D&D 09-Return of the Damned

by T. H. Lain

  The room broke out in fighting. Black-clad soldiers charged in at the group of four intruders in a rush of metal and blades.

  Whitman's hammer pounded out a staccato rhythm against two soldiers' banded-mail armor. Attack then parry. Attack then parry. The dwarf whirled and struck, defending himself with long, sweeping arcs of his hammer, then smashing down on his opponent with a tremendous blow.

  Clemf batted away blades as fast as they came at him. He jabbed back at one soldier, catching him in the throat and sending him back a step. Though he managed to wound his opponent, the lunge cost him. Another soldier slashed at Clemf's exposed ribs, opening a small wound across his stomach and down toward his groin. The tattooed human growled at his attacker and spun on him. His breathing became deep and his chest rose and fell as if he were an angry bull. With a powerful wail, Clemf stepped forward and beheaded two soldiers with one swing of his longsword.

  Tasca fired arrows into the approaching crowd of swordsmen at a furious pace. His fingers flew over the bow string, releasing two arrows at a time and reloading in the blink of an eye. Nearly every arrow he fired found its mark, but his attacks didn't stop the soldiers from advancing. Eventually he had to drop his bow and draw his rapier. With swashbuckling flare, the roguish elf battled his adversaries, trading blows even when he was surrounded and flanked.

  Regdar stepped forward and grabbed Naull by the arm.

  "Naull!" he shouted. "Naull, don't you remember me?"

  The slight wizard pulled away from his grip and glared up at him with narrowed eyes.

  "I remember you," she said, hatred dripping from her words. "You left me to die." She spat in his face then bent down to pick up a quarterstaff lying on the ground near her feet.

  "That's not tru—"

  His words were cut off by a hard crack to his ribs. Gasping to regain his lost breath, the big fighter took a step back as Naull bent into a crouch, twirling her quarterstaff for another strike.

  "Naull," he pleaded. "What are you doing? You must remember I didn't want to leave you." He held his arms out to his sides, trying to look less menacing.

  "That's not how I remember it," she said, hurling the head of her staff at Regdar.

  The fighter dodged back, narrowly avoiding the blow.

  "But...but, you asked me to leave," he said.

  His words were again cut short by another whizzing attack.

  This time Regdar had to use his greatsword to block. The enchanted blade bit into the dense wood of the staff, and Naull struggled to free her weapon. That left her ribs exposed to a counter strike. Regdar took note but stayed his blade.

  Emitting a frustrated, scratchy cry, the slight wizard gave her staff a great tug, pulling it free. She took a step back, straightened her robes, and caught her breath.

  "Why would I ask you to leave?" she shouted from two long paces away. "Surely a big, strong fighter like you could have protected a frail little wizard like me."

  Regdar wrinkled his forehead, confused. "It was you who saved me that day." The memory of being pulled by Alhandra and Krusk from the City of Fire as it shifted into the Elemental Plane of Fire ran through his head. "When I had to leave you there, injured and trapped with that bitch Lindroos—" he lowered his gaze, and his lip curled up at the edge—"something inside me died." He took a step forward.

  "How very sweet." Naull charged forward, her quarterstaff lowered like a lance.

  She got a good jump and caught Regdar off guard. The heavy staff plunged into Regdar's stomach where the efreeti's falchion had split his breastplate. He twisted to one side, defending his midsection with a snap reaction borne of long campaigns in the bowels of dank, decrepit dungeons. The big fighter's greatsword swept around in a blinding arc, spanking away the quarterstaff. His gauntleted hand came around as well, connecting with the petite wizard's chin and knocking her to the ground with a single blow.

  Naull landed on her back with a surprised grunt. A trickle of blood ran from her spht lower hp, and she held her eyes shut, grimacing from pain.

  Regdar stepped back. He looked down on Naull, feeling pangs of guilt. He started to kneel next to her. More than anything he wanted to cradle her in his arms, to tell her how sorry he was—to tell her about the gaping hole in his chest that had been punched there when he left her in the City of Fire.

  But he hesitated.

