The Fallen Fortress

by R. A. Salvatore

  Cadderly blinked in disbelief. “One and one equals two,” he muttered under his breath. “I hope.”

  NINE

  RESIDUAL ENERGY

  Danica was the first to come to the end of the tunnel leading to the dragon’s chamber. On her hands and knees, the monk quietly crept up to the lighted area and peeked in. She felt the strength drain from her as she gazed upon the magnificent wyrm, a hundred times more dreadful than the legends could begin to describe. But then Danica’s delicate features twisted in confusion at an unexpected sight.

  Cadderly stood right beside the dragon, talking with it easily and pointing to the Ghearufu, the gloves, one black, one white, and the gold-edged mirror that he’d placed on the floor some distance away.

  Danica nearly cried out loud when she felt a hand on her leg. She realized that it was only Shayleigh, creeping in behind her as they had planned. The elf maiden, too, seemed stunned by the spectacle in the chamber.

  “Should we go in?” she whispered to Danica.

  Danica considered the question for a long moment, honestly unsure of what role they should play. Cadderly seemed to have things in hand. Would their unexpected presence startle the dragon, bring Old Fyren into a fit of terrifying rage?

  Just as Danica started to shake her head, there came an impatient call from back down the tunnel.

  “What do ye see?” Ivan demanded, slime-covered from toad innards and none too happy.

  The dragon’s beaconlike gaze flashed to the tunnel, and Danica and Shayleigh again felt their limbs go weak under the awful glare.

  “Who comes uninvited to the lair of …” the great wyrm began, but it stopped in midsentence, cocking his massive head so that he could better hear Cadderly, whispering calmly at his side.

  “Do come in,” the dragon bade the two in the tunnel a moment later. “Welcome, friends of the humble priest.”

  It took Danica and Shayleigh some time to muster the courage to actually enter the dragon’s chamber. They went straight for Cadderly, Danica hooking his arm with her own and admiring him incredulously.

  Cadderly felt the weight of that trusting gaze. Again, he’d been put into the forefront, had become a leader to his friends. He alone understood how tentative his hold on the dragon might be, and since Danica and the others had arrived, their fates rested solely in his hands. They admired him, they trusted him, but Cadderly was not so sure that he trusted himself. Would he ever shed the guilt if he failed at the expense of a friend’s life? He wanted to be home at the library, sitting on a sun-drenched roof, feeding cacasa nuts to Percival, the one friend who placed no demands upon him—other than the cacasa nuts.

  “The dragon likes me,” the young priest explained, straining to put on a smile from ear to ear. “And Fyrentennimar—the great Fyrentennimar—has agreed to help me with my problem,” he added, nodding at the Ghearufu.

  Danica looked at the still-glowing floor near the entryway of the chamber and could surely guess easily enough that the dragon had utilized its deadly breath at least once already.

  But Cadderly appeared unhurt—and unafraid. Danica started to ask him about the strange turn of events, but he quieted her immediately with a concerned look, and she understood that the discussion was better left until later, when they were safely away from the dragon.

  Ivan and Pikel skidded into the chamber, Vander coming right behind, nearly tripping over them.

  “Uh-oh!” Pikel squeaked at the sight of the wyrm, and Ivan’s face went pale.

  “Dwarves!” Fyrentennimar bellowed, the force of his roar driving the three beards—yellow, red, and green—out behind the friends, the heat of Fyren’s breath making the trio squint.

  “Friends again!” Cadderly called to the dragon, and reasoning that treasure-coveting dragons were not overly fond of treasure-coveting dwarves, the young priest motioned for the three to stay back near the tunnel.

  Fyrentennimar issued a long, low growl and didn’t seem convinced. The dragon couldn’t sustain its ire, though. It blinked curiously, turned an almost plaintive look upon Cadderly, then looked at the Ghearufu.

  “Friends again,” Fyrentennimar agreed.

  Cadderly also looked at the Ghearufu, thinking it prudent to just get things done and get out of there.

  “Remain behind me,” Old Fyren warned Cadderly and the two women then came the sharp intake of breath as the dragon’s lungs expanded.

