by Max Anthony
“I assume it doesn’t work?” asked Jera. She was catching on fast.
“Never! What would be the point in meticulously setting a trap in such a way that the bumbling clods who trigger it can reset it immediately?”
“I don’t think this was a trap,” said Rasmus. “I think these levers control the stasis gems in the other rooms. The lever was pulled, the werewolves were freed. As soon as the adventurers realised what they’d done, they tried to correct matters by pushing the lever again.”
“That would suggest that the bodies in that far alcove room are the remainders of the party,” said Jera.
“Almost certainly bedecked in magical finery,” mused Rasmus.
“Lying there, forgotten and unwanted,” added Viddo.
Moments later, they were back at the body of Captain Gartrom, doing their best to see what there might be waiting for them in the alcove room.
“We must be exceptionally careful,” said Viddo. “There is no clue about how this big fellow here might be awoken and we do not want to do anything in our haste that we will regret.”
One of the werewolf’s hind legs was stretched across the entrance to the passage. One by one, they stepped over it and sidled into the narrow corridor. Viddo was first, determined that a blundering Rasmus would not imperil them all by treading on a pressure plate or similar. There were no traps to be seen and shortly they were in the room. It was no more than six feet to a side and felt crowded by the presence of three dead bodies and three live ones, the former of which had fallen at random and with no indication as to how their deaths had come about. Viddo looked for levers, buttons and trip wires. He found nothing.
“Let’s see what we’ve got,” he said, finally satisfied.
The early signs were fair-to-good. The dead adventurers were dressed in a motley collection of different things, which gave no certainty as to their profession. One was dressed in chain, one in a mixture of chain and leather, whilst the third wore robes. There was a shortbow and two quivers of arrows, one of which was empty, the other full. Two short swords, a mace, a wooden staff and a battle-axe were to be seen.
The most important business concerned their lack of weaponry. The short swords were enchanted, albeit without too much strength. Viddo took these to replace the two he’d found at the armoury below. The battle-axe was over three-feet long, with double heads of an eye-watering sharpness. Jera looked like she might die of happiness when she picked it up.
“It’s as light as a feather,” she said.
“Don’t you dare wave it around in here!” warned Rasmus, heading off the inevitable test swing.
The staff and mace were unremarkable, though both had a slight enchantment to them. The latter was a little too heavy to be concealed up the sleeve of his robes, so Rasmus took the staff.
The former keepers of these weapons had become hardly more than skeletons covered in shreds of skin. It was therefore not difficult to pull away the pieces of armour which Viddo judged to be worth having. There was a chain vest with a strong protective enchantment. Jera was the only one who could wear this and she took off her battered breastplate, putting it to one side.
“It’s easier to wear chain when I’m swinging an axe,” she said.
“Can you fire a bow?” asked Viddo. “This one’s not bad.”
“Of course I can! It’s a little trickier when I’m carrying a two-hander, but I’m sure I’ll manage.” She took the bow and fastened the quiver in place, next to her backpack.
“This one’s wearing a ring,” said Rasmus, having decided to explore while the weapons were sorted out. He tugged it off a skeletal finger. “Any of this leather armour worth having?”
“I checked it out – nothing that’s better than what I have. Let me check that ring out.”
Rasmus handed over the ring and let Viddo examine it. There was nothing exciting in its design – just another plain gold band. “There’s something to it. Probably worth identifying.” Magical rings often did something exciting and were close to the front of the queue when it came to being a priority use for an identification spell.
“A thief’s ring of explosive backstabbing prowess,” said Rasmus. “Want a cloth to wipe up that drool?”
Viddo had not in fact begun to drool, though he was not far from it. He reached out with a trembling hand and took the ring, which he swapped with the ring of protection from demons. “Did the spell tell you how often it would work?”
“It’s rarely precise. ‘Not very often’ was about as much as I could glean.”
“Oh well, I’d best make sure I put it to good use then. Do we have anything else that we should take in order to prepare us for the journey ahead?”
