by Kira Morgana
Loric scrambled up, turning to look back at Silvertree and realised that a door had appeared in the entrance to the new tunnel. He dashed over to it, slipping and sliding on the gold disturbed by the explosion of the green fireball.
“Locked!” He looked back at Thiert. “Not inhabited, huh.”
The thief shrugged.
“I was going on what I’d seen. I've seen too much nastiness in this world to believe in fairytales.”
“Well we’re trapped. And we still haven’t found the crystal,” Loric sighed.
“It should be through the south door. All of the books I sent you say that the Crystal is the Heart of the Dungeon and I can feel the Aethyric field pulsing from that direction,” Silvertree said as he administered a healing potion to Kalytia. She groaned and sat up, whispering a prayer, completing the process Silvertree started.
Before the group had a chance to discuss what they were going to do next, the north door unlocked and three skeletons rushed in, screeching.
How can something with no lungs or voice box make so much noise? Loric wondered and set himself to fight them anyway. If I break them apart enough, maybe I’ll find out.
He never got the chance because Kalytia cried out in Elvish and a white glow filled the room. The three skeletons tumbled into piles of bones and didn’t get up again.
Loric lowered his sabre again. “Thank you, Lady Cleric.”
She smiled weakly and passed out on the floor, fast asleep.
“That was a high level spell. I think she’ll have to sleep for a while before she can use any more magic.” Silvertree lifted her and carried her over to the south east corner of the treasure room. He laid her down behind three large piles of gold and gems and covered her with her cloak. “Hopefully we can deal with anything else that comes in.”
Silvertree’s prediction of more intruders proved to be correct.
Three creatures that looked like a frog and a dragon had mated came in through the new door, breathing flames and using their long tails and sharp claws to rend their victims.
Loric and Grimhelm dispatched them quickly, while Silvertree stood in the way of anything that might threaten the sleeping cleric or Thiert, who was still half lying on the alarm trap.
A pair of women in tight leather battle harness pranced in, blowing kisses.
“Women? I doubt these two could hurt us.” Loric relaxed a little.
Grimhelm laughed. “Aye, Lad. Just turn on ye charm and they'll nae give us any bother.”
The women pounced on them biting and scratching with sharpened fingernails.
“I’m not sure charm would work, Grim.” Loric barely brought his shield up in time to fend off one of the women. “They seem to be rather annoyed with us. You don’t think they used to be barmaids that you insulted?”
“Laddie, I would ha’ recognized them; normal wenches ha’nae use for sharpened nails!” Grimhelm ducked a clawed palm strike to the face.
The two warriors fought back and managed to kill one, as another two cavorted through the door alternating blowing kisses with fireballs.
“Dark Eye Mistresses? That confirms it; this place is one of the Aracan Katuvana's Dungeons all right,” Silvertree groaned. “Only the higher ranking ones are sorceresses.”
“Silvertree, you have the worst possible timing for information like that!” Loric raised his shield and looked at Grimhelm.
The two of them moved forward carefully, keeping their adversaries at sword’s length. However, the three women joined forces, pushing Loric and Grimhelm backward toward Silvertree. The mage projected a force field around them and with carefully timed attacks, dwarf, elf and human were able to carve the women into pieces.
The little Gremlin creatures rushed in, grabbed the still twitching remains and ran out. Another six of the dragon-like creatures appeared from the south door, almost immediately after the Gremlins left and this time Thiert had to fight lying on his back.
Loric found himself backed into a corner between a pair of massive gold filled boxes. The dragon-like creature had breath as hot as steam and the heat tired the young prince. He gritted his teeth and kept on fighting, using his shield to keep the creature at bay while he slashed at its feet and legs.
A lucky, scything blow sliced partway through one of the creature's hamstrings. It stumbled and dropped the stone club it held in its other foot. The pain distracted it long enough for Loric to change tack and deliver an underhand slice to the creature's jaw, following up with a kick.
The creature flew backward, landing hard on a chest and its lower jaw skimmed through the air, hitting the back of Grimhelm's head.
