Wizard, Thief, Warrior

by Max Anthony

  Rasmus couldn’t see the thief’s face, but could picture him with one eyebrow raised questioningly. “Yes, our defeated foe has provided me with a remarkable boost to my arsenal since we offed him.”

  Jera was a sensible young lady and didn’t open her mouth to take part in this unnecessary conversation. She wasn’t at all scared, but lacked the desire to stand in front of a dragon in her motley collection of armour and swat at one with her low-grade magical sword. It is entirely possible for one to be lacking in fear, yet possess a determination to avoid something that seems likely to result in death. Her feet were therefore not lacking in motivation and Rasmus’ speed spell gave her a feeling of great exhilaration.

  “Are we going to make it now?” asked Rasmus.

  “We were going to make it,” said Viddo. “Once it saw us speed up, the beast altered course and will land a little way in front of us.”

  “Ready your shield, Jera,” said Rasmus, facetiousness dropping away from him.

  As they got closer, Viddo became convinced that there was definitely a cranny in the rock ahead. The trouble was, it was just too far away, even with their legs pushing them at a much-increased speed across the rough floor. Viddo had other tricks that would allow him to run even faster and he knew he could escape if he wanted to. Of course, he wasn’t the kind of man who would abandon his companions, so he kept pace, his outline becoming indistinct, until he vanished completely from sight. Rasmus wasn’t concerned about his friend’s disappearance, and Jera had already learned that Viddo was an honourable man.

  The dragon landed ahead of them with a crunch and a skid, its claws scrabbling to overcome inertia and the lack of grip on the solid stone beneath. Rasmus boosted his light to its full strength, which provided just enough illumination for them to get hints of what was ahead, without revealing the whole. There was a dark shape, well over thirty feet in length. The creature furled its wings, showing it to be surprisingly svelte in shape, rather than bulky and muscular. Rasmus knew from experience that looks were deceiving, and every dragon he’d ever encountered was a vicious, powerful foe.

  As the dragon’s outline coalesced, revealing more of its details, Rasmus fell in behind Jera in order that she could provide him with protection against swiping claws. They were only thirty yards away and able to make out the cold, evil features of its face, and see the sharp, yellow fangs which jutted between its lips. Rasmus saw that the dragon’s eyes were completely black in the same way that its skin was, and it lowered its eyelids in order to protect its sight from the modest glow of the light spell. There was an ancient intelligence behind those eyes and the malice of a creature which had been able to act unchecked for aeons.

  Rasmus was intelligent too, and although he occasionally gave the impression of absent-mindedness, he had one of the sharpest minds for magic that had ever existed. As the dragon wheeled around to face them, positioning itself carefully so that their escape was blocked, Rasmus threw a fireball at its head. The spell exploded with a rolling of thunder and a brightness that lit up the walls for a hundred yards around. The dragon’s innate magical resistance shrugged off the magical flames, leaving it unharmed. Its eyes, however, were caught unawares by the flash and the dragon flinched, rearing up as it tried to shake off the damage, wide-open pupils contracting rapidly as they tried to adjust.

  Before the dragon could recover, Rasmus sent a volley of brightly-coloured white energy towards it, fifteen or twenty fist-sized globes in total. The globes shrieked as they pierced the darkness and contacted the dragon’s head and flank. Most of them were dissipated harmlessly by the creature’s partial immunity to magic, though a few left scorch marks where they landed. The light caused it the most discomfort and it swung its long head this way and that, as if it fought to escape the dancing lights across its retinas. It felt something jab it in one forelimb and when the beast opened its eyes, it saw a woman there, an insignificant speck against its might. The dragon’s mouth opened a crack and a noise of infinite wickedness came out – a self-indulgent chuckle that mocked Jera for her temerity.

  From its periphery, the dragon thought it detected movement. It had fought its fair share of powerful adventurers and had learned many of their tricks. The beast ignored Jera, turning its gaze so that it might better focus on what it had seen.

  “Your face looks like a pickled onion!” came a voice, rich and sensuous. The dragon felt its attention wavering and it struggled to focus on the source of the movement.

