Split the Party

by Drew Hayes

  “We’d have been there six games ago if someone would have let me cast the teleport spell,” Cheri groaned.

  “You’re trying to break into a wizard’s stronghold; doesn’t it seem like warding against people popping in uninvited is the first thing he would do?” Having access to the module, Russell actually knew that teleportation blocking was in fact the first spell the wizard had laid on the castle, making it the oldest and strongest amongst his many precautions.

  “It wasn’t so bad. We got to travel through lots of forest.” Alexis still spoke at the same, barely audible volume when out of character, but the others had learned to fall silent when they saw her lips move, making it far easier to pick up her words.

  Russell half listened as they recounted their adventures, his mind occupied as he flipped ahead in the module to the adventure that lay before them. On top of scanning for changes, he was also doing his best to memorize each bit of information, in order to host an enjoyable gaming session for his players. After all, the hook for the adventure was a pretty cool one. Once they actually made it into the tower, they’d have to deal with all manner of distorted realties and strange chambers before they reached the final floor. And in there, things would go really off the walls.

  Russell was so focused on tracking his party’s adventure that he’d failed to look at any other portion of the module. It was a shame, really. If he’d thought to examine the entire book instead of just the part he was playing, he would have gotten some scrap of proof that he wasn’t crazy.

  But he also would have learned that the situation in Briarwillow had turned out to be far more complex than a simple plague.

  * * *

  All healing magic was not created equal. After the bandit fight, Grumph and Gabrielle’s exposure to the priest’s divine mending had been minimal, since all they’d had were a few scrapes and bruises. Grumph’s session following his trial was far more in depth, giving him his first chance to really get a sense of the energy flowing through him. It was much different than Thistle’s—that became clear immediately. When the gnome healed them, they were filled with a sense of comfort and familiarity, like receiving a hug from a long distant friend. The priest’s magic was colder, more detached, akin to an emotionally closed off parent offering some small word of praise. It was possible the difference came from their roles, priest versus paladin, or because they worshipped different gods, but Grumph highly doubted it. Lying on the table as the priest removed his hands from the half-orc’s chest and motioned for his sack of gold, Grumph realized that just because someone could call upon the power of the kind gods did not mean they themselves weren’t something of an asshole.

  That said, there was no dispute to be had with the quality of the work. Grumph slowly lifted himself into a sitting position, surprised at the lack of pain in his body, only to be nearly knocked back down as Gabrielle wrapped him in a massive hug. She squeezed for all she was worth, which was quite a bit after the constant training she’d been undergoing, and Grumph had to gently slap her arm repeatedly before she finally let him go.

  “You are out of your gods-damned half-orc mind, you know that, right?” She released him, stepping back to look him over and make sure the priest hadn’t missed anything. “I mean . . . the fire part alone . . .”

  Grumph winced at the memory, then checked himself for burns or frostbite, but found none. It truly was as though he’d never undergone the trial at all, save for the fact that half his clothes were torn, burned, or shredded by wind. As he looked around, he realized something else was different: neither his blade nor its scabbard was hitched to his belt.

  As he began to search the sheets, Gabrielle reached around her back and presented the missing weapon, tucked neatly into its sheath. “It survived, but I think barely. Obviously, that wasn’t a real tempest crystal, but Dejy told me they still had to layer a lot of magic onto it to create the effects. Just smacking the hell out of it—no one does that, especially with demon . . . you know what, see for yourself.” She held out the blade and Grumph accepted, drawing his trusty tool slowly from its scabbard.

  The shape was much the same, but the pale-white of the bone was stained dark across the front, like it had been dipped in soot. Across the once razor-like edge were dozens upon dozens of small nicks and fractures. As he peered closely at the almost-shattered edge, Grumph thought he saw a small spark zip between two of the raised portions.

  “No idea if it will still cut anymore,” Gabrielle told him. “We could probably get you a new one, but things in this town are crazy expensive.”

