The Sundered Arms dad-8

by T. H. Lain

  Scale is too heavy and chain gives me rashes,

  Give me some armor that spares me from slashes!

  "That's a very silly spell!" whispered Lidda.

  "You're the one who insists on perfect rhyme," he hissed back. They ceased their banter as they heard the beast approach.

  The sound was a scraping, like someone dragging a box of arrows down the hall: slow at first, then followed by a brief rattling as of a rack of spears bumped by a careless soldier. The same sound came again, slowly and confidently, followed by a deep snuffling and a low, purring growl.

  Gulo roared back, filling the great hall with his voice to warn off any challenger that would trespass on his ground.

  "So much for our chances of parlay," grumbled Devis.

  A great shadow slouched into the frame of one of the grand arches, even blacker than the gloom behind it. At its shoulder it stood taller than Tordek. Its long body crouched low, and its bushy-tipped tail switched back and forth on the floor with a sound of rushes.

  "Fire!" cried Tordek. His bow sang in chorus with his companions', and four missiles flew at the intruder.

  The monster shrugged and coughed like a leopard. Two great dark wings rose up from its back then folded down again as its tail flicked scorpionlike over its back, flinging its own barrage back at its foes.

  A needle-sharp spike shot through Tordek's chest, punching through his armor as if it were foil. It lodged deep in his body, just below his heart. Beside him, Vadania shouted in surprise as another spike slammed through her shield and into her shoulder, spinning her around. Devis cursed and clutched his thigh, but luckily for him the wound was only a graze.

  Gulo rushed forward. He reared up to fall upon the foe, but the enemy beast also rose up on its hind legs and locked the wolverine in a vicious embrace. Claws cut deep as both animals twisted their heads to bite at an unprotected flank while simultaneously turning away to avoid the other's fangs.

  Tordek dropped his bow and unslung his war axe. The motion was agony as it tugged at the long spike imbedded in his lung. He coughed painfully and tasted blood in his mouth, but still he lumbered forward to help Gulo against the monster.

  Vadania's sweet voice rose in an elvish hymn to Obad-Hai. A flickering, purple aura appeared around the foe.

  It had the body of a gigantic cat, spotted like a leopard but with the powerful haunches of a desert lion. Great umber wings spread from behind its shoulders to beat furiously at Gulo's face. A ragged line of thick, black spines ran down its sinuous back. The spines tapered away at the base of its long, twitching tail to reappear in a thick cluster at its clublike tip. The thing's face was round and manlike, with a huge maw far out of proportion with the flat-faced head. A beard of black spikes bristled from its chin, reinforcing the monstrous resemblance to a man.

  "Manticore!" shouted Devis, running up with his longsword in hand. "It's a manticore!"

  Another spike seemed to spring suddenly from the monster's chin, but it was a dagger, not a spike. Lidda whooped in triumph. The creature screamed in annoyance and jerked back its head. The involuntary gesture gave Gulo the opening he needed to sink his fangs into the beast's shoulder.

  Tordek swung his axe at the manticore's haunch. The beast shifted backward in Gulo's deadly embrace just before the blow fell, sparing it a crippling wound.

  Devis lunged in to thrust at the thing's side, now high above his head. The point of his blade sank a few inches between the manticore's ribs, earning him a furious roar and the beast's full attention. He muttered an unintelligible oath while ducking to avoid a wing buffet.

  Gulo continued pushing hard against the manticore, but the foe had the advantage of greater mass. It was cunning, too. When Gulo released his grip and hunched low to bite the manticore's exposed belly, the monster leaped upward, pushed off against the wolverine's broad back, and took to the air with a harsh snap of its leathery wings.

  "Look out for its tail!" cried Devis, running for cover. The others scattered in four directions, wary of being caught together in a barrage of spikes.

  While its flightless foes fumbled to change weapons yet again, the manticore wheeled around in the relative confines of the great hall, searching for a high perch. Spotting none, it dived straight toward Devis.

