“You are playing games with me.”
“I wish that were so. If I could think of some simple proof of my claims, I would offer it.”
Seila walked beside him in silence for a time, evidently weighing the outrageousness of his story. Jack winced to himself. It might have been better to keep his origins to himself. The tale was simply too much to believe, even if it was the truth. After all, the first ingredient of a sound lie was plausibility—something his story was sorely lacking. He was just about to tell Seila to ignore it all as an odd little jest when she drew a sudden breath and looked at him again.
“There was a rumor in the kitchens a few days ago,” she said. “The drow discovered a swordswoman frozen in stone in the ruins of the ancient city. She’d been that way for decades, maybe even centuries. The diggers and porters say she came to life and fought her way free of the Chûmavh holdings. As I heard it, she cut down a dozen drow warriors before escaping into the tunnels.”
“The swordswoman was—is—the Warlord Myrkyssa Jelan.”
“Myrkyssa Jelan? You are joking.”
“I see that her notoriety has endured until the present day.” He snorted softly. “I couldn’t imagine a more pleasant surprise for our pointy-eared friends than setting Myrkyssa Jelan free by mistake.”
“You mean that you were entombed like she was?”
Jack nodded. “Exactly, except that I was unpetrified immediately upon my release from the stone where we’d been imprisoned.”
“Of course,” Seila continued, now speaking more to herself than Jack. “In fact, there were stories in the kitchens that the drow had found another entombed in the ruins—a fool or madman, they said. That must have been you.”
“Fool or madman, indeed. Clearly the tale of my release became confused in the retelling. I dispute both characterizations.”
“You really lived in the time before the Spellplague?” Seila asked. “That is incredible! Unless, of course, it isn’t true, in which case you are the most inventive liar or most lucid madman I’ve ever met. What was it like, then?”
“I’ll be happy to share every recollection I have of what things were like in my day, but it’s hard to know where to begin,” Jack answered. He noticed that the gloom beneath the gigantic mushrooms was lessening; the boles seemed fewer and farther apart. “I haven’t yet seen the world above since my release, so I really don’t know what’s changed. I might as well ask you what it’s like to live in the current day.”
Seila frowned thoughtfully. “I can see where that might be true,” she replied. “Well, Raven’s Bluff in the current day has its flaws, but believe me when I say that it’s better than this place.”
“Ah, here we are,” Jack murmured. They emerged from the wide belt of fungal forest, several hundred yards inland from the dark lake’s exposed shore.
He paused a long time in the shadows of the titanic mushrooms, peering into the gloom to see what he could of the cavern floor ahead. The once-drowned drow city in which the wild mythal stood seemed to be the main focus of activity; dozens of soft-glowing globes of greenish light illuminated the various worksites where the slaves and servants of House Chûmavh toiled in their mysterious tasks. He nodded to himself, building up a picture of the place in his mind’s eye. The ancient ruins and the castle surroundings together made a sort of barbell-shaped footprint of habitation on the floor of the immense cavern, lying with one side pressed up against the sinister lakeshore. As long as they stayed well inland, they should be able to skirt the most heavily trafficked area … but of course they would also be on their own in the weird stone wilderness of the Underdark, where all sorts of terrible monsters might lurk. Best not to share that part with Seila, he decided.
“Which way, Jack?” Seila asked.
“Our route to freedom lies about half a mile in that direction,” Jack said, pointing. “We could follow the drow road and hope to bluff our way past any dark elves or overseers we meet along the way. Or we could strike out across the cavern floor. We’d be much less likely to meet passers-by, but I worry about running into a patrol on the lookout for escaping slaves.” He thought about it for a moment, then made his decision. “Let’s take our chances in the dark.”
Seila shivered, but she nodded. “I am with you.”
He took her hand, and led her out into the cavern floor.
