2d6 (Caverns and Creatures)

by Robert Bevan

  Old Man Belmont waddled to the center of the room and sat down on the little rug, almost concealing it entirely with his girth. The rug began to rise vertically into the air.

  “My way up is only big enough for one,” said Old Man Belmont. His belly shook as he chuckled. “So long as that one is me. You fellers take the stairs. Meet me on the second floor.”

  “What stairs?” asked Julian, but the old elf disappeared into an illusory plaster ceiling.

  “These stairs,” said Pistil.

  Julian started. He hadn’t even realized that she’d followed them. The girl had the makings of a rogue in her.

  Pistil grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it at the wall to the left of the entryway. The dirt settled on the first two invisible stairs which presumably wound around the inner wall all the way up to the second floor. The steps were only about six inches tall, and three feet long. The ascent would be a gradual one.

  Pistil ran up the first two semi-visible steps and kept on going, running on what looked like nothing but air. When she was about a third of the way around the circumference of the tower, and about six feet up in the air, she jumped over a two-foot expanse of nothing and landed on her feet on some more nothing.

  “You have to watch your step!” she called down at them. “There are gaps.”

  “Gaps?” asked Julian.

  “Poppy says it won’t do much to stop a determined intruder, but it might piss him off a bit.” She continued running up the stairs, jumping over a pattern of gaps that only she knew.

  “I’ll take the lead on this one,” said Tim, handing off Dave’s stone head to Julian. He scooped up two fistfuls of dirt and started carefully up the stairs, letting the dirt trickle out of his hands as his feet found each new step.

  Julian placed his right foot on the first step. Despite it appearing to be nothing more than a thin layer of floating dust, it felt like solid stone beneath his foot. He brought his left foot onto the step, and there he was, standing with nothing between his feet and the ground but six inches of empty space. He was already dizzy with vertigo.

  “Move your ass, dude,” said Cooper. “Dave’s heavy as fuck.”

  “Oh right,” said Julian. “Sorry.” He took another step, and then another, this time finding the second tier of elevation. After climbing a few more stairs, he had the pattern down. Just when he got to the point of confidently placing one foot ahead of the other, he discovered one of the gaps that he’d forgotten having been warned about. His foot plunged down into true nothing, sending his whole body tipping forward.

  Must save the head! He was only about six feet in the air, so he resisted his instinct to reach his hands out for something to catch himself. Keeping his arms wrapped tightly around Dave’s fragile stone head, he let himself fall. His face met the step beyond the gap pretty hard, invisible stone scraping against his cheek. Painful as it was, it did break his fall, and he might have been able to get back on his feet if he’d had the use of his arms. Unfortunately, the weight of Dave’s head just served to drag his face down the side of the invisible stone slab until he found the bottom of it. He free-fell, landing on his head on the dirt floor of the tower. He would surely have broken his neck if the game rules allowed for that.

  “Mind the gaps,” said Cooper. “The first one’s easy enough to spot. It’s marked with your face.” He stepped over the gap above Julian in one long stride. Julian set aside thoughts of his sore neck, and the dirt that was sticking to his bleeding face and rolled out the way… just in case Cooper shat himself right there and then. It wouldn’t have been the first time Cooper had shit on him. His friend had many fine qualities, but continence and timing were not among them.

  Further up the wall, on the other side of the tower, Tim was stopped before the third (and hopefully final) gap in the staircase. He tossed what little dirt he had left in his right hand ahead of him. From his position on the floor, and with blood sticking his right eyelids together, Julian couldn’t tell if any of the dirt had settled onto a step. It must have, though, as Tim took the leap, landing confidently atop another invisible step. A little further along, and Tim’s head was almost touching the ceiling.

  “There’s no hatch or anything,” said Tim, raising his arm. “It’s just solid – Oh, there it is.” The end of his arm disappeared into the ceiling. “Cool.” He kept walking until he completely disappeared into the second floor.

  “Sweet!” said Cooper, stepping over the second gap.

  Julian groaned as he got back to his feet and limped back toward the first stair.

