by Neil Hartley
Garret whimpered, but picked himself up and scampered back down the tunnel.
“Are we certain this is wise?”
Slice looked at his remaining companion. Primrose Slyeye looked back steadily. If Slice was honest with himself, Primrose unnerved him. The other dark elf was small and slim, slightly smaller than normal if anything. And Primrose! What sort of name was that? Yet there was something about him that halted Slice’s usual response, which would have been to knock him around the head and yell at him. Instead he just growled. “I am in charge here. Do as I say.”
Primrose merely shrugged and gestured for Slice to continue.
Glaring at the scout, Gutgood pulled his sword out of its sheath and stepped forward carefully. Primrose sauntered along behind, seemingly at ease with the world.
The door was hanging off the hinges. Inside the room was a mess. Half of the ceiling had fallen in somehow, semi-burying a variety of victims. Slice saw some of the cat-men they had run into briefly once, as well as four members of the previous Drow raiding party. One elf was lying against the far wall.
“Looks like we missed the fun,” said Slice, nudging a cat man with his foot.
“What’s that over there?” said Primrose, gesturing with his sword.
“Looks like some kind of throne. Maybe there’s someone on it.”
“After you then, oh glorious squad leader.”
Resisting the urge to break the others’ arms, Slice closed in on the sitting figure. It seemed to be a human in long colorful robes. He was apparently asleep.
Grinning, Slice slid up to the man and placed his sword against the throat. “Wake up!” He said.
“Ah. Slice…” Primrose started.
“Quiet you!” Slice jiggled his blade. “I said wake up.”
The man opened his eyes. Dull, gray eyes. “I’m in a good mood today,” he said. “So if you remove your sword and your person from my presence, I will allow you to carry on living.”
Slice laughed the low throaty and confident laugh of thugs everywhere who think they have the upper hand, and yet are about to find out they have just picked on some kind of super being from another dimension.
“Well, so be it.”
Slice screamed as he was picked up by an invisible force and thrown upwards, to smash against the ceiling. “Wha…!!”
“I did warn you.” The voice floated up from below.
Slice screamed again as his armor burst into flame, charring his flesh. The smell of burning meat reached his nostrils. He thought he could vaguely hear Primrose shouting. The tatters of his clothing fell away, dropping to the floor far below and lessening the pain slightly.
The reprieve didn’t last. There was a giggle, from some unseen creature, and his burnt skin was picked at and stripped away. Agony shot through Slice, searing his being as his flesh was slowly peeled back, to reveal muscle and bone below.
Blood dripped down like rain as the invisible hands pulled at his now exposed ribs. A crack echoed around the chamber as one was snapped off.
Darkness began to close around Slice as something dug into the hole in his front and, with a wet sucking noise, ripped his heart from his body. The last thing he heard was a quiet voice.
“Delicious.”
~ * ~
Harm looked at the mangled and broken carcass of his squad leader, and turned to Primrose. “Looks like you are promoted,” he said. Then he faced the mage sitting in the throne. “Sir Wizard, I am Harm Undertow, leader of this Drow search party.” He bowed slightly.
“Welcome to my lair,” replied the man. “I’m Harvey Von McVon. Please excuse the mess, it’s the maids’ day off.”
“We’re looking for a wizard carrying a baby. Have you seen such?”
“Ah, it’s been so busy here recently.” Harvey tapped fingers on the arm of the chair. “Still, I think I can safely say that I have. He was with a couple of zombies and some… others. If you wish to find them, I suggest you look over there. They went in to the Under plains.”
“The Under plains!” Harm exclaimed. He nodded at the mage. “Thank-you.” Harm gestured at the rest of his squad, and they trooped over to the entrance indicated by the wizard. A tunnel had been dug through the rubble, leading down to a small passageway.
The Drow entered. After a moment, a small flying figure flitted in after them.
~ * ~
“What’s that?” M pointed off to the right.
Dreth looked. “It seems to be a large hole.”
