does, if anything. And we don't need to know. You want to live to see the morning? Then we need to get out of here. And I shouldn't've let myself get distracted."

  "Beautiful," she repeated, reaching out.

  "Don't touch it!" This from the kobold, who was pulling the half-elf's arm back. "Riki, stay away from it."

  Rikali started to argue, but there was something about the kobold's uncharacteristically serious expression that checked her. What is it? she asked him with a cock of her head.

  "It's magic," he answered. "And not necessarily the good kind." The kobold looked over his shoulder at Dhamon, then glanced down at Rig, who was standing at the bottom of the steps. "Supposed to be looked at, not touched. Not ever touched."

  Dhamon and the kobold stood staring at it, Rikali stayed on her knees. The only sound in the chamber now was the rushing of the underground river.

  "Fine," Dhamon said. "Let's leave it be and move on."

  Rig shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. "Aww, I guess I should take a look, first." He moved up the steps and slid between Dhamon and Rikali, extending a hand to help the half-elf up. "I'll be careful. Hmmmm. Interesting."

  At the center of the dais was a pool, almost oval in shape. But light, not water, swirled inside it. One moment it was a dark green color to accompany the glow from the ceiling, then it turned sapphire blue, the colors undulating as if they were alive and warring. Sparkling motes of a bright yellow-white appeared, looking like stars captured deep in the pool struggling to breathe. They were all but overwhelmed by the aggressive colors.

  "So what is it?" Rikali's curiosity had gotten the better of her. "I mean, it certainly looks like magic. You got a clue, Fetch? Or are you just tryin' to scare me? Bad magic, hah. You wouldn't know magic, good or bad, if it climbed out of a lamp and…"

  "Hush!" The kobold paced around the edge of the pool, until he was standing opposite her. He was watching the yellow lights as they flashed and flickered with a pattern he seemed to comprehend. "This is old," he said in a voice tinged with awe.

  "Pigs, I could have told you that, you worthless little rat."

  He scratched at a wart on his diminutive palm, narrowing his eyes in concentration. "Not so old as the dwarven stuff, though, I don't think. Or maybe it just wasn't built as well. This here's the only thing left standing."

  Rikali sighed. "Think anythin's at the bottom of the pool?" She was stretching out a finger, just to feel its wetness.

  "I said, don't touch it! Don't think it would be a good idea. Just listen to me for once. All right?" The kobold edged away from the pool and retreated down the steps, studied the pedestals and murmured to himself in his native tongue. "With knowledge comes death," he whispered in the common tongue. Then he was off babbling in kobold again.

  "I hate it when he does that," Rikali told Dhamon. "Wish you'd make him stop that gibberish. Although I can't tell if he's cursing you or reciting some kobold recipe for lizard steaks. It's like trying to listen in on…"

  "There's some writing on the pillars," Dhamon interrupted. He'd silently left the dais while she was talking and had moved to stand behind the kobold. "I can't make it out. Didn't see it at first." He leaned over Fetch to get a closer look.

  "I can't read," she whispered.

  "Well, I can read it," the kobold interjected. "Some of it, anyway. It's magical symbols, mostly."

  "And…" Rikali waited. "If it's nothin' much interestin' I'm all for headin' into the river again and tryin' to find a way out before it rises and there ain't any air pockets left. Ain't anythin' valuable here that I can see. Shoulda plucked them onyx eyes out of them wooden dwarves when I had the chance. Ain't never going to get them now."

  "We need to leave," Dhamon said. He was a few feet away, no longer haloed by the green light. His skin had dried, his hair and clothes were starting to dry, too. His black locks curled gently around the base of his neck. "We've wasted too much time."

  The kobold ignored him and climbed the steps again, circled the pool, sat opposite Rig and Rikali and started more of his magical humming. He paused and looked up at them. "I don't have to hum, you know," he informed them. "Just makes the magic easier fer me. I can concentrate better."

  "Magic?" Rig let a breath out between his teeth. "The kobold really knows magic? He's a sorcerer? A kobold sorcerer? I thought him lighting that pipe was just a trick."

  Fetch made a great show of pushing back the sleeves of his robe and twisting the gold ring in his nose. "I'm not familiar with the kind of magic the people who built this placed used," he said officiously. "See those globes? They represent Nuitari, one of the moons of magic that used to be in the night sky. ‘Course that was quite a while before I was born, back when magic was something most anybody could pick up-before you had to have some special spark inside of you. Wizards of the Black Robes and such, I think they called ‘em. Raistlin. He was one of ‘em."

  "Ray-za-lin." Rikali echoed. "Never heard of no Ray-za-lin." She was looking back and forth between the kobold and what she could see of the river. Had it risen a little in the past few minutes?

  Fetch shook his head sadly. "Don't have a whisper of Raistlin's mastery. Never will. But even though that kind of magic isn't around anymore, I figure I can do this. Or at least try. Be a shame not to try."

  "We need to leave." This came firmly from Dhamon. "I intend to get out of here. With the three of you, or alone," he added. "I'm not waiting much longer." Softer, "I can't afford to."

