by Neil Hartley
“Hey. Aren’t those Drow?” asked Cuthbert.
“Fug!” Dreth squinted at the scene, which appeared to be spinning slightly. “Back, back!”
The three ducked back, running into the square. “There’s M!” Cuthbert pointed at the figure crouched next to the base of the statue.
They lurched over to her. “Hey! Fancy meeting you here,” said Percy.
“Get down!” That giant is here.” Emerald made shushing gestures.
“He ish not alone,” said Dreth.
“Are you drunk?” asked Emerald, peering closely at him.
“Disgusting isn’t it? Us in mortal peril and he hits the bottle,” Percy said. He moved closer to Emerald. “Stick with me, I’ll see you alright.”
Dreth scowled and tried to speak clearly. “Over there, towards the exit.” He pointed back to the first street.
Trying to run inconspicuously, the four moved quickly along the road. Dreth weaving slightly.
“Phew!” said Cuthbert. “Made it.” He pushed at the gate and bumped into Redthorne and Sprat coming the other way.
“Elves! The Elves are coming,” panted the wizard, jiggling the baby.
“They chased us through the woods,” chimed in Sprat.
“You have to be kidding me!” said Dreth. “Shince when did we get sho popular?”
“Have you been drinking?” asked the mage, sniffing. “I can smell Blooded Mary.”
“He’s a lush,” said Cuthbert.
“Shut up!” Dreth said, closing one eye in an attempt to see straight. “Come on, down this shide shtreet.”
The fugitives made their way through down the alleyway, emerging near the main square again. Peering out from behind a crate, hand over one eye, Dreth assessed the situation whilst trying not to sway.
The golem was standing near the statue, looking around. Up one street he could see the Drow questioning several goblins, and the giant was up another road, scratching his head. No doubt the elves were heading in from the other direction.
He looked at the two remaining roads. One was Dock street, and the other was Desert Lane. Not the most promising prospect, though it could lead out of the village.
“What do we do?” asked Percy, polishing his new leg.
Dreth moaned. “I need another drink,” he said.
~ * ~
“What do you mean he is somewhere near? I don’t want somewhere near, I want results! Find him, quickly, or it will go badly for you!”
“As you command,” the Golem replied in what could have been interpreted as a weary tone, had that been possible.
“Very well, I expect to hear some good news soon.” The Master of the Dungeon waved a hand in an intricate gesture and the picture in the mirror faded, to be replaced with his own scowling reflection.
“Wretched automatons,” he muttered to himself. “How hard can it be to track down a couple of undead in a tiny village?” The Master was about to turn away when the mirror pulsed red, an indication that there was an incoming message.
He frowned and made the activation signal. The red glare dimmed, to be replaced with a wavy image that crackled and jumped about madly. The Master swore and adjusted the vertical hold, fiddling with it, cursing all the while, until it finally stabilized and the picture could be seen clearly. Once it did so he rather wished the thing had remained broken.
“Overlord,” he bowed low. “I’m honored to speak with you.” He held the pose, trembling before the figure in the mirror.
The Overlord waited a calculated moment before allowing him to rise. “We are displeased,” he said.
“Displeased?” The Master’s voice wavered slightly as he mentally flicked through a list of private projects and wondered which one had been discovered. “Oh mighty one, what have I done to incur your wrath? I am a loyal and obedient servant, dedicated to the Greater Bad.”
The Overlord leaned forward and glared at the Dungeon Master, who quailed under the gaze.
Fiery red eyes set into a scaled face with a flicking forked tongue. Horns perched on top of a head that was affixed to a long serpentine figure writhing over a pit of lava. Victims below, roasting in agony within the flames, whilst blood ran from eye sockets picked bare.
All of this was not present.
