Only a few paces beyond the trap, the corridor opened into a circular room. The walls and floor were polished granite, coral pink with veins of gray. Three magical light sources blazed softly on the walls, filling the room with clean white light. As everyone else filed in, they found Tasslehoff standing in the center of the room, toying with the long tail from his topknot.
Tanis and Flint moved next to the kender, who asked, “What do you make of this?” With a sweep of his arm he indicated the entire wall of the chamber. The wall was plain and unadorned, unremarkable in all respects save one.
“There aren’t any exits,” observed Tanis in wonder. The wall was featureless. The only doorway was the one from which the group had just emerged.
“None that we can see, you mean,” corrected Tas. “I’d bet Flint’s beard that there’s at least one way out of here, aside from where we entered, probably more. We just have to find them.” Quickly the kender went to work searching for concealed doors. He groped along the walls and floor and across the ceiling: poking, prodding, knocking, twisting, and pulling.
While pushing against what appeared to be solid granite, Tasslehoff suddenly tumbled through, leaving only his ankles sticking out of the wall. What had looked like blank wall shimmered and faded away to reveal an arched doorway with an open space beyond. The kender, who was as surprised as everyone else, scrambled to his feet. Flint beamed.
‘That’s one, but as I said there’s bound to be more. Now that we know what we’re looking for, let’s flush out the rest.”
In less than a minute, two more doorways were found. All three opened into corridors, not rooms. Two were smooth and polished, like the chamber where all the passages met. The third, to the left, was rough, like the passage they had followed from the entrance.
Nanda turned to his great-grandfather. “Hoto, do you have any idea where these passages lead?”
The elder just shook his white-maned head. “I have never been inside this place, and I am unaccustomed to being underground. My sense of direction here is quite bad.”
“Mine is excellent,” said the dwarf, who had grown up in the underground tunnels that riddled the foothills of the Kharolis Mountains. “Based on the location you described for that chimney, one of these two finished passages should lead there. This third one is anybody’s guess.”
“With no clear choice between them,” said Tanis. “I say we choose this one.” He indicated the corridor farthest to the right and took several steps toward it.
“Wait a minute,” ordered Tas. Stretching up as far as he could, he plucked one of the magical lights from its holder on the wall, then scooted in front of Tanis in the unexplored hallway. “OK, all set.”
As they moved slowly down the corridor, Tasslehoff suddenly stopped, then motioned for the others to move forward. Tanis was about to ask what the problem was when he spotted it. It stood in shadows, only partly illuminated by Tas’s light, but Tanis had no desire to get a better look.
“Father of creation!” exclaimed Flint as he stepped up behind Tanis. “What in all the Abyss is that?”
The thing before them, several yards down the hall, once had been a man. Now its flesh was mummified, shrunken, and cracked open. Brown bones showed through the tattered skin. It stood rigidly at attention in the middle of the passage and was clad in a spectacular suit of chain mail. Even ages of tarnish and a multitude of gashes could not hide the armor’s splendor. The large shield lashed to the skeleton thing’s left arm was split from the top to the central boss. Almost a dozen snapped-off arrow shafts jutted at crazy angles from the shield, a brown streak trailing down from each rusted iron arrowhead.
A bastard sword dangled loosely from the thing’s right hand. The creature’s studded leather gauntlet and the sword’s decaying leather handle had become one indistinguishable, molding lump, but the sword showed only patches of rust. Most of its three-foot length was still shiny and keen. An uncomfortable lump rose in Tas’s throat as he realized that the rust on the blade marked patches of blood that had never been wiped away.
“That’s not just another zombie,” offered Tas.
“It hasn’t moved yet. Perhaps it’s nothing, just a statue,” offered Kelu.
Tasslehoff knew that wasn’t the case. From his position at the head of the line, and being shorter than everyone else, he could see something they could not; the eye slits of the monster’s helmet. Beyond those steel rims were two black, hollow pits, and in each shone a tiny pinpoint of flickering light.
