by Drew Hayes
“Okay, everyone, since the cavern echoes and you’re all crammed in, you can hear some of the other adventurers talking about moving out the exit soon,” Russell told them. “No Hearing checks needed for something that loud. They want to work together, for the moment, and press on as a group. Whether you go with them or not is completely up to you.”
“The more meat-shields between Chalara and the dragons, the happier she is,” Cheri said. “I say we stick with the big group until it’s time to break off.”
“There’s merit to strength in numbers,” Bert agreed. “But a smaller unit can also move about far more easily. If we’re with the mob, we’re going to draw attention, which means more fights with dragons.”
“Winnable fights, you mean,” Cheri shot back. “If we’re on our own and a dragon finds us, how well do you think we’ll do?”
“Gelthorn reminds you both that prey can win by being swift or strong, but the chance to be strong is a fleeting one on this mountain.” Alexis’s voice boomed, as it always did when she was speaking through her character. Well, outside of cities, anyway. City-Gelthorn wasn’t much louder than Regular-Alexis.
“Timanuel is with Gelthorn. We can always break off later if we want to. Once the crowd leaves, that’s it for our chance to fight as part of them. Better to see if this strategy works again, and then try something different if we need to.” Tim paused, looking over the map once more. “Besides, Timanuel isn’t much good at sneaking around or being mobile. I think he’s more useful in battle. At least this way, we can make a difference.”
All eyes turned to Bert, who had developed a small crease between his eyes as he pondered the situation intensely. “You all make good points, but can we hang to the back of the group at least? Front is out for obvious reasons, and Wimberly wouldn’t want to get penned in by bodies in the center.”
“Bert, if the dragons come, you know Timanuel can’t run away,” Tim said.
“No, but you can run around. Reposition, strike from the sides, put your back to a wall.” Bert ticked the ideas off his fingers one by one. “Being unyielding isn’t the same as being inflexible. I get the duty of the paladin, I really do, but there’s nothing in the rules saying you can’t fight smart as you make your heroic final stand.”
Tim paused for several moments, carefully considering the point. “Timanuel is fine with that idea, I think. The point is to defeat the evil, after all.” That established, Tim and the others looked to Russell, who in turn glanced down to consult the module on what happened if they waited for the NPCs.
“After five minutes, the group begins forming up near the entrance, preparing to head back out onto the mountain. Though you don’t see any dragons right outside, you can hear the distant sound of roaring as it echoes through the air.”
* * *
“I thought there would be more dead.” Terkor flipped over a burned corpse. The armor was toast and the coin bag melted clean through, making the metal inside largely worthless. He still stripped the purse from the body and tucked it inside his enchanted bag. Every copper mattered, after all.
“This is only the first obstacle. With how hard it was to be part of this quest, it wouldn’t make sense if everyone died so soon.” Mitnan poked at a body with his axe, making sure it was truly dead. There was nothing on it he wanted to take, but if they could find someone capable of talking, they might get an idea of what other adventurers—and more importantly, their items—had made it past this point.
“Now what? Do we just wait here until the dragons come back?” Glezidel was getting blood on his robes as he slit the throat of an already dead dwarf. One could have argued that this was practical, since blood fueled the magic of his recently purchased knife, but that would be ignoring the fact that Glezidel bought it because it offered him an excuse for exactly this sort of behavior.
Mitnan stared up at the looming mountain, noting the sounds of dragon roars echoing in the distance. “No, I think we hung back enough. Let’s start making our way up. Something tells me that by the time we get there, we’ll find plenty of bodies to loot.”
Chapter 44
No one said a word as they stared at the narrow ledge, the only support that would save them from plummeting a hundred feet down directly into what looked like sharp rocks and sun-bleached bones. The route they’d chosen had seemed like a blessing for the last hour, allowing them to make steady progress and proving mercifully free of dragons. Only now, staring across the chasm, did they understand why their path had been so unguarded. It was because the dragons didn’t need to worry about anyone going this way. Assuming the mountain was still warded against spells of flight, there was no way to cross except for trying to balance on the slim ledge that ran unevenly along the mountain’s side. It would be crazy for a normal person; anyone in armor may as well hurl themselves down to the bottom now and save the time.
