10th Day of Fireseek, 565 CY
Earldom of Farlyow, Furyondy
Lieutenant Beckett eyed the bronze plaque that the warrior had given him. After giving it a perfunctory examination, he turned it over to one of his colleagues, then returned his gaze to the leader of the trio.
Like his companions, the man who had introduced himself as "Quthfor" had the look of a mercenary himself. If in fact they still were of that vocation, and Beckett suspected that they were, they were probably freelancers. Certainly, Beckett, who had been hired by Farlyow through the Mercenary Guild of Willip, had never seen him before. Quthfor looked about thirty- Beckett's age- with a faded scar running from the right side of his mouth to just under his right ear. A few strands of curly blond hair snuck out from underneath his helm. His hazel eyes kept darting forward to the inky blackness of the cave before him.
His two companions looked about ten years younger and may have been brothers. They were already lighting torches and prepping themselves for the upcoming expedition into the cave. They wore no helms, only eager expectations on their young faces. They smiled and joked with one another as they checked their armor and weapons one last time. Beckett's colleagues were teasing them about the horrors to be found within; pure fabrication, as Beckett had given them very strict instructions not to enter the cave under any circumstances, but their baiting seemed to be having little effect.
"So be it," Beckett said to Quthfor, who was now finishing up his own preparations. "Enter as you wish but be warned. We will not enter this cave; even should you call out for aid."
"Don't worry. We won't need it," came a voice from above him.
Beckett looked up, and immediately had to sidestep to avoid another bronze plaque that dropped to the ground near his feet. Standing atop the cavern entrance, about twelve feet up, was the paladin of Odin he had met two days ago. With him were the man called Elrohir, the Kara-Turan and the elven child who had been with him then.
The sellsword officer frowned as he stole a quick glance at the plaque lying on the ground. The number "2" was clearly engraved upon it. How had they managed to get back here so quickly? He looked up again. The three were slowly making their way down towards him.
"You don't react well to the unexpected, do you?" the paladin commented as he and his companions reached the ground.
Beckett just stared at the new arrivals.
"We'll be going inside now as well," Elrohir indicated, as he and Aslan began making preparations of their own. "Unless you have some comment to make" he added, his eyes snapping back to Beckett, who still could not quite make out what had just happened.
To give himself a moment to think, the lieutenant bent down and picked up the plaque and examined it closely. It seemed to be genuine. He frowned to himself. He could in theory refuse the newcomers, on the grounds of it being a forgery, but if they indeed had the Earl's authorization to enter, that might prove to be disastrous in the long run. He let his frown migrate to the outside of his face, then faced the newly arrived quartet again, who had now assembled together.
"Go then. See if the terrors within are amused by your tricks." He then moved off back towards his men.
The four individuals now moved up to Quthfor, who had by now motioned his two young companions behind him. Everyone save Elrohir and Tojo now had weapons drawn, ostensibly for the upcoming trek inside the cavern.
"So," said Quthfor, trying to take charge of the situation, "Do we enter as allies, or competitors?"
Something between a smile and a smirk graced the ranger's face. "That's up to you, friend. I'd prefer the former, but we're prepared for any contingency," he stressed. He then indicated his compatriots. "This is Aslan, Tojo and Tadoa." He then turned back to Quthfor. "And I am Elrohir. We are freemen of Willip" he stated, still not quite sure if that was in fact true. Quthfor seemed to accept it without question though.
"I am Quthfor. We are the Journeymen of Hardby."
There was a brief silence. Quthfor made no attempt to introduce his two cohorts. Aslan smiled at one of them and asked, "And your name is... ?"
The youth gave him a practiced, icy glare. "Not your concern."
"Right," put in the other one. "Quthfor does the talking here."
Aslan grimaced inwardly. He could see Elrohir and Tadoa bristling and didn't even want to look at Tojo. This has to be nipped in the bud, he thought. Where's Argo with a witty retort when you need him? He put on his best imitation of Bigfellow's patented smile. "I see. Mr. Not and Mr. Right? Pleased to make your acquaintance. Let's not waste our torches then, shall we?" With that he moved off towards the cavern mouth, while his three friends smiled and followed.
Hey, Aslan thought. That wasn't bad. I'll have to remember that one. Quthfor had cut off the brothers' delayed retort with a sharp gesture, and the Journeymen moved abreast of the others. Quthfor eyed Elrohir.
"You do not need a torch?"
