D&D 09-Return of the Damned

by T. H. Lain

  Regdar replied, "What I wouldn't give for her quick wit and quicker sword right now."

  "Me, too," admitted Jozan. "Me, too."

  Alhandra and her two holy avengers stood before Lindroos, their swords at the ready.

  "I'd give you a chance to surrender, sister," said the paladin, "but I know too well that you'd rather do this the hard way."

  Lindroos nodded. "Naturally."

  "I don't know how you managed to survive your trip to the Elemental Plane of Fire, but this time, I'll finish you myself." Alhandra charged her sister, the two holy warriors at her side.

  Lindroos gave ground before the holy warriors as they came on. In her retreat, the blackguard lifted a small, ornately carved horn to her hps and gave it a sharp blow. A deep bellow issued forth. Thick, soupy vapor poured out of the instrument to roll over the lip and drift toward the floor.

  At the sound of the horn, the warriors arrayed around the room turned away from their combats without hesitating a blink and flocked to their mistress. Their stampede shook the floor, and the noise of their booted feet echoed from the walls.

  The jann, too, heeded the call by flying up toward the ceiling, leaving the angry, hammer-wielding dwarf far below. They crossed the room in a heartbeat and landed between the blackguard and her pursuers.

  Alhandra put her hand up, staying her holy avengers. The trio stopped and turned toward the crowd of oncoming soldiers, letting Lindroos continue to run.

  The blackguard blew again on her horn. The dense fog poured out, quicker now. In moments she was surrounded by her minions and by a growing, opaque cloud. As a group, the soldiers and jann backed into the fog, slowly disappearing from view.

  Regdar and Jozan crossed the room to stand beside Alhandra. The elf and dwarf followed suit. Together they formed a line, seven warriors against perhaps twice their number.

  Lindroos was concealed by the fog at this point up to her shoulders. She took in another breath and blew again, filling the corner of the room.

  "I'd say it was nice to see you again, sister," she said, "but I know how you feel about lies." The fog drifted above her head, obscuring her completely from view.

  The still-growing fog bank reached out in drifting tendrils, devouring the retreating gang of evil warriors. Alhandra looked back at Regdar and his men. They were all wounded, dripping blood from multiple wounds. Over the big fighter's shoulder, the paladin caught sight of Naull, her crumpled body lying in a heap in the middle of the room.

  She looked back at the growing cloud. Lindroos and her soldiers were inside, but who knew what sort of evil was concealed in those fumes. Alhandra was seasoned enough to know that there was magic in this world that would harm only the good and pure of heart while sparing the wretched and wicked.

  She turned to her holy avengers. "We've won this battle," she said. "Let her go."

  Regdar knelt beside Naull. "No, Jozan," he explained. "She was with the blackguard willingly." He looked up at the cleric and shrugged. "She said she was angry that I left her in the City of Fire."

  "Angry that you left her?" asked Alhandra. "She asked you to go."

  "That's how I remember it," replied Regdar. "She must be under a spell."

  Jozan knelt beside him and took hold of Naull's wrist. He nodded his head. "I don't think it was a spell," he said. "There are few things that can compel a person to act so violently toward someone they consider a friend."

  "Jozan is right, Regdar," agreed the paladin. "As powerful as Lindroos is, there are only a handful of wizards in this part of the world who could even cast a spell that would make Naull act the way you describe." She examined the wound on Tasca's face as she spoke.

  Regdar dropped his head. "What if she no longer considers me a friend?"

  Jozan looked up from his patient on the floor. "I've seen some interesting wounds caused by women who had a particular hatred for the men they once loved," said the cleric. "Even assuming Naull did blame you for leaving her in the City of Fire, I don't sense that her spirit turned to evil."

  Regdar crinkled his brow. "I don't understand."

  Jozan smiled. "Even if she hated you now, Naull is still a good person at heart, and she wouldn't harm you if she were under a spell."

  The big fighter slumped even more. "Then what made her act like that?"

  "Knowing Lindroos," said the paladin, "it's likely a curse."

  Jozan looked at Alhandra. He cocked his head to the side, seeming to ponder the idea, then he nodded.

