by Robert Bevan
“Dave!” Tim called out. “You okay?”
“I’m fine, but there’s no way I’m going to make it under that door in time.”
“Let me try,” said Cooper. “I’m the fastest one here.”
“Okay,” said Tim. “Go ask Dave to show you which stone to push, and then wait for him to get all the way out before you let go.”
“Right,” said Cooper. He jogged down the secret passage. Shortly after that, Dave emerged into the light of the torch that Julian was holding.
“Ready!” said Tim.
“Do try to keep your voices down,” said Dusty, repeatedly looking down either side of the corridor.
The door began to slide back down, and the light from Cooper’s torch bolted toward them with impressive speed, but it just wasn’t enough. On his hands and knees, Tim watched Cooper skid to a halt just beyond the closing door.
“Damn,” said Tim. “That was a lot closer, but he just isn’t fast enough. Even if he was, he’s too big to make it under the gap.”
“Hmm… “ said Julian. “Faster. Smaller.” His face lit up. “A horse!”
“You’re one for two there, buddy,” said Tim. “Nice try, though.”
“No,” said Julian. “You don’t understand. I’ll summon a horse out here. We’ll tie one end of the rope to it, and the other end to you.”
“I’m not sure I like where this is going.”
“I’ll ride the horse at full gallop. It’ll be plenty fast enough to get you under that gap.”
“Can anyone think of a plan that doesn’t involve me being dragged by a horse?” Tim only received blank stares. “Please?” No response. “Shit. Dave, you better make sure you have a Heal spell ready to go.”
“You got it.”
“Hey Dave,” asked Julian. “How did you know where the right stone to push was?”
“It’s part of being a dwarf, I guess. I pick up on irregularities in stonework. I noticed that stone poking out a bit more than the others before we knew the way was blocked. It actually kind of annoyed me.”
“Shit,” said Tim. “It’s going to take Cooper forever to find –” The secret doorway slid open. “I stand corrected.” He called into the passage. “Cooper, stay where you are!”
“Horse,” said Julian. A brown riding horse popped into existence next to him, complete with saddle, bit, and bridle. Julian tied one end of their recently purchased rope around the saddle horn. “Okay, that should hold.”
Tim took the other end of the rope, Dave’s torch, and the large sack. “I’m really not looking forward to this.” He trudged down the secret passage until he came to Cooper waiting with his hand on the wall.
Tim held out the torch for Cooper. “Hold this.” He tied the end of the rope to the drawstring of the large sack. He pulled the bag up over his head so that only one arm was poking out.
“Dude,” said Cooper. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Tim felt along the wall until he found Cooper’s hand. “Okay, I’ve got it from here. Go back to the others. Tell them I’m ready.”
“Ready for what?” said Cooper. “You look like a testicle.”
“Go!” shouted Tim from inside the sack.
As Cooper walked away, Tim stood alone. Alone in the dark, in a strange world, in a strange body, in a burlap sack. He should have finished college, met a nice girl, settled down. There wasn’t any future in the Chicken Hut. He really should sell that dump. He had a lot more to offer the world than stuffing rednecks full of fried chicken. How had his life turned so shitty? He was creative, better-than-average-looking, intelligent. Hell, even here in the game he had an Intelligence Score of 17. He should have been smart enough to figure out a better plan than this. A smart person would have just led the horse in here to lean against the…” Hey guys! Wait! I’ve got an –”
The drawstring pulled tight around Tim’s exposed arm and he was yanked off his feet. Being dragged by a horse wasn’t as bad as he had anticipated. The sack kept the stone floor from tearing his skin off. It wasn’t completely unlike water-skiing. It was actually kind of – Thunk! Fuck, that hurt. Thunk! He bounced off of another wall, and he was still sliding. That could only mean the plan had worked.
Eventually, the bag stopped moving, but Tim’s stomach did not. He threw up. He was pretty sure he had a broken collarbone and a concussion. He didn’t know if he could move or not. He guessed not, but he wasn’t going to try and find out. He’d just lie in this dark, vomit-soaked sack and wait for death to release him.
It was a close race, but Dave got to him before death could. It wasn’t until Dave pulled the bag open that Tim realized he could only see out of his left eye. What he saw with his monocular vision was Dave wincing at the sight of him. He must have been in worse shape than he thought.
Dave laid his pudgy dwarf hand on Tim’s forehead. “I heal thee.”
“Yeeeooowww!” Tim howled as his skull restructured itself and his shoulders realigned. The healing magic surged down his right arm. He hadn’t even had time to register that his wrist was broken before he felt the searing pain of bones fusing back together. He lost control of his bladder. The warmth of fresh urine spread across his crotch and upper thighs.
It took Dave two more healing spells to bring Tim back up to full Hit Points. Who knew that bouncing off of a stone wall at the speed of a galloping horse would hurt so much? They don’t teach you that shit in school.
