The Wiz Biz

by Rick Cook

  “It is Bal-Simba’s wish,” said Kenneth simply.

  Wiz sighed. “Very well. Stand close to me and I’ll see if I can make this thing work.”

  Donal and Kenneth pressed in against his back and he shifted his grip on the staff.

  Wiz drew a deep, shuddering breath, filling his lungs with the cold, sweet air of Heart’s Ease. He looked around slowly at the place he had come to call home. Then he tightened his grip on the staff and began.

  “backslash” he said to the Emac.

  “$” the Emac responded, now ready and waiting for orders.

  “transport” he said and the Emac began to gabble silently translating the predefined macro spell into the words of power, “arg moira”

  He raised the staff high over his head as the air began to waver and twist around him. “EXE” he shouted.

  And the world went dark.

  ###

  Something’s gone wrong! Wiz thought frantically. It’s not supposed to be like this! His arms quivered from the strain of holding the heavy staff high. He could feel Donal and Kenneth pressing hard against his back and hear their breathing, but still the darkness did not lift. Then he shifted slightly and his staff scraped against something overhead, showering him with noisome dirt. He nearly laughed aloud as he realized that this darkness was simply the absence of light.

  He pointed with his staff. “backslash light exe” he said, and a blue glow lit the world around him. All three blinked and looked about.

  They were in a tunnel so narrow they could not pass abreast. The rough flagged floor was slippery with condensation and the air was close and foul with the odors of earth and decay. About ten yards in either direction the tunnel twisted away, hiding what was beyond. Wiz could see four or five low wooden doors bound strongly with iron set into the walls along this section of the corridor.

  “Moira!” Wiz called “Moira!” But ringing echoes and the distant sound of dripping water were the only replies. Donal and Kenneth quickly moved up and down the corridor, checking the cells.

  “They are empty, Lord,” Donal said, as they returned to where Wiz stood fidgeting. He forbore to mention that some of the cells were merely empty of life.

  “Damn! She’s got to be here someplace. The Emac said they had her located to within cubits.”

  The two guardsmen exchanged looks. They knew how unreliable magic could be, how susceptible to counterspells or the blurring effects of other magics, and how magicians could use the magic to trap other magicians. What better place for a threat to the League than the dungeons under the Leagues own stronghold? As unobtrusively as they could, they shifted their stances and loosened their weapons.

  Unheeding, Wiz reached into his pouch and pulled out a shiny silver sphere. He cupped it in his palm. “backslash cd slash grep moira” he said to the marble. It pulsed with a golden glow, flashing brighter and fainter to acknowledge the order.

  “exe” Wiz said and the light from the sphere steadied into a warm yellow illumination that highlighted his face. The marble grew into a ball of light the size of his fist and floated to the top of the tunnel. “She’s above us,” Wiz told the other two. “We’ll have to go up to the next level.”

  “Carefully, Lord,” Donal said in a near whisper. “These tunnels are chancy at best and there are enemies about.”

  Wiz nodded and stepped under the glowing ball bobbing against the ceiling, “backslash” he said softly. “in here Moira” Again the warm light pulsated.

  “exe” Wiz whispered and the ball drifted off to the left, glowing steadily as it traveled up the tunnel Wiz moved to follow it and Donal stepped in front of him, his great sword at the ready. Kenneth fell in behind with his bow in hand and the flap open on his belt quiver.

  There was no need to renew the light spell. The golden ball suffused the tunnel with an even glow, warmer and more natural than the weird blue light of the staff.

  Donal and Kenneth were not comforted. The light would be a beacon to anyone or anything guarding the tunnels. Wiz didn’t notice. His eyes were fixed on the glowing ball.

  They saw no one as they moved up the tunnel, but twice they heard movement behind one of the stout, low doors set in the wall at irregular intervals. In neither case was the sound the sort that made them want to stop and investigate even if they had the time. Once there was an explosion that shook dirt down on them. Donal and Kenneth looked apprehensive, as if the passage might collapse, but Wiz only smiled and pressed forward.

