by Robert Bevan
Tanner got on his knees and tried to push the stone sideways. “It leads down to the abandoned part of the drow lair. It’s prone to flooding during the rainy season, and nobody really uses it anymorebecause they’ve burrowed more modern, more luxurious tunnels since then. I might be the only person who’s been in this part of the lair in the past two decades.” The rock wasn’t budging.
“Why do you go down there?” asked Chaz.
“Different reasons. Sometimes to escape a jealous husband, or a night patrolman. Sometimes just for a quiet place to read. Do you want to give me a hand?”
“Oh, sorry.” Chaz got down next to Tanner, placed both palms on the rock, and pushed.
“It’s been over a year since I’ve used this entrance,” Tanner grunted. Finally, the rock started to shift sideways. It whined and groaned on its rusty pivot, revealing a hole, and the top rung of a ladder leading down.
“What if they heard that?” asked Chaz.
“Who?”
“The drow.”
“I’m telling you, friend. The place is sealed off. No drow has been here in over a decade.” Tanner started down the ladder. “Pull the hatch shut after you.”
Against his better judgement, Chaz climbed into the hole, even darker than the forest. The hatch proved easier to close than it had been to open, but no less noisy.
Making his way down the ladder with only his sense of touch to guide him, it seemed to take forever. He had no idea how far down he was climbing. Finally, he felt solid ground.
“Feel better now?” asked Tanner.
“I guess.”
“Maybe it’s time you lit that torch.”
Chaz knelt on the earthen floor to rummage through his bag. Ironically, lighting a torch proved to be a complicated task while not being able to see, especially since it was something he hadn’t ever done before. He found a brick and a steel bar, which he clanked against each other a few times, but produced no sparks.
“What’s taking so long?” asked Tanner. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to start a fire.”
“Here. Let me try.”
Chaz held up the bar and brick until Tanner’s groping hands found them.
“What in the seven hells is this?” said Tanner.
“What?”
“It’s no wonder you can’t make a spark. This is a whetstone.”
“It felt dry enough to me.”
“I can’t even… Give me that bag.”
Chaz waited while Tanner dug through his every worldly possession.
“What’s in all these flasks?” asked Tanner.
“Oil.”
“What do you need so much godsdamned oil for? Are you planning to deep fry a dire boar?”
“My friends told me it’s, like, the most useful thing in the game.”
“Game? What are you – Never mind. Just stop talking. Here’s the flint. Hold up the torch.”
Chaz pawed around on the ground until his hand found the torch. “Here.”
Tanner felt the top. “Wrong end, stupid.”
“I’m sorry! I can’t fucking see!” Chaz turned the torch around. “There.”
Shink. Shink. Shink.
On the third attempt, the sparks ignited, and the top of the torch burst into flames. Tanner gave Chaz an annoyed glare, and they both stood up.
“Shit,” said Tanner.
A dozen black elves, dressed in identical black, studded leather armor, armed with identical black-bladed short swords, surrounded them on all sides. At the entrance of the chamber stood a male and female elf, both with the same jet black skin, both wearing identical blue silk robes, like they were an insecure teenage couple at the mall.
“I told you there would be others,” said the female.
“Your prediction was sound, Vivia. But how did you know they would enter here.”
“It was the only logical explanation. Too many of us have forgotten this place even exists. It’s a weakness in the security of our lair.” She started barking rapid-fire orders at the soldiers.
“You, tell the Extractor to gather his tools. I want to know exactly what the trespassers know, and what it is they want.”
“Right away, princess,” said the soldier who’d been given the task. He hurried past her through the exit.
“You, have the engineers seal off this hatch at once.”
“As you command.”
“The rest of you, escort the prisoners to –” Vivia collapsed into her boyfriend’s arms. She was breathing hard, and her eyes were wide with terror. “Mittens! No!”
Chaz looked to Tanner, who only shrugged. The other soldiers also appeared to have no idea what was going on.