  When Fyrentennimar breathed, there was no magical protection in place to divert his fire. The flames drove against the Ghearufu and against the floor. Stone bubbled, and the Ghearufu sizzled, angrily it seemed, as though its potent magic somehow fought back against the incredible assault.

  “Oooo,” Ivan muttered in disbelief. Pikel put his hands on his hips and growled at his brother for stealing his line. Their fight didn’t continue, though, as the searing heat of the dragonfire assaulted them. Vander grabbed the brothers and fell back against the wall, one huge arm up defensively in front of his eyes.

  The dragon’s fiery exhalation did not relent. There came a series of snapping explosions from within the flame, and a thick gray smoke arose, encircling the fiery pillar, dimming its blinding yellow light.

  Cadderly nodded to Danica and Shayleigh, confident that the dragonfire was doing its work. The flaming column disappeared, and Fyrentennimar sat back, reptilian eyes scrutinizing the area and the magical item. The smoke continued to swirl like a tornado above the Ghearufu. Small fires burned on both the item’s gloves, and the gold edges around the mirror had turned liquid and spread out in a wide flat glob. The mirror itself pulsed, bulging weirdly but remaining, it appeared, intact.

  “Is it done, humble priest?” Fyrentennimar asked.

  Cadderly wasn’t sure. The thick smoke seemed to gain momentum in its whirl, the mirror continued to bulge and flatten.

  Then it cracked apart.

  Cadderly’s blue hat flew away, his cape flapped up over his head and shoulders, standing out straight, snapping repeatedly, rapidly, in the sudden suction. The smoke whipped in circular fury, and the swirling wind became a thunderous roar.

  Shayleigh’s arrows left her quiver, smacked against Cadderly’s back, and ricocheted past. The young priest could hardly hold his footing, leaning back at a huge angle against the vicious pull. All the small items in the area piled atop the broken mirror. The still pliable molten floor rolled up, wavelike, around the center of that tremendous pull.

  Something banged hard against the back of Cadderly’s legs, costing him his tentative hold. He looked down to see Shayleigh, blinded by her wild-flying golden hair, scraping her hands against the stone in a futile effort. Cadderly fell over her, and she slid away, toward the fury.

  Danica stood very still a few feet back, her eyes closed in meditation, and her legs wide and firmly planted. Over by the tunnel, Vander and the dwarves had formed a chain, the firbolg holding Pikel, Pikel holding Ivan. Pikel’s grip slipped suddenly, and Ivan screamed out. He resisted the pull for just a heartbeat, long enough for Pikel to dive down and grab him around the ankles.

  “Humble priest!” the confused Fyrentennimar roared, and even the dragon’s thunder seemed a distant thing against the tumult of the mighty wind.

  Cadderly cried out for Shayleigh, and found himself going along behind her as the sucking wind increased. Behind him, Danica opened her eyes, and her concern for her friends stole her meditation. She jumped forward a long stride, catching hold of Cadderly, but when she tried to stop she found her momentum too great and wound up going right over the young priest, and right over Shayleigh, and suddenly it was she who was closest to the furious vortex.

  Ivan and Pikel were up in the air, Pikel holding tight to Ivan’s ankles, and Vander, behind him, had one hand tight around Pikel’s ankle, the other grasping a jut in the tunnel wall.

  Danica’s horrified scream as she went over the vortex stole the blood from Cadderly’s face. Shayleigh went in right behind her, pressed tight against her, then Cadderly was atop the pile.


  “What do I do, humble priest?” the confused dragon called, but Fyrentennimar was distracted as his own piles of treasure whipped to the call of the vortex, smacked hard against the dragon’s back and widespread wings.

  What worth is such treasure? the dragon wondered, and in his magically confused state, Fyrentennimar decided right then that he would soon clear his cave of the worthless debris.

  “Ooooooo!” Pikel wailed, blinded by his beard, as was Ivan. The druid’s muscled arms ached from the strain and his leg throbbed from Vander’s giant-strong grip. Pikel feared he would be torn in half, but for the sake of his dear brother, he would not let go.

  Cadderly felt an intense burning, felt as if his insides had been torn right through his skin. He was falling, spinning in a gray fog, spiraling down, out of control.

