Party at Castle Grof

by Kira Morgana

  Erendell was fishing around in her bag.

  “I have this.” She pulled out a cloak that appeared to be made of a fine silvery silk.

  “What be that, Drow?” Arnhammen massaged an ointment into his elbow, wincing as he rubbed the wound a little too hard.

  “It’s an Invisibility cloak, Nogoth. My mother made it for me.” She looked at Aranok. “I thought that I could use it to go and disarm any traps that might be on the door or inside the complex behind it.”

  “Good plan. We’ll follow quietly,” Aranok said.

  Erendell swept the cloak around her.

  Until she reached the corner, she kept the hood down. Her disembodied head floated along the passage way and Aranok rolled his eyes at the grin on her face.

  “Be serious,” he hissed at her.

  “Why? This is much more fun,” she replied and skipped ahead of them.

  “I thought she said the candy wore off too quickly?” Ariana grumbled.

  He shrugged. “You know how Erendell is; too loopy for her own good sometimes.”

  “It was that which got her thrown off her Novitiate,” his sister reminded him. “We have to keep her under control or she’ll ruin everything.”

  “I’ll deal with it,” Aranok soothed his sister. “I’ve been dealing with her since Nursery.”

  Once at the corner Erendell peered round it and then looked back, motioning for them to follow. When they reached her, she said, “I’ll go and sort out the door. I’ll signal when it’s open.”

  Aranok nodded and blinked as her hands reappeared from inside the cloak.

  Erendell swept the hood up onto her head and then pulled her hands back inside.

  “Give me a slow count of twenty,” she said, just a voice on the air, then the faint sound of her footfalls echoing around them was the only indication she had left.

  “…eighteen, nineteen; twenty.” Aranok finished counting and peered carefully around the corner. An elegantly boned, ebony hand appeared out of nowhere and gave the elven sign for All Clear.

  The three of them crept down the corridor, hugging the wall and freezing every time one of the skeletons on guard at the treasury door turned their way.

  The dinginess of the passageway, combined with the fact that the magic which reanimated the skeletons made them short sighted, worked in their favour and they slipped through the open door into a tiny passage.

  Erendell dropped her hood and shut the door quietly. “I’ve scouted the whole complex. It’s basically a tiny Dungeon within the larger Dungeon,” she whispered.

  “Is there anything in here? Traps or alarms?” Aranok asked softly, catching Erendell’s unease.

  “None. The door to the main Dungeon is locked, though. If we’re quick we can get through without having to fight.”

  “Ye show the way, Lass,” Arnhammen muttered. “I’ll bring up the rear.” He unhooked his mace, having put it away for their surreptitious rush to the door.

  Aranok took the second position and Ariana followed him, looking around nervously. Erendell left her head uncovered and they followed her disembodied head to the end of the passage, around to the left, into a tiny treasure room heaped with gold and jewels.

  Erendell’s eyes brightened as they entered and without really thinking, Aranok said quickly, “We’ll raid the main treasury, Erendell. Leave this place alone.”

  She pouted as they exited the room into another corridor.

  “Ariana,” Aranok whispered. “Do you have another of those blocks that you used to seal the tunnel we dug?”

  “Yes, but it takes time to grow.”

  “Can you start it off now on your hand and we’ll drop it into position as soon as we are in the corridor between here and the main Dungeon?”

  “Good idea, Brother.” She pulled another grey block and muttered “Alta” to it. The block began to grow in her hand.

  They rounded a left hand corner into a longer corridor and Erendell turned to Aranok. “The main door is just…” Her face paled and she shouted, “Look out, Arnhammen!”

  Aranok and Ariana turned to see a Devil Demon standing behind the dwarf, swinging a huge glistening scythe. The creature’s deep red skin contrasted with the black fur that covered its legs all the way down to bright red hooves that scorched the stone beneath them with flame.

  The dwarf brought his mace up at the shout and the blade of the scythe bounced off the suddenly fiery weapon. The demon was thrown backwards and Arnhammen shouted to them, “Go, I’ll deal with this monster and meet ye in the centre!”

