by T. H. Lain
Lidda went to work on the far door. No sooner had she slipped her lockpick into the lock than a loud noise came from behind her. All four of them turned to look and saw that the door they had just come through had slammed shut, closing them inside the strange room.
"Don't worry," Lidda reassured everyone. "We'll worry about that on the way out." The expression on her face, though, made it clear to Regdar that she wasn't entirely convinced of that herself.
"If there is a way out," muttered Sonja. She was standing in the dead center of the room, intimidated by the unnatural black walls and trembling slightly. A bead of perspiration rolled down her forehead and onto her face. Her eyes watered, and she tried her very best to resist the urge to complain.
"It is hot under this armor," complained Regdar, adjusting his breastplate.
Hennet felt the sweat building in his armpits and dripping down his sides. "It's hot even without armor. Lidda, I hate to annoy an artist while she's working, but is it possible to pick a little faster?" He walked over to the side of the room and put his hand against the wall but yanked it away in shock.
"This room is an oven!"
Lidda looked back at him.
"The walls are growing hotter by the second," the sorcerer said. He reached down to touch the floor. "And the floor too! It'll burn through our boots in no time."
Regdar frantically cast aside his armor, which was growing hotter. He tossed his breastplate onto the floor, where it formed an arched platform. "Your shoes are the thinnest," he told Sonja. "Stand on it."The druid stepped onto the piece of armor but wondered what good it would do.
"I almost have it open!" said Lidda frantically, "but there has to be a way to turn the heat off. Search the walls, search for a hidden panel or something."
"This heat is infernal!" cried Regdar, running his hands along the near-scorching wall, hopping to keep the soles of his boots from burning. How could something so black be so hot? "What I wouldn't give for some ice right now!"
The sickly, dry smell of superheat filled the air. The ashes on the floor smoldered, and the soles of everyone's boots smoked. Regdar skipped back to the door they'd come through only to find that it, too, was locked. He pushed all of his weight against it to try and force it, burning his shoulder in the process, but the door wouldn't give in the slightest.
"Wait," said Sonja, still perched on the breastplate at the room's center. "This must be a magical effect, and that means I can dispel it using this ring."
"How many more charges do you have on that?" asked Regdar.
"I think just one," the druid answered.
"Then save it" the fighter advised. "We'll need it to use on that rift. Save it until there's no other choice."
The halfling's hands worked on the ancient lock, the only part of the door that wasn't superheated along with the rest of the room. As the locks were made of iron, she reasoned, it wouldn't do to let them melt. There was, however, a definite danger of the lockpick melting inside the lock and ruining their chances of ever getting through. The sweat dripping off her forehead irritated and clouded her eyes, and that didn't make the job any easier.
"I think I've found something," Hennet announced. He pulled out his short spear and ran it against a subtle crack in the wall, forcing open a sliding panel. Inside, two lips were carved into the stone, like a mouth partially open and about to speak. And speak it did.
"Etos hui vanots," the stone mouth said, in a high-pitched, chirpy voice, with a flatly cordial tone. Hennet had seen magic mouths like this before.
"Etos hui vanots," the magical construct repeated.
It probably wants me to give it a password, the sorcerer thought. "Uh…"
" Nai vanots," the lips said with the same, emotionless voice. Then the panel slammed shut in front of Hennet.
"Lidda," Hennet said. "I think you should work harder on that lock."
"Thanks for the advice!" Lidda shouted back. "Very helpful!"
Regdar abandoned the walls and rushed to the center of the room to comfort Sonja. The fighter took a gulp of hot air that burned him from the inside. Around the room, smoke rose from their clothes. The wool of their winter cloaks threatened to burst into open flame. Regdar felt a sudden wave of unbearable heat roll up his side from inside his robes. He realized that the water was boiling in his waterskin. It had blown off its top and now was releasing scalding steam against his naked flesh. With a yelp, he yanked it out and tossed it away.
Regdar wrapped his arms around Sonja, who wasn't weeping or making any noise, though sweat poured from her temples. She stood still, gently trembling in Regdar's strong arms as might a terrified rabbit.
