Burrows & Behemoths

by Lee Duckett

  The cleric continued to tell them detail after detail about skeletons, from the mechanism that animated them (obsidian that was ground to dust and covered the body via spell), to different kinds of skeletons (burning skeletons, freezing skeletons, electrically charged skeletons, skeletons that exploded, and other, rarer variants), to whether or not they had souls (No, but someone whose skeleton was animated couldn’t be resurrected because of the resonance between the reanimated body and the resurrect one), only killing one skeleton herself that got past Rurik.

  Even though the party had fought similar foes a little less than a week ago, the experience they’d gained, both gifted from level ups and hard earned through combat, let them handle it with ease. All three of the fighters had a number of small, grazing wounds on them when the last skeleton was felled by Rurik, who had abandoned his weapons, punching it into submission.

  ~And because of that lack of water-based tissues, non-fire-enchanted skeletons are immune to cold.~ Aria stated. ~Also-~

  “They’re dead, you can shut up now,” growled Fayne, who had developed a twitch in one eye.

  “There’s no need to be rude,” rebuked the cleric primly.

  “Rude? Rude?” the elf started, incensed.

  Badger put a hand on her own, staring at his wife. “No, she’s only doing what we asked. It’s not her fault that we were making assumptions.” Aria started to smile, but that froze as the wizard continued. “It’s our fault for treating her like an ally, and not like a summoned outsider.”

  “I’m-” she started to object.

  “An aasimar, which you can summon with a spell to call outsiders and make deals with them, like an angel. Or a devil,” he cut her off. “It was my mistake to treat you otherwise.”

  “I can’t believe you’d talk to your wife that way!” she chastised.

  “I can’t believe I need to talk to my wife that way,” he shot back without rancor, still completely calm. “But if you want to take things absolutely literally, I can do that.”

  “You always take things literally,” she defended, by accusing.

  He nodded, accepting the charge, “I know, and you get upset with me for that, but I won’t do that to you in turn. That would be hypocritical. Give me a few minutes and I’ll put together a contract.” He smiled to himself, using his fingertip to collect the blood from his cheek where an old, rusty dagger had almost struck him, “Hopefully you won’t make me sign it in blood, but I have it if that is what you require.”

  She winced at this as if physically struck, hanging her head. “No, you don’t need to do that. I’m. . . I’ll fight. Come over so I can heal you.”

  He hid his smile as he walked over, offering an arm as she started to drop golden motes into him, healing him. “I’ll leave it to you what you want to tell us, but if there’s information that changes how we fight, like special attacks or defences, please tell us. Like using blunt weapons against skeletons.”

  “That’s it?” Fayne asked, upset. “Just ‘oh I guess I’ll fight’! She should apologize!”

  Badger shrugged, “I’m happy.”

  The elf looked at him as if he were insane. “You! She! Ugh!” she threw her hands up, walking into one of the doorways. “I’m gonna go search for something useful, like gold, or acetaminophen!”

  Stalking through one of the doorways, she found the remains of a minimalistic bedroom, worthy of a young priest. Rurik walked in a moment later. “Sorry about mum, lass. It’s. . . just the way she is.”

  “It shouldn’t be,” she shot back at him, frowning and rubbing her temples. “She was all demanding that we apologize for things that weren’t our fault, but she won’t even give us so much as an ‘I’m sorry’ when she’s in the wrong? What’s wrong with her!?”

  “She’ll apologize in a few days, maybe. Not sure why, but when she actually does something wrong it always takes her a while ‘fore she apologizes, if she does at all,” the dwarf explained resignedly.

  “But she’s playing games with our lives,” she implored, trying to reach him. “She has to realize that!”

  Rurik just shrugged, “I’m not so sure she does lass.”

  “What?” Fayne asked, confused.

  He shrugged again. “I. . .” he sighed. “I didn’t, so why should she?”

  “What?” the elf asked again, feeling a bit like a broken record.