The ranger smiled in reply and unsheathed Gokasillion. A cold white light emanated from the blade. The Journeymen looked suitably impressed but made no comment. Elrohir thought it would be great for effect if the sword were to speak, but he knew it was unlikely. Unlike Harve, Gokasillion was rather laconic.
"Anything we find, one share to each. " Elrohir said, without even looking at Quthfor for a confirmation. "Let's go."
After only ten feet or so, the cave floor sloped abruptly downward at almost a forty-five degree angle. Elrohir and his allies moved cautiously down alongside the left-hand wall, the Journeymen down the right. At this point, the two groups were only fifteen feet apart. "Where did a cave like this come from in the middle of the plains?" grumbled Mr. Right, after nearly losing his footing.
"The water level is not very far below us," replied Elrohir. "I've seen it in other lands. It erodes wide-open spaces in time. Probably an earthquake in years past pushed a section of it up to the surface," he finished, with an appreciative look at Tojo, who might have nodded a fraction of an inch in response. Or maybe not. Across the cave, Mr. Right actually seemed satisfied with the ranger's answer, or perhaps he was too busy trying not to slip to reply.
The floor bottomed out after about fifty feet. Now the only light came from their sources. The ceiling remained at about a fifteen-foot height. Sandcats and Bellicose wouldn't have liked this, Elrohir thought. It'd be rather confining for them. Then he remembered that neither dragon would have laired here by choice anyway. Even the proud and arrogant Sandcats had known whom his true master was, and his daughter had turned out to be no more than an animal, unable to even comprehend disobedience to him.
The seven were now approaching a cavern roughly thirty-five feet in diameter. The floor was dry, but Elrohir noted the stubs of stalagmites and stalactites littering the floor and ceiling, respectively. A faint smell of ozone came from the far side of the cavern. They spread out cautiously. Scattered across the floor in this area was a large pile of debris. Sifting through it revealed mostly small pieces of wood and tatters of clothing. Elrohir noted that several spots on the walls looked like they had been blasted.
Aslan squatted on his haunches, examining something in his hand. "This is part of a wagon wheel," he commented to Elrohir. "Did you see any wheeled tracks outside anywhere?"
The ranger shook his head. "No. It must have been carried inside." He sniffed the air again. "Something burnt. Human flesh maybe, or horseflesh." He looked grimly at the others.
"Let's hope the dragon doesn't come back while we're here," said Mr. Not.
"It won't. We killed it." said Tad, with a heavy emphasis on the we.
Mr. Not sneered and was obviously about to retort when Tojo spoke up, a scowl on the samurai's face.
"He speaks truth!"
Mr. Not seemed to take the point so he said nothing, looking down at the floor.
"Well then," came the voice of Quthfor. "We have little to fear then- except possibly a centaur."
"What do you know of this centaur?" asked Aslan curiously.
Quthfor shrugged. "Little. Beckett said that it moved in here about a week ago. Several people who thought to help themselves to the dragon's horde apparently encountered it. Only one or two survived, and they were scared near to madness by the beast, from what he said."
"The latest to try was just before the sellswords were posted," put in Mr. Not. "A farmer and his wife. Beckett said they never came out. I don't think they will."
The others turned to regard him. The warrior held in his left hand a farmer's scythe.
Aslan's brow wrinkled. "May I see that, good sir?" he asked, sheathing his sword. Mr. Not shrugged and tossed the tool to the paladin.
Aslan and his companions examined it. "No burn marks," noted Elrohir.
Tadoa ran his fingers across the handle. "These gouges- made by claws? Centaurs don't have claws, but they're far too small to be have been made by Bellicose."
Aslan gestured to Not. "You want this back?" The Journeyman shook his head, so the paladin dropped the scythe and drew his sword again.
"Aren't we forgetting the real reason we're all here?" asked Mr. Right, a little snidely. "Where's the treasure?"
Have to admit, the snot's got a point, thought Elrohir. He hadn't seen so much as a copper. He walked along the cavern walls. Aside from where they had entered, there were two exits from this cavern, both maybe six feet wide, and spaced about eight feet apart. He peered into each one, hoping they might connect, but each one curved away from the cavern after only a few feet. Elrohir got down on one knee, examining the stone floor in front of one entrance, then repeated the process with the other.
"You're a ranger?" asked Quthfor.
Elrohir looked up over his shoulder at him.
"Actually, I'm an innkeeper."
He then stood back up and addressed all those present. "One's as good as another. I can't make out any tracks. We'll take this one, you the other" he said to Quthfor, who stared back at him for a moment, then nodded.