  He splashed into muck, stood in the knee-deep sludge, and regarded himself and his surroundings incredulously. He was naked and filthy, apparently unhurt but standing on a vast plain of unremarkable grayness, the lake of oozing sludge stretching out in every direction as far as he could see.

  Danica and Shayleigh stood near him, but they, for some reason the young priest couldn’t understand, were still wearing their clothes.

  Cadderly modestly crossed his arms in front of him, and took note of the fact that both of his companions did likewise.

  Danica’s lips moved as though she meant to ask, “Where are we?” but there seemed no point in asking the unanswerable.

  Far down Nightglow’s snow-blanketed side, Druzil scratched his ugly face and watched the undead creature’s shivering movements.

  Ghost hadn’t taken a step in many heartbeats, the first time Druzil had seen the tireless thing pause in several days. The gruesome creature made no moves at all, except for its obvious trembling.

  “Why are you doing that?” the invisible imp asked under his rasping breath, hoping that the creature hadn’t somehow detected him and was not calling upon some innate magic to locate him, or to destroy him.

  The trembling intensified to a violent shaking. Druzil whined and wrapped his leathery wings defensively around him, though since they were invisible, they couldn’t block out the terrifying sight.

  Crackling noises came from the undead monster, tiny cracks appeared along its blackened skin, and wisps of smoke filtered out into the brightly shining air.

  “Hey …” the imp said a moment later, when the undead thing fell into a pile of charred and shattered flakes.

  Cadderly continued his scan of the area, of himself, and of his friends. Danica, too, seemed intent on covering up, but Cadderly didn’t see the point since she was fully clothed.

  Or was she?

  A wail from somewhere in the unseen distance brought them all on the alert. Shayleigh went into a low crouch, slowly turning and scanning, balled fists defensively in front of her.

  If she feared an attack, then why didn’t she take her bow off her shoulder? Cadderly wondered. Then he understood. With a knowing nod, the young priest let go of his pointless modesty and stood straight.

  Another cry, a cry of pain, sounded from somewhere distant, followed by a loud splash.

  “Where are we?” Danica demanded. “And why am I the only one who has no clothes on?”

  Shayleigh looked at her incredulously, then looked down to her own body.

  A wave rolled in at them, bringing the uncomfortable brown sludge to their waists. Cadderly grimaced at the feel of the wretched stuff, noticed for the first time the reeking stench.

  “What caused so large a wave?” Shayleigh whispered, and her perceptive remark reminded Cadderly that the discomfort might be the least of his troubles.

  The apparition, a puny, androgynous form with one arm bent crooked, rose from the sludge twenty feet away from them, its dangerous eyes narrowing as it regarded them.

  “The assassin,” Danica breathed. “But he’s dead, and we …” She looked at Cadderly, her brown eyes wide.

  “Caught by the Ghearufu,” Cadderly replied, unwilling to offer the possibility that they, too, had died.

  “Caught!” the puny form roared in a mighty, giantlike voice. “Caught that you might be properly punished!”

  “Use your bow!” Danica, more afraid than she’d ever been, yelled at Shayleigh. Again, the elf gave Danica an incredulous look then turned helplessly to her bare, as she saw it, shoulder.

  Danica sneered and rushed between Shayleigh and Cadderly, taking a blocking stance between them and the approaching apparition.

  Cadderly looked down at the unremarkable muck to clear his head and register all he’d seen and heard. Why was he the only one who was naked? Or at least, why did he see himself that way? As did Danica, he knew, by her own words. And if Shayleigh thought that she had her bow, didn’t perceive that she, too, had no clothes and no equipment, then why hadn’t she taken the weapon from her back?

  Danica’s hands began an intricate, balancing weave in front of her. The apparition of Ghost showed no fear at all, and continued to steadily glide through the muck. Danica noticed that Ghost seemed larger suddenly, and noticed that the apparition continued to grow.

  “Cadderly,” she breathed quietly, for their opponent was fully ten feet tall, nearly as large as Vander. It took another step, doubling its size as it did.

  “Cadderly!”

  They all perceived that they were naked, but each saw the others as they had last seen them, Cadderly mused, knowing that there must be something pertinent in that fact. He felt along his body, wondering if his equipment only appeared invisible to him, if his potent hand crossbow might still be on his hip, waiting for him to grab it. But he felt only his skin and the slimy splotches of brown, disgusting sludge.