  The bard's face paled as he hurriedly sang another spell. Wheezing, struggling to breathe, Tordek stumbled to help him. He released his bow and reached for the axe that he realized too late wasn't there-he had dropped it only a moment before in favor of the bow. There was no time to turn back for it. His hand touched Andaron's Hammer, and a furious surge of power pulsed up through his arm and across his chest. Filled with its hot strength, he ripped the manticore's spike from his ribs and kept running with renewed strength.

  Lidda's bow twanged. The arrow disappeared into the flapping wings of the manticore as the monster flicked its tail. A black hail of spikes fell around Devis just as he vanished from sight. A moment later, the manticore landed directly on the spot where Devis had stood. Blindingly fast paws slapped the area until the creature felt something and scooped it toward snapping fangs. Daggerlike teeth slashed and tore blindly, and blood splashed across the horrible jaws.

  The unseen victim's screams were hideous.

  Lidda sent arrow after green-fletched arrow slapping into the monster's flank.

  Tordek ran hard. The surge from the hammer gave him strength even though it did nothing to quench his agony. He covered the last six feet in a flying leap. The mallet head crashed down like a landslide. The massive impact severed the manticore's spine just above its haunches.

  The monster wailed its ear-splitting anguish and twitched spasmodically. The tail, decked with deadly spikes, lashed to and fro reflexively but there was no control behind it. The manticore's legs collapsed and dropped it to the floor in a heap.

  Gulo was upon the crippled beast in a flash, and his sharp fangs found its soft throat. With three wicked shakes of the wide-eyed head, the manticore's screams were silenced forever.

  Lidda raced around the monster's body, shouting Devis's name and feeling along the blood-slicked floor for the invisible bard. Vadania did the same, circling the other way. Tordek pushed against the manticore's body, trying to roll it over to see whether it might have fallen on its last prey.

  "Answer us, Devis!" called Vadania urgently. "We can't see you."

  "No no no," muttered Lidda quietly as her hands brushed against a body. She drew one away. It was covered in blood.

  The druid joined her, and together they gently rolled him onto his back and felt for his throat and his chest.

  "Is he alive?" demanded Tordek.

  "I can't feel a pulse," sobbed Lidda. "His face is all…torn up."

  "Get back," said Vadania. She filled her hands with mistletoe and called on the powers of the world. Pale, green luminescence flared, then faded on her fingers, and she called again. By the third time, she had only an orison to offer, and then her powers of curing were depleted.

  "Is that it?" shouted Lidda. "Is that all you can do?"

  Vadania whipped her head around to face the angry halfling. "Shut your mouth, you stupid little clown!"

  Lidda's face turned red, and her lean body quivered in rage. For a long, long second, Tordek feared she would stab the elf in the throat. The tensions was broken by a sound from the floor.

  Devis gurgled weakly. An instant later, he reappeared. Neither the elf nor the halfling could disguise their shock at the terrible wounds on his face and neck, as well as his bare and bloody arm.

  With his other hand, he groped weakly for his pack.

  Sensing his desire, Lidda and Vadania peeled the pack from Devis's back and plucked out everything they could lay hands on: torches, a waterskin, what was left of his trail rations, a scroll, a potion, and finally a wand which he grasped and held to his chest. Bubbles formed on his mouth as he gagged out a few words in a thick, unmusical voice and touched the wand to his throat. It emitted a milky light that soothed and knit the
torn flesh it illuminated.

  Tordek watched as the women competed with each other to fuss over the wounded half-elf. Vadania held up his head while Lidda washed away the blood on his face with her own waterskin. The elf snatched away the waterskin to bathe his arm, then Lidda took to stroking his uninjured hand and telling him that everything would be all right.

  Tordek shook his head and turned to Gulo, his only remaining ally who had not become crippled or insane.

  "How does he do that?" he asked the wolverine. Tordek was about to complain that Devis was not the only one in need of curing, but then he felt a warm and healthful glow where his lung had been pierced. Reaching awkwardly under his damaged breastplate, Tordek probed for the wound but felt only a hard knot where the hole should have been. It felt rough as sandstone and oddly cool against his warm skin.