  “My granny’s chickens have got bigger drumsticks than you,” spoke this voice again. The creature could not understand what was being said, but nevertheless, it felt an irresistible compulsion to attack the utterer of the words.

  Still under the effects of the speed spell, Jera stabbed the dragon again at full stretch, the tip of her sword just about reaching to its chin and inflicting a tiny wound. The combination of the wound and the sounds coming from this woman’s voice combined to inflame the creature and it forgot about the moving shape it had seen. A part of its brain knew that there was a thief about, but the dragon’s anger suppressed the warning voice and it swung a clawed limb at its tormentor.

  Two things happened at almost the same time. Firstly, the dragon’s claw struck Jera’s shield, knocking her three paces to one side and almost breaking her arm. Secondly, a fist the size of a barrel thundered into the side of the dragon’s head, almost knocking it onto its side and dazing it briefly. The dragon was aware than a huge figure had appeared right next to it – a broad humanoid with a refined face, wearing a toga that entirely failed to disguise the rippling muscles that bulged in an almost unnatural fashion.

  In spite of the unexpected appearance of the titan, the dragon could not help but attack Jera once again, the force of her warrior’s compulsion temporarily taking control of its actions. The creature’s head lunged down, jaws open to bite. It was terrifyingly fast and Jera ducked low, thankful for the spell of haste. She struck upwards with her shield, hitting the dragon’s jaw with a thud. The blow was tiny in comparison to the damage needed to kill the dragon, but the beast found her defiance utterly infuriating and it clawed at her twice, just as the titan’s fist connected with its jaw again. The punch was a solid one and came close to shattering the bones beneath the dragon’s skin and rattled its brain against the inside of its skull. The titan didn’t flail wildly – this race of giants knew how to throw a punch to the best effect and it attacked again, seeking to concuss the dragon or render it unconscious.

  Rasmus was already feeling a bit left out. A dragon was an opponent that needed special preparation before confrontation and the wizard had almost run dry of the spells he thought might be useful. He’d topped up his reserves from the undead wizard’s spellbook, but his time there had been short. In reality, he knew he’d been overexcited and spent too long on the fireball page. While he would never hear a word said against this most worthy of spells, there was a time and a place for a fiery explosion. Dropping an area-of-effect spell in the middle of one’s allies was not usually accepted as good form, especially when creatures like dragons tended to ignore the low-to-mid-level stuff. Consequently, Rasmus tried to appear unimportant as he sneaked towards the narrow passage nearby. If it came to it, the titan he’d just summoned was about as strong a creature as magic could bring forth, so it wasn’t as if he was shirking in his duties he told himself. It still didn’t sit easy.

  By now, the dragon had got wise to Jera’s insults and when she called it an oversized iguana, it hardly even looked her way. With the effects of the speed spell quickly dissipating, she wasn’t quick enough to completely avoid a backhand blow, which knocked her from her feet. She groaned and struggled to rise.

  As Jera struggled, the dragon let out a roar. In the unending space of the mine cavern it sounded peculiarly muted. Even so, the sound plumbed the lowest depths and everyone close by felt it vibrate through their bodies, instilling terror and a desire to flee in any direction as long as it was away from the dragon. Rasmus and Vi
ddo were old hands at this and neither succumbed, nor did the titan, which could have been as old as the dragon for all anyone knew. Jera had far exceeded any expectations put upon her and she did her best to resist the fear. For the most part she succeeded, though it took every ounce of her concentration to push herself onto her feet again, whereupon she discovered that her legs didn’t want to move. Jera wasn’t interested in what they didn’t want to do and she forced them forward, lifting her shield again.

  The dragon continued to ignore her and sunk its teeth into the titan’s forearm. The giant grimaced in pain and used its other arm to land two tremendous punches on top of the dragon’s head. The creature didn’t open its jaws and the titan tried to twist the dragon’s neck around in order to snap the bones within, or throttle the life out of it. Muscles bulged and the two of them surged back and forwards.