  But they weren't listening to him, as Fetch's humming and the mysterious pool continued to hold their attention.

  "It represents an eye," the kobold stopped to explain. "Even shaped like one. See? Works like one, too, in principle. At least if I understand what I deciphered on that… that…"

  "Pedestal," Rig supplied.

  "Yeah, the pedestal over there. You look through the eye and see things. Whatever it is you want to see. Now be quiet, the both of you, an' let me do some scrying." Then he was off humming again, a fast, off-key melody intercut with bits of gargling. His fingers were waggling in the air, for effect, not out of necessity, but he wanted to put on a good show for Rig and Rikali. He cursed himself for revealing that he didn't need to hum. Have to remember not to talk about the machinations of spells, he scolded himself. Then he placed
his hands just above the water, fingers splayed, thumbs touching.

  He felt the energy in the pool, the swirls of green sending faint waves of heat against his palms, almost relaxing him, making him. warm and comfortable and making it difficult for him to keep his eyes open. The blue swirls made his skin itch, though not as bad as the itch of the callus on his palm, and he concentrated on the latter to keep himself alert.

  Concentrating harder than he ever had before, trying to awe his small audience and master what he had decided was a buried treasure of Raistlin and the Black Robes, he focused on the motes of yellow light. Feeling them with his mind, he coaxed them to the surface, as the pedestal had instructed. The kobold wished he would have taken the time to translate both pedestals, but his fear of being trapped here if the river rose unexpectedly demanded haste. Besides, he knew Dhamon didn't have the patience for his magic. When he thought he saw one flash of light rising, he closed his eyes and pictured all of the yellow-white flashes, imagined them all surging above the dark colors and performing their twinkling magic just for him.

  Then the sensations against his palms faded to nothing, and the warmth that was threatening to lull him to sleep disappeared, making him feel oddly chilled. And just as he was about to give up on all of this and sink into disappointment, he heard Rikali gasp, and he opened his eyes. The surface of the pool had turned bright yellow, like the sun on a cloudless day. In the very center of it, however, was a conspicuous black spot-the size of one of the globes on the pedestals. He blinked, but the spot didn't change shape or size or go away.

  "That's it?" the half-elf finally said. "That's all it does? I thought we were gonna see somethin' excitin'. Like maybe a way out of here. You said we'd see somethin'. Worthless, Fetch."

  The kobold grinned, showing his yellowed teeth, and he made a motion with his hands, as though he were stirring the pool, careful not to actually touch it, however.

  "Well, if that's what you want to see," he tittered. "A way out for you. Indeed, you shall have it, Riki dear."

  The black spot in the center started to grow and widen, until it took up most of the surface area. Then it seemed to blink, as if it were a pupil in the middle of an eye that had just closed and opened again. It blinked once more, and an unmistakable image appeared in the center of it, hazy at first, but swiftly taking focus as they watched. It looked like a portrait of the foothills, and rising above those foothills a section of the Kalkhist Mountains. Pouring from the top was a waterfall, one that from the position of the sun and the topmost visible peak looked to be just south of Bloten. The water plunged into a basin in a niche in the hills that in turn fed a river leading into the Black's swamp. The tops of homes could be seen, evidence that a village had been flooded. The sky above was dark gray, and rain continued to fall steadily.

  "So you've made a pretty picture, Fetch. Interesting. Hardly what I was hopin' for, though. What's that got to do with gettin' out of here? And what's…"

  She hushed as a new sound filled the chamber. Water, not the underground river rushing by, but the pounding of the falls-an almost deafening sound. There was a fresh scent with it-air and grass and the hint of flowers.

  The eye blinked and the image focused again on the base of tine falls.

  "There's a cave behind it, the falls," Rikali added, now impressed. "And water's coming out of the cave, too." She looked closer and spotted wood and debris floating in the basin. The remains of another flooded village perhaps.

  "Is it this river?" Rig risked a question, gesturing behind him. "Is that what it's showing? Is this where our river comes out?"

  Fetch shrugged. "I asked it for the way out."

  "Well, ask it if that's our river," Rig insisted.

  The kobold stirred the air with his fingers, concentrated harder, and felt suddenly fatigued, as if the pool was absorbing his energy. But the eye finally blinked and the scene shifted again.

  "That's us!" Rikali exclaimed. They looked at a mirror image of the half-elf and the kobold peering into the pool, the river rushing by behind them. Another blink and flowing water filled the orb. Now they could see the underground river, which was lit green by the magic of the chamber. There was a fork, a branch of the river veering crookedly, and an equally wide one that went straight ahead. The magical eye swept along the wide, straight path, then angled down a narrow cutoff. The image blinked, and again the scene with the cave and the waterfall appeared.

  "That must be the way out! Fetch, you're wonderful!" She stood and whirled toward Dhamon, pointing at the river. "We take that river until we find a narrow branch to the west. And that will get us out of here."

  The mariner kept looking at the pool. "Ask it something else."