  The apparition loomed thirty feet high. Its laughter mocked Danica’s feeble defensive stance. With a sucking sound, one foot came up from the muck and hovered high in the air.

  “Punishment!” the evil Ghost growled, stamping down.

  Danica dived to the side, splashed through the muck, and reappeared, her strawberry-blond locks matted to her head by the thick brown sludge.

  The splash awakened Cadderly from his contemplations. His gray eyes widened as he glanced around for Danica, fearing that she’d been squashed.

  Shayleigh was over with the monk by then, pulling her away from the gigantic monster.

  Ghost showed no more interest in Danica, though, not with Cadderly, the perpetrator of the disaster, the destroyer of his own mortal form and of the precious Ghearufu, standing before him.

  “Are you at peace with your god?” the giant voice teased.

  Where are we? The question rifled through Cadderly’s thoughts, since the monster had threatened him, had apparently just confirmed that they were not dead. Yet, the sea of sludge aside, the place somewhat resembled the Astral Plane, Cadderly thought. He’d made several ventures into that noncorporeal realm.

  Danica and Shayleigh rushed in front of the young priest, Danica leaping onto the leg of the giant, clawing and biting at the back of its knee. It kicked out, trying to shake her free, but if her savage thrashing did any real damage, the smiling Ghost didn’t show it.

  “Perceived vulnerability,” Cadderly muttered, trying to jog his thought process. His self-image, the images of his friends, and the image of their nemesis, had to be a matter of perception, since he and both his companions thought themselves naked and the other two clothed.

  Shayleigh slipped free of the monster’s other leg as Ghost brought it up high above Cadderly’s head.

  “Cadderly!” both Danica and the elf maiden cried out to their apparently distracted companion.

  The huge foot slammed down, and Danica nearly fainted at the thought of her lover being squashed. But Cadderly caught the foot in one hand, and held it steady above his head.

  He, too, began to grow.

  “What’s happening?” the frustrated, terrified monk cried out, falling from the giant’s knee and splashing away. Shayleigh caught her and held her, needing, a
s much as giving, the support.

  Cadderly was half the creature’s size, and it was Ghost’s turn to be confused. The young priest heaved against the foot, hurling Ghost backward to land crashing into the muck. By the time the creature regained his stance, Cadderly was the larger.

  Ghost came on anyway, snarling, wrapping his hated enemy in a tight hug.

  Danica and Shayleigh moved away from the titans, not understanding, not able to help.

  Cadderly’s massive arms flexed and twisted. Ghost’s did, too, and for a long while, neither titan seemed to gain any advantage.

  Ghost bit down hard on Cadderly’s neck, whipping his head around in a frenzy. It was he, not Cadderly, who then cried out in pain, though, for he was biting not vulnerable skin, but steel armor!

  The wild monster lifted his arm, and his fingers grew into spikes. He smashed down at Cadderly’s shoulder.

  The young priest yelped in agony. Cadderly’s arm became a spear, and he plunged it through Ghost’s belly.

  Ghost’s skin parted around it, opening a hole through which the arm/spear passed without making a cut. The evil entity’s skin then tightened around Cadderly’s appendage, holding him fast.

  Ghost’s mouth opened impossibly wide, seeming the maw of a snake, complete with venom-tipped fangs.

  “Cadderly,” Danica breathed, thinking her love doomed, thinking that she and Shayleigh would also fall victim to that horrid apparition. She had no words to describe what ensued, could hardly remember to breathe.

  Cadderly didn’t flinch. His head thickened, his face flattened, like the face of a hammer, and he butted straight out. His attack apparently caught Ghost by surprise, for the assassin’s snake jaws broke apart, blood washing away the venom.

  Ghost’s eyes widened in shock and agony as Cadderly’s impaled arm shifted shape again, angled spikes tearing out the sides of Ghost’s torso.

  Cadderly understood that the game was one of mental quickness, matching defense to attack, keeping perspective (yes, that word was the key!) against fearsome sights and impossible realities. He had Ghost dazed, confused, and so the momentum was his to play out.