  Ariana looked helplessly at her half-brother. The block was almost too big for her to hold in both hands.

  “Drop it, Ariana,” Aranok told her.

  “But Arnhammen…”

  “I will meet ye later, Lady Mage! Just go!” the dwarf yelled and stood his ground against the Devil demon’s second attack.

  She dropped the block and they watched, unable to do anything.

  Aranok couldn’t draw his bow in the confined quarters of the corridor. He pulled out an arrow and tried to use it as a dart, the way he had in the tavern. It flew past the block, which was now chest height, past Arnhammen’s head and buried itself in the demon’s chest. The creature laughed as it ripped it out of its body and broke it in two with one hand.

  “My Mistress knows you are coming, puny creatures. Run if you can, but I shall triumph here and destroy you later on her command!” The demon laughed as it swung the scythe again.

  The wall was almost head height now, but they saw the flash of the blade, the spurt of blood and Arnhammen’s head flying off to the right.

  Erendell retched and Ariana paled. She kept hold of the brick spell as the Devil Demon stepped up to the wall.

  “We shall meet again,” it said, its bright gold eyes flaring with humour as its laughter was cut off as the block’s spell completed.

  “Beleg!” Ariana screamed in release. Then she collapsed sobbing into Aranok’s arms.

  “Ariana; Ariana, we have to go now.” Aranok tugged his sister upright.

  “I can’t, Aranok. Arnhammen was meant to protect me, but I can’t leave until I avenge his death and kill that demon.” The slim mage sank down to the floor again, sorting through her bag of Holding.

  “You can avenge him by helping to destroy the Dungeon.” Aranok started down the corridor.

  Erendell stared first at him then Ariana.

  “Come on, Ariana,” she said. “Aranok will leave us behind if you’re not careful.”

  “He won’t go far. The door at the other end is locked.” Ariana frowned, then smiled grimly. “I saw that much when I sent my mage globe into the corridor past the skeletons.”

  There was a rattle at the other end of the passageway as Aranok found out that fact.

  “I wondered why you took so long with that,” the dark elf laughed.

  “Why are you giggling at a time like this?” Aranok snapped as he stormed back to them.

  “The door is locked, isn’t it?” Erendell grinned at him.

  “I swear that you have the strangest sense of humour, Erendell. It must be the dark elf blood.” Aranok growled.

  Ariana stood. “I found what I was looking for.” She opened her hand to reveal a shining white gem on a blue silver chain.

  “The Tear of Espilieth!” Erendell took a step back. “That’s a powerful talisman; are you sure you are strong enough to control it?”

  The gem’s light brightened slightly and a red flame appeared in the centre.

  “That means there is evil close by,” Ariana said.

  “We’re in a Dungeon of Doom. Of course there’s evil close by!” Aranok snorted.

  “The next time I see the Devil Demon, I will use this to destroy it.” Ariana sounded far too calm as she fastened the chain around her wrist and Aranok frowned.

  “Are you sure about this, little one?” he asked her, laying one hand on his sister’s shoulder.

  “Of course I am, Aranokkinadiel. I am as sure of t
his as I was when I took the Tear from the vault in the Mage Library. Lady Eliethor taught me well; don’t worry about me.” Ariana brushed her brother’s hand aside in annoyance, sniffed and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. “And I will be the Devil Demon’s undoing.”

  “Of course you will,” Erendell said as she started walking towards the door. “Well?” She stopped and looked at the half elf and his human sister and asked, “Are you coming or not? There isn’t a locked door in the whole of the Heart Kingdoms that I can’t open.”

  * * *

  Aranok unrolled the map for Erendell.

  “The treasury should be to the south. Just check what creatures are out there and come back. Don’t get creative and don’t steal anything yet.”

  Erendell unlocked the door and flung her invisibility cloak around her shoulders.

  “Aranok, I swear that you are worse than my mother!”

  The dark elf rolled her eyes and pulled the hood up. The door opened and closed as she slipped through.

  “That’s odd,” Ariana blinked. “The flame just changed colour to blue. That means there is no evil nearby.”