“Oh that! That’s the bottomless pit that is,” said Gerald, acting the tour guide. “They say it was made by The Master when he was looking for Nothing.”
“How can you look for nothing?” Scoffed Cuthbert.
“It’s very difficult,” said the goblin. “Have you ever seen Nothing?”
“Er, I think so,” argued Cuthbert, holding a finger up. “When I look for something, and I can’t find it, I get nothing.”
“No no no, that’s not nothing. That’s merely the absence of the thing you were looking for. True Nothing though, well, that’s hard to get.”
“So, how do you find nothing then?” asked Dreth, intrigued despite himself.
Gerald merely shrugged. “How should I know? Do I look like a wizard to you? Steeped in the arcane arts? I think not. A basic minion is me.”
“Bah,” said Cuthbert. “And how can it be bottomless? I’m going to look.” He stepped off the path and lurched over to the hole.
Dreth did a good imitation of a deep breath and followed him. “Stay with the wizard Sprug,” he ordered Sprat, as Redthorne stopped and sank down on the black sand, the baby still cradled in his arms.
The group caught up with Cuthbert, who was looking around on the floor.
“All the stones have been taken,” said Gerald.
“Fine.” Cuthbert dug into a pocket and pulled forth a small copper coin. He flicked it in and peered over, watching it fall into the blackness.
“It’s not going to hit anything,” sighed the goblin, crossing his arms.
“Shhh!” The zombie leant over, trying to listen.
“Did he find it?” Asked M.
“Find what?” replied Gerald.
“Nothing.”
“Oh. I don’t know.”
After several minutes of waiting Dreth lost his patience. “Come on, I’m not hanging about all day waiting for something to hit a bottom that may not be there.” He turned about and stalked back to the path.
“It can’t be bottomless!” said Cuthbert, hanging on for another few moments. “Hey! Wait for me!”
~ * ~
It was dark. Something heavy was on his body, making it difficult to breath. Another hard thing was resting on his head, and it hurt.
Moaning, Gut tried to move. At first he couldn’t, making him panic, which in turn lent him strength. He heaved and, after a moment of straining, something gave. Hope blossomed, and he pushed again and again. Eventually a ray of dim light penetrated his dark world, and his hand broke through into open air.
Wiggling and scrabbling, Gut pushed his way to the surface of the rubble, eventually sitting up like some kind of deformed land whale.
He looked around and saw a shiny chair. A figure was sat on it, looking at him with interest. Gut snarled as he recognized the magic man from before.
“Before you think about trying to bash me,” the wizard said, interrupting the giant’s thought process, “you should know I didn’t do anything to hurt you.”
“Gut nearly squashed under stone,” Gut responded, logic going into overdrive and making his head hurt even more.
“Ah, but that was an accident. The spell was aimed at your friend Dreth. He tricked you.”
Gut scratched his head. “Dreth giant killer. Gut afraid him.”
The man laughed, causing the big man to growl.
“Oh no, I’m not laughing at you, it’s not your fault. Dreth is a bad man, he lied to us all.”
Gut wrinkled his brow. “Dreth not giant killer?”
“Far from it my large friend. He pulled you away from your duty didn’t he?” At the answering nod Harvey carried on. “And do you know what happens to monsters that leave their post?” A shake of the head this time. “The Management.”
Gut went pale, though it was hard to see under the dust. “Management?”
McVon nodded. “I tell you what Mr. Gut. If you do me a favor, I’ll put in a good word for you. I’m a friend of Them.”
“Please help Gut! Gut not know!”
“That’s alright. I can see you are an honorable monster who was tricked away from his assigned tasks.”
“What Gut do?”
“Well, it’s really something you need to do for yourself. If you get the woman back that you were guarding, and kill Dreth, then I’m sure they would forgive you. Maybe even give you a reward. How does that sound?”
“Gut like! Gut squeeze Dreth until he very sorry!”
