by Max Anthony
“Harrumph,” said Rasmus. “I suppose it does seem a little bit foolish to be arguing over such a thing.”
“Especially since these witches were not strictly speaking alive,” added Viddo. He stuck his sword into one of the bodies – no blood was visible in the wound.
“I suppose we should take some pride in being irresistible to the undead,” said Rasmus.
“You two are beyond belief,” Jera told them, smiling.
“One must always find positives in a situation,” Viddo advised. “And we are both equally grateful that you are not so easily wooed by the promise of a tumble and were able to defeat our foes.”
“It must have been a powerful magic they weaved in order to fool you both,” said Jera.
“Insidious magic, that’s for sure.”
“With these crones sent packing, the time is upon us where we should burgle their abode until we have cleaned out any valuables they might have hoarded,” said Rasmus.
“I am not certain I wish to touch any of the surfaces in these rooms,” said Jera. “It doesn’t look as if they’ve been cleaned in years.”
“Our nimble thief is not so retiring. We should sit patiently for a few minutes as he completes his search. With such a high likelihood of traps, our assistance would be too much of a hindrance.” Rasmus looked askance at the bed. “Perhaps we should stand patiently, rather than risk sitting on anything.”
After ten minutes’ pause, during which they heard rattlings, rustlings, clankings and scrapings, Viddo returned to the bedroom. He looked unusually pale.
“You do not want to see their bathroom,” he said. “I thought the public conveniences in Lap-Scraptus were bad, until I went into the toilets here. If I thought for one moment that there was any treasure hidden in the lavatory, we’d likely have to abandon it. Either that or I’d have to drink at least two whole bottles of that wine before I’d risk putting my arm up the U-bend.”
“Did you find anything worth having?” asked Rasmus.
“Nothing at all. Not a single copper.”
“It’ll be hidden under the mattress,” said Jera. “You haven’t searched under there yet.”
“Odd, that’s normally the first place I’d have looked under the circumstances,” Viddo said. “I wonder if some of their glamour remains, distracting me from their hiding places.”
Unwilling to touch the matted sheets with his bare skin, Viddo used his longsword to pry the mattress up, doing his best to ignore the smell. The mattress had been placed on a flat board, and scattered carelessly underneath were gold coins, as well as a small, ivory box, little bigger than two fingers.
“Quick, get it all,” grunted Viddo, struggling to hold the mattress up with his sword. It was as if it were sodden with something. Rasmus and Jera came to his assistance, scooping up everything they could see.
“Ha! I knew those old bags would have something,” said the thief triumphantly. “What’ve we got?”
“Fifty-nine gold pieces and this box,” said Rasmus. He looked at it – it was made of ivory, plain and with no decoration. There was a tiny clasp which he opened with his fingernail and lifted the lid. Inside, was a row of four six-sided dice, made from the same ivory and with the usual dots on their surface to indicate the number rolled.
“There’s a table in that other room,” said Viddo.
“Great, let’s try them out,” said Rasmus, scrambling for the door. Jera had no idea what was going on, so followed quickly. In the living room, the wizard and thief knelt to either side of the round table. Rasmus flicked his wrist and sent the dice rattling onto the wooden surface.
“One, three, four, four,” the wizard said. “I wonder what we’ll get.”
There was the popping sound of displaced air and a small, leather pouch appeared magically on the table.
“Coins!” exclaimed Viddo. He undid the leather string that tied the pouch. “Fifteen coppers!” he said, as if it were the most exciting and valuable find in his entire life. “Give the dice here, it’s my turn!”
With Rasmus and Jera watching, Viddo sent the dice rolling over the table. “Three, three, five, six,” he said. Without warning, a loaf of bread appeared on the table.
“Wonderful and fresh!” said Rasmus sniffing it. Then, he threw the loaf into the corner. “Except I’m not eating anything that’s touched one of the surfaces in here. Now pass me those dice.” The wizard rolled for a second time. “One, two, three, five.” A waterskin appeared on the table.