By the time the healing was done, Julian had returned on his horse. “You okay?” he asked Tim.
“Never better,” said Tim.
“He’s all patched up,” said Dave. “But I’m all out of healing spells.”
“This was such a stupid idea,” said Julian, dismounting his horse. “We’re going to die in here.”
“Quit your moaning,” Tim snapped at Julian. In his little halfling heart, however, Tim knew that Julian was right. Death was a frighteningly real possibility, and with each step they took down here, it was looking more like a probability. “Look, I’m sorry Julian. I’m just in a lousy mood. And to be perfectly honest, I’m scared as shit right now.”
“I know,” said Julian, looking at the ground next to Tim. “Me too.”
“Help me out of this bag, would you?” Dave grabbed Tim by one arm and Julian took the other. Cooper slid the wet sack out from under him. “Hey… where’s Dusty?”
“Who are you?” a raspy voice demanded. “How did you get here?”
When Dave and Julian turned around and stepped to the side, Tim saw a striking figure shielding its pale eyes from Dave’s torchlight. He was tall and slender like Julian, with the same ridiculously long ears. But unlike Julian, his face was black as pitch and his long hair was as white as freshly fallen snow. He looked like a photo negative of Marilyn Manson. He wore leather armor as black as his skin and held a dagger defensively, but not threateningly before him.
“Um…” said Julian. “We’re lost. We were on our way to the um… Forest of um… Dreams, when –”
“I don’t believe you,” said the dark elf. “The Forest of Dreams is leagues away from here.”
“There’s actually a Forest of Dreams?”
“Julian!” snapped Tim.
“Oh shit.” Julian clapped his hand over his mouth. “Did I say that out loud?”
“And how in the Abyss did you get a horse down here?” asked the elf. “I demand you state your true business here at once, or else I’ll have to –”
The dark elf’s pale eyes widened as the business end of a short sword sprouted upward out of his chest. His arms dropped to his sides. His dagger clattered onto the stone floor. The tip of the blade turned downward as Dusty Sheglin stood up behind the lifeless elf, shoving the hilt of his sword up his victim’s back.
The cleric’s face betrayed no emotion as he let the dead elf slide off of his blade onto the cold stone floor.
Julian’s horse whinnied.
“What the fuck was that for?” cried Julian.
“Keep y
our voice down,” said Dusty. “There may be more of them. And for Rapha’s sake, get rid of that damned horse!”
Julian’s face looked like it was about to explode, but he whisked the horse out of existence with a flick of the wrist. “What kind of cleric are you?” he asked, barely keeping his voice to an excited whisper.
“The kind who stamps out evil wherever he finds it,” said Dusty.
“You’re supposed to stamp out evil by being an example of goodness and kindness,” said Julian. “Love thy neighbor and all that shit.”
“That sounds like a very inefficient means of stamping out evil,” said Dusty, sheathing his short sword into a scabbard hidden beneath his cloak. “I prefer to stab it.”
“How do you even know that guy was evil?”
“He’s a drow. They’re all evil.”
“What the fuck is a drow?”
Dusty looked at Julian as if he’d just asked him how many nipples he had.
“Drow are an evil race of elves,” said Tim. “They have black skin and white hair.”
“And that makes them evil?” asked Julian. “You could just as easily be describing Morgan Freeman.”
Dusty laughed. “I thought I’d seen everything when I witnessed a dwarf healing a half-orc. I never thought I’d live to see the day when a halfling has to explain to an elf what a drow is. Who are you people?”
“Never mind who we are,” said Tim. “This whole thing stinks of bullshit. What aren’t you telling us? We’re stuck in a dungeon with two healers who are all out of healing, there are drow walking around, and you don’t seem the least bit concerned. Why is that?” He crossed his arms and offered up his most demanding facial expression.
Dusty smiled kindly down at Tim. “Now now, child. We have nothing to fear. We are on a mission to serve holy Rapha. His grace will shield us from those who would do us harm.”
Shit. It made sense. He was a full-blown religious nutter, like those people who don’t take their kids to the hospital when they’re sick. Dusty was going to lead them into a nest of drow, blindly depending on the protection of some god who he’d already admitted he was on the outs with. They were all going to die.
“We need to hole up somewhere and talk this thing through,” said Tim. “I need to know that you have some sort of plan.”
“Rapha has a plan for us all.”
“Not good enough,” said Tim. His voice was firm, but he managed to hold himself back from saying ‘Fuck that,’ which had been the first response to come to mind. He needed time. “Maybe break for lunch?”
“But we’ve only just arrived,” said Dusty.
“I could eat,” said Cooper.
Julian pointed down the corridor. “I passed a door down that way. If there’s a room we could hide out in, it would be safer than picnicking out here in the hallway.”
Dusty rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine. Would someone kindly pick up the drow’s body?”
Julian glared at Dusty. “Why don’t you pick him up? You’re the one who put him down.”
