by Isaac Hooke
“Serves you right for drinking from them!” Timlir said before walking away to stand guard at the doorway. “I won’t have anything to do with this.”
Malem knelt to drink. As soon as the liquid touched his lips, he felt the stamina boost. It was like he’d just awakened from a full night’s sleep. Also, incredibly, the buzzing in his head faded.
“Vorgon’s gone,” he said, standing. He glanced at Goldenthall, who nodded.
“Vorgon probably sensed the sudden surge in your strength, and decided to wait until you were weaker before sending the Dark,” Goldenthall said. “So you’re not out of the woods yet.”
“No, I didn’t think so,” Malem agreed.
Weyanna went next, and then used her newfound stamina to catch up on some much needed healing of the party members. She fixed the welt Xaxia had acquired on her cheek during the fighting, and the cuts Malem had on his face, along with the minor scrapes and bruises the others had taken as they lined up to drink.
But only about half of the party members managed to sip from the fountain, before its glow turned black.
“Uh, that can’t be good,” Goldenthall said. He was the next in line.
“What did you do?” Xaxia said. “That Balor inside of you tainted the water?”
“Nothing!” Goldenthall said. “I didn’t even touch it.”
Wendolin nodded. “The rejuvenating powers of such fountains are finite. They can only bestow so much before requiring a refractory period. Obviously this one is going to reset at some point, otherwise the denizens wouldn’t have bothered guarding it.”
“Damn, I just drained myself with all that healing,” Weyanna said. “I should have held onto my stamina.”
“My cheek thanks you,” Xaxia told her, rubbing her newly healed face.
“When do you think it’s going to reset?” Gannet asked. He was next in line behind Goldenthall.
“Could be anywhere from a few hours to a few days,” Wendolin replied.
“Obviously we’re not going to wait around until then,” Malem said. “Let’s go.”
The group piled out of the room, the disappointment obvious from those who hadn’t taken a drink—Sylfi, Brita, Gannet, and Solan. The half dragons had allowed everyone else to go before them, as the four had naturally recovered more stamina than the others, but they were still well below their usual energy levels. With time, that would improve.
Malem and the others padded quietly forward, moving as fast as they possibly could while still maintaining some level of stealth. They didn’t want to bring the entire denizens of the dungeon down upon them.
A glow came from ahead.
“Do you see that?” he asked over his shoulder.
“It’s coming from a side room,” Xaxia said.
Malem and the others continued forward, and paused next to the doorway from which the glow emanated. It flickered slightly, out of phase with the similar glimmering of Abigail’s flaming globe.
Malem peered inside. It was a relatively long chamber, with small, circular tables scattered throughout, like some dining hall. All of the chairs were empty.
Well, not all: on the far side of the room, a lone figure robed in deep blue sat hunched next to one of the tables. A single candle flickered on that table, and it had burned down to a small stub. Malem assumed the figure was a man, because although the hood was raised and he couldn’t discern the person’s face in the shadows, the chest was flat, with no obvious breasts visible beneath, and the hands protruding from the sleeves were thick, callused things.
The man was writing on a scroll beneath the candlelight, using a quill that he occasionally dipped into an ink pot. Malem couldn’t sense him on his beast sense.
Against the wall behind him were shelves lined with various macabre curios. Malem spotted skulls that looked like they belonged to various animals. Large thigh bones with cryptic writing carved into their surfaces. Dried and shriveled orak hands and heads. A human skull made entirely of glass.
There was also a whole shelf devoted to flasks containing various potions: the colors black, blue, red and purple dominated, with similarly colored mist seeping in plumes from those that were open. There was also an alchemy set of some kind next to them, composed of glass flasks, tubes and other instruments, currently empty.
Has to be a mage of some kind, Mauritania sent over their mental connection.
Malem’s eyes homed in on one particular item that stood out from all the rest on those shelves: a white, opalescent sphere, about the size of a man’s head.