Viddo picked it up. “Water!” he said, clapping his hands as if it were the finest of wines, instead of plain old water.
“Can I have a go?” asked Jera, feeling as if she’d been left out of things. Rasmus handed her the dice. They felt warm in her hand and unusually heavy. She threw them across the table. The first one came up with a six, as did the second and the third. The final die spun on the table for what seemed like an impossible time, as if it were balanced so perfectly that it would never fall. However, it did fall, showing a five. A pair of average-quality walking boots appeared. Rasmus and Viddo exhaled their pent-up tension, blowing air noisily across the table.
“Phew, that was a close one,” said the wizard.
“So nearly,” said Viddo.
“What’s the matter?” asked Jera, completely puzzled.
“These are a set of magical dice of random chance,” said Rasmus. “Usually something bad happens if you roll four sixes.”
“Something really bad,” added Viddo.
“Often terminal, depending on the strength of the dice.”
“What? And you two were happily throwing them in exchange for worthless items, in full knowledge that you could have caused some unknown catastrophe to befall us?”
“Well, it was fun,” said Viddo lamely.
“We might have won a low-grade magical item if we’d been lucky,” said Rasmus.
“And you never know when you might want a loaf of bread,” added Viddo.
“We’ve already got bread! As well as dozens of sausages and rashers of bacon!” exclaimed Jera. “We are more than adequately provisioned! Don’t you think this was all a little bit silly?” she asked in exasperation.
“Sorry,” said Rasmus lamely. He picked up the dice and seated them back inside their box. He handed it to Viddo and the thief tucked it away into his valuables pouch.
“I’ll bet you were secretly hoping to roll four sixes,” said Jera with a shake of her head. The guilty silence told her everything she needed to know.
“I found some steps through here,” said Viddo. “Follow me.”
10
The steps led upwards from one of the rooms in which the hags had made their home. They spiralled tightly around, only wide enough for one person to ascend at a time. Viddo went first, in case there were any traps, since they’d already found two examples waiting for them. There was no light, so Rasmus conjured his own, keeping the glow as dim as possible, while still providing enough illumination for them to see where they were going. As it happened, there was a trap – a single tripwire had been stretched across the winding steps, positioned carefully to maximise its chances of causing someone to fall and break their neck. Viddo inspected it and found it to be mundane. It was not attached to anything magical, nor created with the intention of opening a door to a hidden room full of undead. He snipped it with his cutting tool and they continued to the top.
They emerged into a small chamber, only eight or nine feet square. There was a single door to exit and this door had a face-height grille set into it. They had scarcely the time to notice this grille when something moved on the other side.
Viddo was the first to react. He moved quickly and silently so that his back was against the door and he braced his feet to prevent it from opening. Jera and Rasmus didn’t even bother moving – they’d either been seen or they hadn’t, so there was no point in trying to hide. The pair of them stood still for a few moments, breaths held. There was no hue and cry from outside and they remained undistu
rbed.
“Any idea what that was?” whispered Rasmus. “I didn’t see it well enough.”
“I think it was a man,” said Jera. “Or at least it looked like one.”
“I thought it was a man,” confirmed Viddo. He looked through the grille, peering to the left and right in order to see where they were. “I think we might be in a room close to the main entrance foyer,” he said quietly. “It’s not uncommon for there to be service steps leading to the lower levels. Places where deliveries can be brought in without disturbing any of the activities within the castle itself.”
He heard footsteps and waved Rasmus and Jera to duck low. The thief remained at the grille, having blended himself with the shadows in order to render himself almost invisible. What walked past wasn’t quite what he’d been expecting. There were two figures – one of whom was a man, dressed in armour which denoted him as one of the castle guard. He seemed entirely unconcerned by the hulking werewolf striding alongside him. This creature wasn’t as large as the one they’d killed in the forest, but it was still massive and strong. As it passed the grille, it appeared to hesitate mid-stride, as if it had detected something. A rumbling growl came from its chest and it continued on its way.