The soldier nearest her cleared his throat. “Awaiting orders, princess.”
Vivia looked at him like she only half-remembered where she was. “Put these two bumbling fools in the cell with the other one. Then report to my father.” She grabbed her lover’s hand. “Come, Alessandro.” Together they hurried out the door.
One of the soldiers grabbed the torch out of Chaz’s hand and snuffed it out on the floor.
Chaz held his hands up in surrender as they took away the rest of his belongings and patted him and Tanner down for hidden weapons.
A soldier on either side of him grabbed each of his arms firmly, but not too roughly, and started marching him through the darkness. They walked for what must have been at least thirty minutes, turning left and right, always at perfect right angles. Even if he was able to see, Chaz knew he’d be hopelessly lost in this place.
The soldiers escorting Chaz let go of his arms andhalted, as did the rest of the surrounding footsteps, leaving him completely devoid of sensory input. He might as well have been all alone in that stupid Bag of Holding again. Taking in a big lungful of air, he decided that he was happy he wasn’t.
CLUNK. The sound of heavy wood on stone.
SCREEEEECH. A solid door opening on long-neglected hinges.
Chaz was gripped by the shoulders and shoved forward. A second later, Tanner was shoved into him. The door closed behind them. Two soldiers grunted as they heaved a wooden crossbeam into mounts on the door. Then footsteps fading away.
Neither Chaz nor Tanner moved. According to Princess Vivia, there was supposed to be a third prisoner here in the cell with them. Not knowing who, or what, or especially where, that prisoner was scared the shit out of Chaz.
“Didn’t the princess say something about there being another intruder?” whispered Tanner.
“That’s what I was just thinking.”
“Hello?” Tanner whispered just a little bit louder.
There was no response.
Chaz’s hands were trembling. “I’m really starting to freak out, man.”
“Calm yourself,” said Tanner. “I’ve gotten myself out of worse binds than this.”
“Bullshit.”
“Have the drow all gone?”
“I don’t know,” said Chaz. “I think so.”
“That’ll have to do.”
Chaz heard the clink of iron on stone, and the room was suddenly as bright as day.
Tanner was grinning at him. In his hand was a foot-long iron stick, the top of which glowed like a 100-watt bulb.
“What the hell is that?” asked Chaz.
“A sunrod. I keep one in my boot in case of emergencies.”
“Then why’d you make me go through all that shit with the torch?”
“Because these are expensive,” said Tanner. “Besides, how was I supposed to know you don’t know how to light a torch?”
“That was so embarrassing. Everyone was watching me that whole time.”
“Don’t feel bad. I was picking my nose in the beginning.”
Chaz laughed nervously. “That sounds like my friend, Coo—”
Tanner grabbed Chaz’s shoulder. He was looking at something else.
Chaz followed Tanner’s gaze to a rickety wooden bed. There was the third prisoner, covered from head to toe in
a shabby burlap blanket. Whoever he was, he was a big motherfucker.
“Do you think he’s sleeping?” asked Chaz. “Or dead?” He didn’t know which he would have preferred.
“We should find out,” said Tanner. “Pull away the blanket.”
“Fuck that. You pull away the blanket.”
“I’m holding the light.”
They needed to stop wasting time that could better be spent thinking of a way out of here. Chaz was not at all interested in seeing the Extractor’s tools, or finding out exactly what they were meant to extract. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
They weren’t in a big cell, but Chaz took such tiny, careful steps toward the sleeping prisoner that it seemed to take forever.
“Come on!” Tanner whispered at him.
Having reached the end Chaz guessed the feet would be, he pinched a bit of the blanket and tugged gently at it.
The other side of the blanket fell away, revealing the most hideous sight Chaz had ever seen. It was some kind of horrific beast which had been butchered to death in the worst ways possible. It’s hide was a mixture of fur and feathers. A wormy tongue hung out of its open beak. One of its eyes looked to have been gouged out with a hand spade, leaving a gaping hole in its hollowed out head. The eye which remained was no less frightening, staring at Chaz in mad terror.