The threatening black walls blazed as Lidda worked at the lock furiously, drawing on previously unknown reservoirs of strength. She felt on the verge of fainting. Hennet danced at the room's edge, trying desperately to pry open the secret panels once again. Regdar watched the pile of ashes in the corner and wondered if that was one of the earlier party and if so, whether that was the fate that awaited them as well-to be dead and beyond resurrection, consigned to ash that would never be scattered by wind or water. Sonja raised her trembling hand, ready to activate the ring of dispel in an effort to save them and in the process perhaps doom the world to eternal winter.
Regdar saw what she was doing and said, "Not yet, Sonja, hold on just a little longer."
The druid wasn't listening. Her eyes were closed in concentration.
"Sonja!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. Getting no response, he grabbed her ring finger and pulled the magical ring off of it. Sonja looked at him, shocked,
"I think I have it," croaked the halfling with a parched throat. "I think…"
She cawed in triumph, deftly hopping backward as the black door to safety flew open. With lightning speed everyone jumped through it, Regdar sparing barely a moment to kick his super-heated breastplate through the door into the next room.
When they were through, the door rolled back toward the close position. Hennet thrust his short spear through the diminishing opening, leaving the heavy door open a crack when it came to a rest. Exhausted and gasping, everyone sprawled on the floor, breathing deeply of the blessedly cool air. Sonja magically filled their boiled-dry waterskins with cold water, which they sucked down desperately, saving the last to splash on their faces.
In a few minutes, heat from the adjacent room stopped rolling through the open doorway.
"I've heard of going from the frying pan into the fire," Lidda quipped, pulling herself to her feet, "but I've never done it quite like that."
Finally, feeling recovered, they looked around to see where they were. It was another room like the last, a large cube in form, but this one wasn't empty. It was almost completely filled with supplies of all kinds. Everywhere they looked, something glinted or glimmered in the magical torchlight. Suits of golden and silver armor hung on the walls, glowing magical weapons rested atop carved teak and mahogany cabinets, potions were stacked in cabinets, and pedestals supported devices of strange antiquity and unknown power.
Lidda and Hennet broke into a smile and took a few disbelieving steps forward. This was what every adventurer dreamed of discovering beyond every dungeon door: an unmolested treasure room. This was the find of a lifetime-the treasury of an ancient society, long past caring or seeking revenge, and filled to the brim with loot.
Behind them, Regdar slipped the silver dispel ring from his pocket and handed it back to Sonja. The druid took it wordlessly and slid it back onto her finger.
"We're rich," said Lidda with a disbelieving smile.
"Riches aren't what we're here for," Sonja reminded them. "We're here for the Frozen Pendant."
"And we've found it," said Regdar, pointing to a corner of the room. Amid a fallen suit of armor and a spilled pile of smashed potions lay another adventurer, dead, his corpse covered with a light layer of blue ice. Frozen on his face was a look of stark terror. Clutched in his hands was a delicate, gold necklace, and dangling from that was a lum
p of black ice that shimmered with unholy magic and radiated a coldness they could feel from across the room.
12
For perhaps thirty seconds they stood and stared at the frozen body and the artifact clutched in its dead hands.
"He's a rogue," Lidda pointed out, noting the singed lockpick set at his waist. "He must have picked his way through that room the same as we did."
"The scout always survives the longest," Regdar said, tousling Lidda's hair.
Lidda smiled back at him. "He may have lived the longest, but that still wasn't long enough. Traps got his friends and they got him, too, in the end." The halfling pointed out a small dart protruding from the man's neck. "He must have pulled the Frozen Pendant off that pedestal there," she pointed out an empty one, "and triggered a poison dart trap. So much for him. I wouldn't touch anything in here for the moment. There are almost certainly more traps."
"So the pendant didn't kill him," Hennet noted, wedging the magic torch into a tight space between two crates. "It just iced him over after his death?"
"Apparently," said Lidda. She prodded the corpse with the edge of her short sword. The weapon broke a layer of ice around the dead man's leg. "Sonja, in that story of yours, all the bad things happened after the Sultan touched the item, right?"
