D&D 02-The Living Dead

by T. H. Lain

  As luck would have it, an earthquake chose that exact moment to strike. Devis lost his balance and they fell to the floor of the cart in a tangle. Their massive vessel gave in to the demands of cruel gravity and tipped onto its side, spilling them all across a field of rusted, jagged metal.

  Devis cried out as he felt something pierce his side deeply. All around him, the ocean of rusted metal, corroded beyond belief, roiled like a stormy sea.

  Wincing, he pulled himself off the jagged thing that may have once been a long sword and felt blood well inside his vest. The bard pulled a filthy, blackened handkerchief from his pocket in one shaking hand and balled it up. He choked back a wail as he stuffed the cloth ball beneath his vest and into the wound. It might keep him from bleeding to death today only to kill him with an infection in a week.

  Mialee! He frantically scanned the area for the elf woman. She'd been about to—

  There. She lay on her back, maybe ten feet away. He saw her breast rise and fall. Unconscious, but alive. He looked for the others and found them fanned all around him. All of them but Mialee were moving about, tending to fresh injuries. Zalyn, completely unharmed as usual, floated—floated? Yes, that's exactly what she did, Devis saw—to Hound-Eye, who had gotten the worst of it. His patch was gone and the empty, black socket reminded Devis of the peril they had yet to face. The little halfling still held Nialma tightly to his chest. Hound-Eye had once again put himself between the little girl and harm's way, and this time had truly suffered for it. Two ancient, rusted steel bars were rammed up through his torso on either side of Nialma. Halfling blood streamed down his waist and legs. Somehow Hound-Eye remained conscious and calm. Perhaps, Devis hoped, he couldn't feel it. The halfling had earned that much mercy.

  Zalyn/Ehlonna leaned against Soveliss as she shouted more loudly in the din of shrieking metal. Hound-Eye's body rose slowly into the air, the bars grinding out of him. Twin torrents of claret drained from his back onto the rusted surface of the nightmare floor. Nialma, stoic as ever, watched intently as the possessed cleric finished her lengthy incantation and the bleeding trickled to a drip, then stopped completely. Hound-Eye let out a "Wha!" as he spun in mid-air and came to rest gently on his feet. His other wounds still bled, but he would not die today. Not from this particular impalement, anyway.

  A low rumbling grew under the groaning metal, and a small, red-brown hillock rose beneath them. Devis felt with dreadful certainty that the cart had not been upset by an earthquake. Something was alive far below them, and it was moving to the surface.

  "Run!" he shouted to the others.

  "Where?" Hound-Eye yelled over the din.

  "That way!" Soveliss shouted, pointing at a distant, narrow opening that Devis could barely see.

  The only light in the cavern was coming from the cleric's spells and her eerie, glowing body. The others stumbled toweard the exit, but Devis headed in the exact opposite direction.

  Mialee still lay on her back, her only movements the drawing of breath. Scrambling as carefully as he could over the rising tide of jagged-edged metal, Devis reached Mialee just as something huge and brown, with the head of a massive cockroach, burst through the iron shards behind him. Bars and blades and barrel hoops filled the air. Devis ignored the thumping and stabbing pains in his back as he bent over Mialee's form.

  She lay unconscious, eyes closed. An ugly bump had risen on her head. Devis's bleeding side made him cry out as he scooped the elf woman into his arms. The cavern reverberated with a keening, screeching explosion of sound unlike anything Devis had ever heard, even in the last few days. The giant, insectoid head reared above the overturned mine cart. With a deafening crash, the creature dived into the metal like a breaching whale. A massive wave rolled toward Devis and Mialee as the creature moved toward them, submerged in the wreckage. The bard faced the wave and saw with relief that Soveliss, Hound-Eye, little Nialma, and the cleric/goddess were nearly to the tiny exit. Devis stumbled across the churning, rusted sea.

  "Keep going!" he shouted to the others, though the urging may have been directed as much at himself.

  The others were almost out and probably couldn't hear him anyway. Devis knew with grim certainty that he and Mialee were expendable. He had done his part, and Favrid, Ehlonna, and Soveliss would do the rest. Hound-Eye stood at the crack in the stone wall until the last possible second. Then the halfling flipped him a rough imitation of Clayris ranger salute, turned, and disappeared into the exit.