  The tunnel twisted and turned, it wandered and wobbled, it branched and joined, it doubled back and redoubled on itself and it dipped and it rose. But it rose more than it dipped and always the sphere of light led them on.

  Kenneth and Donal kept swiveling their heads, their eyes scanning everywhere for signs of danger. Wiz kept his attention on the sphere, with just enough on his surroundings so he didn’t trip on the miserable footing. Thus when Donal stopped dead at a corner, Wiz walked into him.

  “Oh shit,” Donal breathed silently.

  “Oh shit!” Wiz whispered, peering over his shoulder.

  “Oh shit?” mouthed Kenneth, bringing up the rear.

  Around the corner the tunnel widened into a room, its stone floor worn smoother and more even than the corridor. The seeking ball was not the main source of light, for on one side of the room logs burned brightly in a cavernous fireplace. Along the other walls rush torches flared in wrought iron holders. Sturdy tables and benches were scattered about. And in the center, clustered around the glowing golden intruder, were twenty goblins, all armored, armed and very much on the alert.

  They were staring up at the light and muttering among themselves in their coarse goblin speech. A very large goblin poked at the seeker with a halberd.

  One of the goblins turned from the light to look back the way it had come. His piggy little eyes widened at the sight of the three human heads peeking around the corner and he opened his tusked mouth to yell to his comrades.

  “Fortuna!” Donal said under his breath, making the word a curse. Then he brandished his great sword and leaped into the open shouting a war cry. Kenneth was instantly at his back and Wiz stumbled in behind them.

  Now goblins are powerful creatures, crafty, patient and fierce. But they are also excitable and given to panic if things go wrong. Goblin attacks are legendary, but so are goblin routs.

  These goblins were already in a bad way. Their citadel was besieged by powerful magic. Their last orders were to stay on guard, but those had come hours ago and they had had no word from their officers or the wizards they served since. They were on edge from hours of waiting and when three screaming humans burst into their guardroom in the wake of a mysterious light, they did what came naturally to their goblin natures. They panicked and ran.

  “Son of a bitch,” Wiz breathed as the clatter and shouting of the departing goblins died away.

  “I told you you would need us, Lord,” Donal said as he looked up the tunnel after the goblins.

  Kenneth merely scowled. “They will be back soon enough. And others with them. Let us not be here when they return.”

  “Right,” Wiz said. Already the golden ball was disappearing out the door the goblins had taken. “Come on then.”

  If the tunnel had been convoluted before, now it became positively mazy. Every few yards there was another branching and never were there fewer than four ways to go. At times even the seeker hesitated before plunging off down one or the other of the passages. Wiz’s sense of direction, never his strong point, was completely befuddled. It seemed they had walked for a mile at least, all of it over rough, slippery ground that always sloped up, down or to the side, and sometimes several ways together.

  Finally they came to a place where a fresh fall of dirt and rocks blocked most of the passage. The ball did not hesitate. It floated to the top of the tunnel and vanished in the crevice between the debris and the ceiling. That left Wiz and his companions in darkness except for the faint glow coming through the crack.
/>   “It doesn’t look very big,” Donal said, eyeing the crack doubtfully.

  “The spell does know enough not to go where a man may not follow?” Kenneth asked.

  “Well, ah . . .” Wiz realized he hadn’t thought of that. “Come on, let’s see if we can get through.”

  He scrambled up the mound of loose earth and tried to wedge his body through. His arms and head went in easily enough, but his torso went only halfway. He tried to back out but with his arms extended in front, he couldn’t get any purchase. He kicked his legs and tried to writhe his body from side to side, but only succeeded in getting a mouthful of the fetid dirt.

  “Help me out of here,” he called as he twisted his head to one side and spat out the foul-tasting earth.

  Donal and Kenneth each grabbed a leg and tugged strongly. Wiz slid out, still spitting dirt.