“A werewolf!” said Viddo. “There was also a man, presumably a werewolf in his natural form.”
“I thought they could only turn into wolves during the full moon,” said Jera.
“That is an unfortunate myth,” said Rasmus. “Just think – they’d only be able to become werewolves once a month or so. They’d hardly be a menace if they were so predictable. No, werewolves can switch between their forms more or less at will.”
“I think the one that walked by might have caught my odour,” said Viddo. “It’s going to make it difficult if I have to do any sneaking.”
Viddo had hardly finished speaking the words when the door behind him was smashed open at great speed, catching him in the back and sending him sprawling several feet towards the far wall. There was a growl and a hulking werewolf came inside, its long-clawed hands raised to kill. The creature hadn’t even managed two paces inside when it was frozen mid-stride, whereupon it promptly fell over with a heavy thud. Rasmus calmly closed the door behind it, whilst Jera set about the task of beating it to death with her hammer. Not one to lose his footing for long, Viddo recovered and assisted by chopping enthusiastically at the beast.
“Those paralysis spells are pretty useful,” he commented.
“That’s the last one, I’m afraid,” said Rasmus. “I might have memorised a few more, but old Wadslow didn’t have many in stock.”
“Never mind, eh?” replied a philosophical Viddo. “The two you had have proved their worth.”
The werewolf was soon dead. In fact, it had received enough damage to kill it three or four times over and there were pools of blood, and a small pile of grey mush on the floor near its head.
“At least it came alone,” said Rasmus. “Assuming it was one of that pair which just walked by.”
“I need to do some scouting,” Viddo, pulling out his dagger, which he promptly stabbed into the werewolf’s belly and moved back and forth in a vigorous sawing motion.
“What are you doing?” asked Jera, taking a step away.
“These beasts have a tremendous sense of smell,” said Viddo, continuing his cutting action. “They might not be able to see me, but if they catch wind of my scent, they may try to look for me if they become suspicious enough. However, if I drape myself in the flesh of this one, I might escape notice.”
“Won’t they smell the blood?” asked Jera.
“I suppose they will,” said Viddo. He didn’t seem at all concerned by the possibility and continued to cut away at the dead werewolf. Once he’d made a series of incisions, he pushed his fingers under the skin and tore open a series of flaps, producing a disturbing ripping sound to accompany the action. Then, there was more cutting and shortly, Viddo was draped in a dripping cloak of half-skinned werewolf. The top of the cloak covered most of his head and the end of it trailed down to his knees. On the floor of the room, the bleeding corpse of the dead creature glistened in the soft light.
“I’ll bet a sprinkling of salt and vinegar on that bare flesh would give it a shock,” said Viddo morbidly. “If it wasn’t already dead, of course.”
With that, he left the room, leaving Rasmus and Jera to drag the corpse to the stairwell and shove it a few steps down until it was out of sight. There was blood and brain matter still on the floor, the latter of which Rasmus swept into the stairwell using the side of his boot. It wasn’t long until Viddo returned, which in Rasmus’ experience usually indicated either good or bad news, rather than something indifferent.
“Bad news,” whispered Viddo through the folds of his pelt. “We’ve come out near the main foyer. It’s huge and there may be fifty or sixty werewolves in it.”
“Are they sufficiently grouped for me to catch them with acid or explosive spells?” asked Rasmus.
“Unfortunately not,” was the reply. “They are widely spread, lounging in groups in all four corners of the room. Most of them are in human form, drinking, gambling and eating, but I am certain they are all werewolves.”
“Do we have to go to the foyer?” asked Jera. “The corridor goes both ways outside of this door.”
“It does, however, if we go left out of here, we will come to a guard room, with no other exits. We have effectively arrived at a dead end and we need to go through the foyer.”
“Can we beat them all?” asked Rasmus. He was already fairly sure on the answer.