Elrohir took point down the passage, with Aslan behind him and then Tadoa, while Tojo covered the rear. As the voices of the Journeymen faded away from distance and intervening rock, Aslan spoke up. "I hope these passages reconnect," he said. The paladin then eyed his friend. "Please tell me you didn't lie to them, Elrohir. I've really about had my fill of deceit this week."
The ranger stopped and smiled at his friend. "Not to worry, Aslan. I really couldn't make out any tracks." He turned back to the front and resumed walking.
"I could, however, make out some dried blood down this way."
They traveled about a minute later, and then the passage branched off in a Y-intersection. Tojo pointed down the right-hand tunnel. "I take this way."
Elrohir considered, and then nodded agreement. The samurai walked slowly off.
Aslan now moved behind Tad, and the trio continued. "Is the blood down this way, Elrohir?" the paladin asked. The ranger shook his head in response.
"I didn't see any more of it on either side."
After a short while, they came across a side passage on the right hand wall.
Elrohir and Aslan looked at each other. "I'll take Tadoa with me," the paladin said.
The ranger looked at the child. Tad was making a truly admirable effort to remain calm, but his knuckles were bone white around the hilt of his sword. Elrohir knew if he actually asked Tad, the elf would probably volunteer to go off on his own.
Elrohir nodded. "All right". Tadoa managed to shrug an affronted agreement while simultaneously releasing a big sigh of relief.
Suddenly, a woman's voice echoed down towards them, almost inaudibly at first, then growing louder.
"Help me... please, is someone there? I'm lost... please... I've been down here for so long... please, someone find me."
The voice now began to fade, as if she were moving further away.
"I can hear you, but I can't find you... are you still there? Please, come and find me... I'm lost..."
Elrohir glanced sharply at the others. "Can you tell which corridor that's coming from?"
The two listened, then shook their heads. Elrohir sighed deeply, weighing their options. "We should-"
"No." said Aslan.
Elrohir looked at the paladin, puzzled. Aslan shook his head.
"That voice. It's not right, Elrohir." Aslan seemed to be having a debate with himself, trying to find the right word, then gestured helplessly. "I can't explain how, or why. I just know that's not right. It's a trap."
Elrohir tried to remain calm without upsetting his friend. "A centaur's hooves would carry a long way in these tunnels, Aslan. If that is the farmer's-"
"It's not right, Elrohir. That's all I can say!" Aslan glared at his team leader, then shrugged in helplessness. "Either way, it's your call."
The ranger took a deep breath and mustered all the resolve he could. He pointed Gokasillion down the side passage. "You and Tadoa."
The paladin eyed his friend, and then slowly nodded. "Let's go, Tad." His mask of confidence slowly but visibly fraying, the child followed Aslan down the side passage. They were swiftly lost to sight.
Elrohir stared down the main passage. His sword's light, while steady, was only half a torch's radius. He considered lighting one, but he wanted to keep his left hand free for his shield. He shook his head and moved on, further into the darkness.
The passageway opened up soon, but it gave Elrohir no comfort. He was now in an area of indeterminate size, filled with stalactites, stalagmites and short sections of walls. Some were only four of five feet high, but other stretched from floor to ceiling. Strange shadows from the rock formations at the edge of his swordlight distracted Elrohir. He now had absolutely no idea which way he was heading, or even how to find his way back to the passage he had come from.
Soon, the ranger found himself in a roughly ten-foot circular cave section. Numerous walls fanned out from this area. Counting the way he had reached here, he had at least eight choices of how to proceed at this point. Elrohir could feel his breathing becoming heavier. The ceiling almost looked like it was lowering, but when he shook his head and looked again, it was still at about the same twelve to fifteen-foot height. Every so often, he almost heard something. Not a voice, not a footstep or the clatter of hooves, but an almost sound of something sliding by stone.
Or was he just imagining it? A small current of fear was starting to tease at him. He could feel sweat running down his arms and pooling in parts of his armor. Suddenly, he very much wanted to see the open sky above him again. Wanted to see it very, very much. Thoughts of running began to tense up his leg muscles. He had to get-
All right Elrohir, calm down. It hasn't been that long since you were doing this all the time. Get back to where you need to be. There's more involved here than just you. There are your friends. They're in this too, and they don't need their leader panicking on them. Don't chase after what you need to know. Let it come back to you.
A few deep breaths and a swallow from his waterskin later, Elrohir was feeling better. He allowed himself a small grin as he looked around him again. All right then. Back to the basics. What do I have to work with here? The ranger concentrated on his senses, one by one.