With a sickening creak the thing raised its head and swept those malevolent eyes across the cluster of intruders. Bones grated against bones as it lifted its shield and sword. Expecting to see the shambling gait typical of most undead creatures, Tas was shocked beyond words when the monster leaped gracefully toward him. The bright, heavy blade whisked through the air, neck high. The kender threw himself to the ground and rolled straight toward the monster, hoping to get past it.
Death had not dulled the thing’s reflexes. The skeletal warrior sidestepped and kicked, solidly planting its steel-coated foot in Tas’s stomach. The unfortunate kender skidded back across the smooth floor, left dazed and gasping for breath by the force of the blow. A vicious downstroke from the massive sword could have cut him in half, but the killing blow was knocked aside by Flint’s axe. Tasslehoff felt friendly hands dragging him away while his ribs throbbed and his ears rang from the clash.
It was Flint’s turn to face the creature. He shifted his heavy axe back to a ready position while the warrior studied him with its cold eyespecks. The sturdy dwarf was no stranger to life-or-death combat or undead monsters, but this thing was outside his experience. He was not the least bit confident that his mundane weapon could even hurt this obviously magical opponent.
The skeletal warrior offered the tip of its blade while keeping its shield at half an arm’s length. Flint understood that it had fought axemen before, and whatever sort of undead brain it possessed, it could reason and remember. It was crafty, judging from the way it had attacked Tasslehoff.
Keeping his eyes locked on the thing’s face plate, the powerful dwarf lunged forward and swept his heavy, two-edged blade across the sword. The ancient steel bit into the wall in a shower of sparks and stone chips, and Flint felt his axe springing off, no longer under control. He realized too late that the monster had lured him, knowing that its sword could absorb the blow. Its shield swept forward and turned in toward the axe. It struck the rebounding blade squarely and caught it, the way a stump catches the woodsplitter’s axe. The shield twisted, wrenching the haft away from Flint’s hands, and the sword blade sang through the dank air. Its tip sliced cleanly through the hardened leather plate covering Flint’s left shoulder. A spreading stain darkened the shirt beneath the severed and dangling armor.
Flint tumbled backward, clutching his wounded arm. The skeletal warrior jumped forward to press the attack, but now its shield sagged under the weight of Flint’s embedded axe. This was the opening Tanis had waited for. The half-elf fired a razor-tipped arrow straight into the creature’s exposed breast. It punched completely through the mail shirt, front and back, and shattered against the far wall as severed chain mail links clattered to the floor. Far from being hurt, the creature barely seemed to notice the wound.
Kelu, seeing the danger to Flint, grabbed Nanda’s quarterstaff and leaped forward. With cool precision, he landed two powerful blows against the monster’s helmet, but without even appearing to change the direction of its attack, the skeletal warrior’s bastard sword flashed once and severed the phaethon’s right arm at the elbow. As Kelu stared in shock and horror, a second blow ripped across his midsection and a third split him from collarbone to navel. The phaethon’s mutilated body tumbled to the floor amidst a spreading ruby pool.
As Tanis stared aghast at the carnage, the skeletal warrior pried the axe from its shield and tossed it aside. “Fall back, everyone, up the hallway!” called the half-elf as he retrieved the staff and returned it to Nanda. �
�We can’t fight this thing. It’s too dangerous.” As the survivors scrambled back toward the chamber, Tanis nocked an arrow and guarded their rear, wondering what good another arrow could do if the monster decided to pursue them.
It did not seek them, but resumed its guard in the gruesome hallway.
Tanis’s relief over the ease of their withdrawal was broken by a scream from behind. Spinning around, he saw that they were almost inside the chamber again. Blocking the door was an enormous golem, a living stone statue made of pure white granite covered with a network of pulsing red veins. It resembled a minotaur, having a bull’s head on a man’s body. One golem blocked the doorway and another stood behind it, inside the chamber.
The scream had come from Bajhi, who was being crushed in the golem’s mighty arms. His feet dangled more than two feet off the floor, and the golem still towered a full head above him. After each scream, the golem’s grip tightened, preventing the panicked phaethon from inhaling.
Tanis stood helpless. His arrow was nocked and ready, but he could not fire for fear of hitting Bajhi. Nanda struck the creature with his staff, but the wooden weapon had no effect against the stone. Moments later, Bajhi’s struggles stopped and he was dropped into a ragdoll heap on the floor. Instantly Tanis’s arrow struck the golem in the throat and glanced off, barely chipping the surface. A second arrow struck it in the forehead and shattered.