  “It’s fine.” Grumph tucked the blade back into its sheath and went to strap it on his belt, only to realize said belt had been fried in the explosions. Some shopping, it seemed, would still be in order. Grumph bit back a curse at the thought. He’d worked so hard in order to return to the others as soon as possible. Any delay, no matter how small, twisted in his gut like an angry dagger.

  The door to the small room—and its lonely bed and dresser—opened for the first time since the priest and guild attendant had left. Funneling through the small opening was Fritz, Talcia, Ferdy, and Dejy. Talcia and Ferdy had changed out of their ever-present robes, and were now wearing clothing closer to what Grumph had been when starting his trial. Packs and bags weighed them down, and Talcia walked with a large, ornate wooden staff covered up and down with runes. Fritz was dressed much as always, although she was carrying her satchel once again. Dejy was largely unchanged, save for the sizable, sheathed axe that hovered several feet in front of him and the pack gripped loosely in his hand.

  “And there’s the talk of the guild!” Fritz called, walking over and giving Grumph a healthy smack on the shoulder. “Not too shabby of a show you put on. I daresay the next applicants we get are in for a rough time, now that you’ve set a two-day bar in front of them.”

  “Let’s please not try and make this an expectation,” Talcia said. “I do not want to see our best and brightest next generation killed off by trying to recreate this feat.”

  “Technically, if they’re the best and brightest, shouldn’t they be able to pull it off?” Dejy turned to Gabrielle and made a motion with his hand, causing the axe to sail toward her. “I believe this is yours. Fritz said you’d need it for the journey, but that I shouldn’t touch it. Care to explain?”

  Gabrielle accepted the weapon, noting the slight pain in her palms at its touch, and slipped it onto her back. “I got a bargain.”

  “Interesting.” Dejy walked over to his student, who was still sitting in bed and beginning to feel a bit embarrassed about it. “Grumph, I brought you your personal effects. The rest of your belongings are being loaded onto your horses, which we’ll be meeting outside in a few minutes.”

  “Already?” Grumph was happy with the news, but it did take him off guard.

  “Talcia made it clear how important time was to you, and given what you did today, I’d say you earned having your wishes honored.” Dejy set the backpack carefully down on Grumph’s lap, as though the modest bundle of leather was going to inflict a wound that wind, fire, and lightning hadn’t. “There’s a fresh change of clothes in there, as well as a formal set of guild robes. I know they aren’t your usual attire, but you should still have some, and, as your teacher, it’s my privilege to provide them.”

  “I’m amazed they stock robes in Grumph’s size,” Gabrielle said.

  “They don’t, actually,” Dejy admitted. “I had these specially commissioned after my first day working with Grumph. Something told me he’d be needing them.”

  “Thank you.” Grumph accepted the backpack, and then looked up at the man he’d spent the last several days cooped up with. It would have been easy for Dejy to half-ass the training, to brush Grumph off as unimportant due to his race or station. Even as a favor to Fritz, he could have taken it easy; after all, no one expected the half-orc to succeed. But he hadn’t. Dejy had worked as hard, if not more so, than Grumph. “For everything.”

  “It’s not o
ften a man, mage or not, gets to be part of something as incredible as what happened today,” Dejy replied. “Thank you for livening things up around here. I wish I could be there for more of your journey, but I’m thankful to have been witness to at least this much. And anytime you’re in a town with a guild outpost, stop by and see me. I’m sure I’ll be here.”

  Everyone pretended not to notice how depressed Dejy got on his last sentence, and Fritz plowed past the moment by beginning to hustle everyone out the door. “Come on, come on, we’re off to the courtyard. Give the man some privacy to change. Grumph, when you’re ready, just open the door. It’s already set to bring you where you need to be.”