  He looked at the hammer still clenched in his grasp and quickly replaced it on his belt. A new question troubled his mind as he walked away from the women cooing over Devis and went to retrieve his dropped axe.

  DISSENTION

  They dared not tarry in the feast hall for fear that the manticore's corpse would put more searchers onto their trail. Despite the cure spells, Devis walked with a weary limp that prompted Vadania to support him as they went. Tordek saw that Lidda was sulking about it as she brought up the rear, and he hoped her indignation would not dull her senses to an approaching threat.

  He did not really hold her to blame, though. He was more than half certain the bard was overplaying his injury for more attention. The only reason Tordek did not say so was that he was sure his accusation would only generate more sympathy for the damned rascal.

  Instead Tordek led them farther north, along a great cavern lined with long-abandoned homes and shops stripped of their original contents. Except for their subterranean location, the structures were not so different from the houses of the hill dwarves, who lived their lives above the ground. The only obvious difference was that the peaked roofs were reinforced for rockslides, not mere rain.

  The cobbled streets smelled of dry rat dung, and the shredded remains of old spider webs waved in the gated air vents that remained open. From others, the stains of rain-soaked soil ran down the walls, and mounds of pebbles and dirt gathered at their bases, proof of the centuries of neglect the abandoned stronghold had endured. Now and then they found a few scattered bones, cracked and sucked dry of marrow. Centipedes and ants the size of Tordek's thumb crawled away as their light approached.

  They crossed a bridge over a vast chasm. Looking up, Tordek saw reflected light over another bridge high above. The silhouettes of two more bridges appeared between them and the light, showing that Andaron's Delve was once far more than the shelter for a great smithy; it was a city unto itself. The distant echo of hammers drifted down from the heights, confirming his earlier estimate that they had plunged about three hundred yards below the foundry before splashing into the subterranean lake.

  Lidda whistled low and appreciatively. "That's some climb."

  Tordek nodded. "Unless their forces are far greater than we realized, they might never find us down here. Still, I would like to find a defensible room before we rest."

  No one argued that point.

  They crossed the bridge and entered a region of wide avenues paved with hexagonal tiles. Grand fountains, cracked and filled with dust, formed a roundabout at every intersection, and between the ornate houses jutting from the stone stood great half-pillars carved in the likeness of dwarven heroes. Despite the strength of their construction, inexorable time had dropped stones, pulled apart the earth, and shaken the walls to form long cracks. Most of the buildings had even greater injuries, with entire rooms crumbled to gravel or roofs collapsed into the chambers they once sheltered from avalanche. One narrow alley between a pair of squat domiciles was completely filled with deep, red clay fallen from a rupture in the cavern. Condensation from the walls trickled down its length, forming a miserable little creek across the street.

  Tordek led them past all the crumbling monuments to a square of temples surrounding a huge statue of Moradin above his anvil. The Soul Forger's arm was raised above his head, but it ended just short of the elbow. Great fragments of his hammer and forearm lay tumbled on the street. Tordek knelt briefly and said a prayer to the great god of the dwarves, asking his pardon for this intrusion into accursed chambers and permission to take shelter within his once-holy refuge.

  "How about this one?" said Lidda. She stood before a squat edifice with a row of scalloped columns for a facade. Unlike its neighbors, it had suffered few cracks, none larger than a snake could penetrate. Its walls looked thick and sturdy. Its only visible door was a great bronze portal turned dull green with age.

  "If you can open that door," said Tordek, "I'll be impressed. That is a coin vault."

  "Ha," said Lidda, bending her entwined fingers backward to crack her knuckles. "Brace yourself for being impressed."

  She set to work with an intensity Tordek had never before witnessed, exchanging picks every few moments as she quickly got a sense of the lock's inner mechanism. When he saw her furtive glances to check whether Devis was watching her progress, he realized the source of her inspiration. He turned back to the broken statue of Moradin and made a silent prayer for endurance.

  Lidda worked silently for half an hour, then the excuses began.

  "There really is a lot of corrosion in here," she said.