  Turning around, he took in the terrible battle unfolding around his companions. Whitman, Tasca, and Clemf stood back to back to back, surrounded by half a dozen cultist soldiers and four jann. Lindroos stood to one side, watching and smiling at the obvious advantage she enjoyed.

  Whitman struck down another soldier with a hammer blow that might have felled a hill giant. Regdar turned away, hoping his men could hold there own for a moment longer, while he decided what to do with Naull.

  Jozan stepped through the hallowed arches of St. Clembert's cathedral. He paused to admire the beautiful architecture. The carved stone pillars on each side depicted scenes of terrible carnage—demons flooding across a huge plain and crashing into a line of mighty paladins. At the head of the holy warriors stood a protector from the heavens. Though he was only a man, he stood a full head taller than all the rest. His sword rose high above the swarming masses, and his armor gleamed with a holy light. His eyes looked out at the advancing hordes, concentrating but unafraid. He held his chest out as he strode forward into a pack of fanged demons, each intent on devouring the man whole.

  "I see you're familiar with this cathedral's namesake," said a woman's voice.

  Jozan turned around to see a tall, hard-looking woman in gleaming plate armor. He smiled.

  "Alhandra," he said. "Blessings be with you."

  "And also with you," she replied, smiling back. "Do you know the story of how the paladin Clembert became a saint?" she asked, nodding toward the sculpted pillar.

  Jozan scratched his chin. "No, actually, I'm not sure I do."

  Alhandra grabbed his elbow and spun him around. She pointed at the demons. "Thousands of years ago, a demon lord by the name of Jalie Squarefoot managed to convince a band of adventurers to travel to the third layer of Hell. Once there, the dim-witted fools were tricked into starting the legendary Doom Clock." She moved her finger along the formed stone, rubbing it across demon horns and coming to rest on top of a deep chasm at the back of the evil horde.

  "Once the clock came out of its millennia-long slumber, it began unraveling the fibers of time." She looked at Jozan. "The clock actually had the power to pull apart the fabric that separates the planes." She looked back to the battle scene. "As it moved from the third layer of Hell to the ninth, the huge, six-legged structure collected behind it a veritable army of crazed demons all wanting to wreak havoc on the other planes. Once it reached the ninth layer, it opened a portal to this world." Alhandra ran her hand back across the entire, grisly scene.

  "Here it unleashed the chaos army you see depicted onto our land." Taking a step around the pillar, the paladin admired the tall, determined man at the head of the holy army. "The great paladin Clembert gathered to him the mightiest army of paladins and holy men ever to fight together on this plane." The paladin shrugged. "Or any other for that matter."

  Alhandra let out a heavy sigh. "Many good, righteous men and women died that day." She touched the sculpture of the heroic man. "Including the paladin Clembert. But his loss was not in vain. His efforts and those of the people who followed him saved our world from being overrun by the evil horde. If it hadn't been for them, this world would be nothing more than the tenth plane of Hell."

  "Then the church sainted Clembert for his bravery and service to Pelor?" prompted Jozan.

  Alhandra nodded. "Yes, but not for many centuries." She sighed again. "You see, at that time, the elders decided that if the general population knew how close they had come to being enslaved by the dark forces of evil, it might shake their faith in the church. Even though Clembert's bravery and sacrifice saved our world, the church set out to intentionally cover
up all details of the demon invasion." She turned and looked at Jozan. "The name Clembert was erased from all church documents, and his loyal service to Pelor went completely unrecognized by the establishment."

  "But not unrecognized by Pelor," said Jozan.

  Alhandra smiled. "Your faith is stronger than when last we met, cleric. It's good to see."

  Jozan blushed. "Experience has a way of clearing up the quandaries of youth."

  Alhandra stepped away from the pillar. She waved to Jozan. "Come," she said.

  The two walked through the courtyard of the cathedral.

  "Tell me," said the paladin as they strolled, "what brings you to St. Clembert's?"

  "Actually," replied the cleric, "my business here is done. I was on my way out when you found me."

  The paladin nodded. "Any news of our mutual friends?"

  Jozan whistled. "Too much to tell in one afternoon," he said. "I'll see if I can't give you the condensed version."

  "You do that." Alhandra chuckled. "I wouldn't want to keep you here any longer than need be."