  Fritz grabbed and shoved everyone through the door before shutting it behind her, leaving Grumph alone for the first time since he’d stood on the floor of the coliseum. He opened the bag and pulled out the fresh clothes on top. There, just below them, was his all-too-familiar spell book, but next to it was another tome, one he’d never laid eyes on before. Lifting it from the pack, he pulled back the cover and read the first page, a toothy, half-orc smile growing with each passing word.

  Since I can’t be around to train you like a proper teacher, I thought I’d send along a study-aid. This should help you keep learning, even without me around to help.

  -Dejy

  Grumph flipped through a few of the pages, then closed the book and set it back in his pack. Much as he wanted to study and learn, there would be time for that later. Assuming they survived, of course. Climbing out of bed, he began to dress, wondering what the others would say when he, Gabrielle, and several mages stepped out of thin air.

  * * *

  “You owe me two gold,” Thistle said, nudging Eric in the ribs. The glowing green circle that had appeared in the center of town was the first sign that Grumph and Gabrielle had succeeded, and the party members in Briarwillow had quickly hurried out of the smoked meat shop where they were having dinner to greet their returning friends. It was also theoretically possible that some enemies were teleporting in to try and kill them all, but after what Kendal had told them in caverns, Thistle found it unlikely. Whatever else could be said about the threat they were facing, he seemed the type to work alone.

  First to step into view was an elven man none of them recognized, riding a large steed; he seemed unsurprised to find them waiting. Next came a familiar blonde in blood-red armor atop a tired horse, though the dark axe jutting up from her back was a new addition. After Gabrielle came a female elf with no horse, carrying a large satchel, eyes twirling about as though she were trying to take in every detail. Following her was a half-elf with a sour expression on his pale face, and, lastly, looking as though he’d had to duck in order to make it through whatever passage he was using, rode the unmistakable bulk of their half-orc companion.

  “Good to see you made it, old friend,” Thistle called, watching with curious fascination as the green glow flickered before fading completely.

  “Glad you survived,” Grumph rumbled in his deep, half-orc tones.

  To those watching from the outside, it seemed a subdued reunion, but both Grumph and Thistle had no need for a grand show of affection. Their bond was forged over years of friendship and tested by constant danger. Each knew the joy they felt at seeing the other’s safe presence, just as they knew the loss they would feel were that friend ever to be struck down. Words were useless in the face of such sentiment, so there was no need to try and involve them.

  “Looks like you had quite an interesting trip,” Thistle said.

  “There were moments.”

  “And I shall hear all about them, but I’m afraid I must request that we relay our tale to you first. Time, it seems, has sided with the enemy.”

  Chapter 28

  After introductions were made all around, relaying the tale of what had happened in Briarwillow since Grumph and Gabrielle left was a relatively short task, especially since much of the time had been spent doing tedious research that could be skimmed over. The telling of the discovery of the hidden mountain catacombs slowed the story greatly, as Talcia had an abundance of questions about this hidden piece of history. Likewise, Gabrielle and Grumph both perked with curiosity when Thistle began describing his visions, and Ferdy nearly fell out of his chair when Thistle detailed his discussion with an actual god.

  It was once they got to the return visit that questions fell away, however. All attention became rapt as Thistle detailed their discussion with Kendal and the chance that the citizens of Briarwillow might still have sentience within the prisons their corpses had become. Thistle ended by sharing what little information Kendal had been able to impart about the priest of Kalzidar and his habits, actions which were so infrequent as to barely be considered as such.

  “A whole town’s worth of undead, completely under his control,” Gabrielle muttered.

  “Correction: a whole town’s worth of undead, completely under his control, who might be innocent in this whole affair,” Eric added. “Meaning that if we butcher them, we’re the bad guys.”

  “Better the bad guys than the dead guys,” Gabrielle countered.

  “Perhaps neither is needed,” Thistle interrupted. “Now that you’ve brought people with more specialized skills than we have, I feel as though we should ask the mages’ opinions on how to handle this situation.”