  Viddo had been biding his time and decided that now was as good an opportunity as he was likely to see. With an agility which seemed beyond any man, he leapt at the dragon’s flank, somehow finding places to grip between the tiny crevices of its scales. He almost bounded up until he was in the middle of its back and between the two wings. Rasmus paused in his skulking and saw the flash of a dagger as it came down. The dragon was huge and it took time for the signals of the injury to reach its brain, allowing Viddo to land a second and a third strike.

  Already grappling with the titan, the dragon twisted the entire length of its body and used its wings to brush Viddo away, in the same manner that a wizard might use his robes to swat an undead fly. Like any good thief, Viddo had a perfectly-honed sense that told him when he’d overstayed his welcome and he jumped away in an astonishingly acrobatic fashion. As he did, he saw something in the distance that he really wished he hadn’t seen. The sight of hundreds of onrushing undead did not spoil his composure, nor his aim. In mid-air, he turned and a bolt flashed out from his hand crossbow. The bolt and crossbow were highly magical, while the dragon was enormously powerful, with an intuition that allowed it to avoid mortal blows. If every bolt that had ever been fired at it had taken it straight in the eye, the beast would have been long dead. As it was, Viddo’s quarrel plunged into the wide opening that was its ear – an unpleasant strike, though not so injurious.

  The dragon roared again. It was undead, so Viddo knew that the sound was one of anger, rather than pain. The titan crashed another thumping blow into the creature’s neck and for the briefest of seconds, it looked as though the dragon might be overcome. Instead, it released the titan from its jaws and reared back on its hind legs, the top of its head now level with that of the giant. The dragon’s mouth opened and a greasy darkness spilled out in a ragged cone. The magic of undeath engulfed the titan, washing over and around it. Within the darkness, the giant could be seen raising its arms to protect itself. If it cried out, the sound did not reach the trio of adventurers.

  The darkness cleared as quickly as it had appeared, swirling and then vanishing. Jera saw that the titan had survived the dragon’s breath, but was sorely wounded. Blisters and weeping sores covered much of its body, and its flesh cracked and split as it moved to engage the dragon again. It threw another punch which missed and the dragon’s claws opened three red slashes across the titan’s chest. The sound of a voice whispering urgently forced itself to the forefront of Jera’s consciousness.

  “We have to go. Now!” hissed Viddo, pulling at her arm.

  With hardly a backward glance, Jera complied, stumbling after Viddo in the direction of the crevice in the rock which had been their destination. She could see that Rasmus had already reached it and he looked out with concern. The warrior part of her brain still functioned, registering and evaluating each threat in the vicinity. Her legs felt heavy like iron as she broke into a half run. From her periphery, she saw shapes enter the sphere of Rasmus’ light spell. There were many of these shapes - grey, with featureless eyes and arms stretched outward as though they wished to tear everything apart that they could. The undead sprinted towards Jera, uncaring if they tripped or fell over the rough floor and she saw one or two stumble in their headlong flight.

  Jera got into the crevice ahead of the creatures and hardly a second behind Viddo. The crack was seven feet in height and it tapered at the top. At the bottom, it wasn’t much wider than a woman’s shoulders and Jera had to turn sideways to fit inside.

  Before Jera had managed to get more than three feet within, a grey face appeared at the entrance. The tip of a sword entered its mouth and emerged from the back of its head. The undead fell away, writhing on the floor. It was replaced by two more, which struggled and fought to get inside. Jera drove her sword at them, stabbing one in the chest. The creatures didn’t seem too concerned for their personal safety and they scrabbled and clawed at the woman who defied them.

  “This way!” called Rasmus from deeper within. Neither he nor Viddo could help, since the passage was too narrow for them to fight at her side. Jera heard jostling sounds, which, even in the depths of combat, she realised was the wizard and thief changing places behind her.

  “I’m trying,” Jera called back, not for a second taking her eyes off the ever-growing horde in front of her.