  Jozan blushed. "You misunderstand."

  Alhandra put her hand on his shoulder. "Go on, I'm only joking."

  Jozan blushed more deeply at her touch, then he looked away. "Well, last I saw Lidda, she was up to her usual antics. She convinced Krusk to head over to New Coast for one of her 'entrepreneurial ventures.'"

  They both laughed.

  "I haven't seen them since they left, but knowing Lidda, they're likely in jail, or breaking out of jail, or getting someone killed," continued the cleric.

  "Perhaps all three," agreed Alhandra.

  "I passed through New Koratia to see Regdar on my way here."

  The paladin wrinkled her forehead. "New Koratia? That's not exactly on the way to St. Clembert's unless you're coming from the middle of the ocean."

  Jozan nodded. "You're right," he admitted, "but I had news about Naull."

  Alhandra stopped dead in her tracks. "Naull?"

  "Yes." Jozan stopped as well. "I met some missionaries who had barely escaped a run-in with a slave caravan," he explained. "One of them used to deliver apples to Naull's mentor, so he knew Naull's face. He recognized her in the caravan." The cleric shrugged. "I thought Regdar should know. He's been almost suicidal ever since he lost her."

  Alhandra stood in the courtyard of St. Clembert's, her jaw rigid, her gaze pointed toward the sky.

  Jozan looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Alhandra, what is it?"

  The paladin lowered her stare, and her eyes pierced straight through Jozan, giving him an uneasy feeling.

  "Are you sure this man was telling the truth?"

  The cleric nodded. "I even prayed to Pelor for guidance." He looked up. "I believe what he said was true."

  "And you told Regdar all of this?"

  Jozan nodded. "Yes. Why?"

  Alhandra shook her head. "Because if Naull is alive, then so too may be my sister—the blackguard Lindroos."

  A cold chill ran down Jozan's spine. "Regdar went to find Naull," he said.

  "When he finds her," Alhandra finished the cleric's thought, "he'll find Lindroos."

  Jozan stood motionless for a moment.

  "We've got to help him," said Alhandra.

  Jozan shook himself out of his brief stupor. "But he went to Mt. Fear. That's more than a week's travel by foot, four days even by horse. He could be dead by then."

  "Come with me." Alhandra jogged off across the courtyard. "I know someone who might be of help."

  Regdar waved his hands in front of him, hoping to ward off what was coming. "Naull, can't we just talk about this?"

  The petite wizard smiled as she recited the last few words of her spell—a spell Regdar had heard too many times in his career as a soldier. As she finished the incantation, three swirling balls of purple-blue energy appeared in her hand. She eyed them briefly, then turned her attention to Regdar, a satisfied, cocky look on her face.

  "You men are all alike," she said.

  The first of the magical missiles launched from her palm and struck Regdar in the middle of the chest. He hissed air in through his gritted teeth.

  "You always want a second chance," continued the wizard. She jutted her hand out, and the second ball corkscrewed at blinding speed, slamming into Regdar's arm.

  "Oww!" Regdar shouted. He shook his hand and wrist as if he'd just hit his thumb with a builder's hammer.

  Naull paid him no mind. "Always want to talk about things after the deeds are done, as if that can take away the pain and the humiliation. Never think about how a woman might feel before you hurt her." Naull launched the last missile.

  The magical energy once again slammed Regdar and dissipated over his body, sparking and arcing across the seams in his armor.

  The big fighter staggered back, off balance from the impact of Naull's magical onslaught. "Please, Naull, I know you're upset, but what you're doing isn't right. Will you please just wait a second?"

  Naull raised her hands again, preparing another spell. "Wait? Like you waited for me in the City of Fire?" she screamed.

  Regdar's face flushed red. "Had I known—"

  "I don't want to hear your excuses." She began chanting the words of the spell.

  Regdar lunged forward and grabbed Naull's arm. He caught hold of her wrist and twisted it, turning her around and pinning her bent arm behind her back. Naull screeched like a harpy and tried to pull away. Her spell was ruined, the words of her incantation unfinished.