“Possibly. I wouldn’t want to risk it. I’d rather leave the castle than chance an open battle.”
Rasmus’s mind worked furiously, and from the look on his face, Viddo could tell that the wizard was plotting something implausible that likely involved a diversion, certain to be provided by an unwitting thief. Before Rasmus’ hare-brained schemes could become fully-formed, Jera stepped in with an idea of her own.
“Did you say they were gambling?” she asked.
“Every bored soldier gambles,” confirmed Viddo. “I have used this knowledge to enrich myself enormously over the years.”
“To gamble, one needs a set of dice, correct?”
“That is correct,” said Viddo, having immediately followed this discussion to its logical conclusion.
“Fine,” said Rasmus, having done likewise. “Plant the dice. We can always find some more later.”
With his clammy wolf skin now clinging unpleasantly to his skin, Viddo crept off. The right-hand passage which he took continued for twenty yards or so. There were alcoves to the sides, which looked like they may have once been temporary storage for goods, or stationing areas for guards. A high, wide arched doorway lay ahead, beyond which was the foyer. With the utmost caution, Viddo slunk up to it and positioned himself to one side. He looked carefully into the room beyond.
The foyer was huge, square in shape and at least forty yards to a side. The ceiling was high above and arched, with additional support provided by grey stone pillars. To the left was a huge, open doorway that surely led to the main gates of the castle. There were at least four exits from this room, heading off to other parts of the building. Around the room were wooden tables, arranged with no particular plan. There were benches in front of most tables and men sat at them playing dice. In spite of the numbers present, the talk was muted and unexcited. From his position, Viddo could see three stone fireplaces, with fires ablaze in each. There was a werewolf curled up on front of one, though there was nothing homely about the scene. Two of the other fireplaces had spitted meat positioned within. There was no one to turn the meat, so it was certain to be burned on one side and near-raw on the other. As he watched, the thief saw one man tug at some of the meat and then hack a large chunk away with a machete. With his sharp eyesight, Viddo had a sinking feeling that tonight’s meal was human in origin.
Viddo knew he had work to do. He spent a few seconds longer perusing the room,
searching for a likely target. Having identified the best place to put Jera’s plan into action, he half-walked, half-crawled over the stone flags of the foyer. He didn’t have to pass many of the occupants to reach the place he wanted to be and the dim light that came from the twenty or so oil lamps ensured it was easy enough for him to remain out of sight. One man he passed raised his head and looked over his shoulder when Viddo went by, though he looked puzzled instead of alarmed.
About halfway across the hall was a long table with five men sitting at it. They looked bored and stared into the distance, as though they’d been denied the opportunity to join in with one of the other gambling games. With any luck, there are not enough dice to go around, thought Viddo. He reached the table and surreptitiously placed the dice on the wooden surface, at the furthest end away from the men. With the bait set, he gave the table leg a kick. It was the sort of kick that would cause sufficient vibration that one might look, yet without necessarily being made suspicious about the cause. It was a distraction technique which Viddo had used successfully in the past.
It worked. One of the men looked idly across. His eyes came to rest on the tiny box which contained the dice. The box was so small that it could have easily been there all along and escaped notice. Curious, but too lazy to get off his arse, the man slid along the bench until he was able to pick up the box, which he flipped open immediately. His face brightened as he realised what the contents were. Then, he slid back along the bench and elbowed one of his fellows in the ribs, before showing him the dice. There was some nodding and some muttering. All of this Viddo saw from his position fifteen feet away, underneath an unoccupied table. A hand was raised into the air, shaken once or twice as if to invoke the blessings of the luck gods in the shaker’s favour. Four dice fell to the table with a distant clatter.
There was an ear-splitting crack and from his hiding place, Viddo saw a great rent appear in the air of the room, fully twenty feet high. Through the tear, he saw a glimpse of a landscape filled with charcoal-black mountains, ringed with swirling clouds of ash. The sky was deep red and indistinct shapes spun and twisted in the air.