“Oi! Be careful Laddie, ye couldna hae known I were finished wi' ma opponent,” the dwarf yelled.
“Sorry Grim.” Loric grinned as he dashed forward and put the creature out of its misery. This is just like the last melee at the Franieren Court Joust.
A blade whistled over Loric's head to sprout from the eye socket of another creature to Loric's left.
“Concentrate, Loric! That one would have had your head,” Thiert called as he stabbed another through the throat.
“Thanks,” the prince grunted and spun on one creature who had managed to creep up behind Silvertree. “Oh no you don't.” He thrust and managed to slide the point of his blade through the armhole of the breastplate the thing was wearing.
The mage threw a sprinkling of red powder over the creature in front of him. As the powder touched the creature's skin it hissed and the creature shrieked in pain, throwing its weapon down and trying to escape from the room.
Grimhelm ended that ambition by smashing the thing's skull in with Bessie. By the time the last creature laid leaking green plasma over the scattered gold, the party was exhausted and looked as battered as they felt.
“There couldn’t possibly be any creatures left,” Loric panted, using a strip of his tunic to bandage a nasty gash in his leg, inflicted by one of the Dark Mistresses. It looked swollen and had a slight green tinge to the edges. I hope Kalytia wakes up and heals this before my leg drops off.
“The stories don’t say how many inhabitants a dungeon had. Just that the Aracan Katuvana had minions enough to blacken the land with death.” Silvertree leaned on his staff, draining another mana potion.
“Well, what do we do now?” Thiert snapped. “I can’t get up to fight
properly without bringing the whole dungeon’s creatures down on us. Loric and Grimhelm are seriously hurt, Kalytia is still fast asleep and you are almost out of mana.”
“You have a point, thief,” Grimhelm replied, dropping to sit on a chest filled with gold.
“What do you suggest, Thiert?” Loric asked.
“I think we should arrange ourselves around Kalytia.” He gestured towards the corner. “Create a barricade out of chests, and then I’ll get up and jump over. Hopefully, I’ll make it before anything else lands on us that could possibly be in this place. Including the Devil Demon Silvertree said he saw,” Thiert sighed. “Then we hope to the Light that we can survive long enough to get away again.”
“It’s as good a plan as any we’ve tried so far, Loric,” Grimhelm said, standing up and hefting the chest he had been sitting on. He stumped over to Kalytia and wedged it between two other chests and went back for another.
Silvertree moved behind the growing wall and drank another mana potion, clearly preparing himself for whatever would be next.
Loric dragged three large gilded shields over to lie in front of the chests and located a few pieces of armour for himself. He did offer some to Thiert, but the thief refused them.
“I fight better unencumbered.”
Loric shrugged and slipped a steel breastplate over his scale coat and Grimhelm found a helm filled with diamonds, which he emptied out and tossed over to the prince.
Loric retrieved the knife Thiert had used to save his life and handed it to the thief.
“Thanks. Um, Loric,” Thiert looked unhappy.
“Yes?”
“That favour you promised me. I’d like to redeem it now.”
“All right. What did you want me to do?”
“If I start doing anything strange or the tattoo starts changing colour…”
“Yes?”
“Kill me.”
Loric blinked. “Are you sure?”
“I would rather die, than become one of the Aracan Katuvana’s followers. Please Loric?”
“All right. I’ll make it quick.”
“Thank you.” The thief seemed a lot happier as he cleaned the plasma off the blade of the knife with a nearby tapestry.
Finally they felt prepared.
Silvertree readied a shield spell and Grimhelm joined Loric behind the chests. Thiert took a deep breath and sat up carefully, sliding his knives out. Everyone else seemed to stop breathing as the thief shifted his weight onto his feet and stood up.
There was a long silence and just for that moment, Loric thought their luck had changed. Thiert took three steps towards them and a massive Ruby tumbled down the pile, bounced on the top of the trap and rolled away towards the south west corner.