Indeed, any onlookers would have been surprised at the evident fear the Master was showing. The image was hardly one that most would immediately run from. The Overlord stared at the Master through thick round glasses. A comb-over crawled over a shiny scalp. His scrawny frame sat at a pleasant desk with a single flower in a vase to one side. Paper was piled up in neat stacks. In the background a comfortable sofa could be seen. Fiery pits with screaming victims being horribly tortured were, if anywhere nearby, in a soundproof room out of sight.
“I’m talking about Dreth,” the non-horrific figure continued. “My reports indicate he has left his post, and is seeking escape.”
“Dreth?” The Master said, puzzled at this interest. “The Undead Way guardian? You have nothing to fear oh great one. I’ve dispatched an agent to, er… dispatch him. I’ve just been in communication with it in fact, and expect positive news any moment.”
“Fool! You have no idea who he is do you?” For a moment, a flicker of a moment, a spark of red seemed to appear in the Overlord’s eyes. Perhaps it was just the reflection of the flower though.
“He… he’s just a guardian your magnificence.”
“Just a guardian he says.” The Overlord rolled his eyes and made an ‘I’m dealing with a moron face’ as he jabbed a finger forward. “If he succeeds in escaping, your life will be extinguished as though it never was, though not before your broken body has been put through the most deviant and painful tortures I can think of.” He sat back in his chair and tapped the desk. “The situation is beyond your understanding. Needless to say, I expect you to ensure that he returns to his post, or is removed from the picture in some way.” He leaned forward again. “I hope I have made my… desires clear enough.”
“Y… yes oh superb and ultimate Awfulness.”
“Good. Get on with it then.”
The picture winked off, leaving the Master blinking in bafflement. Eventually he pulled himself together. “As you command,” he said belatedly, and turned away. This was going to take something special.
~ * ~
“Come on,” slurred Dreth. “I have an idea.” He squinted out from behind his cover, waiting until the various parties were looking elsewhere, then dashed out into the square, weaving erratically.
The rest of them looked at each other and followed quickly, Percy’s new leg clanking and whirring all the while. They pursued Dreth down Dock street, keeping near the edge of the road and out of sight as much as was possible.
Dreth lurched uncertainly over the cobbles, round a shallow bend and on past various shops and buildings of a nautical nature, until they finally arrived at the docks. They were in luck. Two vessels were moored there. From one a line of creatures were shuffling, hopping, jumping and floating forward, moving slowly on to the ship, which appeared to be some sort of double decked boat lined with windows.
Dreth moved towards it, pushing several creatures out of the way to get to the front.
“Hey! There is a queue here you know!” One orc complained as he was pushed backwards. He squeaked as Dreth stared at him, exhibiting an unusual sense of self preservation for one of his species. “I mean: please, after you.”
Others weren’t so easily cowed though. A high pitched voice came from further back. “Hey, you! Get to the back of the line! Robert, do something about these ruffians!”
A large ball shape floated over the orc, swooping down towards Dreth. “You heard the lady, you can wait your turn like… Oh! It’s you!”
“Hello Bob, wha’ you doing here?” Dreth looked up at the Beholder, trying to speak clearly.
“Ho ho! Same as you by t
he smell of your breath!” Bob winked several of his eyes. “Been sampling cocktails have we? Hur hur. The Missus and I are taking a break. We get one vacation every season. Pretty sweet eh?”
“A vacation? That’s just typical that is,” Percy joined the conversation. “When did we ever get a holiday? Eh Cuthbert?” He didn’t wait for his friend to answer. “Never! That’s when. Blatant discrimination against the undead. I’m going to have some words with the management I am.” He crossed his arms.
“Er, yes.” Bob looked at Dreth. “In a rush are we? Only there seems to be plenty of room on the boat, and even if there wasn’t, the tours leave once every hour. You wouldn’t have to wait long for the next one.”
“Ah, it’sh a bit of an emrgcnsy…emersyn…urgent shituation you shee,” said Dreth, trying to tap the side of his nose and missing. “That Golem? He ish chasing us. We need to get away quickly.”