Once they passed out of the shadows of the fungal forest, the ground became more broken and barren. Patches of strange fungi dotted the ground, spikes and clubs and round puffballs that stood two or three feet high and sometimes glowed softly with an evil blue luminescence. Jack gave these places a wide berth. Not only did he want to avoid the light, he simply didn’t like the looks of the subterranean flora; it didn’t seem like anything one would want to get too close to. Rough ridges of rock and sudden winding crevasses made the going more difficult still, but he didn’t mind that as much, because the broken ground would make it that much harder for any watchful eyes to spot the two of them.
Seila stumbled over a stone lost in the gloom at their feet. “I wish we had a little more light,” she whispered.
“It wouldn’t be wise,” Jack replied. “Even a candle flame would give us away. Stay close by me; you’ve been working in a well-lit castle for the last few tendays, but I spent that time out in the gloom of the fields.”
They continued forward, Jack leading Seila more carefully, and came to an area where large stalagmites began to appear on the cavern floor. At the outskirts the stalagmites were only knee-high, but soon human-high pillars began to appear, then mounds the size of houses, and finally huge needle-tipped monoliths that towered a hundred feet or more in height. “I recognize these,” Jack told Seila. “We’re getting close.”
Moving more cautiously, they rounded the base of a grand stalagmite that towered up into the darkness. The faint green witch-light of the dark elves’ floating globes illuminated a wide, level square of polished granite that stood between several more mighty stalagmites. Atop the square rested a circular platform of stone, perhaps twenty feet across. He’d traveled from the dungeons of Sarbreen down into this great cavern by means of this same platform the first (and only) time he’d ventured into the Underdark, held at swordpoint by the Warlord Myrkyssa Jelan and her henchmen. “Good, it’s still here,” Jack breathed.
“What is this place?” Seila asked.
“An elevator, of sorts. I think the dwarves of Sarbreen built it during their city’s heyday so that they could descend to the Underdark when they needed to.” He smiled in the shadows. “Conveniently, it’s waiting for us on this level instead of hovering up at the top of its ascent. Now for the great gamble—does it still function?”
Seila touched his arm. “Jack, look,” she hissed.
He followed her gaze and frowned. Two huge trolls with axes bigger than he was stood off to one side, keeping watch under the supervision of a handful of dark elf guards. “That would seem to suggest the platform is operational,” he muttered to himself. “They wouldn’t bother to guard it otherwise.”
“How do we get by them?” Seila asked.
Jack thought it over for a moment. He could perhaps manage another spell of invisibility, but that of course would only work for one, not two. “A distraction,” he decided. “Wait here, quiet as a mouse. I might be a little while, but I’ll be back.”
“Jack, wait! What are you going to do?” Seila whispered urgently after him, but Jack slipped off into the darkness.
He stole halfway around the platform, using the large stalagmites for cover. Hunting around in the darkness for a few moments, he found several good-sized stones, then crept carefully into position. The plan was still not quite clear in its entirety, but he’d already determined that the trolls were the key part of it; the creatures were legendary for their dim wits and short tempers. He took a moment to scout a path of easy retreat if things went poorly, then settled in to watch the dark elves and their trolls.
The drow—a young officer and three warr
iors—sat a short distance from the trolls, quietly conversing in their own language. One of the trolls dozed, seated with its back against a boulder, while the other was idly picking at something objectionable in its nether regions. Jack waited until none of the dark elves were looking, then he threw one of his stones at the dozing troll. It was a hard, accurate throw; it caught the big monster in its mouth, perhaps even cracking a tooth.
“Owww!” the troll roared. It clapped a huge hand to its mouth and glared at the other troll. “You hitted me wid a rock!”
“Did not,” the second troll retorted angrily.
“Did, too!” The first troll seized the stone Jack had thrown and hurled it at its fellow. The small rock bounced off the innocent troll’s shoulder, but not without provoking another yelp of pain. Both trolls scrambled to their feet, reaching for their axes.
