CHAPTER TEN

Author's Note: I'm going to take a few liberties here, and change a bit about Jhenta's character. Suffice it to say that Neske, the evil illusionist, has somehow disappeared from the picture, and the priestess Jhenta is her good-old half-elven self again, none the worse for wear. I think some re-writing is in order, but not now. My apologies.

The seven companions set out not long after, thundering south along the old caravan route. Each one rode a new horse, one of the sturdy blackhairs for which Maskyr's Eye was justifiably known. Blackhairs were large, sturdy and intelligent animals, not skittish or often spooked, yet easily trainable. They were known more for their endurance and sure-footedness than their speed, being bred by Maskyrvians for centuries to serve the caravans which once traveled the rocky foothills along the western slopes of the mountains.

Dark stormclouds appeared above the top of the Sleeper in Sunrise, and by late morning the skies had turned grey. The adventurers pulled tight their cloaks to ward off the drizzle. They made their way south with as much haste as the bad weather and poor roads would allow.

The map Lhullbannen gave them proved useful, and they planned to make camp at a spot marked only as "old castle." They tethered their horses under a stand of trees, and cautiously made their way towards the ruins. It was the crumbling shell of an old keep, obviously destroyed long ago, but whether by the vagaries of the gods or at the hands of some marauding army, none of them could tell.

The curtain walls were almost completely gone, and of the outbuildings that once stood there, nothing remained. They could make out the ruins of a once great tower- a round circle of stones completely overgrown with vines and moss.

"What do you make of it?" Aendar asked.

"It's old," Bunker said, cautiously poking through the ruins. "Most of the stones are gone, probably carried off by villagers over the years, to make their walls and buildings."

"That's how much of Maskyr's Eye was built," Shalea said.

"Definitely not dwarven. The stonework has elements of both human and elven craftsmanship. My guess is, this was once a wizard's tower."

"Not another one of those," Andryl groaned.

"We've GOT to see what lies within," Carine said.

Andryl rolled her eyes. "Didn't you learn your lesson the last time?"

Carine shot her sister a sharp look. "There's got to be a stairway here somewhere, leading down."

"Here it is," Bunker said. He looked to Aendar. When the paladin nodded, so did Bunker. "Let's see what we can find."

The staircase they'd found descended about twenty feet and stopped at a door. It was made of wood, reinforced with iron. "Let's check it out," Bunker said, not wanting to touch the handle.

Carine, with her typical smug look, cast a simple spell. "No magic."

Bunker nodded and tried the door. "Locked."

Shalea stepped forward, pulling out her lockpicks. "Somebody light a torch so I can see." No sooner was that done than the door clicked, and Shalea stepped aside. "Done."

Bunker adjusted his helm and once again put his hand on the door handle. This time, it swung easily, opening inward. The seven adventurers went in.

They found themselves in a large, circular room, about forty feet in diameter. The ceiling was high, but not vaulted. There were other doors- one on the right, one on the left, and opposite was a pair of double doors, made out of what looked like silver. In front of the double doors, just over halfway across the room, sat what looked like a trunk, with a round, grey object on top of it.

As their eyes adjusted to the torchlight, the explorers began to notice the room was actually quite elaborate, beneath the ages of dust and layers of cobwebs. The floor was actually a finely crafted mosaic, depicting an idyllic life in some noble court, complete with minstrels and handsome knights arrayed for glorious battle, and their ladies fair looking on. The ceiling was a midnight blue dome, with tiny silver stars representing the summer night sky. The walls were painted frescoes, and although they were faded with time, the peaceful representation of domestic life and courtly love could still be seen.

Shalea looked up at the impressive ceiling. "It must have been beautiful, once."

"It reminds me of Highmoon," Jhenta said, a little wistfully.

"You've been there?"

Jhenta only nodded.

"Let's watch our steps," Bunker reminded them.

Cautiously, Aendar and Drannamon moved towards the chest, weapons ready.

"What's that thing on top of it?" Bunker asked.

"Looks like an old skull," Aendar said.

"Human?"

The paladin nodded. "I think we should go ahead and open it."