  The kobold cocked his head. "What?"

  "Ask it about Fiona. See if she's all right."

  Fetch scowled, but was quick to oblige when the mariner shouted, "Just do it!"

  The eye blinked and Fiona came into focus. She was standing on a rocky slope, face tilted up and catching the rain. It was pouring all around her, the sky a dark gray. At her side was Maldred, and Rig growled deep in his throat as he saw this. The big man was extending his hand to the Solamnic, helping her climb up the side of a mountain, was brushing her injured cheek with his free hand. She didn't recoil from Maldred's touch. Indeed, she moved toward him as he lowered his face to hers.

  The eye blinked and was black again.

  "Well, enough of that," Fetch said awkwardly. "Mai and the Knight made it out all right. They're somewhere at the base of the Kalkhists, probably headed back to Bloten. And it looks like it's headed toward morning outside. No wonder I'm so tired. I could sleep for a year."

  Dhamon padded slowly toward the river.

  "Another question," the mariner's tone was vehement and demanding.

  "What?" the kobold seemed exasperated. "We know the way out, just gotta feel for it in the dark, so let's go… unless you want to ask if there's some great treasure nearby." This idea instantly appealed to Fetch, and he started stirring the image, a big smile stretched across his face. "Something magical, maybe a few enchanted trinkets, coins and gems and…"

  "Treasure," Rikali whispered.

  "No," Rig barked. "Shrentak. Ask it about Shrentak. The Solamnic Knights who are being held there. Probably in the dungeons, if it has such a place. It must have such a place. Do it, you little rat! Ask it about Fiona's brother."

  "Aw…" Fetch wriggled his nose in disgust.

  "His name's Aven."

  Fetch shook his head. But once again he twirled his fingers. "Maybe there's treasure in Shrentak," he whispered. His lungs ached a little, as if he'd just raced a great distance. Indeed, he was tired from the ordeal of the fire and running down the steps, all the hours without sleep, plunging into the river and swimming and finally arriving here. His joints ached terribly, come to think of it, his hips especially, and now his fingers. But, there was this great magical artifact at his command…

  "Aha!" The mariner clapped his hands. The image inside the eye displayed a dark interior, catacombs filled with mud and muck and cramped cells. A thick gray-green ooze dripped from the walls and along the ceiling, and lizards scurried down the hallway. The image shifted to a corridor lined with…

  "Cells!" the mariner practically shouted. "I want to see inside the cells!"

  Fetch concentrated again-harder. He dipped his index finger below the surface for the briefest of moments, then tugged it back and twirled the air again.

  "Amazin'," Rikali gasped. "Fetch, I had no idea you could…"

  "There, that's it!" the mariner cried, cutting off the rest of the half-elf's words. One instant he was gazing into the pool, and the next, the image of the dank corridor sprang up around them, transparent and ghostlike. But at the same time it was frighteningly real. It was as though they had been transported into the middle of the rough-hewn hallway, which stretched in both directions as far as they could see. Cell doors lined the hall, doors made of thick, rotting wood laced with heavy rusting b
ars. They clearly heard slime dripping from the ceiling, saw the ethereal green globs drop to the floor and vanish. There was a stench of urine, so strong it made their eyes water, and the worse smell of death.

  Rig took a tentative step forward, then another until he found himself at the entrance of a cell. He peered through the bars, found his face passed right through, a sensation similar to walking through a cobweb. Beyond were a dozen men, all human and so emaciated they looked like skeletons with skin hanging on them. They breathed shal-lowly, huddled together and squatting in their own waste. Their sunken eyes took him in emotionlessly. One struggled to reach out a hand. Rig fought the bile rising in his throat, then he forced himself to leave and look at the next cell.

  Rikali had silently padded up behind him. "Solam-nics!" she gasped. Their plate mail was gone, but a few had tabards identifying themselves as members of the Order of the Rose. There was no trace of Knightly pride in their suffering frames, and no hint of defiance on their gaunt faces. They were thoroughly broken. Some had no eyes, just vacant scarred sockets, a few were missing limbs. Nearly all of them were terribly maimed, testaments to burns and torture.

  The mariner's body shook with pity and revulsion, and his fists clenched in anger. "Horrible," Rikali whispered. Then she edged away from Rig and closed her eyes.

  Rig continued to scan the faces, swallowing hard when he thought he recognized one. "Aven," he stated. Scraps of what was once a Solamnic tabard clung to the man's scrawny frame. His skin was as gray as the stone walls and was laced with boils and thick recent scars. The red hair was long and matted and dotted with the husks of insects, and his heart-shaped face, once full and flawless, was gaunt with hunger. He could have passed for Fiona's twin at one time. Now he was barely identifiable. "Aven," Rig stated louder.

  With considerable effort, the man lifted his head and appeared to meet Rig's stare. There was a flicker of recognition in the sad eyes. "Fiona's brother, Aven," the mariner told Rikali. "Fiona and me, we set our wedding on her birthday so Aven would be there. He was supposed to have leave from the Order then."