“Good, good. I would just ask that you let me speak to the woman a moment before you return her to her box. Would that be okay do you think?”
The giant nodded. “Gut do! Gut go now. He stood up, scattering rock, but then paused, his face drooping. “But Gut not know where he go.”
“I think I may be able to help you out there.” Harvey smiled.
~ * ~
“Careful now,” said Gerald. “Follow me and be quiet. Walk where I walk.”
“What is it?” asked Dreth.
“Scorpions. Big ones. Giant even. If you’re quiet, and you follow me exactly, we’ll be alright.”
“I don’t see any scorpions,” said Percy.
“Go on then. You walk over there a bit. We’ll wait here.”
Percy looked at the goblin, then at the black sand. “Er. Maybe not. After you.”
“Right then. Remember, follow my path exactly. And be quiet!” Gerald walked off; following a winding path only he seemed to be able to see.
Dreth followed, with M, Sprat, who was playing with his tube, and then the zombies escorting Redthorne and the baby bringing up the rear.
The goblin moved steadily, and Dreth wondered if he was playing some kind of joke. Still, he had been okay so far. Better safe than sorry.
“Half way,” mouthed Gerald after a few more minutes.
Dreth nodded, and kept walking.
They almost made it.
Sprat, picking at his tube, suddenly saw a dark spot. He touched it. The end of the tube exploded, throwing the small zombie onto his rump.
The others stopped and watched as a bright light sailed slowly through the air like some sort of errant firework. It swung about. Dreth waved at it as it circled his head. The light dodged easily, and moved onto M before stopping suddenly, like a dog scenting a bone. It hung still for a second before heading straight for the Wizard, who moved too slowly. He put his hand out and started to speak, but the light exploded.
In its place, hovering in the air next to Redthorne, was a figure about as big as Dreth’s hand, garbed all in red with a pointed beard and long forked tail, waving a tiny pitchfork.
“Aha!” it said, and stuck the minute weapon into the baby.
The baby did what all babies do. It howled.
“Oh, shit! That’s torn it!” said Gerald. “Run!” He followed his own advice.
There was a shifting in the sand around them, and large pincers began to emerge.
“Scorpions!” shouted Cuthbert, “Giant scorpions!” He shambled forward at top speed.
They ran, Redthorne trying to hush the baby, the small red figure hovering over him all the while, cackling.
Gerald waved madly. “Over here! They won’t follow here!” He climbed onto an area of rocky ground.
Everyone headed for him, but Percy was too slow. A monstrous claw reached out and grabbed him, pulling him back.
“Help! Help! I’m caught!” He cried, as the scorpion dragged him backwards. A pincer closed, snipping his left leg off. “My leg! My good leg! EEEEeeeehh!” The zombie screamed as he was flipped onto his back, and caught sight of the beast’s giant sting flying down towards him.
There was a blur in the air, and the tail erupted in green goo. Another movement and the claw met with a similar fate. “Come on!” said Dreth, Darkblood in hand. He grabbed the zombie by his remaining leg and pulled him after him, swinging the blade at another of the creatures.
“My leg! You have to get my leg!” cried Percy.
“We’ll get you another leg! I have one in my bag,” said Dreth, dodging a stinger and lashing out with the sword.
“But that was a good one! I got it from a barbarian,” Percy lamented his loss loudly as Dreth darted around the giant creatures, dragging the zombie behind him.
“Shut up!” Dreth, moving with speed, managed to dodge, evade and hack his way back to the rocky ground, where the others were waiting. The scorpions retreated reluctantly as he did so, returning to feed upon their dead and wounded. One of them took the leg, to the renewed complaints of Percy.
“That’s alright, no need to thank me,” said Dreth, wiping gunk of Darkblood. He turned from the zombie, who was lying on the ground and moaning, and faced the small flying figure that had started the whole thing off.
“What the hell are you?” he demanded.
“Hheeeehhhhheeee!” said the thing, and disappeared with a pop.