  Talcia and Ferdy exchanged a long glance before the elder mage looked back at the table. “There are spells that allow us to bind the undead, ones both Ferdy and I are familiar with, but you’ve described at least a hundred down there, perhaps more. If their will is being suppressed, then it would be difficult for them to break free of any binding spells, but it is possible. However, it would still take constant casting and a tremendous amount of mana to hold that many for any measureable length of time.”

  “Could you teleport them away, like how you brought us here?” Gabrielle suggested.

  “I’d have to look to be sure, but if this room is as well-protected as you say, there are almost certainly wards and enchantments meant to stop the use of teleportation within its walls.” Talcia reached out and grabbed a hunk of smoked meat, turning it over in his hands rather than biting into it. “Still, binding his army, taxing as it may be, would allow one of us the time to study the door and perhaps perceive a way to open it.”

  “But there would still be the priest to deal with,” Eric reminded him.

  “That, I assume, you five would be capable of handling,” Talcia said.

  “Aye, he’s our problem, no question about it,” Thistle agreed. “Though the door may not be much of an issue for long. Kendal felt like they were about to crack the thing within the day, and that was hours ago.”

  “So maybe we let them.” Eric had a glassy, far-off look in his eye as the beginnings of a plan started to take shape. “If we can’t pick the lock, let’s have someone else open the door for us. We sneak back into the caverns, keeping watch from up high. As soon as they manage to break open the door, one of the mages handles the undead, and we attack the priest. Door is open, and we’re all set to go recover the bones.”

  “It’s pitch black in there,” Timuscor reminded him. “And if we use light, we won’t be hidden for long. It was only luck that allowed us to pass through the first time.”

  Fritz yanked open her satchel and began to rummage about. “I might have something for that. Salve of the Owl; real useful stuff. Smear it on under your eyes, and you can see in the dark for hours. Ladies in some of the northern kingdoms have taken to using it as a fashion accessory, so I always keep a few bottles on hand.”

  “How much?” Gabrielle and Grumph both asked in unison. Thistle, Eric, and Timuscor looked aghast, while Ferdy and Talcia merely chuckled. Anyone who knew Fritz for more than a few hours knew to check the price before mentally making a purchase.

  “Just this once . . . on the house,” Fritz said, pulling free a large bottle filled with dark yellow liquid. “Grumph made me quite a few coins with his little show today. Think of this
as his cut.”

  “That is very generous of you.” Thistle’s eyes lingered on the elven woman for a half-second longer than necessary, and he quickly pulled his gaze back to the table. There was something familiar about her, yet he was certain they’d never met. A mystery, no doubt, but one reserved for a time when they had less pressing concerns to deal with. “That still leaves us a slight logistical hurdle, however. The entry point where the tunnel lets up is quite high over the alcove where the door rests. Once they break it open, we’ll have to make a charge that takes several minutes, during which we’ll be completely exposed. This means we can be attacked, or the priest can slip through the doors and gain a vast head start. While we may not know exactly what lies behind the door, we can be certain that he will be easier to defeat before he finds it.”

  “Talcia and I can cast from a distance,” Ferdy said, speaking for the first time since introductions. “One of us can start handling the undead as soon as you give the order. That takes them out of the equation even during the long run.”

  “As for slowing the priest, well, you’re pretty good with those daggers,” Gabrielle pointed out to Thistle.

  “Good, but not nearly good enough to trust our entire plan to it.” Thistle mentally conjured the interior of the caverns once again. Making those throws, even in the best of circumstances, would take the blessings of the gods. Under the conditions of battle, with everything hinging on him, even the gods might not have the necessary power. “We need to find a way to delay him. Otherwise, he’ll vanish before we can reach the door.”

  “I have an idea.” Grumph looked to Ferdy and Talcia, who both wore expressions of polite curiosity. “Already got a great delay,” —he patted Gabrielle on her armored shoulder, causing a soft rustle of leather to echo through the smoked meat shop— “she just needs . . . traction.”