  Aranok looked at her sharply. “Who was standing closest to you when the red flame appeared?”

  “Erendell was. Are you suggesting that she’s a double agent?”

  “She is half dark elf.”

  “Oh come on, Aranok. You know Eliethor as well as I do! Would she really go through all that pain and sorrow just to bring her child up as evil?”

  “Eliethor wouldn’t, no, but Erendell is a different story. She’s changed Ariana, I can feel it.”

  “Paranoid!” Ariana snorted and turned her back on her brother.

  Aranok sighed. My gut tells me that Erendell has turned away from good, but how do I convince Ariana of that?

  * * *

  “Lord Katuvana; wake up, our little adventure tale has gotten more interesting,” the Jar proclaimed.

  Aracan Katuvana jumped and straightened. The red eyes glared at the Jar and if it had had a body, the Jar would have shrunk back at the malice in the look.

  As it didn’t have a body, it settled for sounding contrite as it continued, “The dwarf has been beheaded by Morian, the Valdier Dungeon’s resident devil demon.”

  The Aracan cracked his neck by twisting his head with his hands, then rolled his shoulders. He walked over to the window showing the party’s progress through the Dungeon. The ancient goblin appeared and picked the Jar up, carrying it to the stand beside the window.

  “It would appear that our Sleeper agent is scouting ahead,” the Jar observed as the symbol representing Erendell moved towards the Treasure Room. “Do you wish to activate her completely yet?”

  Katuvana shook his head and touched the torture chamber. The Lych Mistress appeared in a panel.

  “You called, oh wonderful and handsome Lord?”

  “Has the Barbarian turned yet?” the Jar asked as the Aracan brought Grald’s picture up below the Lych mistress. She looked down, studying the writhing barbarian.

  “Not as yet. I shall employ some more… persuasive…methods. Worry not my Lord, he shall be broken.”

  Aracan Katuvana nodded and with a gesture closed the panel containing the Lych Mistress. He clapped his hands twice and a pair of Gremlins lifted his chair, bringing it to rest behind the figure. Enlarging the picture of Grald in the torture chamber, Katuvana seated himself.

  “Time to enjoy the show, Lord,” the Jar said.

  * * *

  “I will never become one of you!” Grald gasped, the whip slashing down and laying yet another stripe across his already raw back. He heard the whip slice down again and braced himself for more pain, but it never landed.

  “Ladies, bring Sir Grald to my quarters,” a soothing female voice said.

  Grald frowned, trying to remember where he had heard the voice before. Four Dark Mistresses opened the fetters holding him spread-eagled to the bench. They helped him to sit up and one of them gave him a drink of water. Fear, exhaustion and pain overcame the barbarian and he passed out.

  When he came to, clean white bandages wrapped his torso and he could feel a salve cooling the fire on his back.

  He lay on his front in a large pile of silk encased cushions with a strange blue light glowing from the ceiling of the chamber. The air was cool, but not too cold and held a hint of scent to it; some kind of flower, he decided.

  “Sir Grald, I feel I must apologise for the conduct of my Torturer. He was over zealous and sought to further his own ambitions by treating you harsher than I had actually ordered,” the same female voice that had ordered his release said from behind him. “He has been…” the voice dropped to a seductive purr, “…punished for the impertinence.”

  Moving gingerly, he pulled himself into a sitting position, noting in passing that he wore clean breeches and nothing else. When he finally looked up at the owner of the voice, he recoiled. “You!”

  “Sir Grald. You are a warrior of incomparable skill and intelligence. In my haste to gain you as my ally, I made the wrong decision about your treatment. Please forgive me.”

  “You are evil!” the barbarian growled. “You spirit me away from my friends, have my back whipped until it’s raw and you want to me to forgive you?”

  “I brought you here because I recognised that which your friends would never see. I recognised the longing to do something to save the world.

  Grald was shocked. “How did you see that?” I never thought it was that obvious.

  “I am a powerful mage, Sir Grald. I can see many things. I can even see your love for the Dark Elven Maiden. You can have everything you desire and more.” The Lych Mistress sank gracefully onto the cushions beside him. “You can do this by joining Aracan Katuvana’s cause.”