“A couple of potions and this purse of coins,” said Jera. She’d been busy searching too. “I assume we don’t want the potions and the coins in here are gold.” She threw the pouch to Viddo, who caught it deftly.
“Thirty-two in total,” he said, without counting. He frowned. “And two coppers at the bottom.” He reached inside and pulled out the interlopers, which he threw onto the floor.
“What can I see underneath that third body?” asked Rasmus. Something had caught his eye, which glittered like a red jewel.
Viddo saw it too and pulled at the body to make room for them to get a better look. There was a loud, crisp clicking sound and something popped up. The thief instantly realised his error. The adventurer had fallen upon a red glass button, the size of five gold coins stacked. The dead man’s weight had depressed it, but it hadn’t been until his body was moved that the button had been allowed to complete its action by popping up once again.
From the adjoined room, there was a change in the lighting. The red light flickered off and then resumed. There was the noise of a barrel chest drawing in the air with a grating rumble, the sound deep enough to cause a vibration in the stone around.
As the trio looked on in horror, the colossal form of Captain Gartrom stirred.
14
Had these been the shy, retiring type of adventurers, they may have remained quiet and huddled in their room, hoping to escape notice. They were not the fearful sort and therefore decided to unload their weaponry upon the form of the werewolf Gartrom before it could completely recover its bearings after fifty years in stasis. Viddo hoped to test out his ring of explosive backstab and crept forward. His plans for a covert strike were spoiled when an arrow flew over his shoulder, taking the still-prone werewolf squarely in the rump. Shortly thereafter, a hand reached over his shoulder and an invisible wave of force blasted out, thumping into the werewolf and hurling several hundred pounds of solid muscle twenty feet across the floor, where it landed in a growling heap. Another arrow followed, striking the beast in the shoulder.
With his plans for a quick and debilitating backstab spoiled, Viddo joined in, loosing one bolt into the werewolf’s neck, and sending another into its armpit. A third arrow followed from Jera and then another bolt from Viddo. With the die cast, the trio emerged from the confines of their alcove, in order that they would not be hemmed in and thereby become easy pickings. In the middle of the room, the gargantuan werewolf sprung to its feet with a great speed that completely belied its bulk. It turned to face them and roared with anger, the force of it seeming to shake the very walls themselves. A crossbow bolt entered the open mouth, smashing two teeth and deflecting into the back of its throat. The roar became a pained gurgle and the creature set its glowing red eyes directly on Viddo.
With a surge, it dashed across the room, issuing two terrible, crashing blows to the left and right. Viddo feinted one way and rolled to the other, his acrobatics taking him almost twenty feet to one side – thieves had an almost magical ability to duck, dodge and roll, especially a thief as accomplished as Viddo Furtive.
Now that someone with proper combat training had gained the attention of the werewolf, Rasmus cast a couple of his lower-level spells. Having learned his lesson by over-incinerating the last gargantuan, he let fly with burning arcane en
ergy, which flew in an almost random pattern, before striking the creature’s flank. Fur and skin wilted, leaving a trace of painful pits and blisters where the magic had landed. More followed the first wave and then more.
Having tumbled away from the werewolf’s initial attack, Viddo drew his new shortswords. He was an expert at dual-wielding and met the creature’s hate-filled gaze with a level one of his own, both swords pointing towards its throat. It stalked him, looking to hem him into a corner where it could crush him with its superior strength and weight. Viddo allowed it to come close before he lunged forward with a series of devastatingly fast attacks, catching the werewolf in the legs and stomach. Blood oozed from the many wounds it already carried, yet it hardly seemed concerned. It forced Viddo further towards the corner and the thief, seeing which way things were heading, dashed suddenly to the side, speeding through the doorway.
Jera sent one more arrow at the werewolf, hitting it in the lower back as it advanced on Viddo. The creature hardly seemed to notice and Jera put the bow over her shoulder and lifted her battle-axe. As she ran, the weapon twirled and spun in the air, a deadly blur of silver. Bursting with vigour, she leaped high into the air with the axe raised to strike a punishing blow. Just when it was too late for her to change course, the werewolf thundered off through the doorway by which they’d entered.