“Wizard!” Dreth looked at Redthorne for an explanation.
“It was a Spite,” said the mage, still trying to calm the baby.
“You mean a sprite,” said Cuthbert.
“No, a Spite. I’m afraid we haven’t seen the last of it either.” Redthorne looked up. “It was attuned to me. Another wizard must have cast it. Maybe the Drow. In any case, it will pop up and interfere with anything I do.”
“Can’t you dispel it?” asked M.
“That’s the whole point, I can’t. Spites are highly magic resistant. If I start to cast a dispel charm, it will no doubt pop into my face and jab my eyes, or do something to distract me and make the spell fail.”
“There must be something we can do,” said Dreth. “We have enough woes as it is, without some malevolent pixie jumping in every time we don’t need it.”
“I need rest,” said the mage. “Maybe when I’m more awake I’ll be able to think of something.”
“Fine.” Dreth turned to the goblin. “Where’s this waiting area of yours then?”
“We’re nearly there.”
“Come on then. I’m getting tired of this place already.”
Gerald nodded, and they set off once more. Percy hopping along to the rear.
~ * ~
“There,” said Sooth.
Hammath nodded and drew his sword, which gleamed with white light. “Come on then,” he said.
The Elven hunting party, much depleted, walked after him in battle formation. They were badly rattled now. Over half their number had been killed, and Sooth and the others had barely managed to escape the fight with the cat things and the Drow. Even so, they had lost Frell Keeneye.
They followed Hammath as he walked through the rubble and the bodies, stopping before a large golden throne.
“Oh now what?” The mage sitting on the chair spat as the elf approached. “Can’t a fellow get two minutes of rest without someone tramping through his domain? I should put up a sign or something.”
“Hold foul wizard. I am Hammath, leader of these valiant Elves of light, we are…”
“Yes yes. They went that way okay? Go away and stop bothering me!”
“…looking for a baby,” Hammath plodded on, aware that this wasn’t going as expected.
“Fine, the baby. Yes, with the wizard and the undead. Go on, you should be able to fi
nd them by following the crowd.”
Hammath looked at Marrim Runecaster, who shrugged. “I will allow your life…” he started.
“Look, just bugger off will you? Before I decide to shove that glowing sword up your…”
“As you say!” interrupted the elf leader, backing away and making a pacifying gesture with his hand. He turned to his party. “Let’s go.”
Leaving the muttering figure behind, they ducked down into a small tunnel…
~ * ~
“The Black lake,” said Gerald, “and the er, Black Forest.” He looked at Dreth, who was scowling at him. “Hey! Don’t blame me okay! That’s just what they’re called!”
Dreth looked ahead. The Black Lake lived up to its name. A dark mass of water receding into the distance. To the right, a forest of gloomy and twisted trees loomed overhead.
“Home sweet home.” Gerald rubbed his hands together.
They walked on into the trees. “Cool place,” said Percy, stopping to pick up a branch to use as a crutch.
“How far goblin?” asked Redthorne, the weariness apparent in his voice.
“My hut’s just ahead. I like to keep on the edge of things,” replied Gerald.
As predicted, the hut soon appeared. A ramshackle mound, made of a variety of different kinds of wood cemented together with mud and moss. The door was set at an angle in a shallow hole in the ground.
“Come on in,” said the goblin, pushing the entrance open. “Honey, I’m home, and I’ve brought guests!”
There was no response. “Hmm, must be out,” Gerald shrugged. “Here, wizard, you can sleep here.” He showed Redthorne to a rather dirty sleeping area.
The mage unrolled his own mat and fell into it, asleep with the baby next to him as soon as he hit the floor.
“How sweet,” said Percy. “Now, how about that leg?”
Dreth tossed him his sack. “Actually, I think I ate the last leg a little while ago.”
“What!!??”
“Sorry.” Dreth said, in a not very sincere tone. He turned to Gerald. “So, what do you have in this resort of yours?”