Tanis was nocking a third arrow when someone snatched it from his hands. Tasslehoff stood in front of him. “We can’t fight these things either, Tanis. They’re too strong. You’re just wasting arrows. We have to break out of this corridor somehow.”
Tanis lowered his bow. “If we all rush that skeletal thing at once, at least two or three of us should get past. I doubt whether it can kill all of us. It’s not much of a plan, but …”
Hoto, who had been holding back the minotaur with crashing blows from his cudgel, shouted over his shoulder, “Perhaps I can clear the dead thing from the hallway. Let me go first.” As he backed away and trotted down the hall, the minotaur golem ducked its head and moved into the hallway. Its arms groped ahead, grasping for anything it could catch, but the phaethons and their allies were already well ahead.
As they approached the skeletal warrior’s position, Tas saw it once again raise the glistening blade and battered shield into position. He wondered what the aging phaethon, with a staff and a knife, could manage to do. Hoto motioned for the others to stay back as he approached the monster.
“The golem is still coming,” shouted Tanis. “We can’t hold him back for long.”
Nanda gripped Tanis’s arm. “This won’t take much time. Shield your face and eyes.”
“What about the golem?” demanded Flint. Wincing, he still clutched his wounded shoulder, trying to slow the bleeding. The sleeve was dark and matted. He knew that until they reached some sort of safety, pausing to make a bandage would only increase their danger.
“I can slow the golem,” Nanda claimed, limping back down the hallway. Tasslehoff was turning to follow the injured phaethon when the dimly lit corridor erupted in flames. A blast of heat and light roared across where Hoto stood, and again from behind where Nanda faced the golem. The kender could feel his eyebrows curling from the heat, yet he knew this was only the merest hint of the force being turned against the stone minotaurs and the skeletal warrior.
Tas peered through his hands into the tunnel ahead. Hoto stood in an inferno, his magnificent wings of flame stretching ahead of him, wrapping around the warrior and pulling it into a killing embrace. The warrior slashed viciously through a wing only to see the sword pass harmlessly through the flame. The monster immediately sensed the futility of attacking the wings and rushed headlong into Hoto. Tas nearly turned away, not wanting to see the heroic phaethon impaled, when his eye caught a detail he had missed before: Hoto was not standing, but floating several inches above the floor, suspended by his wings. As the sword drove forward, he slipped instantly to the side and evaded it. The undead creature was carried by the force of its charge straight into the flaming wing, then pinned between both wings.
The creature flailed and thrashed against the trapping flames. Its scream was a horrid, grating sound. The sword bit into Hoto’s leg, then sliced across his back, but the pinioned monster could not put any strength behind the blows. Within seconds, mummified flesh smoked and curled away from the scorching bones, then exploded into flame. The monster continued struggling until ligaments and cartilage burned away. The confined hallway filled with foul-smelling smoke. At last only blackened bones and fused chain mail remained in a heap on the floor. The shield was a vague outline of ashes, and the sword glowed softly in the dim light.
The wounded and exhausted phaethon elder extinguished his wings and sank to the floor. He tottered for a second and would have collapsed, but Tasslehoff rushed forward and threw his shoulder under Hoto’s arm. Together they stumbled forward through the choking hallway. Tas glanced down as they stepped over the scorched remains of the warrior and was horrified to see the two tiny points of light still glowing in the eye sockets. He kicked the skull away, and it cracked into pieces as it skittered across the floor.
Some distance beyond Kelu’s body was a door. Tas helped Hoto lean against the wall, then hurriedly checked the door for signs of a trap. While he worked, Flint retrieved his axe and, with Tanis and Nanda, caught up with the kender. Tasslehoff slipped the door open and stared into the room beyond in wonder.
Three heavy tables occupied the center of the room. Shelves lined the walls. Beakers, bottles, decanters, bowls, books, scrolls, and a multitude of items Tas could not even identify covered the tables and shelves. A second door along the left wall was closed.