Thiert took another two steps before the alarm erupted into a cacophony of sound and light, a screeching, wailing noise that ranged along every pitch known to man, accompanied by flashing blue and red lights.
All three doors slammed open, but no creatures came through. The trap continued to scream. Thiert dove behind the barricade and Silvertree activated a shield spell, attaching it to the barricade.
After ten minutes the trap stopped wailing, although the flashing continued.
Loric could see through the south door from his position and there, floating in the centre of a carved dais, throbbing and glowing like a small red sun, was the crystal he had come to get.
“Grim!” he hissed.
“What is it, Lad?”
“There’s the Heart Crystal. How about we grab it and get out of here?”
Grimhelm peered around his charge. “It does nae appear to be guarded; we might be able t’pull it off.” He sounded uncertain.
Thiert whispered. “I’ll get it.”
“It’s my Crystal!” Loric protested.
“Who’s the thief around here? Besides, I’m expendable.”
“Be careful.” Loric said. I don’t like this. It’s too easy to get to.
Thiert rolled his eyes and slid round behind Loric and out of the barricade. He pulled a soft cotton bag from a belt pouch and crept towards the Crystal.
Loric didn’t dare breathe.
Thiert crept up the stairs and with a swift swipe of his bag, covered the Crystal and tried to pull it down. “It won’t move!” he hissed.
“Try again,” Loric replied, edging towards the side of the barricade. Grimhelm grabbed his belt and tugged him back.
Thiert tried again, bracing himself against one of the four gilded, scale carved arms that surrounded the Heart Crystal. He stopped breathing heavily. “It’s no use, I can’t move it.”
“I’ve had enough!” Loric snapped. “There are no more creatures coming and if I can get that Crystal and get it home to Galindren, my father will have no choice but to name me the Official Heir to the throne. Then I might be able to stop him from carrying out whatever mad plan he's cooked up in the time we’ve been away.”
He pulled away from Grimhelm and scrambled out from behind the barricade. Joining Thiert on the dais, he examined the arms.
“I wonder what’s holding the Crystal up. There aren’t any tethers or wires.”
A small grey figure whizzed around the dais. Loric and Thiert jumped.
“T’is only a Golem, Lad.” Grimhelm called. “Ye’re tutor felt there may be some magic involved.”
Loric breathed again and looked at Silvertree.
“There’s a force field, Highness. Break the arms and the Heart Crystal will fall,” the elven mage said.
Thiert nodded and agreed. “That would explain it.”
He went back into the treasure room and returned with a pair of war hammers with jewelled collars. “Here, use this.” He handed one to Loric.
“Thanks.”
The two of them started smashing at the arms from opposite sides. It made a terrible noise that echoed around the room. Grimhelm came out from behind the barricade.
“I think ye must be right about there being no more creatures, Lad, ye're making enough noise to disturb Lady Hel in t’Underworld,” he said, hefting Bessie. “Let me gi’e ye a hand, so we can be out o’ here quickly.”
Between the three of them, the first arm started to crack. Then it crumbled into a pile of rubble. Thiert and Loric tried to move the Crystal to no avail.
“Let’s break another arm,” Loric suggested.
“What if it summons that devil demon?” Silvertree called as he came out from behind the barricade.
“We only have your word that it exists, Silvertree.” Loric grunted as his hammer rebounded.
“Are you saying that you don’t trust me anymore?”
“I didn’t say that. You could have seen an illusion created by another trap.”
“Illusions don’t see through and break spells.”
“Whatever. Give us a hand, would you! The faster we get this Crystal…”
“Very well.” Silvertree grumbled. He raised his staff and spoke a word. A fireball slammed into the arm and exploded with a massive concussion of sound.
“Right, we’ll do this methodically,” Grimhelm instructed, “Silvertree shoots a fireball, and then each of us hits the arm after it. That should bring it down faster.”
The three of them hammered, and then paused for the next fireball. It disintegrated almost as soon as the fireball touched it. But the crystal still didn’t budge when Loric tried to move it.