  Devis did the only thing he could think of as the deadly wave rolled closer. He charged as fast as he dared into the massive iron cart, still tipped on its side and only feet away. It was between them and the screaming wake spreading out from the giant insect. He held Mialee close and waited for the end with little hope.

  As the wave rolled ever closer, the bard felt wet warmth spread over his hands. He groaned and struggled to see Mialee's face in the dim light from the tunnel far above. She still had not awoken, and now he knew why. The landing had been far worse than he'd realized. Mialee was bleeding to death in Devis's arms.

  The bard felt their iron tomb lurch forward with the arrival of the wave. He clutched the dying elf woman to his chest and prepared to go with her.

  Mialee was jolted awake as she felt her body jerk upward. Her stomach stayed behind, and she choked back bile. Something warm flowed down her chin.

  That wasn't bile. That was blood.

  Mialee struggled in Devis's grasp, and fire blossomed around the three jagged wounds in her back.

  She felt dizzy and weak. Mialee tried to shout, but could only manage a cry as she realized that they were no longer on the relative safety of the tracks. They had fallen, and then...she could not remember. She summoned the strength to raise one bruised arm and wrap it around the bard's back, and he started, but didn't raise his head.

  Mialee's fingertips dug into the leather of Devis's vest with her last ounce of strength as the two of them rode the improbable wave across the cavern.

  Devis's heart leaped in his chest. Mialee's fingers pressed against his back. The elf woman lived, but he could feel the blood soaking into his fingerless glove and soaking his forearms.

  Acrid, corrosive wind blasted in from the top of the upended cart. They were gradually gaining speed, riding the wave of metal like a sea lion coming to shore. Devis squinted and chanced a glance ahead of them.

  The wall of the cavern loomed before his eyes. Just below, he could still see the small crevice through which his friends had escaped. The wave was carrying them straight for it, topside first. If they survived the collision, they should be able to follow the others and the route would be closed behind them by the cart. Devis could not believe his dumb luck, and silently thanked Fharlanghn for hearing his pleas for some good fortune—any good fortune—albeit belatedly.

  He folded himself over Mialee's body, pressed the soles of his boots into the "floor" of their ersatz boat, and braced for impact.

  The wave was pushing the cart much more slowly than the explosion that blasted them down the tunnel, but the collision was still strong enough to send Devis tumbling head over heels. He slammed back-first and upside down against the stone. Mialee slipped from his grasp. He winced as her head thunked against the iron amid the ringing, alien screams echoing inside the inky blackness. He reached down and slid Mialee awkwardly onto his lap. The girl's breathing came in shallow gasps. She might have minutes, or only seconds.

  Think, bard, think! Devis slammed his fist angrily against the iron beneath him.

  Fharlanghn's beard, he could be dense sometimes. Mialee had one of the last healing potions in her belt pouch. His fingers searched through the pockets until he found the vial. He pulled her up and dribbled the liquid between her parted lips.

  As Devis readjusted Mialee into a more comfortable position, a scroll tube fell from another pouch on Mialee's belt. Zalyn's scroll tube, Devis realized. Better hold on to that. It might still be important, and it would certainly be worth something—"the parchment th
at saved the world" and all. He tucked the tube into his belt.

  The iron cart lurched upward. The gargantuan roach-thing had switched tactics. Devis hoped the big bug wasn't smart enough to realize what would happen if it rolled the cart back onto its wheels.

  The bottom few inches of the escape crevice disappeared as the cart jerked upward. The bard heard a faint cough.

  "Devis? What—what's happening?"

  He couldn't see her face, but he no longer felt fresh warmth spreading over his blood-soaked hands, either. The cart lurched again, and very slowly began listing back from the wall as gravity took charge and tried to right the toppled cart. In the dim glow that broke into their shelter as it fell away from the wall, Devis saw the escape crevice grow more distant with each passing second.

  "We're getting out of here," he said, not bothering to ask whether she felt like coming along. "Hold on."

  He gripped the elf woman and stood unsteadily, then leaped out into space.

  He landed with a jolt that sent fire into his wounded side, but kept his feet. Escape was a few feet away.

  "Put me down," Mialee whispered. "I can walk, and you need your arms."

  The elf woman slipped gingerly from his grasp and stood briefly on the shifting metal floor before slipping into the crevice. Devis heard her shout in alarm as her feet shot out from under her and she disappeared down the hole. Mialee's voice shrank down into the tunnel and he could not hear her.