He stepped briskly into the room and immediately started picking things up, looking inside covered bowls, stirring solutions, shaking cruets, touching and investigating everything.
Tanis rushed in behind and collared the curious kender. “Are you trying to get us all killed? Don’t touch this stuff. It could be dangerous.” Seeing that everyone was inside the room, he added, “Help me bar this door. The golems are still coming.”
“But, Tanis,” Tas objected, “there might be something here that could help us.”
“Then Flint or Hoto or Nanda will find it. You and I are the only two who aren’t injured.”
Reluctantly Tas put down the stoppered vial he’d been swirling and trotted to the door. Tanis was already leaning his shoulder against it, preparing for the golems’ assault.
Tasslehoff eyed the door appraisingly. “Say, Tanis, this is a good, stout door. Why don’t we just lock it?”
“I don’t have the key.”
“Who needs a key?” asked Tas. “You sure are narrow-minded sometimes.” He put his eye to the keyhole. “Ooh, those golems are closing in fast. I’d brace myself if I were you, Tanis.”
“Why don’t you help?”
“I am helping.” The door shuddered under a heavy impact. “I’ll have this locked up tight in no time.” As Tas inserted a piece of bent wire into the lock, a second smash shook the door. He pulled the wire out and scowled, then reshaped it gently with his fingers. “Can’t you hold it any stiller than that?”
“I can barely hold it at all!”
Cursing under his breath, Flint pushed past Tas to put his good shoulder against the door. Tasslehoff waited until after the next slam, then slipped the wire back into the lock. Several seconds of probing were followed by the satisfying thunk of the bolt. The golems continued hammering on the door and each blow knocked loose another nail or rivet, but the door held and would continue to hold for several minutes, at least.
“Now let’s have a look around. There’s no place as interesting as a wizard’s lab,” said Tas.
“We still don’t have time to browse,” Tanis reprimanded the kender. “We can’t waste time before finding Selana and Balcombe.”
“Give me one minute, Tanis, and I guarantee it will be worthwhile.”
Tanis looked
inquiringly to Hoto, who nodded.
Tasslehoff dove into his work with glee. He scurried along the shelves, reading labels and scanning contents as he went: eye of crow, smoky quartz dust, heretic’s ashes, fingernail of hanged man, mercury, hemp, powdered whelk shell, giant’s wail—that one caught his eye—and so on down the line. Occasionally he snatched a bottle and stuffed it into his pocket.
Finally, his minute long expired, he grabbed a tall stool and ran back to the locked door. He set the stool a few inches in front of the door and placed four vials on top of it. Turning to Tanis, he announced, “I’m set. This should let us know when the varicose twins get through the door, and give them a little surprise, too,” he finished, patting his vest pocket.
‘Then let’s see where that other door takes us,” said Flint. Tanis had bandaged the dwarf’s shoulder, which slowed the bleeding considerably, while Nanda had seen to Hoto’s injuries.
They assembled in front of the side door. Flint held his axe ready and Tanis nocked an arrow, then Nanda pulled the door open—revealing another dark, polished hall.
Tanis lowered his bow. “Lead the way, Tas, and remember, we’re working against time.”
The kender set off at a slow trot, scanning the floor and walls as carefully as he could at that pace. After a few dozen yards, the corridor turned slightly, and Tas could see a play of light along the outside wall that told him the way ahead was lit by torches. He paused just short of the bend and listened, detecting one voice for sure, with pauses where another, softer voice might have filled in, but Tas could not tell for sure.
Crouching near the floor, Tasslehoff slowly poked his head around the corner. Only a few yards ahead, the corridor spilled into a cavern. Torchlight danced along pink granite walls. A spiral pillar blocked most of his view through the door. He could not discern the extent of the cavern, but he guessed it was larger than anything they had seen so far, judging from the timbre and echoes of the drifting voice.
Stretched out on his hands and knees, Tas crept toward the opening. The closer he got, the more he could see, and the more he became convinced that this was what they sought. He heard the second voice, filling in the gaps between the first. He had heard it before and it was unmistakable: the voice of Hiddukel, speaking through Balcombe’s coin!
Wanderlust Page 27