  “I. . . I still thought of this like a game when we got ‘ere,” he said, motioning upwards. “Thought it be balanced like an MMORPG, where if I be trippin’ the encounter alone it’d be set ta just me. Less danger, but also less reward, but I be okay with that if it be meanin’ we all survive. It ain’t, and I tried ta ignore that.” He shook his head, “The stirges alone. It be balanced to give us a chance, but that’s just it, a chance. The roper, the damn bloody snake. I think this place is built ta teach us sometin’, but I’m not gonna say what, just in case. Big bro said ‘e made the last adventure and knowin’ him he messed with the other two, and he likes ta put messages in things.”

  “I. . . what?” Fayne asked, feeling the need to add something intelligent to this conversation. “What was the message of the last one?”

  Rurik waved around, “That we could do this. Be adventurers. Kick evil right in the danglies. We got the good bits, but we missed the bad. That just like I can give a skeleton a knuckle sandwich, if we ain’t bein’ smart about it, we’re just as likely to get one ourselves. We can’t squabble, we can’t,” he waved towards his parents, “play stupid games lest we win stupid prizes.”

  “Tell them that,” she grumbled, wanting to argue but not finding a good argument.

  Rurik grinned, teeth glinting from behind his beard. “Ah, Badger and Aria, they be younger than us. You know how kids are. When they get ta our age, they might ‘ave our maturity.”

  Fayne couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine, but if it looks undead, we should probably stay out of touch range.”

  “See lass! Wisdom and maturity from the elders,” he ribbed her good-naturedly, the both of them working to toss what was left of the room for treasure.

  ◆◆◆

  Regrouping after all of the rooms had been searched, the paltry treasure they gathered was put into the Bag of Holding, the coinage and two minor healing potions barely worth noting. The hallway curved to the side, a bit of mist ominously drifting from somewhere further on.

  As they turned to look down the hall Aria activated her aureole, golden light illuminating the hall. “Ready?” Fayne asked Badger, who nodded.

  “If we’re dealing with undead, we’re not good enough at stealth to worry about it,” he pronounced, readying a Flame Bolt.

  “Can you hide from them?” the archer enquired.

  “You can,” Aria told her, “But you have to train to do so, or put enough between you and it that it can’t see you.”

  Rurik started to move forward, “Works for me. Not exactly good at tip-toein’ around like some kinda halfling.”

  As they neared the corner, the temperature dropped. ~If it’s a cold undead, fire should do more damage,~ Aria advised.

  Rurik, sword at the ready, jumped around the corner, ready to fight, and stood there. He was obviously staring at something, but there was no noise coming from down the hall.

  ~Lassie,~ the dwarf sent. ~Skeleton lookin’ thing but with a bit o’ flesh, frostbitten, looks like it comes from beyond the wall?~

  ~What?~ Aria sent back, peering around the corner. There, standing in front of an ornate door, was a frightful looking creature. At first she thought it was some kind of cold-themed dwarf zombie in a breastplate, but it was standing still in a way that zombies could never seem to manage. Several parts of its body were stripped of flesh, leaving only rime-covered bone. The flesh it still had was gaunt and frostbitten, ice covering it in parts. Even its hair, thick and bushy black, was partially matted in it, making a patchy helmet. What identified it for her was its eyes, which glowed with a blue-white light.

  ~Oh. It’s a frost wight!
Um, they drain energy with a touch, and are so cold that if you touch them it hurts you. Also, any they kill become wights under their control. I. . . I don’t know why it’s just standing there though. They’re hunters, and normally are hard to spot until they’re on you.~

  “Hmmm,” Rurik grumbled, but the undead just stood there, staring straight ahead.

  ~They’re also intelligent, and can talk,~ Aria added in confusion, one hand on her holy symbol.

  “Oi, Coldy-locks,” Rurik called, staring at it.

  It was subtle, but Fayne, peering around the corner as well, spotted the frost wight’s eye twitch slightly in annoyance as it pretended to be just as mindless as the skeletons that had attacked them before. ~It’s faking,~ she warned. ~You said touching these things was bad?~

  ~Not as much as being touched by them,~ the cleric agreed, ~but yes.~

  ~It wants us to get close,~ Badger guessed, glancing at the doors which lined this hallway as well. ~Who wants to bet there’s more in one of those rooms.~

  ~I ain’t takin’ no sucker bet, wee man,~ the dwarf told him. ~You all mass fire on the cold bastard and flush out the rest?~

  ~Yeah,~ agreed his father. ~Just remember that your armor won’t help against its touch.~

  The dwarf suppressed a smile, ~Teach yer grandmother ta mine ore.~

  The gnome counted down, and on three he let loose with a Flame Bolt at the wight’s chest along with Fayne & Aria’s arrows. The creature tried to dodge out of the way, and the cleric’s shot missed by inches, but the other two thudded into its chest, the Flame Bolt blasting into steam and doing more damage than it should’ve.