  “Gah!” He wiped his tongue on the inside of his tunic. “No good. We’ll have to dig.”

  Kenneth muttered a comment about half-something spells. Wiz ignored him and picked up his staff. “backslash light exe” he commanded, pointing the staff down the corridor. At once everything let up with eerie blue light. Then Wiz turned to work on the blockage.

  They had no shovel, so at first Wiz threw dirt back between his legs like a dog. Then Kenneth took off his helm and passed it up to use as a scoop. When they came to rocks too large for Wiz to move by himself, Donal squeezed into the tunnel beside him to help. All the while Kenneth stood guard with his bow at the ready, looking nervously down the way they had come.

  “I think it’s big enough,” Wiz said at last, panting from the exercise. “Let me check.”

  As he moved to climb back up the dirt pile, Donal caught his arm and shook his head. “Bal-Simba said to take care of you, Lord. I’ll go first.”

  “I wish you’d remembered that while I was digging,” Wiz said as Kenneth knocked the dirt out of his helm and laced it tight to his mail coif.

  “Bal-Simba did not say to do your work for you,” Donal replied. Then he scrambled up the dirt pile and squeezed into the crack, dragging his great sword behind him.

  “All clear,” he called after a moment from the other side and Wiz slithered through after him with Kenneth close behind.

  Amazingly, the seekers golden light was still visible, reflected off the wall at the end of the corridor. Wiz and his companions hurried on, turned a corner and there, about twenty-five yards in front of them, was the seeker, bobbing up and down gently in front of a stout oaken door.

  “Moira? Moira?” Wiz called as they came down the corridor.

  A pale tear-stained face appeared in the tiny barred window set in the door.

  “Wiz? Oh, Wiz!”

  Wiz rushed ahead of his companions and pressed against the door. “Oh my God! Darling, are you all right?”

  “Oh Wiz, Wiz. I’ve been so . . . Oh Wiz!” and Moira started to cry.

  “Come on, we’ll get you out of there. Stand away from the door, now.”

  Moira backed from the window, as if reluctant to lose sight of him.

  “Get as far away as you can and cover yourself!” Wiz instructed her. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

  “I’m . . . I’m ready.” Moira called tentatively from within the cell. Wiz raised his staff.

  ###

  “What was that?” Atros growled.

  “Vig noiss. Egplhossion.” The goblin commander’s human speech was slurred by his great tusks. “I know that, idiot! But what caused it?” The goblin merely shrugged, which only increased the wizard’s ire. For over two hours, Atros had been searching the dungeons based on the report of a troop of goblins who had been attacked in their guardroom by a strong force of human warriors and wizards. At least that was their story, Atros thought sourly. So far he had seen nothing to prove it.

  “Well, where did it come from?” he snapped.

  “That way, Master. Where special prisoner is.”

  Atros ears pricked up. What was the old crow hiding down here? “Well, let’s check. Quickly.”

  With nearly fifty heavily armed and armored goblins behind them, Atros and the goblin commander set off down the tunnel at a trot

  The dungeons were a difficult labyrinth in the best of times, but with the incredible attack going on above, the maze of twisty little passages was almost impenetrable. The magic which usually guided the knowledgeable wasn’t working and Atros was forced to rely on the memory and navigating skill of the goblins. He had a sneaking suspicion they had spent most of their time down here lost and wandering in circles—if a circle wasn’t too regular a figure to describe their movements.

  But something had obviously happened to those guards and Atros was encouraged by the report of humans in the dungeons—apparently Northern guardsmen at that. What was going on over their heads was unbelievably powerful, but it was also strange. None of the familiar magic or non-magical forces of the North had been encountered. Atros had perforce learned a grudging respect for the Northerners, not only for developing so many mighty new spells but for keeping everything so secret that the League’s spies had gotten only the vaguest of hints.

  However that left the League’s more conventional resources uncommitted and Atros had a shrewd suspicion that they would be thrown in at a critical point. When that happened, he vowed as he jogged along grimly, he would be there and there would be such a duel of wizards as the World had never seen.