Sight. Nothing new came to his eyes, but he notched one scratch on two walls in front of him with Gokasillion. That would be the first passage he would try, and he would mark everywhere he went from now on.
Hearing. Nothing he could be certain of. Everything else he discarded.
Smell. Nothing- no, there was something. He sniffed again, deeply. Feces. It wasn't a strong smell, but with the overall lack of ventilation down here, it was probably fairly close, and fairly fresh. So to speak.
Taste. Some more water would hit the spot, he thought. Elrohir took another swig from his waterskin, then carefully replaced it.
Touch. Elrohir looked down at the stone floor beneath him. He debated inwardly for a few seconds, and then slowly got down onto his knees. He removed his helm and laid it down on the ground next to his sword and shield. He then pressed his ear to the stone. When he was young, he had seen elven trackers do this in the forest. They had told him that it worked even underground.
After about a minute, Elrohir retrieved his items and stood up again, shaking his head. Nothing. What a crock, he thought. That probably only works in stories.
The ranger pressed his lips together in determination, and then slowly headed down the passageway he had marked. It went straight for about ten feet, and then stopped. It appeared to turn to the right, but when Elrohir came to the turn, he discovered that it was only a recess, maybe two feet thick. He turned around to go back to the open area and try another passage.
The centaur was standing right in front of him.
Elrohir had a brief vision of a brown, muscular lower body, and a young man's face on top of an equally muscular torso rising above the lower body's withers. The handsome face smiled at him, its ice-blue eyes holding his with ease.
Suddenly, the ranger's eyes watered violently. He didn't want to blink, but he had to.
In that tenth of a second, the centaur had changed. The lower body was now that of a lion, muscular, but with a tawny coat of fur that rippled in his swordlight. The torso that rose up from it was still human, but now it was female. Undisputedly very female, and undisputedly very naked.
The ranger's gawking was interrupted by the feeling that someone was staring at his eyelids. He slowly raised his gaze to see a young woman's face, framed by thick but stringy black hair. Her eyes were yellow, with vertical black slits for pupils. She smiled at him, realizing that the human was now looking at her true form. Her grin revealed a full row of stained teeth.
"Like what you see?" she purred.
Elrohir's reply (which in fact would have been only, "umm") was interrupted by a massive claw slamming into his face as the creature reared up and attacked. The shock and the pain sent his upper body slamming back into the rock wall. His feet shot out forward from under him, and he landed in an awkward sitting position, the wind momentarily knocked out of him.
In an instant, the thing was kneeling in front of him. She clamped her left hand over Elrohir's mouth. He mmmphd in terror and tried to bring Gokasillion up to strike, but her other hand, which was holding a curved dagger that Elrohir had somehow failed to see, parried his blow, which was poorly executed anyway due to his poor position and close quarters.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps and then Aslan's voice.
"Elrohir? Is that you? What's happening? Where are you?"
Elrohir dropped his shield and tried to pry that hand off his mouth, but it had a viselike grip. Then, horribly, the ranger heard his own voice coming from the creature.
"I'm all right. I was climbing a wall, and I slipped and fell. No sign of anything yet. Keep searching where you are. We don't want to miss anything."
There was a pause, and then Aslan's voice came back. "All right, then."
No! Elrohir continued to struggle, but he wasn't getting anywhere. He now felt kind of fuzzy, as if everything seemed a little blurred, a little vague. Maybe it was from lack of oxygen, but Elrohir knew it wasn't a good sign. He just couldn't figure out exactly what to do about it. Now he was the one doing the parrying, as that dagger moved in closer, seeking his face, his throat. Elrohir knew he couldn't hold it off for much longer.
A piercing cry rang out, echoing over and over against the stone walls. Simultaneously, Elrohir saw a torch come rolling towards him, coming to rest about one yard short of his feet. That put it directly under the creature's stomach. It released its hand from his mouth, quickly stood up and then uttered a high-pitched scream of pain.
His view from this angle wasn't very good, but Elrohir could make out a samurai-shaped whirlwind directly behind the monster. That initial sound had been Tojo's battle cry.
Moving at a speed that the ranger would swear wasn't possible without magical aid, Tojo's katana cut through the air in a dozen dizzying arcs. Some of those ended with fresh blood clinging to the blade. Getting slowly to his feet, Elrohir wondered dimly why the thing wasn't backing up to deal with the samurai. Then he realized that Tojo was standing in the entranceway of the cul-de-sac. The creature was trapped, with Elrohir in front of it, and a burning torch beneath it!