The werewolf was after Viddo, having launched itself after the sprinting thief. Jera started to give chase until she heard Rasmus shout an urgent command for her to wait. She didn’t ask questions and stopped, allowing Rasmus to run by at top speed. As she followed into the short passageway, Jera heard another thumping exhalation of magical power, followed by a guttural roar of fury. When she emerged into the room with the fractured floor, the sight which greeted her was peculiar beyond her expectations. There, hanging from the wall above the hole, was the werewolf captain. It appeared to be suspended with no apparent means of support. One of its legs and one arm were immobilised, held flat against the wall. The other arm – all seven feet of it - clawed menacingly at the air, while the free leg tried to break whatever invisible bonds there were that held it.
“What…?” asked Jera.
“A wave of force, followed by a glue spell,” said Rasmus, clearly pleased as punch with his spell combination.
Viddo appeared, peeking cautiously into the room. It hadn’t taken him long to realise that he was no longer pursued and he’d returned to find out what had happened. “How long will it remain trapped?” he asked.
“It varies,” replied the wizard. “Not too long, so we’d best get stuck in.”
Jera unslung her bow and Viddo his crossbow. Rasmus prepared another of his arcane spells. They looked at the werewolf, which looked back at them. There was no sign of fear or humanity in its face. Regardless of the creature’s evil, they all felt guilty as they peppered it with arrows, quarrels and low-level spells. It roared and thrashed as its energies were gradually whittled away.
“A tough one,” said Viddo.
“The gargantuan forms are always much, much harder to kill than their smaller fellows. They are somehow imbued with an unnatural level of stamina and constitution.”
By now, the werewolf was bristling with feathered shafts and its body a mess of weals and burns. Viddo had been using his extra-powerful magical bolts, which found their way into eyes, noses and ears with remarkable ease. Still the werewolf didn’t die and the thief expressed concern that he might use all of his ammunition and be left with nothing for later.
“Haven’t you got something a bit more powerful you can cast at it?” he asked of Rasmus.
“Like you, I have no wish to expend all my resources on a trapped creature,” came the reply. “There is something, however, which I am not usually permitted the opportunity to cast, owing to its very limited range.”
With that, the wizard inched forward, until he was closer to the edge of the hole than he’d have liked. He looked down only once, before returning his attention to the growling creature which was still attached to the wall by the forces of the glue spell. Only twelve feet away from the beast, the wizard clenched his fists and lifted his arms, until they were pointing across the intervening space. At once, orange-red flames burst from his fists in a narrow stream, which expanded rapidly until they became a wide cone. The flames washed over the werewolf, engulfing its head and shoulders in the burning agony of fire. It howled and thrashed, while Rasmus directed the flames upwards and downwards, burning away the fur and scorching the skin to a blistering char. The spell expired and he cast it once more.
“I wish this guilt would stop bothering me,” he said, turning to his companions, whilst the flames washed out unabated.
The thrashing continued with reduced intensity behind the veil of fire, as the terrible wounds took their toll on the gargantuan werewolf. Just when it seemed as though it might die, the unexpected intervened and the unsupported flagstone beneath Rasmus’ feet cracked and slid. The wizard’s spell ended as he flapped at the air to retain his balance. The stone shifted again, carrying Rasmus towards the yawning hole. Viddo and Jera both attempted to grab and steady him, but the effort of one interfered with the efforts of the other, resulting in them pushing the wizard more off balance. He toppled forward into the space.
Rasmus’ fall brought him within reach of the werewolf’s free hand. With blinding speed, it reached out and grabbed at him, hoping to crush the life from its tormentor. As the creature’s massive paw closed around his head, Rasmus turned himself into a statue. At the same moment, his glue spell expired and the werewolf slipped straight through the hole, pulling the statue after it.
