Frostborn: The Undying Wizard

by Jonathan Moeller

  “It is enspelled!” shouted Morigna, feeling sweat pour down her face. “I can’t control it.”

  A glimmer of white light flashed as Calliande worked her sensing spell. “Glyphs on the interior of its armor plating.” She cast another spell. “I can’t undo them all. There are too many. I…”

  The rage filling the mzrokar’s mind surged, and the creature started moving again, pushing itself through the door like pulp squeezed from a fruit. Morigna growled and redoubled her efforts, her head pulsing with pain.

  Ridmark grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. “Too late. Run!”

  They sprinted for a set of stone stairs at the far end of the empty room, and Morigna followed, the mzrokar’s presence fading from her thoughts.

  ###

  Ridmark scrambled to the mansion’s second story, and saw another flight of stairs leading to the roof. Idly he wondered why the house’s builders had even bothered with a roof. It never rained in the Deeps. Perhaps it was less work than tunneling into the walls of the cavern.

  He could ask Caius later, if they lived through this.

  Ridmark ran up the flight of stairs to the roof and pushed open a trapdoor of dwarven steel. The roof was flat, with a stone post that had likely once held clotheslines. A few empty chests of dwarven steel stood here and there, but the roof was otherwise unoccupied.

  And only a narrow gap separated the house from its neighbor.

  “Hurry,” said Ridmark, urging the others forward. If Calliande couldn’t dispel the binding upon the creature, and Morigna couldn’t control it, then their best bet was to escape entirely. They couldn’t outrun the beast, but perhaps they could outwit it.

  The others jumped over the gap to the next roof, and Ridmark followed. He risked a glance back and saw the mzrokar still squeezing its way into the house. With any luck, they could be halfway through the flood trap before the creature realized what had happened.

  And if the creature blundered into the trap after them…well, Ridmark doubted even a mzrokar could survive immersion in a hundred thousand gallons of water. And if the Dzark and his men had raised the undead, they would be sealed behind the flooded gallery. Ridmark hoped that would mean the disciple of Shadowbearer would be trapped underground with Kzargar and his men.

  They jumped across to a third house, and to a fourth, and still the mzrokar forced its way into the first house. Ridmark saw the entrance to the drain chamber draw near, and he felt a flicker of hope. Just three more houses, and they could return to the gallery…

  A horrible tearing shriek rang through the cavern, so loud the walls of Thainkul Dural reverberated with them.

  In one smooth motion, the mzrokar ripped its way free of the house, its antennae-studded head rotating to face them.

  “I think we annoyed it,” said Gavin.

  “Keep running!” said Ridmark.

  The façade of the first house collapsed into shattered ruin, the cavern ringing with the echoes. The mzrokar scrambled up the wreckage and onto the roof, and Ridmark feared the creature would leap over the rooftops and run them down.

  Instead the mzrokar scrambled up the wall and ran along the ceiling, hanging upside down.

  It was simply going to drop down and crush them.

  Ridmark saw another trapdoor leading into the house beneath them.

  “Down!” he shouted, yanking on the trapdoor. Thankfully, the hinges of dwarven steel did not rust, and the heavy metal door slid open as smoothly as if it had been oiled yesterday. Gavin urged Calliande down the stairs, followed by Morigna and Kharlacht and Caius. The carrion stench of the mzrokar flooded his nostrils, and Ridmark hastened down the stairs, closing the trapdoor over their heads.

  “Now what?” said Morigna. “We have run like rats into a trap.”

  “To the ground floor,” said Ridmark, “hurry.”

  They started down the stairs, and as Calliande reached the ground floor, Ridmark put his foot upon the top step.

  Right about then the ceiling exploded.

  ###

  Calliande rolled back to her feet, coughing from the rock dust in the air.

  The ground floor of the dwarven house had been reduced to a ruin in a second. Parts of the ceiling lay in pieces across the floor, and a web of cracks covered both the remains of the ceiling and the walls. She heard the mzrokar thrashing across the second floor, and knew it was only a matter of time before the beast forced its way down the stairs and killed them all.