He was about to scream when Tanner clapped a hand over his mouth.
Was that the hand he’d been picking his nose with?
“Calm down,” said Tanner. “Are you calm?”
Chaz nodded. Tanner removed his hand.
“What the fuck is that?” Chaz whispered.
“It’s just an owlbear,” said Tanner. “And it doesn’t look like it’s in any shape to harm us.”
“What happened to its face?”
“And where are its arms?”
Chaz had been too terrified by the creature’s mangled face that he hadn’t noticed that both of its arms were missing...Its arms! “They’re in the woods, just south of Cardinia.”
Tanner looked at him quizzically. “Is that a joke?”
Chaz shook his head. “I saw them there yesterday.”
“Hmm… That is peculiar.”
“Princess Vivia!” said Chaz. “She thinks we’re partnered up with this thing?”
Tanner frowned. “That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.”
“Oh my god. Do you think the Extractor did this?” He grabbed Tanner by the shoulders. “We’ve got to get out of here!”
Tanner slapped Chaz hard. “Get a hold of your wits! You said yourself that the owlbears arms were removed no later than yesterday. It’s a good bet that its eye and arms were removed at the same time. Ergo, the Extractor is not likely responsible for this.”
Chaz nodded. “Okay. That makes sense.”
“Having said that, we are in agreement that escape is currently our most prudent objective.” He looked through the small barred window. “Now, let’s see what we have to work with. It would be very helpful if you had a fishhook, a roll of twine, and a small candle.”
“I have none of those things.”
“Why am I not surprised?”Tanner rubbed his chin and thought some more. “I wonder if the owlbear’s beak is strong enough to pry those hinges off.”
Chaz clapped his hands over his face. “We’re going to die in here.”
“Hey Chaz,” said a familiar female voice. “What are you doing in here?”
Chaz looked up. Katherine was standing in the corner of the cell, where he was pretty fucking certain she hadn’t been standing a moment ago, holding a dead black cat with white paws, which was dripping blood on the floor.
“Katherine?”
“I seem to be the only one of us not yet acquainted,” said Tanner. He smiled and offered his hand to Katherine. “Hello, Katherine. I’m Tanner Goodwyn.” After shaking Katherine’s hand, he shook one of the dead cat’s limp front paws. “And you must be Mittens.”
“Mittens?” said Katherine.
Chaz gasped. “Oh no!”
Katherine looked back and forth between Tanner and Chaz. “What the fuck is wrong with you two?”
“The drow princess became very distraught a short time ago,” said Tanner,“about a certain Mittens, who I assume you were killing at the time. A sorceress can sense the death of her familiar.”
“Oh my god,” said Katherine. “I feel like such an asshole. I thought it was just a stray.”
Chaz shook his head. “We are sooooo fucking dead.”
“Do either of you guys know what time it is?” asked Katherine.
“Who gives a shit?” said Chaz.
“Why can no one give me a straight answer about this?”
“It was getting dark just before we arrived,” said Tanner.
“Perfect. We should leave then.”
Chaz balled up his fists in frustration. “Ya think?”
“I just need to do one thing first.” Katherine held Mittens up against the wall and punched its face into a mushy pulp. With her fingernail, she painted the word SORRY low on the wall, along with a sad face, and placed the mutilated cat corpse underneath it.
Tanner grimaced. “That was… unexpected.”
“Can we maybe stop thinking of more ways to piss off the drow,” said Chaz, “and start thinking of ways to get out of here?”
Katherine evaporated into a pink mist which flowed through the barred window of the cell door, where she coalesced back into her normal, half-elven form. She easily lifted the crossbeam from its mounts and set it down against the wall.
“Come on,” she said.“There are some stairs leading up not too far from here.”