  “Poppy said for me to come and get you.” Pistil’s voice came from behind and above him.

  Julian turned around. The little half-elf girl was descending on her grandfather’s miniature carpet. That looked much better than trying to climb those damned stairs again. He hobbled toward the center of the room, arriving there just ahead of her.

  “Just will it up, and it will take you,” said Pistil, hopping off the carpet.

  “You’re not coming?” asked Julian, taking a seat. The carpet was a little bigger than Old Man Belmont’s girth had made it seem. “If this thing can hold your grandfather, I’m sure it can hold both of us.”

  “Stairs is more fun!” said Pistil. She darted off toward the first step. “Race you to the second floor.”

  Julian didn’t even acknowledge the request enough to refuse it. He concentrated on the carpet. “Up?” he said. The carpet rose slowly, like an elevator.

  “Ew!” said Pistil. She had already cleared the first gap, but stopped short before one strangely visible brown stair. “Somebody shit on the stairs!”

  She and Julian looked up at Cooper, who had reached the top of the staircase. Evidence of his faux pas was still clinging to his inner thighs. He paused, wide-eyed and tight-lipped. If there’s an appropriate thing to say in that set of circumstances, Cooper wouldn’t have been the one to know. He turned away and hurriedly disappeared through the ceiling.

  Pistil stepped back and got in a few strides before clearing the visible stair.

  Julian looked up as the rug brought him closer to the false ceiling. The illusion was remarkable, complete with cobwebs, dust, and knots and imperfections in the wooden beams. It really looked like something he was about to smash his face into. He put his head down, closed his eyes, and hoped for the best.

  “Ah, there he is,” said Old Man Belmont a few seconds later.

  Julian opened his eyes. This was more like what he expected the inside of a wizard’s tower to look like. The round walls were lined with shelves full of haphazardly arranged scrolls and leather-bound tomes. On one side stood a wooden desk, atop which sat an assortment of beakers, as well as a long rack of test tubes, filled with liquids of varying textures and colors. Some of them bubbled, some smoked. Julian guessed these were potions in the process of being brewed. Behind the desk stood a cabinet with glass doors, through which he could see what he figured were the finished products, all neatly lined up and labeled in uniform glass jars.

  Old Man Belmont stood in front of a smaller table, flattening out a rolled up parchment. “Yes, this should do.”

  “That’s not fair!” wailed Pistil as her head emerged from the illusory floor at the top of the staircase. “I woulda won if this one didn’t shit on the floor.”

  Tim shook his head. Old Man Belmont looked at Cooper.

  “I have irritable bowls.”

  Pistil pointed furiously at Cooper. “You’d better get back down there and clean that shit up, or my Poppy’s gonna –“ In a sudden puff of smoke, she turned into a black cat.

  “What the fuck just happened?” said Cooper.

  “She’s got a lot of spirit, that one,” said Old Man Belmont. He placed the wand he was holding back into the sleeve where it must have come from and bent over to scoop up the cat.

  “Is that your granddaughter?” asked Julian.

  “Go on now,” Old Man Belmont said to the cat. “Play with your brother.” He tossed it out of a
n open window.

  “REEEEOOWWWWWW!” Pistil protested on her way down.

  “Ow!” screamed Stamen from outside. “She scratched me!”

  Tim stood on tiptoes to look out the window. “You have a way with children.”

  Old Man Belmont looked at Cooper and pointed to a spot on the floor next to his table. “Just put that here, big feller.”

  “Careful!” said Tim as Cooper set the Dave statue noisily on the floor.

  Old Man Belmont ran a finger along the rough surface of the fracture. It came away white. He frowned as he rubbed his fingers together. “Now you bring the rest of him.”

  Julian touched the floor next to the rug to make sure there was an actual floor there to touch. His hand went right through it. He mumbled a Detect Magic spell to himself, and his eyes were bombarded with color from all sides. He concentrated on the floor. The rug hovered in the center of a ten-foot-diameter circle of illusion, except for a two-foot-wide beam of real floor leading out from the carpet to the main floor of the second level of the tower. Satisfied, he walked across the beam and placed Dave’s stone head into place. It didn’t feel like it was going to stay put.