  She saw Ridmark lying on the floor, blood in his close-cropped black hair, and for a terrible instant Calliande was sure he had been killed, that one of the falling chunks of rock had shattered his skull.

  But he stood up, staff in hand, blood trickling down his jaw.

  “Into the street,” he shouted over the roar of the mzrokar thrashing above. “Quickly!”

  “It will simply run us down,” said Morigna, her voice tight. “We…”

  “Wait!” said Caius. “I have an idea. Follow me!”

  Ridmark followed him, and Calliande shrugged and did the same. Caius led them through a door to a small room off the main floor. A single stone object dominated the room, a hollow box with a round hole cut on the top.

  Morigna frowned. “What is that thing?”

  “A latrine,” said Calliande.

  “Oh.”

  “Help me push this,” said Caius, and Ridmark and Gavin and Kharlacht moved to help. Calliande looked over her shoulder and saw the dark shape of the mzrokar squeezing itself down the stairs. The entrance to the second floor was only wide enough for one dwarf at a time, but the mzrokar could shove itself through and kill them all.

  A shudder went through the ceiling, more dust falling.

  Or the ceiling would simply collapse and crush them.

  The stone latrine slid aside with a rasp, revealing a dark tunnel running beneath the house.

  “A sewage tunnel,” said Caius.

  “I’ll go first,” said Ridmark.

  ###

  Ridmark dropped into the darkness of the sewage tunnel.

  There was no smell, of course. Thainkul Dural had been ruined for centuries, even millennia. The stench would have faded away long ago. Yet a trickle of water still went down the tunnel, splashing against Ridmark’s boots. Ridmark found himself marveling at the engineering skill of the dwarves. In a human ruin, the water would have worn away the structure long ago.

  He stepped forward, and the others dropped into the tunnel.

  “No light,” said Kharlacht.

  “Here,” said Calliande, raising her hand. A ball of harsh white light appeared over her palm, throwing back the gloom.

  “Will the mzrokar not follow us?” said Gavin.

  “The creature hunts by scent,” said Caius, another crash echoing out from above. “Perhaps it cannot smell us in the water.”

  “Let’s not give it the chance,” said Ridmark.

  He hurried down the tunnel, boots slapping against the damp stone. The others followed single-file through the narrow tunnel, Calliande’s light throwing mad shadows across the wall. A dim circle of light shone overhead as they passed beneath another latrine. Ridmark counted the circles as they passed. He suspected this drainage tunnel went all the way to the flood trap’s reservoir, and if they went too far they would find themselves trapped between the waters and the mzrokar.

  As if his thought had summoned the creature, the latrine they had used to enter the tunnel exploded behind them. The dark mass of the mzrokar came into sight, the creature squeezing itself through the hole, its legs gripping the tunnel wall to pull itself along. For a moment Ridmark hoped the beast would get stuck, but he realized that was unlikely. The mzrokar could compress its body to an incredible degree, even with the enspelled armor plates of dvargir steel. It would force itself into the tunnel and pursue them.

  “Here,” said Ridmark, stopping beneath the last circle of light. He propped his staff against the wall and made a stirrup with his hands. Caius scrambled up and pulled hims
elf through the hole. Calliande followed suit, and then Morigna, and then Gavin and Kharlacht. Ridmark went last, gripping his staff and thrusting it up through the hole. Kharlacht and Gavin seized the staff and pulled him up.

  As they did, he saw the mzrokar crawling towards him, sparks flashing from the steel plates scraping against the stone wall of the tunnel. A stroke of luck – the creature could compress its body, but the rough armor plates dragged against the wall and slowed its advance.

  Then Kharlacht and Gavin lifted him through the latrine, and Ridmark got his feet beneath him.

  “Escaping through the sewer,” said Gavin. “It’s like a tale.”

  “I never liked stories,” said Morigna.

  “Come,” said Ridmark, and they ran onto the street. They had reached nearly the end of the tier, not far from the entrance to the drain chamber. From there they could pass through the trapped gallery and return to the barracks. Barring the mzrokar from pursuit would be a simple matter of triggering the flood trap behind them.