"That's how I remember it," Sonja said. "If the story is to be believed then it would seem it is activated by touch."
"So if it's already been activated, the pendant must be safe to touch now," said Hennet, and he reached for it.
"I wouldn't do that," said Sonja, grasping the sorcerer's arm. "I suspect very strongly that when this rogue picked up the pendant, he activated the rift above us. I don't know what would happen if you touched it now."
"Are you certain anything will happen?" Regdar asked. "The mephits seemed to think it would be safe enough for us to handle it."
"The mephits lied," she stated. "They said that Glaze activated the Ilskynarawin. That clearly didn't happen."
"Dragons aren't known for their lockpicking skills," said Lidda. "Either our dead rogue and his companions led Glaze through, or-"
"Or Glaze was never down here," said Regdar. "Look around you. Does it look like a dragon was in here? Glaze would have torn everything to pieces."
"But why the deception?" asked Hennet. "You're our expert on mephits, Sonja-why did they lie to us?"
"Easy," replied the druid. "They want the Frozen Pendant. I think they can pass back through the rift anytime they choose to do so. They aren't trapped here at all, they've just decided to stay in the hope of finding some way to recover this device. If we handle it and inadvertently make the rift larger, that won't bother them at all. They don't plan to stay here, anyway. Once they have the pendant, they'll disappear back through the rift to the Plane of Ice and leave us behind with our problems. That's how I see it.
"And," she added, "I don't appreciate being used this way."
"I think I understand," said Regdar. "They want the Frozen Pendant. They can't come down here themselves because it's too warm and also because they could never get through all the traps and locked doors. Now that we've cleared the way for them…"
"Have we cleared the way?" asked Hennet. "Aren't the locks still intact? That door closed on us all by itself, and so did this one." He pointed to his short spear, still keeping the door open a crack.
"The doors probably lock themselves," Lidda agreed. "It's a magical thing. I've seen it in mages' dungeons before. But who knows how long that takes to work. As it is, the doors, or rather the door, may still be more sensitive to being opened by force."
"I tried to force the far door," said Regdar. "It didn't work."
"But you were forcing it from the inside," Lidda reminded him, "and it opened into the room. It may be easier to force from the other side."
"So what do we do?" asked Hennet, growing increasingly frustrated. "Those little winged bastards lied to us, tricked us into doing their dirty work for them, and we're still thinking of making the delivery for them. I should have killed more than just three of them."
"Hennet," said Sonja, "we don't know what their intentions are. Maybe-"
"Maybe they want to turn our world into an outpost for this Plane of Ice. Sure, they didn't open the rift, but I bet you anything they shed no tears over it. They probably want this amulet to widen the rift, to let more of their friends through. And I'm damned if I'll deliver it to them on a platter!"
"What do you recommend instead?" Regdar demanded of the sorcerer.
"I recommend we take the artifact, we figure out how to use it, and we seal that rift ourselves." Hennet leaned over the corpse, grasped the golden necklace, and pulled it back, shattering the ice lining the man's body. A few fingers snapped as Hennet wrenched the artifact from the dead fist. Sonja muttered a half-hearted protest, but it was no good. Hennet moved toward the light and closely inspected the hunk of black ice that was the Ilskynarawin. To stop its swinging, he cupped it in his hand.
The ice shone brighter for just a moment before erupting with a brilliant flash of light. When this faded away, the piece of ice was the same, every contour identical, but for the color-it was transformed into a brilliant white. Hennet looked on it in awe. He dropped the cold lump of ice from his palm, leaving the necklace dangling around his fingers.
"You fool!" Regdar shouted. "You moronic bumbler! Do you have any idea what you just did?"
Hennet stuttered out a "no." Regdar grabbed his arm, squeezing so hard that Hennet almost cried out. Regdar looked at Lidda, and the halfling pulled out her dagger and used it to catch the chain. With his free hand, Regdar pulled open a pocket in his tunic, and Lidda dropped the artifact into it.