  ###

  Wiz charged through the smoldering ruins of the door and swept Moira into his arms. She was dazed and weeping. She was filthy and her long red hair was matted with dirt, but she was still the most beautiful woman Wiz had ever seen.

  “Oh my God, Moira, I thought I had lost you forever.”

  “Wiz, oh Wiz,” Moira sobbed into his chest. Then he reached down, lifted her chin and kissed her.

  ###

  “Now what?” Atros demanded of his hulking companion as they came around the bend. Ahead of them was a faint golden glow, the likes of which Atros had never seen down here.

  The head goblin only shrugged and signaled his men to advance cautiously. As they moved down the tunnel cautiously the light grew brighter and steadier. They came around another bend and there, at the end of the tunnel was a shattered door with a golden light emanating from it and the sound of voices. Human voices. Atros stepped aside as the goblin captain and his soldiers advanced.

  ###

  At the cell door, Kenneth stared down the corridor and fretted. It was bad enough that the Sparrow hadn’t turned off his seeker ball now that they had found the hedge witch. Worse he was clinched with her and he wasn’t making any effort to get them away. Kenneth’s well-developed sense of danger had been nagging him ever since they entered the dungeons and now the nagging had grown to a full scream. If they stayed here much longer they were going to run into something they could not handle. Kenneth had no doubt at all these passages were full of things like that.

  He frowned and squinted down the way they had come, careful not to expose his body with the light behind him. Was it his imagination or had he just heard a scuffling sound, like something heavy trying to move quietly?

  Well, one way to find out, he thought to himself. Silently he nocked the arrow he was carrying in his bow hand. Then he drew and loosed a shaft down the corridor.

  He was rewarded with a shout and the sound of running feet.

  “Attackers!” Kenneth yelled, and fired another arrow. Donal was at his side instantly, his sword at the ready.

  “Lord, light the corridor and douse that globe!”

  Wiz jerked his head up at Kenneth’s cry. “Right,” he said and snatched up his staff. “backslash light exe” he yelled, pointing the staff down the corridor. Moira gaped at him. Instantly the whole corridor lit up blue, revealing a packed mass of goblins thundering down on them.

  “Fortuna,” Donal breathed and grasped his sword more tightly.

  Kenneth’s bowstring thrummed twice more and two more goblins fell. The last one to g
o down was the goblin commander who dropped kicking and writhing with an arrow in his eye. His momentum carried him nearly two paces further.

  The combination of the light and the loss of their commander was too much for the goblins. They broke and fled back down the tunnel. Kenneth got one more as they rounded the bend.

  ###

  “Magic, Master! We must have magic!” The goblin soldier was breathing hard and foam slavered down his chin as he knelt before Atros.

  “Fools! Buffoons!” roared Atros. “Must I do your work for you? There is no magic here. Only two humans. Finish them. Now.”

  “Magic, Master!” the goblin soldier begged.

  “Idiot!” Atros kicked the creature in the face, sending him sprawling. The other goblins shifted and muttered. Atros realized he was dangerously close to overplaying his hand with these servants.

  “Attack again,” he ordered. “Attack now. If they use magic then I will loose my powers against them.”

  The goblins muttered more but they began to sort themselves out for an attack.

  Atros watched, frowning. He still wasn’t sure the alien wizard was with this group and he didn’t want to use his magic unnecessarily. Whatever was going on in the City of Night was nullifying or weakening spells. Demons were not responding reliably to his call, so he could not learn the identity of his adversary. He did not know his strengths or weaknesses and the feel of the magic was maddeningly unfamiliar. Worse, he could not establish contact with his fellow wizards. He was on his own and deprived of his most reliable weapons.

  If the wizard was in that room, then he would crush him. But there was no sign of great power and if the wizard was not there, Atros would rather sacrifice this band of goblins than reveal and weaken himself.