Elrohir desperately tried to clear the cobwebs in his mind, but it wasn't working.
What did she do to me?
Then Aslan's voice, along with the sound of running footfalls, could be heard again. "Elrohir! Tojo! Hang on, we're coming! What is it?"
Somehow, Elrohir found both his voice and at least some of his mind.
"A lamia! Aslan, it's not a centaur, it's a lamia! It's attacking me and Tojo!"
There was a pause, although the footsteps continued. Then, the paladin's voice came back again.
"What in The Hells is a lamia?"
Elrohir had to bring up Gokasillion to bat away a dagger swipe. Behind him, he saw Tojo take a vicious back-kick to his throat. The samurai staggered back a few steps, which the lamia greedily gobbled up. It was almost able to turn around now. The ranger tried to think of how to answer Aslan, but his brain was still numb.
"Tad!" he finally yelled. "Tell Aslan what it is!"
"I'm sorry, Elrohir!" came the child's voice. "I heard tales about them long ago, but I don't remember now! Which ones were they again?"
"AARRGGH!" Elrohir yelled, both from frustration and from the pain of a dagger stabbing into his left shoulder. "LOOK FOR THE THING STANDING OVER THE DEAD BODIES OF YOUR TEAMMATES! THAT'LL BE IT! NOW HURRY UP, DAMMIT!"
The lamia had now emerged into the open area, but as it turned around to face Tojo, who was again harrying it, Elrohir thrust Gokasillion into the creature's side. It shrieked in agony and, wrenching, nearly tore the blade from the ranger's grasp, but he held on and yanked it out.
With a leonine roar, the lamia bolted down one of the passageways, Tojo's final strike slicing off the very tip of its tail as it passed. The samurai grabbed his torch and then ran off in pursuit, with Elrohir following as best he could. Soon, he realized that they were heading back the way he had come. As they passed the side passage, Elrohir saw Aslan and Tadoa approaching. He beckoned them to follow and continued to run, although he knew he had no hope of overtaking Tojo, let alone the lamia. He could still hear the creature's roars and shrieks of pain.
As he entered the large cavern, he saw Quthfor emerge from the other passageway. Their mutual look was interrupted by yells and shouts coming from above. Both fighters ran up the sloped passage as quickly as possible.
Outside, he saw the mercenaries, but no sign of Tojo or the lamia. One of the sellswords was laying on the ground, two others tending to him. Lieutenant Beckett came over to the ranger. "It trampled one of my men, but I think he'll be all right. Another one got a shot off at it from his crossbow but missed. It ran around the cave," he indicated, pointing in a circle to the north.
Breathing heavily, Elrohir ran around the cave entrance. He could see the lamia streaking off into the distance. He could also see Tojo slowly coming to a stop, then sheathe his katana and place his hands on his knees, recovering his breath.
The encounter was over.
Ten minutes later, all seven spelunkers were sitting in front of the cave, resting up. Aslan had no healing available from his Talent, but he offered his paladin's grace. Both Elrohir and Tojo refused, so Aslan healed the mercenary who had been trampled, which earned him their gratitude.
"Always helps to make friends," the paladin told Elrohir with a smile.
Ironically, it had been the Journeymen who had discovered the lair of the lamia, complete with numerous human bones- and the treasure. A merchant caravan carrying varied art pieces and curios, as well as a fair amount of coin, had apparently been attacked by Bellicose, with the lamia later stealing the loot for its own. Quthfor said the pieces looked like they had come from the Amedio Jungle far to the south, a place Elrohir had only heard of. It was decided that the seven of them would journey to Willip and divvy up the spoils there.
"You seem distracted, Elrohir. Are you all right?" Tadoa asked the ranger, a concerned look on the young elf's face.
Elrohir smiled at him. "Don't worry, Tad. I'll be fine. The lamia did something to me, but I think I'll be fine after a good night's sleep." He glanced over at Tojo, who was rubbing a dark red bruise on his neck. "How about you, Tojo? Are you all right?"
The samurai nodded, with a rare, tight-lipped smile appearing on his face. "I am fine, Errohir-san. Retirement not quite as peacefur as I imagined, though."
Elrohir nodded back. "That's true, Tojo. Very true." The ranger sat back, trying to collect his thoughts.
Is it part of what that thing did to me, or did some part of me really enjoy that? Elrohir wondered.
Do I really want to stay retired?