"Neither do I," said the fighter, releasing Hennet and taking a few cagey steps back, "but I doubt it's good. For all we know, you just made the rift twice as wide and twice as stable, letting Pelor-knows-what through. For all we know, you just doomed us all!"
"Maybe I shut the rift," Hennet shot back, jabbing a finger against the larger man's solid breast. "Did you think of that? At least I did something instead of falling onto my face in a pit trap a toddler could have avoided!"
"Stop it," Sonja and Lidda protested, unheard and unacknowledged.
"What about that boy, Teron?" asked Regdar. "You let him come along with you even though he couldn't fight well enough to defend himself against a single orc. Why? Did he remind you of yourself? You let him get killed."
Stung by the accusation, Hennet cried out, "That's good, coming from the lunatic who rushes into a half a dozen gnolls, hacking every which way without any regard for what his mates might be up to with spells or bows. Acts like an idiot, prevents from anyone helping him, and gets himself knocked out for his trouble. Who wants to literally burn bridges that are our only route of escape. The addle-pated warrior with more weapons than brains, who loses his own lady then lusts after another man's so openly that I feel frankly embarrassed for him."
A roar grew in Regdar's deepest seat of anger, spreading throughout his body, turning his face to a bright scarlet. Veins bulged in his neck and forehead and a string of babble flowed from his mouth, completely beyond his control.
"If I had Sonja then I'd take some effort to be more attentive to her! Neglected in this dungeon the last place she'd want to be in the world as you make jokes! You don't deserve Sonja you scrawny little glory-thirsty mageling! If it wasn't for Sonja standing here I'd crush you where you stand."
"Is that all that's stopping you?" Hennet challenged him.
Regdar slammed his right fist across the smaller man's cheek. The unprepared sorcerer flew backward and slammed into the wall, where he knocked over a suit of armor before slumping to the ground. As the armor fell, it triggered a trap in another corner of the room, loosing a barbed arrow that zipped across the room and struck the wall just above Hennet's head then bounced away.
The emotional satisfaction Regdar felt from the punch faded away fast, to be replaced by a deep sense of shame. The world above w
as freezing, the Plane of Ice threatened to consume everything, and he couldn't think of anything but his own pain. What would Sonja think of him now? Could Hennet forgive him? And what of Lidda, his longest and most faithful companion in travel and adventure? All these faces looked at him with mixtures of shock, anger, and disappointment. All was silent as each waited for the others to speak first.
The stillness was shattered by a huge hang from the next room. The sound echoed repeatedly across the cubic room. Regdar pushed the heavy, black door wider open to peer into the adjoining room, only to have it yanked away from his hand. He found himself looking into the fat, armored torso of a giant. It was hunched over because it was too tall to stand upright in the room. Even stooped, its bald head scraped the black ceiling of the oven. In one arm it clutched a huge, thick club, and in the other it had a triangular shield. The far door was open but intact despite having been forced by this behemoth.
Regdar, Hennet, and Lidda all screamed "frost giant!" Only Sonja knew better. The creature was a verbeeg-smaller than a frost giant but closely related to them, just as evil and almost as dangerous.
The verbeeg swung its club at Regdar. The fighter hopped deftly back and used his foot to pull Hennet's short spear back into the treasure chamber at the same time that grasped the edge of the door with both hands and pulled with all his might. The door slipped from the giant's grasp and noiselessly closed the portal a moment after Regdar whipped his hands back into the treasure room. No sooner had the door closed than they heard an ear-splitting boom from the massive club striking the door. It shook the entire room, setting the treasures vibrating and jangling.
"Will the oven room heat up again?" Hennet wondered, pulling himself up and rubbing the welt on his cheek. "That would be an overdue twist of fate in our favor."
"It won't unless the other door closes," said Lidda.
"I don't think it's going to be in there long enough for that to matter," said Regdar as the door shuddered under another crash. A few suits of armor vibrated free of their mounts and clattered to the stone floor. The next impact sounded as if the verbeeg had abandoned its club and was instead slamming itself full-force against the door. The panel wouldn't hold much longer. Regdar tried to reinforce it with his body, and Lidda and Hennet came up to do the same.