Bob’s eyes widened, an impressive site on a Beholder. “Indeed? Chasing you is he? Are we in any danger here?” He looked around a little nervously.
“No no no no,” reassured Dreth. “Jusht after us he is. Listen, I’ve an idea. Do you think you could do ush a favor?”
~ * ~
Harm stared after the vessel that was rapidly dwindling to a dot on the horizon. “You sure they’re on it?”
Primrose, who was currently not enjoying his elevated status, nodded. “They boarded just as it was about to depart apparently. The Beholders saw them go.”
Harm looked at the two monsters that were floating nearby, and frowned. The creatures were too dangerous to take on without serious risk to his men. Not that he cared about his men as such, but their numbers were dwindling, and he would need them when he caught up with the wizard. “Is this true?”
“Oh yes,” said the nearest one. “Quite rude they were. My wife commented on it at the time, didn’t you dear?”
“Absolutely,” replied the slightly smaller of the two. “But what can you expect from zombies?”
“Did you see a wizard and a baby with them by any chance?” Harm made an effort to be civil despite mounting anger.
“Yes, I believe there was. How strange,” the first Beholder answered. “Now then, if you would excuse us, we have theatre seats booked. Not that we use the seats of course, but you know what I mean.” The two swiveled about and floated off, bobbing over the Harm’s head.
Harm looked about. “Faerie!”
A small figure flittered close. “It’s Fearie,” Smudge said.
“Whatever,” Harm waved a hand. “Fly out to that ship, see if the wizard is on board.”
“What ship?”
Harm looked out over the lake again. The vessel had disappeared into the gloom.
“Elves!” Primrose interrupted Harm’s would-be response.
“Dark scum! Prepare to die!” An elf noble, wearing jewel encrusted gilded armor, strode forward, drawing a blazing white blade. Behind him his warriors stood, weapons drawn.
Harm’s face twisted with hatred. He drew his own Runeblade, which pulsed with a dull red light. The two magic swords crackled in the proximity of each other. His men readied their weapons in response to the threat.
The Drow leader faced the enemy, whose own features were lined with loathing. “It is your blood that shall be spilled here surface dweller. This is our territory.”
“You stole one of ours. We’re here to take vengeance. Where is the babe? Hand it over and you will at least die with a shred of honor.”
Harm laughed. “Even if I were in possession of the infant, the seven hells would freeze over before I handed it over to you. My masters have other plans for that one. It shall not live to thwart Evil!”
“His destiny is already written in the future. You cannot prevent the will of the gods.”
“My Lords think otherwise.”
“Your thinking is flawed, Light will triumph! I, Hammath Highhand so declare!”
The two stepped closer, weapons held ready. The blades hummed and glistened with magic, each straining to reach the other. Sparks flew between them, and the air shimmered with energy.
“And I, Harm Undertow say otherwise!” Harm lunged forward suddenly, causing the elf to skip back to avoid being split open.
“Vermin!”
“Light dwelling slug!”
The two leaders circled each other, looking for an opening and growling at each other.
“HOLD!” A shadow fell over the combatants. “There shall be no fighting in the village of Dume, by order!”
The elves looked up as one. A large flying beast, scales glinting in the dull light, hovered above, wings beating against the air with a dull noise, reminiscent of thunder. The Wyvern bared its fangs and hissed down at them from a mouth packed with sharp teeth. A small green figure could just be made out hanging on to a saddle at the base of its neck. Above it, another two of the dragon-like monsters, complete with their own riders, circled.
Harm glared, whilst still managing to keep one eye on the elf. “By order of whom?”
This question seemed to puzzle the Wyvern rider a moment. “Just by order,” it said. “Failure to comply will result in dinner.”
“Dinner?”
“For my flying friend here.” The goblin patted the neck of his mount, which hissed again.
“Oh.” Harm thought about it a moment, remembering that Wyverns were supposed to have poison breath amongst other abilities, and decided now was not the time to test his luck. He looked back down, towards the elf. “I suppose this is your lucky day sunlight worshipping worm.”