Beside him, he heard Wendolin inhale with a hiss—no doubt she had spotted it as well.
The man shifted.
Malem tried to pull away, but couldn’t; someone blocked him. He glanced over his shoulder, and realized everyone else had crowded around the opening to take a look, making it hard for him to pull away.
Back! he sent.
He held out an arm and shoved everyone away. He looked back inside before he slid past the edge of the doorway, but the man hadn’t looked up, thankfully.
When he was out of view, he retreated from the doorway, moving well back until the entrance was only a soft glow in the distance.
When he was sure the robed man was not going to come to the entrance to check on the disturbance, he huddled with his companions.
“We got lucky for once,” he said. “We’ve found the Light Pearl. So I guess we won’t be leaving here empty-handed after all.”
“What are the chances of that, given how big these different floors are?” Gwen said.
“Not very high,” Malem said. “Like I told you, we got lucky.”
“The question is, how are we going to get it?” Sylfi said. “I doubt the mage is going to like someone pilfering his belongings. Obviously, he’s powerful if the monsters and undead are leaving him alone.”
“He might be undead himself,” Wendolin said.
“But you saw his hands,” Xaxia said. “They were flesh!”
“I’m just saying, don’t discount the possibility,” Wendolin told her. “Because, as I mentioned, just because you see animated flesh, doesn’t necessarily mean your foe is living.”
“I can’t sense him, so that might very well be the case,” Malem confirmed.
“Blue,” Gwen said. “His robe is blue. What magic does that signify?”
“Assuming he follows the color rules, he could be an ice mage,” Gannet said.
“Or a necromancer,” Mauritania added.
Malem considered his options. “Mauritania, you’re going to steal that sphere for us.”
Mauritania nodded. “I was expecting this. I’m ready.”
“Why does she always get to have all the fun?” Xaxia complained.
“Can you teleport?” Malem asked her.
“No,” the bandit admitted.
“Those tables were wooden,” Wendolin said.
Malem nodded. “I want you, Abigail, and Ziatrice next to the doorway, ready to provide support,” Malem said. “The rest of us will be standing behind you, ready to act as backup. We might have to rush inside to help Mauritania. Or we might have to defend against whatever magic the mage uses against us. If it’s a necromancer, what can we expect?”
“Withering magic,” Mauritania said. “As well as the ability to summon a few skeletons. Maybe a wight.”
“Withering magic, as in, it ages?” Gwen asked.
“That’s right,” Mauritania said. “And it’s irreversible, so don’t get hit.”
“Hey, you’re the one going in there, not me,” Gwen said.
“Yes, but you’ll be standing at the entrance, covering my back.” Mauritania glanced at the doorway. “So how do you want me to do this? I’m at my full strength, so I can teleport twice, once to take the pearl, and once to leave. However, if I do that, I’ll have no energy left to fight with, if it comes to it, and you’ll have to grant me stamina. But if you do that, you’ll be sapping someone else. Or yourself. Also, I can’t teleport the whole distance, so I
’ll have to enter the room and make my way toward him at least partially.”
Malem thought for a moment. “The mage looked fairly distracted, the way he was working on that writing. If you stay close to the walls, you should be able to come up behind him, hopefully without him noticing. If he does, teleport to the artifact, and then teleport back as far as you can to the entrance and run the hell out. We’ll offer covering fire, and when you’re out, the rest of us will flee.”
“It’s as good a plan as any,” Mauritania said. “But for some reason, I’m not all that enthralled. Sometimes it’s hard being the most powerful one among you.”
Ziatrice smiled derisively. “You wish, horny bitch.”
Mauritania shrugged. “You dream of having horns like mine, I know.”
“No I don’t,” Ziatrice replied. “You’re the one who dreams of having blue skin.”
Mauritania smiled sadly. He sensed that she wanted to continue baiting Ziatrice, if only to delay the inevitable. The feeling of sheer hopelessness emanating from her energy bundle was heartbreaking.