“Do we go back?” Timuscor leaned slightly over the edge as he spoke, poking the open air, no doubt in the hopes that it would prove to be only an illusion. As his hand passed through, it became clear that there was nothing separating him from a drop that was if not certain death, at least enough to leave him crippled and trapped until a dragon happened to snap him up.
“We could, but there’s no guarantee the next direction we choose will offer an easier obstacle,” Thistle told him. “Plus, the longer we take, the greater the chance of being spotted by dragons.”
“Well, I’m not sure how you plan to make it across,” Eric said. “Keeping my armor on, I might be able to get over, although that would be a heck of a challenge. But I can’t see the rest of you pulling it off, no offense.”
“Aye, you’re right there. And in a place this dangerous, we can’t risk the time or exposure of removing our armor.” Thistle pulled at one of his bracers, testing how well it held and how easy it would be to remove.
Eric walked slightly ahead, testing the first part of the ledge with his foot. “Even if we could ditch the armor, this is a narrow foothold. Anyone could slip at any time.”
“Which is why we’ll all be tied together.” Thistle reached into his bag and produced a long rope as easily as if it had been waiting right atop the pile. “And our anchor will be Gabrielle’s axe. Given her current strength, I’m assuming she can drive the blade deep enough into the rock to serve as an anchor. Gabrielle, what do you think?”
In response, Gabrielle pulled her axe from its sheath, held it high overhead, and slammed it down into the rocky ground with a mighty blow. The weapon’s head vanished partway into the stone, and Gabrielle’s first few tugs failed to pull it free. Only when she braced herself and pulled with her legs did the axe finally unsheathe itself from the ground. “I can do it, sort of. Lodging the axe is no problem at this angle, but I doubt I can get such a good swing while clinging to a ledge. Same issue with pulling it out—no way I can manage that one-handed without going tumbling over the side.”
“Then I suppose our ability to cross will depend on just how specific—and powerful—the dragon’s wards are.” Thistle turned to Grumph, who’d already brought his staff to the ready. “What do you say, old friend? Same spell as in the catacombs?”
“Worth trying.” With no more assurances than that, Grumph walked over to Gabrielle and held out his staff. Words could be heard yet not understood as he muttered gently, gesturing with his free hand. After a few seconds, he pressed the high-middle of the staff, just below where the canvas sack ended, against Gabrielle’s forehead. The air seemed to crackle with energy, and a small glow rippled across her.
“I think it worked.” Grumph’s voice was raspy, like he’d just hauled a dozen kegs up a set of stairs one after the other. “This is a small spell, one target, easier to focus than something like flight. You’ll have to test it to be sure.”
Gabrielle didn’t need any more instruction than that. She knew exactly what Grumph had thrown on her; it was the same enchantment she’d used to get the drop on a priest of Kalzidar. Stepping over to the sheer ed
ge of the mountain, Gabrielle lifted her left leg and pressed it against the vertical surface. As she moved her right leg from the ground, her left stayed in place, bound to the wall by Grumph’s magic. She climbed up several steps, and then took a test swing with her axe. It went in, just as it had on the ground, and with some effort, she was able to pull it free.
“Looks like we’re good,” Gabrielle called.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to have Grumph cast that spell on all of us?” Timuscor asked. “That seems a far safer way to pass through.”
“This obstacle, yes,” Thistle agreed. “However, we have only just begun our climb, and casting on each of us would considerably drain Grumph’s mana. So long as we have a mundane solution, better to use it and conserve our wizard’s magic for further down the line. Not to mention, casting against the dragon’s wards seems to have taken a toll on him.”