“Stop that at once!” the dark elf captain barked at the trolls. The drow took two steps toward the tall monsters, hand on his swordhilt, icy menace in his face. The trolls cringed and subsided, apparently cowed for the moment. Jack scowled in the darkness. The monsters were supposed to be engaged in a furious brawl at this juncture, but instead they slowly took their seats again, glaring at each other.
A little more provocation, Jack decided. Perhaps something a little more incriminating might work? He waited a short time, until the dark elves returned to their conversation and the trolls became bored again. Then he crept forward with all the stealth and care he could muster, reaching around within arm’s reach of the nearer troll to set a couple of his throwing-stones right under its long, gangly hand. Retreating back to his original position with a sigh of relief, he hefted his last stone and waited for the right moment. The first troll started to drowse again, the dark elves weren’t looking … Jack hurled his stone over the second troll’s shoulder, this time winging the rock into the dozing troll’s left eye.
The second troll caught a glimpse of the stone sailing by, and started to wheel around, looking for the thrower, but the first troll leaped to its feet with a roar of pure fury. “Owww! You hitted me again!”
“I not throw no rocks!” the second troll snarled back.
“Lying meat-bag!” the injured troll howled, a hand on one eye. He pointed accusingly with his other hand. “You got rocks right there!’
“I not throw any rocks!” the innocent troll roared in anger, any curiosity about the true origin of the rocks momentarily forgotten. But the first troll had had all it could take; it leaped upon its fellow with tooth and claw, and a trollish brawl broke out. The monsters pummeled, bit, and raked at each other with berserk fury. The dark elves drew their swords with various oaths and exclamations, and rushed over to break up the fight.
Jack hurried away from his hiding place as the dark elves waded in to separate the battling monsters, and quickly circled back to where he’d left Seila. She was staring at the furious brawl on the far side of the platform, and started when he hurried up beside her. “Was that your doing?” she asked.
“Yes, I’m afraid I was the one throwing rocks,” he admitted. “Now, follow me! Quick and quiet, and mind your step. We wouldn’t want to give ourselves away with a stumble or a kicked pebble.”
Together they moved out into the open, stealing swiftly across the granite square to the round platform at its center. Jack crouched low and drew Seila down beside him, trying hard to make himself as small as possible. Neither the drow nor their trolls seemed to take any notice; the monsters still roared and tore at each other, while the dark elves had their backs to the elevator platform, whipping and stabbing at the battling trolls. Motioning for Seila to remain still and silent, Jack started looking for a means to operate the stone disk. He remembered watching the wizard Yu Wei touching the heel of his staff to the surface … there. A faint rune was inscribed in the exact center of the stone platform. Jack knelt down and touched it with his fingertips, wondering if he would have to speak some magical command to make the platform work. But it seemed that his touch was enough—with a small grating of stone, the platform shuddered and began to levitate up from its resting place.
The stone rose several feet from its place before the dark elves noticed its silent ascent. Then one of the warriors glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of the stone disk rising into the air. “The elevator!” he shouted in alarm.
The dark elf in command of the post whirled, turning his back on the brawling trolls. His eyes met Jack’s; the drow was a slight, young-looking fellow even by elven standards, his helmet and breastplate embellished with the silver trim of a captain. “Thralls trying to escape!” he snarled. “Stop them!”
The warrior who’d noticed the elevator turned a look of black ire on Jack and Seila, an ugly scowl creasing his handsome features. Jack reached for the short sword at his belt, hoping that he’d have to deal with only the one guard and that he’d be able to best a dark elf swordsman in his half-starved, half-exhausted condition. The drow took two quick steps toward the platform, preparing to spring aboard—but suddenly the brawling trolls fell off-balance. One threw the other stumbling across the guardpost, and the dark elf scrambling for the platform barely leaped out of the way as the huge monster reeled past him. The other two drow warriors dodged around the two trolls and lunged for the platform, but the levitating disk had climbed just enough to rise out of easy reach. One leaped to catch the edge, and even got his hand over the lip, but his leather gauntlet slipped from his hand; with a curse he dropped back down to the ground.