Hammath looked as annoyed as the Drow, but nodded reluctantly. “You shall befoul the air a while longer, dark scum.” He lowered his sword.
“We have another visitor,” said Primrose, stepping closer now that the prospect of imminent death had faded slightly. He nodded his head.
Down the street came the Golem. Harm couldn’t tell why, but for some reason the animated being looked annoyed. He watched as it strode up to him and stopped.
“Where did they go?”
The Drow sighed and sheathed his sword. This whole expedition had become more complicated than he’d bargained for. ‘A quick snatch of the baby elf and then back,’ his superior had said. ‘Easy in and out.’
“Well?” The Golem was waiting.
He pointed out towards the lake. “They went that way, on a boat of some kind.”
The animation looked at him a moment longer then, without a word, strode away. Harm watched as it walked into the lake and disappeared from view under the waves.
“Sir!” Primrose, who was beginning to annoy Harm, gestured towards the elves.
“Now what?” The Drow looked and saw the Elven leader speaking with someone onboard the only ship in port. A ghostly galleon, with rigging hanging in tatters. Translucent, half skeletal crewmembers strode the decks, preparing to cast off.
“Oh no they don’t!” he declared, striding over to the gangplank just as the elves began to board the ship. “Hoy there! Who is the Captain of this bucket?” he shouted up at the deck.
The outline of a grizzled pirate, ghostly hair waving about his head, peered over the side. “That’ll be me.”
“I wish to hire your vessel, and perhaps your services,” shouted Harm. “My men and I are in pursuit of the boat that recently left this berth. I can pay in gold.”
The Captain smiled a gap toothed smile. “Arr, then ye best board sharpish like. For we be casting off right quick.”
Undertow waved at his men, and they trotted up the gangplank, to stand on an apparently rotting deck near the Elven party.
The captain stumped over, his peg leg making a clumping sound. “There be no fighting with each other on my ship Drow. Else ye be pitched over the side. Are we being in agreement?”
Reluctantly, Harm nodded.
“Good. Now then, about that gold…”
Harm
haggled with the Ghost Captain as the crew cast off lines and made ready to sail. Just as they were about to depart a large figure bounded up the walkway, to land with a thump on the deck. The giant looked around, panting.
“Gut go sailing!” he declared.
~ * ~
“I couldn’t see anyone,” said Cuthbert. “I think we got away.” He traipsed up to the waiting group and sat down.
Dreth removed his head from where it had been resting in his hands. “Oh. Never again, I swear. I’m never going to touch another drop.”
They were some way outside the town, sitting in a slight shallow. Ahead of them the terrain grew sparse and barren, no doubt the desert that the street had been named after. Back the way they came was the Black forest, whilst over on the horizon the cavern wall could dimly be seen.
“Ha, serves you right, having a slap-up feed and not inviting us along.” Percy put his hands on his hips. “Let’s all split up,” he said in a bad imitation of Dreth. “Now the truth outs. Mr.Piggy here wanted to wallow in gluttony.”
“This is all very well,” said Redthorne, who was changing the baby. “But where do we go from here? We still don’t know where this great treasure is, and half the underworld seems to be after us.”
“I wish to find out who I am, and why I’m here,” said Emerald.
Dreth thought a moment, though it hurt his head. “Someone said that there was some kind of Castle in the desert,” he said. “Or we could head towards the wall, try and find a way back into the dungeon proper.”
“Why not ask that goblin we met where to go? He can’t be that far away,” said Percy, fiddling with his new leg.
“I don’t want to hang about too long, who knows if our plan worked, or how long it will throw them off our trail?” Dreth rubbed his forehead and looked around. Why was this so complicated?
The baby burbled and wiggled its legs.
The Management!
”Well what are we waiting for? Let’s go find that treasure!” Percy attempted to strike a dramatic pose.
“And where exactly do we start looking?” Dreth asked. “We need a map or something.”