Although Grumph still stood tall and strong, there was no denying the fact that he was leaning on his staff a little more than should have been strictly necessary. Nevertheless, he let out a derisive snort at their stares, as if to say he was offended at even the idea that he could be tired by one measly spell.
“Gabrielle, come back so we can tie the rope to your axe,” Eric said, waving at her to move back down. “Everyone else, stow as much of your gear in the satchels as you can. The sooner Grumph can stop sustaining that spell, the better off we’ll all be.”
The party, save for Gabrielle, began to gather every loose item on their person as quickly as possible, stuffing it all into their enchanted bags. Speed was of the essence. If a dragon found them in the precarious position of crossing the ledge, they were almost certainly dead. The only upside was that at least that end would be swift and hopefully painless. It was a poor consolation prize for success, though, one no one in the party wanted to claim.
* * *
The dragon’s jaws snapped down, closing on a shield that refused to bend. Before it could recover, a gleaming longsword all but dripping with enchantments drove through its head, piercing its brain and sending the massive creature slumping to the ground. Yanking his weapon free, the knight spun around, ready for any that dared try to assault him. What he found was the sorcerer and Elora, standing patiently nearby as they waited for him to finish.
“Three minutes for a pair of hatchlings?” The man in robes clucked under his tongue. “Come now, Everett, you can’t expect to grow your renown if that’s the best you can do.”
“Perhaps, Agrut, if you’d been so kind as to throw a little magic my way, I might have been able to deal with the situation more quickly.” The knight pulled a silken fabric from his pack and wiped the dragon blood off his sword.
“Ah, but then who would have guarded our rogue? Dead women can’t very well disarm traps. Speaking of…” The sorcerer turned to Elora, the humor leaving his eyes as they fell upon her. “I believe I saw a small chest amidst this pair’s hoard. Shouldn’t you be making sure it’s safe for opening?”
Elora was tempted to tell this asshole that hatchlings had neither the expertise nor the wisdom to trap their hoards well; the collections of gold and jewels were usually nothing more than castoffs from the older dragons. But, seeing as the knight had just slayed a pair of dragons, albeit young ones, she felt a mild inclination to prove her worth. The last thing she needed was either of them getting the idea to renegotiate their contract. Not that they’d have quite the upper hand they imagined; she’d seen to that at breakfast. Still, a pleasant working relationship was better than a strained one, at least until it was time to see the treasure divided.
Walking over with a great show of care, Elora examined the small mound of coins and jewels, most of them worth little more than a few silver or perhaps a gold piece. The chest was hardy and well-constructed, but ultimately simple. It was meant to keep anyone from easily taking what was within, not actively repel them. She pulled out a few tools and unlocked it in seconds, then spent another full minute pretending to fiddle with the lock. In practice, she found it never a good idea to let anyone know exactly how skilled she was or to make her tasks look easy. If the work seemed simple enough, the stupid and arrogant could get ideas that they could do the same without her. That sort of thought never ended well, so it was best to avoid it all together.
“This was a tough one,” she said at last, pulling open the chest’s top. “But the payoff is... about twenty silver coins, and one blue gem with a crack in it.”
“By the gods, I thought dragons were supposed to covet gold. We could have made more by sacking an evil wizard’s temple or something.” Everett slapped his sword haphazardly into his sheath, a stark contrast to the care he’d shown moments prior when cleaning it.
“We’ve barely gotten started. The good stuff isn’t going to be down here within easy reach. We’ll have to kill some stronger dragons before we see the real loot,” Agrut replied.
“Fine, but you’d better jump in when we get to the actual dragons. Even I’ve got limits, you know.”
“Rest assured, when the need arises, I will have your back, as I always have.” Agrut turned to Elora. “As for you, I assume that since you’re a rogue, you’re good at getting scarce when the need arises. Make sure you stay out of sight once the real fighting starts. Neither of us can afford to protect you, and we won’t.”