“Let’s just take out the other two arms.” Loric started pounding at the third arm, Thiert and Grimhelm joining him, but when they paused for the fireball it didn’t materialise.
“Silvertree what happened to the…” Loric turned to look at the elven mage, “By Tyr's Beard!”
The mage had a shimmering force field around him and warlocks filled the whole treasure room.
Loric and Thiert dropped their hammers and drew their swords.
Grimhelm charged in, yelling in Dwarfish and soon the air teemed with spraying blood and screaming Warlocks.
Silvertree watched helplessly until Loric killed the warlock shielding him, then he shouted at the top of his voice “Ndengina!”
The surviving Warlocks dropped to the floor, clutching their heads in their hands, blood pouring from eye sockets, ears and nose.
Silvertree collapsed and Loric caught him.
The mage coughed slightly and looked surprised when his hand came away from his mouth bloody. “Ah.”
“You used all your mana?” Loric asked laying the elf down carefully beside Kalytia.
Silvertree nodded.
“Even the reserve amount to keep your heart beating?”
Silvertree sighed and coughed, his blood bubbling and trickling from his mouth and nose. “Sorry.”
“Nothing to apologise for. I’ll tell your Family of your bravery myself.” Loric bit his lower lip, holding back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. This isn't right. No one was supposed to die, we were just supposed to get the crystal and go home to Galindren as heroes.
Silvertree smiled weakly. “Loric?”
“Yes?”
“This wasn't your fault. I have suspected for a while that there was something controlling your father. This—adventure—just confirms that you were sent here deliberately.” The mage coughed and blood flooded from his mouth.
The prince turned the mage's head, sensing that Silvertree wanted to say something else important.
As the flow became a trickle, Silvertree looked up into Loric's eyes, his leaf green eyes holding the prince's blue ones. “Tell my wife I love her.”
Loric nodded. The light went from the elf's eyes and Loric gently closed his lids, feeling
both angry and sad. Picking up the mage's staff and Bag of Holding, he said, “I’m beginning to think that we’re not going to get out of here alive, Grim.”
“Ye may be right lad,” Grimhelm sniffed.
Loric just had time to lay the staff and bag beside Kalytia, shift the chests around to hide her and return to the Heart Crystal’s dais before another wave of creatures hit. He found himself faced with a sea of enemies. A mixture of Dark Mistresses, Dragon Spawn, Skeletons and Gremlins surged in from the doors of the dais room.
“Don’t they ever just give up?” he shouted, slicing three gremlins in half with one blow.
“What d'ye think, Laddie, that they were gonna just let ye take the crystal?” Grimhelm laughed. “Besides, do ye no feel alive, the rage o'battle fillin' ye're veins?”
Loric rolled his eyes and beheaded a skeleton. The thing's body wandered away toward the dwarf who smashed the bones apart gleefully.
Thiert dashed and darted through the morass of creatures, his poniard slipping through chinks in armour and piercing vulnerable throats. He moved so fast that the prince lost sight of him from one moment to the next.
They fought automatically, killing each creature as fast as possible before moving on to the next. By the time the tide began to ebb from the doors, they had gathered in front of where Kalytia lay, in a slow retreat.
A dragon creature slipped in under Grimhelm's guard and savaged the dwarf's leg, ripping the sturdy muscle to shreds and cracking the bone with a sickening sound which carried over the surrounding noise.
Grimhelm grunted and caved the thing's skull in. “Ye cannae stop me, lads!” he crowed. “I'll take twice the number down before I fall and I'll kill three times more from the ground.”
Thiert seemed to have a knack with the Dark Mistresses; he feinted with one hand and while they followed the feint, sliced through their throats with practised ease with the other. “I thought these women were supposed to be intelligent?” he called to Loric.
“Don't ask me, Silvertree was the one who knew about them,” the prince called back as he hacked and slashed his way through the skeletons and gremlins. “Try and move back to the dais room.”
The other two nodded in acknowledgement and the three warriors began to press their foes forward again, accelerating their individual skirmishes so they could advance.