  But if the mzrokar caught them in the trapped gallery, they were finished. The creature could not distinguished between the tiles, would blunder after them, trigger the trap, and drown itself.

  And Ridmark and his companions would drown with it.

  Ridmark hurried through the drain chamber and into the trapped gallery. The doors of dwarven steel lining the niches remained closed, though the sound of splashing water remained as constant as ever.

  “Take care,” he said, stepping onto the nearest tile with the glyph for a welcomed guest. “Follow me. Go as quickly as you can, but do not stumble.”

  Ridmark moved from tile to tile as fast as he dared. He did not look back at the others. Either they would keep their balance, or one of them would stumble and they all would die. Yet no one stumbled. On and on they went, their boots clicking against the stone tiles.

  They were a third of the way across the gallery when the sound of tearing rock echoed through the chamber, followed by the furious roar of the mzrokar.

  The creature had torn its way free from the sewer tunnel.

  ###

  Morigna stared back at the drain chamber.

  “We must stand and fight,” said Kharlacht.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Ridmark. “The minute the mzrokar steps on the wrong tile, the gallery will flood. And with a hundred legs, it will step on all the wrong tiles at once.”

  “No,” said Calliande. “Keep going. I can try to break the spells upon the armor plates. If I do, the mzrokar might flee.”

  “Or it might flee toward us,” said Morigna, “and kill us all. No. I have to take control of its mind.”

  “You couldn’t before,” said Calliande.

  The click of dozens of legs upon the stone floor reached her ears.

  “I have no choice in the matter now,” said Morigna.

  “You stopped the mzrokar before,” said Ridmark. “You held it in place. How long can you do that?”

  “I don’t know,” said Morigna. “I suppose I am about to find out, am I not?”

  A cold sense of doom settled upon her. She had believed herself so strong, but her strength had failed against both Jonas’s dark magic and the nightmarish creature charging toward her. She had not even been strong enough to kill those damned dvargir. And for all her pride, she had never even left Vhaluusk.

  She had not seen so much of the world.

  She had become as crabbed and narrow-minded as the Old Man himself.

  “Can you run and cast the spell at the same time?” said Ridmark.

  Morigna shook her head. “It requires too much concentration. I suggest you go.”

  “If someone carried you,” said Ridmark, “could you still work the spell?”

  Morigna blinked. “I…I do not know. I have never tried.”

  “You’re about to find out,” said Ridmark, stepping to her side as he handed his staff to Gavin. “Go, all of you. Go! Get to the far end as fast as you can. We’ll rejoin you soon.”

  Calliande hesitated, opened her mouth, closed it, and then nodded. “Don’t take too long.” She started across the tiles, and Kharlacht and Gavin and Caius followed her.

  “What are you planning?” said Morigna.

  Ridmark started to answer, and then the mzrokar appeared at the far end of the drain chamber. Rock dust covered its armor plates, but the creature looked otherwise unharmed. It shrieked again and surged forward, legs clicking against the metal grating.

  “Now!” said Ridmark.

  Morigna drew on her magic and cast the spell. Again her thoughts reached out, touching the simple, enraged mind of the huge creature. She commanded it to return to the keep and kill every last dvargir it found.

  It ignored her commands.

  But it went motionless within the drain chamber, quivering a few yards from the trapped tiles.

  Morigna threw out both her hands, her will and magic straining against the power of the wards on the creature.

  “Let’s go,” said Ridmark.

  “I…I can’t,” said Morigna, fresh sweat beading on her forehead. “I…I can’t walk and do this at…”

  Ridmark nodded, put one arm around her shoulders, another behind her knees, and scooped her up as easily as if she were a child.

  So that was what he had meant.

  He started across the tiles, and Morigna felt her connection to the mzrokar waver.

  “See it!” she gasped. “I have to see it for this to work!”

