Certain monsters appearing in this story are © WotC. They are used without permission and for entertainment purposes only. All reviews are welcome.

THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER

Grimsley knelt there in the shadows, clutching his crossbow tightly. The young thief pressed himself closer to the rock wall behind him. He dared not move or even raise his bow until his master returned to give him the word. His knees were shaking with fear, and he did not wholly trust his elf- made cloak to hide him from the monstrosity before him. The eye tyrant loomed there, just floating, more than the height of a man above the floor. Thankfully, the thing's attentions were elsewhere. Its lesser eyestalks waved about angrily, sending out sharp lances of deadly magic across the cavern at the other adventurers. The thing's great central eye was facing towards them, away from Grimsley. Its exposed back was covered in overlapping plates of armored hide. He doubted his crossbow would be of much use against that.

Screams echoed from across the cavern. The magical wall of flame was already dying, extinguished by the beholder's central eye. The initial hail of arrows had already died to a trickle. Grimsley peered through the smoke- filled cavern, and saw the beholder go after one of the spellcasters. A bright beam lanced from one of its swiveling eyestalks, hitting the mercenary sellspell, Frund Firemaster. The man disappeared into a screaming, gruesome heap as the disintegration beam struck him. When Frund died, the last remnants of his conjured wall of flame went with him. Most of the twenty hired archers lay dead behind it, but the armored front rank still stood firm, pikes and spears planted. Grimsley saw the party's other mage, Pandion, move up behind them.

Unlike Frund, Pandion had traded his sorcerer's robes for an old suit of light leather armor. Although it hindered his spellcasting, the armor probably bought him enough time to cast a spell of his own. Beholders knew that human wizards rarely wore armor, so when they were disturbed, they typically sought out the robed intruders first, thinking them the greater threat.

The more experienced Pandion cast his spell and ducked back out of sight. A dozen huge, black, rubbery tentacles seemed to erupt from the stones beneath the monster. Reaching up, they grappled it, holding it in place. The powerful tentacles constricted, but they were no match for the beholder's armored shell. The thing turned one of its eyestalks downward and began slicing off the constraining tentacles with its ray.

They had planned the whole battle out in advance. A week-long expedition into the mountains to the lair, followed by a day of rehearsals and a night of getting high on the vapors of dreidwillow tea. The next morning, the attack had begun. The party had fought its way through the beholder's minions with little trouble. The real work, the frontal assault by the archers and wizards, was just a distraction. The others drew the beholder's full attention, allowing the two thieves to sneak unnoticed around to the monster's unguarded flank. It didn't look unguarded to Grimsley. From the carnage on the far side of the cavern, Grimsley wasn't sure the plan was working.

Then Grimsley heard the whispered voice of his teacher in his ear. "Psst, Grimsley, I am here." Somewhat relieved, yet fearful all the same, he turned to face Harrow Darkbriar. His elven teacher was all but invisible, even this close. He had promised to teach Grimsley how to do that, after the beholder was dead. With a look, Harrow bade Grimsley be quiet, and drew forth a knife. The blade was glistening and black. Grimsley frowned. That was not the plan. Harrow's enchanted crossbow was still slung across his back.

Suddenly, the master thief drove the poisoned dagger into the chest of his unsuspecting apprentice. Grimsley managed a look of horror and betrayal before falling to the ground, dead. Harrow pitched his body forward where the beholder would certainly find it, then drew his own magical cloak about him, and snuck back to the entrance. The wizard Pandion gave the signal for retreat, and an obscuring mist rose to cover their hasty withdrawal.

Outside the beholder's cave, it began to rain. The survivors hurriedly mounted their horses and rode back towards their camp, hidden a safe distance away among the rocky hills. Harrow hurried to catch up with Pandion.

"At least we don't have to pay Frund. He wanted more than he was worth."

The armor-clad wizard chuckled. "A few of the archers survived," he said quietly. "I pray that they don't meet with an accident before we make it back." He smiled. "Now all we have to do is wait for the thing to eat the poisoned body, then we can go back and collect its hoard."

"I hope we don't have too wait long," replied Harrow. "This weather is horrible."