"Let me inspect it first," Shalea said, again coming forward with her thieves tools.

"Something's not right," Drannamon growled, his eyes scanning the room.

"I see no magic," Carine said.

"And I sense no evil," Aendar said.

"See?" Shalea grinned. "Ya big-" But as soon as she set her lockpick into the keyhole, the dark-haired little thief frowned. "What the?"

The chest suddenly jumped of its own accord. Not only that, it shifted shape. A massive pseudopod extruded from the top of the trunk, knocking aside the skull that had been sitting on top of it. The mimic swung its fist at Shalea, pounding her in the stomach and sending the hapless thief sprawling across the floor.

"That's no chest!" Aendar shouted. He raised his shield and hacked at the thing with his sword.

"What is it?" Drannamon asked, bringing his great axe down on the thing. The cold iron blade of the north struck true, but instead of crushing the chest to splinters, it caused a wound. "It's made of flesh!"

"And it bleeds," Aendar added.

"A mimic," Bunker said, advancing cautiously. "A strange creature that can disguise itself as almost anything, meant to prey on the unwary."

"Well, I'm aware of it now," Drannamon snarled, taking another chunk out of the creature with his axe.

The mimic wasn't about to stand still and be slaughtered, though. It quickly morphed four stubby legs and skittered to one side, landing a blow on Aendar's shield as it did so, keeping the paladin at bay.

"It wants to fight," Drannamon said.

The mimic shifted again, this time growing two more thick tentacles it used to hold off Aendar and Bunker.

Carine stood back, ready to help or cast a spell if necessary. Andryl drew her sword and led Jhenta over to where Shalea lay. The thief was just beginning to get up.

"Are you all right?" Andryl asked.

"Yeah, that thing just caught me off guard." Shalea's eyes widened as she saw something else, moving in the shadows behind Andryl and Jhenta. "Look out!"

The priestess and the warrior spun to face the new enemy that had suddenly appeared. It crawled out of a large crack in one of the walls near the floor. It was another strange creature neither of them had ever seen before- perhaps even stranger than the mimic. It was bigger than a dog, and covered with hard, bony scales. It scampered about on a half-dozen impossibly-small legs. It had two roving eyestalks, and a pair of ferocious-looking mandibles. And the creature had a segmented tail, something like a scorpions, except it ended in a blunt knob of bone rather than a poisonous stinger.

"Look out!" Andryl warned, shoving both Jhenta and Shalea out of the thing's path. She brought her sword down with two hands across its back, but the blade barely nicked the bony scales. A tentacle shot out of the thing's mouth and wrapped itself around Andryl's sword. Instantly, the entire blade cracked into rust.

"My sword!" Andryl cried, tossing aside her ruined weapon. She backed away.

Without thinking, Jhenta pulled a mace from her belt, and attacked the rust monster. She hit the thing squarely atop the skull, cracking bone. The creature staggered for a moment, obviously hurt, but then it lashed out again with its tentacle, grabbing onto Jhenta's mace. In seconds, the fine steel weapon had been turned completely into rust.

"What's wrong?" Aendar shouted from across the room.

"This monster," Andryl said. "It turns metal into rust. How are we supposed to kill it?"

"With magic, you idiot," Carine said, casting a spell. A volley of four magical missiles lit up the room briefly in a blue light as they streaked from her hands to strike the rust monster from across the room.

"Or with arrows," Drannamon added, a little more helpfully.

"That makes a little more sense," Andryl said.

But the rust monster was hungry, and it looked to make a meal out of Andryl's armor. The creature advanced on the warrior, and before she could dodge, it had grabbed onto her breastplate.

Andryl tried not to panic. She physically grabbed hold of the disgusting creature and flung it away from her, but not before it had managed to dissolve a huge patch in her steel breastplate. Most of her armor fell useless to the ground in a rusty heap. "Jhenta, hold the thing off with your staff while I ready my bow. I don't think it can harm wood weapons."

The plan worked like a charm, and with arrows, throwing knives and darts, it wasn't long before the rust monster breathed its last. The mimic, too, found its existence drawn to a close under Aendar's sword and the axes of Drannamon and Bunker.