  "She could be right."

  Regdar looked up. "Can you cure her?"

  Jozan took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes," he said, "but I need time. There are prayers and rituals...."

  "Then I suggest we get ourselves safely outside of this tainted fortress and find a good camp for the night," said Alhandra. "You men are in need of some serious healing and rest."

  Regdar nodded. He slipped his hands under Naull's limp body and stood up. Her petite frame draped over his outstretched arms as if she were a child's doll. He looked to Whitman and Tasca.

  "You two bring Clemf." He lowered his head, taking a deep breath to steady his emotions. "We'll give him a proper burial when we're out of this godforsaken place."

  Outside the swamp, far from the shadow of Mt. Fear, Regdar piled one last shovelful of dirt onto Clemf's grave.

  "I'm sorry, my friend," he said. "I never imagined it would be this way."

  With a final sigh, he turned and headed back to the campfire where Jozan was finishing healing Whitman and Tasca.

  "You're next, Regdar," said the cleric.

  Regdar nodded and sat down near the fire. Jozan knelt beside him.

  "What should we do with Naull?" asked the fighter as the cleric examined him. "She's been unconscious for a while, but she'll wake up soon. I hit her awfully hard."

  Jozan prodded the wound in Regdar's shoulder. "Well," he said, "without knowing exactly how she's been cursed, I think it would be best if we tied her up and gagged her, so she can't use her magic. Maybe even put a guard on her."

  Regdar clenched his eyes shut against the pain as Jozan worked. "I'll stay up with her."

  The cleric nodded. "I had a feeling you'd say that."

  The moon rose high in the sky that night, illuminating the open plain. A light wind blew the razor grass and dried vegetation, making a rustling sound all round. The fire burned low in the pit, hissing and popping now and again.

  Regdar looked down on Naull. She lay on her side, hands tied behind her back, a torn piece of cloth tied around her mouth.

  He shook his head. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "So very sorry."

  Naull rolled to one side and straightened her legs. She groaned, then blinked her eyes open. Regdar knelt in front of her, hoping that somehow she'd wake to see him and everything would be like it had been before.

  The wizard tugged on her restraints, but they didn't budge. Straining without the use of her hands, Naull sat up. When her eyes crossed Regdar, they narrowed into a glare that made the man shiver. He felt like a child again, caught by a parent after doing something terribly wrong and being judged for a mistake he would never live down.

  "Naull," he said sheepishly, "please believe that I didn't want to leave you."

  She continued to glare.

  "The city was shifting back into the Elemental Plane of Fire. You were trapped with Lindroos in the magical sphere that you created. You asked me to go, to save myself." Regdar wrung his hands together, pleading with Naull. "I didn't want to go. Don't you remember? The others, they dragged me away. Krusk nearly killed me to get me away." He dropped his hands and his head.

  "When we got outside the city, I... I didn't know what to do. I thought you were dead, and if you were then I wanted to die too. I wanted to rush back inside." He shrugged his shoulders, still looking at the ground. "I tried to go back, but the gates to the city slammed shut on me. Alhandra and the others urged me to travel with them, to go back to New Koratia, but I didn't. I stayed there for days, wi
shing I could see you one last time ... agonizing over the pain and suffering you must be enduring, burned alive on the Plane of Fire. It pains me now to even think about it, about the suffering I felt for you." Regdar looked up.

  Naull's gaze hadn't softened.

  "I waited there almost two weeks," he continued, "hoping by some miracle that the city would return, or that you'd appear and everything would be okay." He snorted. "I couldn't believe you were really gone. I didn't want to believe you were gone." Taking a deep breath, the big fighter sat down hard on the dirt. "Finally, a gypsy caravan traveled past. I was dirty and hungry and probably didn't smell too good. They gave me some food and water and pointed me toward home. I don't remember the journey. When I arrived in New Koratia, I was lost. I was home, but I didn't belong. I had no purpose, no reason to live." He put his head in his hands.