  Events took a turn for the worse. Although her sight was obscured by the confines of the surrounding rock and also the pack of silent undead in front, Jera was still able to make out the dragon’s head through the gap. There was no sign of the titan – it could have been dead or Rasmus’ spell might have simply expired already. Either way, with nothing to challenge it, the dragon turned its attention to the upstarts who had injured it. It saw at once that they were close to escaping, giving it only one choice as to how to punish them. Without any visible sign of inhalation, the creature opened its mouth and another jet of darkness gouted out. Thinking her death inevitable, Jera hardly felt the hand pulling her backwards. Another hand reached over her shoulder, the fingers on which were moving at a lightning speed. Death did not come. Instead, the crevice became perfectly sealed by the appearance of a sheet of smooth grey stone. The breath of the dragon scoured it on the outside, destroying dozens of the smaller undead. On this side, the stone gave no indication that it had suffered any damage.

  “Are you hurt?” came the concerned question.

  “I think I’m just about fine, even if my legs and arms feel desperately heavy,” Jera replied, with hardly a tremble to her voice.

  “That’ll be the after effects of my speed spell. It should wear off in a few minutes,” said Rasmus.

  Jera looked at the wizard’s face, visible in the light of his spell. “What did you do?” she asked.

  “A wall of stone spell!” said Rasmus, clearly pleased at their last-moment escape. “We had better not delay. There’s a way out along here and we should take advantage of it to put as much distance as we can between ourselves and our pursuers.”

  Suppressing a groan, Jera turned around and followed the already-retreating backs of Rasmus and Viddo.

  14

  The crack widened a little as they travelled deeper inside. It wasn’t so wide that they could walk side-by-side, but it was easy enough for them to walk in single file without having to watch their heads constantly. There was a definite slope to it and it took them ever downwards at a gradual pace. After twenty minutes of this, the tunnel opened out into a wider area, which still looked to be part of a natural fault in the rock.

  “Let’s rest for five minutes and get our bearings,” said Viddo, dropping his pack to the ground and sitting down next to it.

  “What was a dragon doing in there?” asked Jera at once. It had been on her mind.

  “Dragons like to hide in places out of sight. They need a lair where they feel safe from constant attack by adventurers such as ourselves.”

  “Don’t they deserve to be attacked?” she asked.

  “Some of them do. Particularly the evil, undead ones like that which we just saw. There are other dragons who wish for nothing more than a quiet life without being harassed constantly for their
accumulated wealth.”

  “I’ll bet that one had plenty worth stealing,” said Viddo with a sigh. “We nearly killed the beast too.”

  Jera wasn’t quite so certain, though she didn’t offer a response. Instead, she told Rasmus and Viddo that which they should have probably guessed already. “They want their diamonds back,” she said.

  Rasmus opened his mouth and then closed it. Viddo scratched his head in a familiar gesture to indicate that he was absorbing a new idea.

  “How did we not see it earlier?” asked Rasmus. “It seems so obvious now that Jera has spelled it out for us.”

  “It does indeed seem obvious, though I can’t say there have been many occasions when I’ve been chased by thousands of low-level undead seeking the return of their appropriated goods,” said Viddo at last.

  “What do they want them for?” asked Jera. “You keep telling me that the undead don’t place value on items.”

  “Most of them don’t,” admitted Rasmus. “Some of the more powerful ones have been known to seek them out. The high priest lich that we’ve been telling you about is sure to have a big stash of goodies that I would like to relieve it of. Metal staves with crystal balls atop them and all sorts.” He trailed off at the thought of getting his hands on these items.

  “I hope they aren’t artifacts,” said Viddo. He had the diamonds in his hands and spun them slowly around. They seemed to sparkle far brighter than the light which touched their facets, as if they magnified it somehow.

  “Artifacts?” asked Jera.

  “There was mention of artifacts on the wall of the undead wizard’s upper chamber. It could be that they are tied in with the plans to bring back Him Without Name.”

  “I hope not!” said Rasmus. “These diamonds are ours, plundered fair and square. I have no intention of returning them to their former keepers and we shall sell them for a satisfactory price!”