It’s going to be all right, Mauritania, he told her privately. Look, if you don’t want to do this, someone else can. Hell, maybe I should be the one.
No, she sent. I can do this. It’ s just… there’s something really off about this whole situation. Why would a mage choose this as his residence, close to the heart of a monster-infested dungeon?
Maybe he just wants to be left alone, Malem said. If I had the power, a place like this might even be appealing to me. Though I admit I’d miss the sunlight…
With a sigh, Mauritania turned toward the entrance. “Well, then, let’s go fetch that Light Pearl. Before the uraks get here.”
21
Malem and the others approached the entrance. Wendolin, Abigail, and Ziatrice assumed their designated positions on either side. Malem peered past, and confirmed that the robed man was still writing, seemingly oblivious to everything else. He glanced at Mauritania, and nodded.
Mauritania slipped inside the room and moved furtively along the wall at a low crouch. For such a tall woman, she could certainly reduce her profile well. She made not a single sound during her advance. The floor was made of the same flagstones as the rest of the level, and the pads of her boots seemed particularly well suited to masking her steps on that surface.
She reached the far right wall of the rectangular room, and continued alongside it. She passed some of the wooden tables.
When she reached the imaginary horizontal line that traversed the middle of the room, the figure spoke.
“I know you’re here,” came the shaky male voice, confirming that it was indeed a man. He sounded old, and didn’t look up from his writing. “I suggest you leave while I’m still in a good mood.”
Mauritania paused. What do I do?
Ignore him and keep going, Malem replied. Get ready to teleport to the shelf if he acts.
And so she continued. She moved even faster than before, but Malem still didn’t hear her.
“Writing makes me happy, you see,” the man continued. “I’m penning a tale about a man trapped in a catacomb for an eternity, surrounded by skeletons. He let them out of his closet, you see. This man, he has nothing to entertain himself with, nothing but the stories he comes up with in his head. That, and the few foolish adventurers who enter his domain, despite his warnings.”
Still Mauritania continued forward.
Malem could feel how tense she was. Not just her, but all the others. Hell, he was tense himself.
Finally, he sent her: Are you close enough to teleport to the Light Pearl yet?
Barely, she sent.
Then do it, he told her. Then as soon as you grab it, teleport back to the entrance as far as you can, then run until you’re out!
A green smear appeared in front of Mauritania and her body disappeared. That smear continued forward, across the room, passing through tables, until it stopped a short distant behind the robed man, next to the shelf on the wall that held the Light Pearl. The smear collapsed upon itself, and Mauritania formed.
She glanced at the mage, and confirmed that he was still occupied with his scribblings, then scooped up the Light Pearl and shoved it in her backpack.
“That is mine,” the mage said, setting down the pen.
Mauritania teleported again; this time the smear of green traveled down the middle of the room, directly toward the entrance.
The flagstones shifted in front of her, and from the dirt that was unveiled beneath them, ten skeletons erupted. They were dressed in chainmail armor, with chain coifs around their heads.
“So it’s a necromancer after all,” Wendolin breathed.
Branches grew from the surrounding tables, and wrapped around the skeletons, trapping them.
Mauritania weaved past the imprisoned undead.
But another group of skeletons emerged just in front of her. Fifteen, this time.
These undead were expecting the vines and branches Wendolin sent their way, and they chopped them away, forming a solid barrier with their armored bodies in front of Mauritania. The half Eldritch was too weak to use her magic, so she withdrew Tiercel and Peregrine and defended herself.
Abigail launched balls of fire, and Ziatrice ribbons of dark mist, but both magics had no effect on the skeletons that blocked her path.
On the far side of the room, ghostly, bluish mist flowed from the mage, forming vaguely humanoid shapes. It struck the branches that held the first group of skeletons, and the plants withered, allowing the undead to break free.
Malem quickly drained Gwen and Ziatrice of stamina and transferred it to Mauritania.
Teleport! he sent her. Get out of there!