Viddo grimaced and Jera gasped. They both moved towards the hole and Viddo pushed Jera away, having already seen what had happened to Rasmus. He had no fears about his own ability to avoid an unwanted fall. When he looked over the rim, he was just in time to see the werewolf land flat on its back many yards below. A heavy stone statue depicting a wizard landed directly on top, shattering numerous ribs as it did so. Viddo winced at the impact.
All was still for a single moment of time. Then, the statue became a wizard, who rolled nimbly away from the body he was atop. This wizard made good speed towards the exit door and was soon lost from sight. Viddo continued to look for a few seconds longer, hoping that the werewolf was dead. A blood-rattling growl informed him that it was not and the creature turned onto its side with an obvious effort. It seemed to summon up an energy from somewhere and it loped off after Rasmus, though not before Viddo had caught sight of its ravaged face, with both eyes blinded by the quarrels which had entered them.
“Do these things never die?” he muttered, backing away from the edge. “Come on, we need to help Rasmus.”
They ran back through Captain Gartrom’s quarters and into the room filled with stasis-held werewolves. Jera was still excited to try out her new axe but knew she had no time to pause. They ran until they reached the stairs and Viddo started down them without delay.
“We need to get to the guard room and armoury,” he said, without slowing.
“Shouldn’t we wait at the bottom of the stairs?” Jera asked. Without Rasmus’ light spell, she was almost blind and was struggling to make any speed on the steps. “It’d be much quicker for him to go straight there instead of going all the way through the kitchen and that other passage.”
“I know Rasmus. He has almost no sense of direction so the only way he can find his way around is by going the exact same route he’s already followed. He’s like a chicken.”
They finished their descent and dashed across the corridor into the thoroughly-searched guard room. They positioned themselves strategically and waited, with Viddo becoming unseen. Jera couldn’t see a thing and could only hope that Rasmus would have his light spell active. In the dark, the pair waited for what seemed an interminably long time. Even Viddo had begun to doubt his logic and worried that Rasmus had gone back into the dungeons or followed some other route which had taken his fancy. A noise reached him
– more of a sensation than a sound at first. The vibrations quickly resolved into the faint thuds of distant footsteps, accompanied by other footsteps, much heavier.
The door burst open and a wizard hurried through, bringing with him a welcome light for Jera to see by. So intent was Rasmus on his flight that he ran by the hidden thief and had made it three paces past Jera before he slowed and performed a double-take.
“It’s coming!” he said.
A laboured panting came through the doorway and two clawed hands grasped the frame in order to haul Captain Gartrom’s bulk through it. The red eyes glowed no longer and it must have been tracking the fleeing wizard by smell. Entering the room, it caught the scent of another – a woman, and also a hint of something else, hidden and so faint that it dismissed the odour as coming from afar. With a roar, it half stumbled, half sprang into the room.
As soon as Viddo saw the wide expanse of the creature’s back, he pounced, one short sword held in both hands, the blade pointing down. He plunged the sword deep within, crunching through the tough cartilage of its spine. The ring on his finger glowed orange and there was a whumping sound, deep within the werewolf’s body cavity. Its stomach exploded outwards, scattering entrails, kidneys and a spleen in a wide cone in front of it. Viddo expected it to fall, but it did not.
In front of the werewolf, Jera stood poised, her axe held vertically in front of her face, her legs braced. When Viddo struck, she found herself spattered with gore and saw a two-feet hole appear in the werewolf’s stomach, showing its innards, ribcage and spine. She saw the blade of Viddo’s sword glinting redly as the thief pulled it free. The creature wobbled and swayed, before lifting an arm to strike out at whoever was close by. Jera’s axe descended upon that arm, cutting away the hand and half of the forearm. With a spin, she used the momentum of the first strike to power another blow, this one landing between neck and shoulder, opening up a wide, red cut, almost a foot deep. Blood came, though not in the quantities she’d expected. It’s probably got none left, she told herself.