  "Let go of me, you dim-witted troglodyte." The petite wizard flailed, wrenching her arm back and forth as she tried to struggle free.

  Regdar felt her shoulder pull tight, then pop. "You're going to hurt yourself."

  Naull spun her head around and glared at the big fighter. "You're the one holding my arm." She let her knees collapse and screamed at the top of her lungs, "You broke it! You broke my arm!"

  Naull's cries of pain reminded Regdar of the sounds goblins make when they're being eaten alive by spiders. He let go of her.

  The wizard pulled her injured arm up against her chest and rolled onto her side in a fetal ball, where she began to sob.

  Regdar looked down on her, his chest constricted with guilt. He felt like a parent who had accidentally injured a child in anger, a moment of unthinking anger that could never be retracted or made right. He bent over Naull.

  "Dear Pelor," he said. "Please, Naull, forgive me. I didn't mean to—"

  Naull rolled onto her back and reached up between the big fighter's legs. Grabbing hold of his crotch, she shouted an arcane word, and a flood of magical energy coursed out of her fingertips.

  As the spell's power flowed into the staggered fighter, Naull smiled up at him.

  "Can you see your god now?" she asked. "Tell him you'll be along shortly."

  Regdar couldn't move. He was pinned in place by the most excruciating pain imaginable. He couldn't move, couldn't even scream. He'd been told by veteran soldiers that being stabbed in the kidney was the worst, most paralyzingly painful way to kill a man, but those old warriors were wrong. The muscles of his groin twitched and constricted, felt as if they were on fire, as if they were being burned, electrocuted, and torn away by dull claws at the same time. He was sure he lost control of his bladder.

  When the spell ended and the arcane pain stopped flowing, Regdar staggered backward. The pain had numbed his mind, his head buzzed with a mixture of relief and horror.

  Naull rubbed her arm. It was obviously not broken. Slowly the wizard rose to her feet, a sly smile playing on her hps.

  Regdar groaned. He had never really wanted to be a father, but he now felt certain that that option was no longer available to him. Taking a deep breath and shaking his head to clear the fog.

  Pulling back his gauntleted hand, he made a fist. "I've had enough," he said.

  The metal of his gauntlet rang against the bones in the wizard's face. A big, red blotch appeared on Naull's forehead as she reeled backward, and blood gushe
d from her nose. The wizard rocked on her heals for a moment, then her eyes rolled back in her head, and she fell, landing hard on the wooden floor with a loud thud.

  Regdar looked down at the crumpled form of the woman he loved. "Even I have my limit," he said, then he turned around to join the fray.

  Behind Regdar, in the middle of the room, the fighting came to a sudden stop. The few remaining soldiers formed a tight ring around Whitman, Tasca, and Clemf. They held their swords out menacingly, jabbing at the dwarf, elf, and human in the center.

  The four jann stood behind the soldiers, making a second ring around the trapped fighters. They leered at the men in the middle.

  Lindroos reclined against the nearest wall, smiling. "Well, Regdar," said the blackguard, "it looks as if I win."

  Regdar gripped the hilt of his magical greatsword. "How do you figure?"

  "Consider the situation," said Lindroos, standing up from her comfortable position on the wall. "Your friends are completely surrounded, and you are outnumbered more than two to one," she said. "I never was good at math, but still, I think that means I have the advantage."

  Regdar looked at Lindroos for a moment. First she kills Naull, he thought, then she returns as Naull's lover. The big fighter narrowed his eyes.

  "You aren't good at numbers," he replied.

  Regdar took three huge, running steps forward, charging the blackguard in a sudden rush. With practiced flair, the veteran fighter swung his greatsword up and around in a blinding arc. Lindroos's eyes flew wide, and she barely managed to get her jet black blade up in time to keep Regdar from taking her head off at the neck.

  The attack had caught her off guard, and her minions momentarily turned their attention from the three fighters they surrounded to the crazed human charging their leader. That was all the opening that the trapped trio needed.

  Whitman shoved the soldier in front of him. The man lost his balance and fell backward. The dwarf's hammer struck down within a blink and clanged against splintmail. The downed soldier let out a strangled groan as his ribcage collapsed and broken bone ends pierced his lungs.