  Grald moved back as she leaned toward him.

  “I am no turncoat. I will not aid the destruction of the Heart Kingdoms.”

  The Lych mistress shook her head.

  “You do not understand him. Our overlord’s cause is just. Lord Katuvana seeks to bring peace and prosperity to Quargard through rule absolute. He almost managed it before, he will complete that task this time.” She laid one hand on his arm. “There is a part for you in this, if you will accept his mark.”

  Grald frowned. The warmth of her body subtly stroked his bare skin and the softness of her hand felt like silk against his harsher, tanned skin.

  “The stories all say that Aracan Katuvana is evil.”

  “What is Good and Evil?” she asked him, removing her hand.

  “Good is when you do things that are nice and helpful for people. Evil is when you hurt people, enjoying their pain and suffering,” he answered absently, using the answer he was given as a child on the plains of Elysia. His eyes were drawn to the contours of her body under the silk robe she wore. Is it dark red or black? He couldn’t decide. There’s a pattern woven into it as well… vines I think?

  “Lord Katuvana wishes to bring peace and prosperity to Quargard. Is that not a good motive?” The Lych Mistress clapped her hands together and a slave girl entered, flowing translucent yellow silk bathing her fair form in golden light.

  The girl carried a tray with a pitcher and two finely blown, gold tinted goblets. The girl poured out a deep red wine and handed one to Grald.

  He held it carefully, admiring the colour of the wine as the second was offered to the Lych Mistress.

  “But he causes pain and suffering. I know. I just experienced it.”

  The Lych Mistress laughed, the sound wrapping itself around his ears and rippling through his mind.

  “Silly man. That was a misunderstanding. The Torture Chamber is for the sole pleasure of my Ladies of the Dark. They enjoy such treatment and draw much pleasure from it. I merely created the chamber to allow them their fun.”

  “Then why was I in there?” Grald sipped his wine, revelling in the warmth that it created, soothing his aches. “If I wasn’t supposed to be tortured…” The Lych Mistress dropped a tiny whit
e tablet into her wine then another into his. “What’s in that tablet?” he asked, suspicious.

  “Tincture of Aphrasia and a touch of Morphagia. Just a little something to take the pain away, ease your aches and relax the body.” She smiled at him and ran her hand softly over the thick brown hair that covered his bare arm. “Don’t worry, I’m drinking it too, it won’t hurt you.”

  Grald shivered and swallowed his wine in one gulp.

  “I won’t join you,” he said. I won’t let her change my mind.

  “You love the Viraldian girl, don’t you?” she said.

  He jumped as her free hand caressed his shoulder. He could feel the strength in it and a strange chill ran over his skin.

  “What if I do?”

  “What would you say if I said that the Aracan could guarantee she would be yours for the rest of your life?” She moved closer to him.

  Grald stared at her, her lips just inches from his.

  “What do you mean?”

  “She is already enamoured of you. I saw that much in my crystal after we liberated you from your companions.” She stared into his eyes and smiled, feeling the emotions running through him. “I can say, with complete certainty, that you would not go unrewarded for joining Lord Katuvana’s cause.”

  “I will not hurt my friends.” He moved back slightly, his breath coming faster. “And I have to complete this mission to get enough gold to free my sister.”

  “Aracan Katuvana can pull strings and accomplish much for the right person,” the Lych Mistress replied, handing her glass back to the slave girl. “Are you in any pain now?”

  Grald blinked. Whatever she had given him had relieved the pain, but had also created other, more embarrassing effects.

  “I’m not in pain, but I am uncomfortable,” he said.

  “Let’s discuss this matter later.” She took the glass from his unresisting hand and set it on the girl’s tray. Then she put one hand on his chest and pushed him down, her long red-brown hair surrounding his face. “I feel that we ought to deal with what is making you feel uncomfortable and get to know each other a little better first.”

  * * *

  “My word, Master, that Lych Mistress is a fast worker. The barbarian will be ours soon,” the Jar said with a gleeful edge to its voice.