  As the cart groaned back onto its wheels with a clang, Devis dived into the crevice, landed painfully on his belly, and flew headfirst into the darkness.

  Clipping down, down the slippery tunnel, he saw the orange glow of firelight flickering at the end of the ride. He did not see Mialee or anyone else.

  "Fharlanghn abides," he said, then shouted at the top of his lungs as air that smelled of fetid incense blasted his face. He became delirious from the insane acceleration. "And his favorite bard is comin' to get you, you gray son of a bitch!"

  Mialee landed with a hard thump on her backside and tumbled head over heels, coming to rest a few feet from the end of the slippery tunnel. She thought she heard Devis shout something off-color overhead, but could not take her eyes of the scene unfolding before her stunned eyes.

  Zalyn...no, Ehlonna...no, both of them...stood before the hideous wight that had killed Mialee, voice booming as she shouted the incantation of the forest goddess that would make the wight vulnerable. The creature ignored the little elf. It had to be him, Mialee realized. It could be no other. The grinning rictus of Cavadrec, the Buried One, turned to regard the new arrival with a flash of red light in its hollow eyes. It extended a horrible, clawed hand toward the wizard girl and crooked a finger to beckon her forward.

  "Welcome," Cavadrec hissed. "Would you like to try your luck again?"

  Mialee gaped. Aside from Zalyn, her friends were not doing well. Soveliss limped around the wight, the only other person still upright. Hound-Eye and Nialma were huddled in the corner, crying in supernatural terror that had to be the effect of a fear spell. And Favrid...

  ...was dead. At least, Mialee hoped he was, because if he lived, his suffering would have been unimaginable. The elf's corpse hung motionless and limp in a pair of rusty, iron shackles embedded in the rough wall. He was covered with blood, cuts, gashes, and bruises. He had endured grievous torture. Where his gentle, laughing eyes had once twinkled with mischief, there were only empty, bloody sockets. His throat was torn open as if by some kind of animal.

  Mialee placed a hand to her mouth and choked back bile. No, she thought, not an animal, but Cavadrec. And with Favrid dead, all was lost.

  The elf woman drew in a quick breath of fetid, foul air and felt for the scroll pouch. There was still one wizard here, and she had to try casting the spell. She kept her eyes on Cavadrec as she frantically patted her belt pouches. Where was the blasted thing?

  The wight lost interest when she didn't rise to its challenge, and turned to block a long sword blow from Soveliss with the black, skull-topped staff.

  The scroll was gone. Mialee felt sick. She collapsed, dropped her head between her knees, and pressed her palms against her temples. Everyone was doomed.

  "Coming throooooooooooough!" echoed a familiar voice down the tunnel, and Devis slammed into Mialee head-first. They rolled into a tangle of arms and legs behind the bellowing Zalyn-goddess.

  Cavadrec laughed as the pair struggled to disentangle themselves and stand.

  "How very romantic," he cackled. "Linelle, what have you been teaching these children?"

  Linelle? Mialee blinked, and then realized he was talking to Zalyn. Linelle must have been her name when Cava was alive.

  Behind the wight, Mialee saw Soveliss creep forward and raise the Mor-Hakar. Without looking, Cavadrec twirled his black staff and slammed the end into Soveliss's gut. The elf grasped his belly with an "oof!" and dropped to his knees. His long sword clattered to the ground, and the hand holding the Mor-Hakar slapped against the floor as Soveliss caught himself from toppling forward. The ranger's open palm pressed the hilt of the short sword into the stone while he clutched at his abdomen with the other, struggling to draw breath.

  Mialee and Devis helped each other stand. Mialee felt the wetness on the bard's right side and realized he was bleeding badly. She fumbled for her last potion and failed to find that, either.

  She licked her hps and knew where the potion had gone. "Devis, you idiot," she whispered urgently as Zalyn and Cavadrec squared off. "Why didn't you take the potion yourself? You're going to bleed to death!"

  The elf woman felt the bard lean against her, and his face was pale and bloodless.

  "You first," Devis said deliriously and showed her his blood-soaked hands. "Couldn't lose...yrrrr," he managed.