Chapter 29
The bar of the Merriweather Inn was classier than the Whore’s Head Inn. Every surface of the floor, walls, and bar, every stick of furniture, including the grand piano in the corner, was crafted out of the same reddish-brown polished cypress.
Rupert, the bartender, rapped his knuckles on the bar three times. “Resistant to water, fire, termites, you name it. Tough as nails, this wood. Just like our mayor.”
“Is that right?” said Stacy. Her eyelids were getting heavy, and Rupert’s impromptu courseon the virtues of cypress wood wasn’t making them any lighter. She put her quarter-full beer glass down on the bar and stifled a yawn. Rupert immediately moved it to a coaster and wiped up a tiny drop left behind.
Tony the Elf had retired to his room to work on his epic fantasy novel which Stacy learned, against her will, was absolutely not based on his experiences here, because no one would take that seriously. More out of politeness than interest, she’d asked him how far into it he’s gotten. He was still in the world-building stage, he’d told her, developing a magic system, drawing maps, determining the alliances between all the noble houses. Stacy took that as nerd-speak for “I haven’t actually written anything yet.”
That left her alone at the bar with Dave, who was, at the best of times, about as exciting as downing half a bottle of Benadryl.
Stacy swigged back the remainder of her beer and placed a silver coin on the bar next to Dave. “I’m going to go see what Julian’s up to.”
Dave nodded and grunted an acknowledgement.
The night air was warm and muggy, with very little breeze coming in off the sea. If Stacy was going to spend any significant amount of time here, she’d need to invest in some lighter casualwear. This patent leather Catwoman outfit, with its excessive amount of buckles, straps, snaps, and hidden pockets, was great for hiding an extra blade and a set of lockpicks, and it was the perfect frame with which to showcase her new smokin’ hot bod. Hell, according to her character sheet, which she’d looked over more carefully at the bar to distract herself from Dave’s aura of dullness, it even counted as armor, so it might even deflect a sword strike or two, as unlikely as that seemed. But it didn’t breathe very well, and it made going to the bathroom at least a twenty-minute commitment.
She found Julian sitting at the end of a long pier, swinging his feet ab
ove the water and staring out at the bloated yellow moon, no doubt hoping to catch the silhouette of black wings against it.
“Copper piece for your thoughts?” she said. It was a dad-worthy joke.
“Hey, Stacy,” said Julian. “What are you doing out here? Couldn’t sleep?”
“I was hanging out with Dave. I came out here to avoid falling asleep.”
Julian smiled, but there was sadness in his eyes.
“How about you?”
“Hmph,” said Julian. “I couldn’t sleep even if I could sleep. Does that make sense?”
Stacy nodded. “Yeah, the elf thing.I got it. Still worried about your bird?”
“Ravenus.” Julian’s voice had the slightest trace of annoyance in it.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound –”
“It’s okay. I’m sorry. I know it sounds crazy for me to care so much about a bird, but –”
“I don’t think you’re crazy. Ravenus isn’t just a bird, and I shouldn’t refer to him like that. I know you two have some kind of special bond.”
“He’s my friend.”
Stacy sat down behind Julian and slipped her hands under his arms and wrapped her arms around his chest. “I’d like to be your friend, too. We could have a special bond.” She kissed the back of his neck.
Julian’s body went rigid, and neither of his hands was on her thighs. His heart was beating so fast she thought it might explode.
She eased off and leaned back a bit. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Sure,” said Julian, his voice an octave higher than normal.
“Are you gay?”
Julian shook his head. “No.”
“Do you have a girlfriend back home?”
“No.”
“Are you saving yourself for Jesus or whatever?”
Julian laughed. “No.”
Stacy was not in a laughing mood. She stood up. “Then what the fuck is going on here?”
“What? What do you mean?”
“Are you not attracted to me?”
“No!” said Julian. “I mean yes. I’m super attracted to you. I mean, look at you.” The conspicuous bundle of serape over his crotch provided evidence of his sincerity.
Stacy folded her arms. “Then what’s the problem?”