  "Had I known you were alive, I would have scoured the earth." He picked up a pile of dirt and let it fall through his hands. "Instead I volunteered for every dangerous mission, hoping to get myself killed in battle." He picked up a small rock and tossed it into the slowly receding darkness. "I hoped an umberhulk or ogre would smash my head in, but I was too afraid to let it actually happen." He shook his head again. "I'm sorry Naull. I'm so very, very sorry." Regdar's throat tightened up again, and tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. He sniffled, trying to hold it back.

  A strong hand grabbed him by the shoulder, and Regdar scrambled to his feet, pulling his greatsword from its sheath as he did. Standing there, sword in hand, tears dripping down his face, his heart sounding like goblin war drums in his ears, Regdar looked into Jozaris smiling face.

  He held his hands up. "Relax," said the cleric. "It's almost morning, and I'm ready to cast that spell."

  Regdar lowered his sword. "Thank Pelor."

  Jozan stood before Naull. The wizard glared up at him with the same angry expression she'd been using on Regdar.

  "This won't hurt a bit," said the cleric. "May the good lord Pelor protect and look after your soul, and may he see fit to grant me the power to heal that which afflicts you." With that, Jozan leaned down and touched Naull on the forehead.

  A slight breeze picked up, and Regdar could have sworn that, for a brief moment, he heard a choir singing.

  Naull's eyes rolled back into her head, and something clicked audibly. A thin wire bracelet, the same color as the wizard's skin, came undone from her ankle and fell to the ground.

  Jozan picked it up. "Well, well," he said. "Looks like it wasn't a curse after all, but a cursed anklet."

  Regdar ignored him. He knelt beside Naull and undid her

  gag.

  "Regdar," she said breathlessly, the word drifting from her lips as if she thought she'd never have the opportunity to say it again. "I knew you'd save me."

  The fighter undid the restraints holding her hands. Naull sprang forward, wrapping her arms around him and nearly knocking him flat on his back.

  "Thank the gods," she said into his ears, squeezing his neck tighter than a cloaker. "I thought I'd never get away from the blackguard or be able to tell you—" Naull leaped away from Regdar and began blurting out words faster than her tongue could form them. "Lindroos wants bottle. She's going to New Koratia. City of Fire. The efreeti—"

  Alhandra stepped forward, trying to decipher what the wizard was saying.

  Regdar put his hand on Naull's shoulder. "Slow down," he said. "One word at a time."

  Naull looked at him and took a deep breath, then she smiled and continued. "Lindroos is heading to New Koratia," she explained. "She's looking for a jeweled bottle, one that was recently discovered in the ruins of Old Koratia." Regdar's heart skipped a beat. "What?"

  "She must be talking about the bottle we retrieved," explained Whitman, sitting near the fire behind the big fighter.

  Regdar turned around, ready to tell the dwarf to shut up, but he decided it wasn't worth the argument and turned back to Naull. "Why does she want the bottle?"

  Naull took another breath. "When we encountered Lindroos in the City of Fire, she was after the key to the city. Remember? She wanted to bring the city out of its pocket dimension and into this plane. Once it was here, and she had the key, she could control the elemental forces of fire." She squeezed Regdar's arm. "Our intervention stopped her from getting it that day, but she's still determined to retrieve it. Problem is, the city's still on the Elemental Plane of Fire, and we shut the portal that can bring it back to this world."

  Regdar scratched his head. "If you two managed to survive on the Plane of Fire, why didn't she just retrieve the key while you were there?"

  "We never got there," she explained. "While the city was in transit, Lindroos pulled out a bone staff of some kind and snapped it in half. After that she grabbed hold of my shoulder, and we were transported to some terrible place—" Naull squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "The key was still in the city."

  A tear came to her eye, and Regdar rubbed his hand against her cheek. "Please," he said. "Continue if you can."

  Naull wiped the tear away. "Wherever we were, it must have been what Lindroos calls home. I think the bone was some sort of magical calling device, something she'd worked up long before in case of an emergency." She shrugged. "I never found out exactly, but in any case, we never made it to the Plane of Fire and—"

  "I'm certain your time with my sister was a terrifying experience," interrupted Alhandra, "but we're getting off track. Why does Lindroos want the bottle?"