  As it hissed in pain two doors slammed open and a pair of frost wights darted out, flanked by another dozen skeletons. As a group they charged the party and put themselves in the way of the party’s fire as the hurt wight took cover behind them.

  The lead wight took an electrified arrow to the head and stumbled, the skeletons charging past it and giving it cover from the second bolt, which hit a skeleton in the eye socket with enough force to crack it, lightning-scored bone exploding outwards as it dropped.

  The last wight lunged forward to grab hold of Rurik, but jerked backwards as the dwarf, waiting for just that, slashed its hand. Hissing in pain it fell back into the skeleton horde, missing two fingers. Rurik tried to hold back the bony masses but couldn’t cover the entire eight-foot-wide corridor himself.

  Stepping up next to him, Aria held her symbol aloft, shouting, “Under Solus’ light no undead shall walk!” Golden radiance poured from her wooden sun, several skeletons crumbling to dust.

  The wight with an arrow in its head was revealed, getting a second headshot for its trouble. It tried to hide but its twitching form was carried forward on a tide of its own minions. Trying to turn this into an advantage, it leapt forward for the cleric, who’d shuddered from the effort of channeling her god.

  From her hip, Badger finished his incantation, thrusting his hands forward with a cry of “Fiery Spray!” From his outstretched palms a small fire lit, spiraling outwards into a cone of flame, his greater skill in spell casting resulting in a hotter, harsher, and brighter conflagration than before.

  The skeletons consumed in flame blackened and cracked, losing all cohesion as the force animating them was burnt from their corrupted bones. Two howls of pain rose above the roar of the flame. The frost wight that had been reaching for Aria was blown backwards by the flame, weakly struggling as its hair and clothing burned, the light in its eyes flickering out as its struggles ceased.

  The other wight caught in the spell had taken partial cover behind the skeletons, its ice melted but not on fire. It too charged Aria, but Rurik caught it, stabbing deep into its undead flesh. Flailing, it scratched across the dwarf’s face, leaving frostbitten furrows in its wake.

  The dwarf shuddered, grunting as he stabbed it again. Fayne and Badger both struck it with their respective projectiles, forcing it backwards. It leapt for the dwarf and received a mace to the head from the recovered cleric, crushing its skull. As it dropped backwards again, the light in its sockets flickering, another shaft struck it in the chest, blasting it further backwards as it died.

  The last wight had disappeared, leaving only two skeletons. The pair attacked mindlessly, and were quickly dispatched. ~I think we be missin’ a cold one, lassies,~ Rurik commented, staring at the open doors with suspicion.

  ~Let’s narrow it down,~ Badger suggested, casting a spell. Pointing a finger at the closest door a purple hand appeared, pressing on the door until it slowly slid shut. He repeated this for half the doors. ~Mage Hand, it’s minor telekinesis,~ he explained, ~But the others are out of range. Piton the doors shut?~

  Murmuring under her breath, Fayne opened up her character sheet, flipping over to her inventory. ~I don’t think we have that many. I’ve got six, unless you have extras for some reason, we’ll only be able to block half the doors. But. . . it doesn’t know that. Cover me.~

  Moving forward, she replenished her quiver’s supply and knocked an arrow, back taut with tension. “It must’ve run away. I’ll take a look at the door while you spike the doors, just in case.”

  “Aye lass, should be safe,” Rurik agreed, while smacking one of the doors with the butt of his shortsword to make a hammering sound.