“Your concern is overpowering,” Elora said. “Somehow, I will find the mental strength to remember the art of stealth with which I have built my entire life and career. Truly, the task may destroy me, yet I will see it through no matter what.”
“This rogue is chatty,” Everett noted. “I prefer the dark, brooding ones.”
Agrut shook his head. “I don’t mind the mouth as much; at least she seems less likely to stab us in the back.”
Elora smiled—the first time she had in the last few hours. Agrut was right; there was no way Elora would ever do such a thing as stabbing either of them in the back. They were both much too strong for that tactic, and anyway, it lacked the sort of nuance she prided herself on. No, such tactics were off-limits to a rogue like Elora.
Instead, she’d simply poisoned their breakfast. It was potent stuff, too. The only reason neither felt it was that she’d also spiked their water skins with a minor antidote that delayed the effects. If they tried to turn on her or break the contract in any way, she wouldn’t need to rely on anything so overt as a dagger. All she needed to do was let them run out of water.
And with every passing moment, the idea grew more and more tempting.
* * *
The going wasn’t exactly quick, but it didn’t take long before Gabrielle and the others fell into a rhythm. She would bury her axe in the cliff face, gathering as little slack as possible, and the rest of the party would slowly creep their way along the ledge. Once they were stable, she’d uproot the weapon, traipse as far forward as the rope allowed, and slam it in once more. These moments were the tensest for Gabrielle, as the mighty blows required to wedge the axe in the rock echoed out around them, a veritable dinner bell to any nearby dragons with time to investigate. She stayed hunched over the weapon as her friends moved, ready to act if a monster sprang into view or the axe needed extra muscle to stay in place.
It was a nerve-racking process, one that threatened to send her heart into her throat every time a member of the group slipped from the ledge. Mercifully, the most common person to lose their footing was Thistle, who was easily swung back up thanks to his diminutive form and light weight. Eric was holding strong, his balance allowing him to manage the feat even without the aid of the rope. Grump was also doing well, thanks in large part to making the trip wearing only wizard armor, his staff strapped neatly to his back.
Timuscor, however, was the wild card. Aside from having Mr. Peppers carefully tied into a sling on his back, the muscular knight was also weighed down from head to toe in his plate armor, which had to cover far more than Thistle’s and was proportionally heavier for it. Impressively, he lost his footing only once, but when
he fell, Gabrielle felt certain he’d bring everyone down with him. Thistle, of all people, killed Timuscor’s momentum by whipping out his daggers and jamming them into the cliff face, turning himself into a secondary anchor. It still took some effort to pull Timuscor back to the ledge, although it was a far easier process than if everyone had been left dangling, hooked to the mountain only by Gabrielle’s axe.
For all the terror she felt crossing, Gabrielle’s heart burst with nearly as much joy as she made her way along the cliff face, past the end of the ledge, and buried her weapon in the rock for the last time. They were so close now; even if someone fell, it would just be a matter of pulling them up. Gabrielle’s eyes scanned the sky, more from habit than expectation, in between her occasional glances downward. She saw Grumph step back onto solid ground, the half-orc nearly toppling over with relief. Not long after, Thistle neared the safety of the mountain path. But Gabrielle didn’t watch as he drew near; her attention was elsewhere
The sound... it was like a whip, yet not quite. It echoed from somewhere just out of sight, familiar, but difficult to place. Faint as it had been when it started, it was growing steadily louder—rhythmic, constant, and unyielding. She scavenged her mind, trying to place it.
Gabrielle realized where she’d heard it moments before the source came into view. It was forgivable that she’d had trouble placing it, since there had been so much noise in the chaos of the charge up the mountain’s front that picking out any one element was almost impossible. This one only stood out because of how distinct and frequent it was.
What Gabrielle was hearing was the steady snap of leathery dragon wings propelling their owner through the air. She was just debating whether to scream a warning or hope they went unnoticed when the point became moot. The bright red form of a dragon came into view from around the mountainside, eyes locked on her friends below with unwavering focus.