  The bard's eyes rolled back and he dropped heavily against her, unconscious. She lowered him gently to the floor and pulled his head into her lap as green-gold energy started filling the room with a warm glow. The shrine of the death god, smoldering with Cavadrec's interrupted invocation, blazed higher in the rush of oxygen and fresh air that the swelling power of the forest god provided.

  The brazier on the terrible shrine of Nerull flared and went dark. A grinning goblet made from an ancient, elf skull stared back at Mialee. She felt a surge as the goddess that walked as a cleric finished her invocation, severing the wight's connection to Nerull. The wight screamed and staggered, thrown off balance. Now, if the arcane scroll were read, it would be over. She watched Soveliss cough up black, bloody phlegm, struggling to his feet with the Mor-Hakar gripped in one gloved fist and blind hatred flashing in his eyes.

  If they could just read the scroll, the wight would be vulnerable, or as close as they could hope to make it. Mialee would accept the risk in a heartbeat. If only she hadn't somehow lost the precious scroll tube. She wrapped her arms around Devis, propped up but unconscious, and sighed miserably.

  A loud crack resounded in the chamber. Cavadrec brought the heavy end of his black staff across Ehlonna/Zalyn's jaw and sent her little body flying through the air. Mialee saw the elder of Silatham, and with her, the Mother of Elves, slam with a sickening crunch into the stone, then fall chillingly still.

  With dreadful certainty, Mialee saw that the goddess-cleric had been fooled by a very simple deception. The staff that bore the icon of the god of death was not at all an unholy tool of the Reaper. The black staff was a powerful magic weapon infused with arcane energy. "A wand disguised as a prayer book" was how wizards and sorcerers described such deceptive artifacts.

  Mialee cried out involuntarily as the staff cracked again, knocking Soveliss back, but the nimble ranger stayed on his feet, the Mor-Hakar a menacing sliver in his hand.

  Mialee buried her face in Devis's hair and gazed down his body. Too bad, she thought madly, so much will be lost.

  Her eyes fell on the ornately engraved tube tucked into an open pouch on the bard's belt. The scroll! She reached forward, yanked out the tube and leaped to her feet. She hea
rd Devis's head thunk against the stone and he barked a cry of pain as he was jolted awake. He'd thank her later, if they were still alive. She thumbed the stopper off the end of the scroll tube and unrolled the yellowed parchment.

  Mialee heard another crack and a pair of thumps, and saw Soveliss on his knees. He still held the Mor-Hakar. She frantically read over the lengthy scroll—damn Favrid's wordiness!—as the wight stepped toward the staggered ranger. Cavadrec raised the ebony staff like a club, preparing to deliver a blow that would crush Soveliss's skull.

  Mialee began reciting the words on the scroll.

  Devis leaped in front of her with a mad yell, driven by some reserve of strength she could hardly believe remained in his nearly bloodless body. She continued reading aloud and felt the sparkle of magic surround her and fill the air.

  As she continued reading, her gentle voice rose to a hoarse shout.

  She thought Devis was moving to help Soveliss, but to her shock, the bard ran right past the ranger and grasped the grinning goblet set before the extinguished shrine of Nerull. His hand curled with smoke. Mialee smelled burning leather and flesh. The chalice must be anathema to anything that was not soiled by the Reaper's foul touch. Despite what must have been terrible pain, the bard raised the chalice in the air and turned.

  "Hey, Bright Eyes!" he bellowed madly. "You can kill the ranger or save your cocktail. What'll it be?"

  Devis tipped the skull-cup, and a drop of something thick and red dripped to the floor, where it sizzled as it touched the stone.

  The wight froze, then turned slowly to regard the ranger. "I choose both," Cavadrec snarled, holding his staff in one hand and reaching out with the other.

  Mialee saw the glow of a spell stretch from the wight's talons and wrap around the chalice. Devis grasped the cup with both hands and struggled against the pull of Cavadrec's magic grip, but only skidded across the floor on the heels of his boots.

  Mialee finished reading the scroll. A blast of blue lightning exploded from the paper's surface. She clutched the parchment with white knuckles and absorbed the barrage with her eyes squeezed shut. She was reasonably certain this wasn't one of the spell's intended effects. She must have mispronounced something, perhaps a single word. As blue energy crackled painfully from nerve to nerve throughout her body, she forced her eyes open to see what, if anything, she had wrought. The magic arcing through her body made everything appear to move as if in syrup.