  As she approached the end of the hall the frost wight crept out of a side room behind her, unnaturally silent. As it reached its frosted claws for her neck, Rurik, still hammering without pausing sent, ~Now!~

  Fayne rolled forward, twisting to shoot the wight in the head. It staggered backwards, only to be thrown forward as a Flame Bolt struck it in the lower back. The elf tried to dodge out of the way, but the wight moved in the same direction. Its claws slid across her armor, doing no damage, but as its frostbitten hand pulled away Fayne cried out in pain, struggling as she paled, breathing out a wisp of mist that was dragged into the wight’s snarling maw.

  She stumbled back, firing again, her hands shaking but still striking the creature. It turned to move towards her but Rurik, who’d started charging as soon as Fayne had been hit. The samurai caught it mid-leap, impaling the creature on his swords. The monster weakly tried to grab him but he threw it backwards, blades still stuck into its chest, leaving it to die.

  “D-d-d-damnit!” the archer swore, shivering. “D-d-d-dodged r-right into it!”

  Aria tried to heal her, but the golden sparks didn’t return color to her skin.

  Fayne opened her character sheet, and in red were the words ‘level drain 1’, a negative one modifier to her attacks, saves, and all her skill modifiers. “B-B-But one t-touched Rurik. W-why is he o-okay?”

  The samurai replied with a rueful shrug. “I felt a wee chill, but threw it off like a bad cold. Dwarves be hardier folk lass. Sorry.”

  “N-n-not your f-fault,” she shivered, reaching into her bag of holding to pull out Shino’s shawl. Wrapping it around herself she still shivered, but not as much.

  “You stay here. We’ll search, dearie,” Aria instructed her, looking into a room and bringing out an old, rotten chair. Badger cast a spell, repairing it, and the cleric directed the elf into it, letting her sit down while the others searched over her objections.

  Half an hour later they’d dumped the paltry loot into the Bag of Holding, and Fayne, getting restless and feeling useless after only a few minutes, had already disarmed the trap on the intricately carved door and unlocked it while the rest of the party was distracted, having to take a couple tries to keep the lockpicks from shaking.

  Approaching the door cautiously, Badger turned to ask something when Fayne cut him off. “I ch-checked it. Di-dis-dis-ugh!” ~I disarmed the trap and unlocked it!~ she sent over their connection, her heavy shivering not affecting her ability to communicate over the party’s telepathic bond.

  “You were supposed to be resting,” Aria reprimanded her. “But you’d have to do this anyways,” she gave to the archer’s surprise, turning her attention to the door. “Rurik, you’re to
ugh, you open it.”

  The dwarf bit back a response but nodded. “I am the toughest,” he agreed. Wielding his swords, reclaimed from the dead Wight, he carefully reached out and pushed the door open. Moving as if oiled, it swung smoothly back, revealing a richly appointed room, easily fifteen foot and square. A large four-poster bed, the inside obscured by curtains, was set against the back wall, no other doors visible. Rurik stepped inside and the torches inset in the wall sparked to life, illuminating the space.

  Keeping to the side, he carefully moved around the room, waiting for something to happen. The other three stood in the doorway, Fayne shakily knocking an arrow, Badger’s hand filling with flame, and Aria nervously holding her holy symbol.

  Ready for anything, Rurik poked the bed with his sword, and nothing happened. With his longsword raised to strike, he flung open the curtains, revealing a completely normal bedspread. “It looks safe,” he announced, looking around to see if his declaration prompted anything to action. ~Okay, it probably be truly safe,~ he sent, satisfied now that he’d taunted anything that might be hiding.

  “Good,” Aria replied, walking into the center of the room and looking around. “I like it. This is a nice change from -AAAAAAH!” she cried as the carpet she was standing on grew teeth around the edges and closed up around her, trapping her inside.

  The party looked on in shock, Rurik muttering, “Well shan, how was I supposed ta know that would ‘appen!”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Praise The Sun

  The group froze in shock as they stared at the carpet that had eaten Aria, wrapping up around her struggling form.

  “Mimic!” Badger yelled, hand starting to fill with fire before he shook his head and let go of the flames. Cold misted from it instead as a blue-white ray leapt from his hand, hitting the creature wrapped around his wife, freezing the fleshy cloth of the fake rug. What had been a perfect disguise was spoiled as the creature writhed, trying keep Aria contained within, the faux fabric bunching and flexing like unnatural muscle. Rurik moved forward to stab it, only to be stopped by his father’s “No!”