  Without breaking his stride, Ridmark shifted her, slinging her over his shoulders like a freeholder carrying a sack of grain. Morigna bounced once, twisted her head, and flung out her right hand, keeping her eyes locked upon the trembling mzrokar. She had controlled animals through her magic since she had been a child, and the mzrokar’s mind was so simple that she should have been able to command the creature to tie itself into a bow.

  But the dvargir wards were too strong, and she felt their power pushing her magic out of the mzrokar’s puny little mind.

  “You,” wheezed Morigna, sweat dripping into her eyes as she felt the muscles of Ridmark’s arms wrapped against her shoulders and legs, “you had better hurry. I can’t…I can’t…”

  Ridmark started to run, hurrying from tile to tile. Morigna cursed and poured all her power into the spell. The mzrokar took a staggering step forward, went motionless, and then another.

  Ridmark kept running, and a burst of white light shone around him. Calliande’s magic augmented his speed, and Morigna’s tattered cloak rippled around them in the wind of his passage. How he avoided the trapped tiles in his haste, Morigna had no idea. Yet he did, even as she felt the pressure of the wards in her mind.

  She screamed in frustration and pain…and her spell unraveled.

  The mzrokar surged forward, its legs clicking against the tiles.

  Against the trapped tiles.

  “Ridmark!” shouted Morigna. “Too…”

  A horrendous clang echoed through the trapped gallery, and every single one of the flood doors opened. Torrents of water erupted from them in a white spray, engulfing the gallery and the mzrokar alike.

  The wall of water thundered towards her, and Morigna screamed.

  A sheet of dwarven steel appeared a few inches in front of her nose, as if it had sprung out of nothingness. She turned her head, and realized that a massive door of dwarven steel had sealed off the gallery. The door trembled, and the roar of the flooding waters had only gotten slightly softer, but the massive slab of steel held against the floodwaters.

  And the waters had taken the mzrokar with them.

  Morigna let out a long breath, and realized that she was still slung across Ridmark’s shoulders.

  “You can let me down now,” she said, putting a hint of acerbity into her voice. “I have perfectly fine legs.”

  For some reason that made her face flush. She decided to attribute it to exhaustion from fighting the wards.

  Ridmark grunted. “I know. Given that your knee has
been digging into my arm.” He swung her back down, and Morigna found her feet, grabbing at his shoulder for balance.

  Then she stepped back, feeling the heat in her face.

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes, that was very clever.” She turned and saw that Calliande, Kharlacht, Caius, and Gavin had made it out alive. The dwarven friar looked amused, damn him.

  “I suppose it was,” said Calliande with a smile. “Given that we are alive, thanks to both of you.”

  “I told you,” said Ridmark, “that if you knew me long enough that you would see me do something foolish.”

  Morigna laughed. The unsteadiness in her voice was annoying, but since she had come within a few inches of death, she could forgive herself for the display of weakness. “Clearly, three days was all that was necessary.”

  “Clearly,” said Ridmark, looking at the door as Gavin handed him his staff. “Come. I don’t think we’ll have to worry about Kzargar coming to take revenge for his slain retainers.” He rapped his staff against the door. “At least for a few hours. Or until the dvargir leave the ruins and find another exit from the Deeps. And with Kzargar and his men trapped in Thainkul Dural, they won’t be able to raise any additional undead to aid Jonas Vorinus.”

  “Aye,” said Morigna. “Do you think we will be able to find him?”

  “I think we will come for us,” said Ridmark. “Shadowbearer wants the soulstone, and Shadowbearer’s disciple wants you. Shadowbearer isn’t the sort to tolerate failure, so likely both Jonas and the disciple will come for us.” He paused for a moment in thought, tapping his staff against the door once more. “Or Jonas is the disciple.”

  “Kzargar though very little of the disciple,” said Caius.

  “Jonas inspires that reaction,” said Morigna.

  Ridmark nodded. “And even if he runs all the way back to Coldinium, well…he won’t trouble the people of Moraime any longer. Not after we warn them against him. Let’s go.” He rubbed his neck with his free hand. “It will be good to see the sun again.”

  “Agreed,” said Kharlacht and Caius in unison.