  “If I let go of this, it’s going to slide off.”

  “Wrap the rope around it,” suggested Tim.

  Julian did so. “Why didn’t the rope turn to stone like his boots and armor and everything did?”

  “He wasn’t in complete possession of it,” said Tim. “We were holding the other end. Cooper, put me up on the table.”

  Cooper picked up Tim and placed him on top of the table next to the statue.

  Holding Cooper’s shoulder to steady himself, Tim wrapped the rope around the two pieces of Dave’s stone head until they were fastened together as securely as they were going to be. It only amplified the already-present look of terror on Dave’s face.

  “All right,” said Old Man Belmont. “Now you boys take a step back.”

  Julian, Tim, and Cooper spread out, giving the fat old elf as much room as he could possibly need.

  Old Man Belmont cleared his throat and began to read from the scroll. Julian couldn’t understand a single syllable of what he said. This was magic well above his pay grade. The incoherent chanting went on for a minute or so, Belmont waved his fat arms about occasionally, but Julian didn’t think that was actually a part of the ritual. He was probably just an animated talker, like an excited Italian.

  After a loud crescendo of magical gibberish, he removed an expensive-looking dagger from the sleeve that Julian was all but certain he had just put his wand in. He grabbed the blade of the dagger tightly with one hand and winced as he jerked it out quickly with the other. He smeared his own blood over the parts of Dave’s head which weren’t obscured by rope, being a little more generous with it along the fracture line. Satisfied with the head, he spread his bleeding palm over the rest of Dave’s body. He didn’t coat it completely; more like a haphazard stroke of blood here and there, like a preliminary house painter who goes through with a brush and marks the sections of wall that are supposed to be painted. When Dave was smeared up pretty good, Old Man Belmont stepped back to admire his handiwork.

  “How do we know if it worked?”

  “How in the Abyss do you think you’ll know?” said the old elf.

  “Oh right,” said Tim. “I suppose that was kind of a stupid question.”

  “You don’t have to worry about the spell working,” said Belmont. “I’m an experienced wizard.”

  “That’s a relief,” said Julian.

  “What you’ve got to worry about is whether or not your friend there will survive the process.”

  That was less of a relief.

  The blood on the statue began to sizzle and smoke. The stone itself took on a decidedly less solid state, the surface writhing and bubbling. Even the parts that weren’t meant to be fleshy, such as Dave’s armor, expanded and contracted as though life was coursing through it.

  From within the writhing stone, Julian could hear the faint beginning of a low moan. The surface of the stone seemed to decide on a shape it liked and hardened. Just when it looked like solid stone again, it began to crack everywhere all at once, like there was a real Dave in there, but coated in a layer of eggshell. His right foot stepped sideways, breaking away massive chunks of the brittle white substance. He lost his balance and fell hard on his face.

  “Oh!” cried Dave. “My fucking head!”

  “He’s alive!” said Julian.

  Old Man Belmont nodded. “He has a strong will.”

  Julian wiped a tear away from his right eye. “He gets a bonus because of his high Wisdom score.”

  “What? Who? Where am I?” Dave was freaking out. He rolled onto his back, leaving behind flaky white chunks, and pulled frantically on the rope. “Why are my arms tied to my head?”

  “Take her easy there, sonny,” said Old Man Belmont. “You’ve just been through an ordeal.”

  “Who the fuck are you?” cried Dave, pulling even harder on the rope.

  “Dude,” said Tim. “Chill the fuck out before you strangle yourself.”

  “What’s going on?” Dave was anything but chill.

  “Cooper,” said Tim. “Sit on Dave while I untie the rope.”

  “Wait, no!” said Dave. “I’m chill! I’m chill!” He stopped pulling on the rope and sat up.

  “Now just sit still,” said Tim. He had Dave untied in no time.

  “Yaaaaaah!” Dave moaned, cradling his head in his hands. “Why does my head hurt so much?”