“I’ll pick him up,” said Cooper. “Let’s just get moving, huh? I’m hungry.” Cooper scooped up the dead elf and slung him over his shoulder.
Tim snagged the dagger the drow had left behind. It was long and sleek, and looked to be well made. The blade was shiny black, and the hilt looked like it might be silver. It could be worth a coin or two. He tucked it under his belt for now though. Whatever he met down here, he didn’t want to get close enough to fight with a dagger. He readied a bolt in his hand crossbow.
When he raised his eyes to look ahead, they came in contact with two pink eyes staring back at him. A fat white rat sat upright on its hind legs, just staring, like it was scrutinizing him. Tim raised his crossbow. “Fuck off, you fat little bas—”
“No!” Dusty called out, jumping into the line of fire just as Tim pulled the trigger. The bolt caught him high in his breastplate, up near his left shoulder. The rat disappeared into the darkness of the corridor beyond.
“Jesus Christ!” said Tim, trying his best not to shout. He brought his voice back down to an angry whisper. “Are you okay? What the fuck were you thinking?”
“I’m fine,” Dusty said, smiling. He sat back against the wall and wrapped his right hand around the bolt. He winced briefly as he plucked it out of his chest. A small piece of his armor flaked onto the floor. “Barely nicked me.”
“You just murdered an elf in cold blood,” said Julian. “And then you risk your life to save a rat?”
“The drow,” said Dusty, “was evil. His kind have turned their faces from the light of Rapha. A rat is innocent. Whether you like them or not, they are one of Rapha’s creatures, and should not be harmed unnecessarily.”
Tim picked up the chip of armor that had fallen to the floor. “Tell me that again after the fuckers gnaw your foot off.” Tim looked up to find Dusty staring curiously back at him. “Sorry. I’ve got a bad history with rats.”
“I see,” said Dusty.
“What kind of shitty armor are you wearing anyway?” asked Tim, fingering the broken bit he’d picked up. It was much lighter than steel. Hell, it was lighter than most wood. It crumbled when he pinched his fingers together. “Is this papier-mâché?” He knocked on Dusty’s breastplate. His knuckles made a hollow thud on the armor. “It is! Why the fuck are you wearing armor made out of papier-mâché?”
For the first time, Tim thought he saw a look of doubt flash across Dusty’s eyes. It was gone in an instant though, and may have only been Tim’s imagination.
“The order reclaimed my armor when I was sent away. It’s temple property, after all.” Dusty stood up and tested the mobility of his left arm. It appeared to be in full working order. “So I made this set of false armor, so that mine enemies shall know that they face a devoted servant of Rapha!”
“Why didn’t you talk like a crazy asshole before you lead us into this dungeon?”
“Tim!” Julian snapped at him. “Not cool, man.”
“I’m sorry,” said Tim. “I get cranky when I’m hungry.”
“Let us waste no more time bickering amongst ourselves,” said Dusty. “If you men are so insistent that we consume our provisions right now, we should make haste in finding a suitable place to do so.”
Cooper and Tim led the way. The small sphere of visibility that Cooper’s torch provided revealed nothing but identical stone walls passing slowly by on either side of them, interrupted every twenty feet or so by columns of darker, rougher stone, structural support by the looks of them. Tim held his crossbow ready for the slightest provocation.
Eventually, they reached the closed wooden doorway that Julian had spotted. Tim put his ear to the wood.
“I can’t hear anything,” he said. “I’d better check it for traps.”
Dusty laughed. “Traps? That’s preposterous. Look at it. It’s a blank wooden door. What kind of traps are you hoping to find?”
“I’m hoping I don’t find any,” said Tim. “But I want to be safe.”
“Why would they trap a door way back here?” asked Dusty. “Remember, nobody knows about that secret passage we came in through. It would make more sense to concentrate their defensive efforts closer to the main entrance.”
“I’m a rogue,” said Tim. “Checking for traps is what I do.”
“Suit yourself,” said Dusty. Tim kept his eyes fixed on the door, but he knew that crazy cleric was looking down on him with a condescending smile.
As it turned out, the cleric had made a good point. There wasn’t much to check for. Tim ran a finger down the gap between the door and frame, but it merely came away a little dirtier for his efforts.
“Okay,” he said. “This door’s clear.”
“Thank heavens!” said Dusty. “The suspense was killing me!”
Tim tried the handle. “It’s locked.”
“So pick the lock, Mr. Rogue,” said Dusty. “That’s what rogues do, right?”
Tim looked at the floor. “I couldn’t afford
Thieves’ Tools when I rolled my character.”
“I’m sorry,” said Dusty. “What are you talking about?”
“I don’t have any thieves’ tools.”
“Some rogue you are. Shall we carry on then?”
“Fuck that,” said Cooper. “Let me try.” He kicked the door hard with his right foot. The door didn’t budge. Cooper fell on his ass, piledriving the dead elf's head into the stone floor. “Ow.”