Mauritania vanished in a green smear that exited the room. She reformed next to Malem.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Wendolin, seal the opening!” he ordered.
Branches erupted from the closest tables, and quickly entwined, forming in front of the opening as the skeletons rushed the entrance. Those branches formed a solid barrier a moment later. Malem could hear thuds on the other side as the skeletons hacked at those branches with their swords.
“Let’s go!” Malem said, racing down the corridor. He gave some stamina to Wendolin, who was flagging from the effort of creating all those vines and branches.
“I thought she said a necromancer could create, and I quote, a ‘few’ skeletons,” Xaxia said.
“That was worse than a necromancer,” Mauritania said. “That was a lich!”
“What’s a lich?” Gwen asked.
“The highest possible level a necromancer can attain in the dark arts,” Mauritania said. “A man who has given himself fully to the darkness.”
“Sort of like what Malem did when he became the Defiler?” Gwen pressed.
“Something like that,” Mauritania agreed.
Malem glanced over his shoulder in time to see the branches that blocked the opening wither. They exploded outward, and the lich walked through. His skeletons joined him.
He turned toward Malem; the man’s face became visible for the first time underneath that hood. He looked like a man old beyond time itself, whose pale skin had been stretched to near breaking across the frail bones of the skull underneath. It was a shriveled, sickening face, devoid of fat and muscle of any kind, with skin that was slightly translucent, so Malem could see the grinning skull underneath.
Eight more skeletons erupted around the party.
Three wights, too.
“Kill the lich!” Malem said.
“How do you kill that which is already dead?” Gwen asked.
“The same way we killed the other undead,” Malem said as he struck at the armored skeleton that emerged in front of him. “Target it with your arrows!”
Two of the wights exploded, and Malem was hit with shrapnel. His armor absorbed most of the blow, however he took solid hits on parts of his face.
Ziatrice sliced the head off the third wight before it could expl
ode, and the beast toppled to the ground.
Gwen, Sylfi and Brita fired their bows past the undead fighters around them, aiming at the distant lich. The skeletons with him leaped in front of the incoming arrows.
Wendolin caused branches to spout from those arrows, and curved them backwards in an attempt to wrap them around the lich. However, the branches withered before touching him, and the lich calmly advanced, along with the skeletons with him.
Malem was busy defending against the undead soldier immediately in front of him. The other party members fought the other seven that had sprung up as well. Xaxia and Mauritania beheaded one each, but the skeletons still fought, even without their heads.
“I warned you not to touch my belongings,” the lich said. “I warned you not to steal from me. And you did not listen. And now you will pay the price. You will join my undead minions, along with these, and all of those who have ever come against me. You will serve me. Forever.”
Gwen withdrew several arrows at once, and tossed them onto the floor, aiming at the feet of the closest skeletons.
“For you, Wendolin!” she said.
Wendolin was weak, but not so weary she couldn’t cause small vines to erupt from the shafts of the arrows. She used them to bind the feet of the undead, trapping them in place.
Malem chopped off the head of his own foe, which was also trapped, but was dismayed when it swung its sword around and nearly struck him in riposte.
“Leave them!” Malem said, leaping out of the way. “We run!”
The party members shoved past the trapped skeletons. With no one to meet their blades, the undead instead struck at the wood that held them in an attempt to free themselves. The first skeleton broke away, and it ran after the party in pursuit.
Ghostly, blueish magic swirled from the lich, and withered the vines that trapped the other skeletons, freeing them as well. The undead beings raced after the party. There were no shouts or howls of pursuit, but simply the noise of booted feet thudding across the stone floor, and the constant rattling of bones. Those that accompanied the lich also broke into a run.
Malem and the others continued to flee. Mauritania launched a few weak spurts of Green Rot behind her as she ran, but it had no effect on the skeletons. Gwen and the others occasionally paused to release arrows, but when they realized Wendolin was too weak to grow branches from the shafts, they gave up and simply ran.