  “Here you go, son,” said Old Man Belmont, thrusting a jar of clear liquid in Dave’s face. “Take a swig of this.”

  “Is that a potion of healing?” asked Julian.

  “Naw,” said Belmont. “It’s just a jar of cornpiss. I buy it off the feller up the road.” He grimaced. “Aye, the corn will taste sweeter when it’s feeding on his miserable corpse.”

  Dave was greedily gulping back the cornpiss. Cooper was wrist deep into one nostril. Tim and Julian exchanged a glance.

  “Because he’s human?” asked Julian.

  “Huh?”

  “Is that why you don’t like your neighbor?” Julian pressed on in spite of Tim’s warning look. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation you were having with your daughter about her husband. I just got the impression that you don’t really care much for humans.”

  “Aye, that’s rich!” said Belmont. “I’m the bigot! I can’t even buy a crate of cornpiss without him wantin’ to gnaw my ear off all day long ‘bout the hierarchy of races, or whatever he calls it. I’ll go through two or three jars right then and there just to drown out his yappin’, ‘fore I can find a polite way to excuse myself.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Julian, “I didn’t mean to –“

  “And I got nothin’ personal against Marlow,” Belmont continued. “He’s a gentle enough husband and father. He’s just not what you’d call a protector or provider.”

  “Who’s Marlow?”

  “My son-by-rights,” said Belmont. “He’s a bard, for crying out loud! Imagine that, my own flesh and blood married to a bard.”

  “Bards suck,” said Cooper.

  “You said it, pork pie!” Belmont laughed, slapping his knee. “Course, havin’ them all stay here means I get to spend as much time as I like with my mongrel grandkids.”

  Julian frowned. “Is mongrel really the preferred –“

  “Don’t matter none anyways. He won’t be ‘round for long.”

  “Why?” asked Julian. “Is he sick?”

  “He’s human!” said Belmont. “God’s be damned, boy! Keep up with the conversation.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Tim. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I think you’ve taken enough of our time as well as our money. We really should be heading out.”

  “Did you really not mean for that to be rude?” asked Julian. “Because it actually sounded pretty –“

  Old Man Belmont laughed. “Don’t bother me non
e. Y’all get on your way now. You get into trouble again, just come on back here with another sack of gold.”

  “Oh my god,” said Dave, stumbling toward the center of the room. He held the empty jar in his right hand and rubbed his temple with his left, right where his head had been split in half. “My head feels a lot better, but I think I’m going to throw up.”

  “Dave!” cried Julian. “Wait!”

  “Is there a bathroom in this – WHA!” Dave fell through the fake floor.

  Cooper snorted. “Dumbass, you should have taken the stairs.” He was descending the staircase, his lower body already obscured by the illusion.

  “Fuck that,” said Tim. “I’m going out this way.” He climbed up onto the window sill, and out the other side, leaving only the tips of his fingers visible. A second later, those disappeared as well.

  Julian thought he’d try his luck on the stairs again. Going down turned out to easier than going up. The first third of the way down was tricky. Tim must have run out of dirt by the time he got up that far. After the stair that Cooper had shit on, the rest of the way down was easy, as Cooper was kind enough to leave behind big brown footprints.

  “You okay, Dave?” Julian said to the lump of dwarf spread out on the center of the floor.

  Dave turned his head toward Julian, gave him a weak ‘thumbs up’, and puked on the floor. “Better now.” He reached out his hand for Cooper to help him up.

  “I’ve carried your fat ass enough today,” said Cooper as he walked out the tower’s exit.

  Julian supported Dave as he hobbled out behind Cooper. They found Tim limping as well.

  “That grass wasn’t as soft as I thought it would be.”

  The four of them started back toward the property’s front gate.

  “Goodbye!” shouted Stamen.

  Julian turned around. Stamen and his sister, who had since turned back into a half-elf, were waving frantically at them, bright smiles on their faces. Old Man Belmont and his daughter stood behind their children, also smiling. Julian smiled back and waved. They might have just extorted every last bit of cash he and his friends had out of them, but they were nothing if not friendly people.