  Devis complained of a pain in his neck, and Vadania massaged his shoulders. The druid didn't seem to notice when Gulo whuffed indignantly and wandered out to explore the nearby buildings for vermin. Tordek wished he could go with the big fellow.

  Lidda did a double take when she heard Devis sigh with pleasure and noticed the elf's ministrations.

  "Damn it!" she said. When everyone looked at her querulously, she hastily added, "Almost had it that time."

  Irritation made her difficult task downright impossible. Tordek saw her drop a pick and curse under her breath, so he decided to let her off the hook.

  "Forget that lock," he said. "It's probably ruined, fused shut over the centuries."

  "No," protested Lidda. "I'm going to show this bitch who's boss."

  Tordek kept the smile off his face with a supreme effort. He knew it wasn't the lock she was cursing.

  Devis took his lute out from its bag and tuned it by ear. Vadania sat back to listen, and Lidda noticeably relaxed as the elf took her hands off the bard.

  "I once knew a great lockpick," said Devis, plucking out a tune that started slow and gradually picked up to a lively pace. He smiled at Lidda and added, "Not quite in your league, of course. In his land, he was known as the phantom, because he could pass through any door."

  Spend all the coins kept in your purse,

  The phantom's come to town.

  Your vaults will go from bad to worse,

  When he comes through the ground.

  Lidda grinned and turned back to her task, a new gleam of determination in her eye. Tordek knew this sort of sport could cause trouble in the long run, but if it kept up her spirits while she was helping them find shelter, he had nothing to say about it.

  They laid a trap in every house,

  But he was warned before.

  Their cage was bare but for a mouse,

  And he was out the door.

  The lyrics didn't get any better, but at least he sang it quietly. Tordek had to admit that the lad could carry a tune. Maybe later he would teach him some proper dwarven drinking songs, if there was a later for them all.

  "I got it!" cried Lidda exuberantly. When she realized how loud she had been, she grimaced her apology and whispered, "See? Are you impressed now, Tordek?"

  "I'm impressed," said Devis. He stowed his lute and made for the unlocked vault door, pausing only to give the halfling a congratulatory kiss on the cheek.

  Tordek looked to see what reaction Vadania had to this turn of events, but the elf's serene face was unreadable. To Tordek, that composur
e was more frightening than any sign of ire.

  "Let's go in," he said. "Carefully."

  The outer vault was merely the entrance to a wide hall of individual repositories, each sealed by a much more impressive, much less ornate iron door. Once Gulo ambled in to join them, Tordek made sure the door opened with a latch from the inside and pushed it closed.

  "At last," he said, "we can get some proper rest."

  He spied Lidda standing beside one of the iron vaults. Upon the wall was a row of short, iron levers and four corroded wheels. Lidda reached for one of the handles.

  "I wonder what happens if I pull this lever…"

  "No!" shouted Tordek, Devis, and Vadania in unison.

  "I was only kidding!" she said. "Gee, I'd think you could trust me by now."

  "How should we know when you're joking?" said Tordek. "You're a halfling."

  "Yeah, a halfling, not a moron!"

  "What's the diff-?" began Tordek in an innocent tone.

  "Don't finish that thought," said Lidda, holding up a finger. "You aren't even a little bit funny. You think you are, but you aren't."

  "Dwarves have a tremendous sense of humor."

  "Some dwarves," she said. "Not you."

  "Not now, you two," said Devis. "Maybe you should sort this out by taking the first watch. I'm beat." He yawned into his fist.

  Vadania spread her bedroll on the floor. When Devis placed his beside hers, they exchanged a sidelong glance that both Tordek and Lidda noticed.

  "What's she doing?" muttered Lidda. "She doesn't need to sleep like people do."

  "Maybe you can find the trap," said Tordek, hoping to distract her from the little drama Devis was nurturing.

  "Maybe you can find it," snapped the halfling without taking her eyes off the bard and the druid.

  "Already did," he said. "You're just about standing on it."

  Lidda shot him a suspicious glance. "Fool me once…" she warned.

  "I'm not joking. You're fine as long as you don't pull that lever or pull on the vault door."