“That was close,” Seila whispered.
“Exactly as I intended,” Jack replied with a confident smile.
He straightened up as the dark elves and their trolls disappeared beneath the platform edge, sheathing his sword, then cautiously moved to the edge of the platform to see whether any of the drow pursued them. The dark elf soldiers peered up at the platform rising away from them. “There he is!” one shouted, raising a small crossbow. The drow loosed a bolt up at Jack, who pulled back his head just in time as the missile hissed through the air.
“Please extend my regrets to Lady Dresimil,” Jack called down to them. “I have just remembered pressing business elsewhere, and I am afraid I must cut short my visit.” He withdrew a couple more steps from the edge, hand on the hilt of the battered old sword he’d taken from Malmor’s quarters just in case any drow suddenly found a way to reach the ascending platform. He was only a middling swordsman, and he wouldn’t have cared to face a skilled drow warrior in a fair fight … but fortunately it seemed that none of the dark elves could catch them.
“Dear Selûne, I thought they’d trapped us for a moment,” Seila said.
“I was not concerned,” Jack answered with confidence. He risked another peek over a different part of the platform’s edge and saw one of the soldiers running off toward the barracks and defenses by the lakeshore. No doubt the fellow intended to report the escape.
“That is unfortunate,” he muttered. If he remembered right, the stone disk took a good fifteen or twenty minutes to ascend and descend; that meant there would be a party of drow soldiers not much more than half an hour behind them when they reached the dungeons above. “We’d better assume that our captors will pursue with alacrity. I sincerely hope that Sarbreen is more or less the way I left it; we won’t want to dilly-dally with the drow at our heels.”
Seila allowed herself to sink to the disk’s surface, slumping in exhaustion and relief. After a moment she looked back up to him. “How far does this … elevator-disk … ascend? What will we find above?”
“It’s a thousand feet or more. If you are nervous about heights, you will want to stay right here in the center of the platform.” Jack moved back to the center of the disk, and seated himself beside the girl. “As far as what awaits above, we’ll find out soon enough.”
Darkness pressed in around them as the disk rose steadily into the upper airs of the tremendous cavern, leaving behind the dim witch-lights of the drow post below. A cold wind sank past the platform as
they rose, moaning softly and catching at Jack’s battered cloak and threadbare clothes; the stone disk trembled slightly in the stronger gusts, leaving Jack with the very unpleasant image of the whole thing suddenly flipping over in some unseen eddy of swirling winds.
Seila shivered in the icy breeze, and Jack took the liberty of putting an arm over her shoulder and spreading his borrowed cloak to cover them both as they huddled in the center of the platform. “For warmth,” he explained.
She raised an eyebrow, but pressed herself close to his side—easily the most pleasant arrangement Jack had experienced since awaking on the stone plaza of the wild mythal. After a moment, she spoke. “How did you come to be imprisoned all these years?” she asked.
“That very question has vexed me for something like seven or eight tendays now,” Jack answered; he had lost track of how much time had passed since he awoke at the foot of the mythal. “I cannot recall how I came to be in the mythal stone. I remember leaving my house in Mortonbrace, dressed quite splendidly for the occasion of a debutante ball at Daradusk Hall”—a ball that he was not strictly invited to, but Seila didn’t need to know that, of course—“and climbing into a hired coach. That was a fine summer evening in the Year of the Bent Blade. Then my memory is simply blank for what does not seem a very long time, until I was rudely roused by Dresimil Chûmavh and her lackeys. I was wearing nothing but a pair of plain breeches; I suppose I should thank my enemy for at least sparing my modesty.”
“So that is why you said you don’t know who imprisoned you. Do you think your mind was affected by some enchantment, or is your lack of memory simply the result of being entombed for so long?”
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