  Naull nodded. "Imprisoned inside is a janni vizier."

  "What does Lindroos want with a janni vizier?" interrupted Alhandra. "Wishes?"

  "No, not at all," replied Naull, obviously irritated at being verbally prodded by the paladin. "Thousands of years ago, the vizier devised another way to access the City of Fire—a way that didn't require the city to be in this world and would allow a mortal to survive on the Elemental Plane of Fire indefinitely without being burned to a crisp. When the elemental masters discovered what the vizier was up to, they imprisoned her in that bottle."

  "Pardon my ignorance," said Jozan, "but why would a janni vizier need a portal to the Elemental Plane of Fire? Genies can transport themselves to any of the elemental planes at will, and to my knowledge they don't even suffer from the climate."

  "You're right," answered Alhandra, "but while the city is on the Plane of Fire, it's not accessible to just anyone. It was originally built to imprison a very powerful efreeti. Getting to the Plane of Fire isn't the problem, its getting into the impregnable city itself."

  Regdar suddenly understood. "So Lindroos wants the key, and the vizier can help her get it. She wants a prisoner to help her get into a prison."

  "Right," said Naull. "The vizier in the bottle knows how to get inside the City of Fire."

  "So she can get in and back out with the key," said Jozan, the look of comprehension spreading across his face. "Then she can open the portal from this side."

  "Not only that," explained Naull, "but the vizier will be indebted to Lindroos for freeing it. She'll have access to the elemental forces of fire to do with as she pleases, and a powerful friend who owes her one."

  The group stood in stunned silence for a long moment.

  "But what about the efreeti inside the city?" asked Jozan finally. "Does Lindroos have some way of taming it?"

  Naull shrugged. "It's no longer in the city. Once the vizier managed to find a way in, the efreeti had a way out. The prison remains, but the prisoner is long gone."

  "Okay, fine, fine," said Regdar shaking his head. "Evil people making evil plans. I get that part. What I still don't understand is how this has anything to do with you and me."

  Naull smiled and wrapped both of her hands around his. "Convenient revenge," she said. "Lindroos kept me as a slave since last we met, but when she discovered that you had taken the janni's bottle from her agent—"

  "She decided to kill two birds with one stone," finished Regdar. "Or two humans," corrected Whitman. "Yes, yes,"
said the paladin, "but where is she now?" Regdar's heart sank. "She's headed for New Koratia to take the bottle from the duke."

  The group walked for two days straight, barely stopping long enough to rest and heal. The sun rose on the third morning as they approached their destination.

  "We'll be able to see the eastern wall of New Koratia just over this rise," explained Regdar.

  With Regdar in the lead and Whitman and Tasca flanking him, they marched to the top of the small hill and stopped dead in their tracks.

  Below the hill, the sun was just beginning to warm the fields outside New Koratia's easternmost wall. Heavy fog still clung to the ground in large patches, especially to the north and south, where the river entered the city.

  Between several scattered copses of trees and the remaining low-lying clouds, a battle raged. An army of black-clad soldiers overran the field. They were accompanied by several units of jann, all bare chested and carrying huge scimitars. They brandished their weapons and fought against what Regdar could only assume was the entire New Koratian army.

  In the middle, his blue and gold-guilded standard held high, his elite guard arrayed around him, stood none other than Duke Christo Ramas.

  "He's taken the field himself," said Regdar, dismayed. "This is all my fault."

  "He's not going to be happy to see us, is he?" asked Tasca.

  "You never know," said Whitman. "I doubt he'd turn down a friendly hammer in a fight."

  "Don't be so sure," said Regdar. "The duke can be a very stubborn man."

  "What are you talking about?" asked Jozan.

  Regdar shook his head. "Let's just say we didn't leave under ideal terms."

  "Or perhaps you could say we left not knowing the terms," added Tasca.

  Regdar rolled his eyes. "I'll explain later."

  Jozan shrugged, and the group charged across the field, making a beeline to the duke. They made it to the back of the enemy's line without being noticed, and their swords cut into the black-clad cultists as though they were made of butter.