14th Day of Goodmonth, 565 CY
Drachensgrab Hills, The Pomarj

I don't like this.

For what seemed like the tenth time in the past several minutes, Cygnus again tried to crystallize his feelings of dread into something tangible; something that he could explain to Elrohir about why this was not right.

Nothing came to mind.

The corridor they were now traveling down had descended downwards noticeably before leveling out. It was about ten feet wide, the same as the previous one they had traversed. In several spots however, this one bore signs of partial collapse. Debris fallen from the roof that had been casually brushed aside. Large and frequent cracks in the walls. Buckling up of the floor in several places, enough so that their pace was sometimes impeded for a bit. There were actually a few torch sconces placed here and there, but none contained torches, lit or otherwise. The only light came from Cygnus' own continual light rock, worn around his neck on a chain, and the two swords Gokasillion and Harve.

Wimpell Frump led the way. His hands were still bound in front of him, but he made no request that they be untied. That in itself struck a discordant note with Cygnus. To a wizard, the freedom to gesture was not just a convenience- it could mean the difference between life and death. True, there were spells that did not require gestures- both he and Zantac knew some, but if Frump had any of them memorized, why hadn't he used them? Of course, who knew what other spells lay in Frump's spellbook? Neither mage had had the time to actually attempt to decipher it yet.

That was another thing. Frump didn't even seem to care that his spellbook, a wizard's most prized possession, was now in enemy hands. If their positions had been reversed, Cygnus doubted he'd have been as agreeable as Wimpell was apparently being.

Especially considering his haughty attitude earlier. Where had that gone?

Cygnus wished desperately that he had a detect or two left, so he could analyze what was going on in the two occasions thus far that Frump had stopped, pointed at a blank section of wall, and incanted. It was no spell that either Cygnus or Zantac could recognize as such. It might be pure gibberish- or not.

The one possibility Cygnus could verbalize was that there were in fact no traps at all, and Wimpell was just stringing them along to save his own hide. Perhaps he'd try to make a break for it when they reached the end of this tunnel. Perhaps he had friends waiting there. More gnolls, perhaps?

But Cygnus wouldn't go to Elrohir with this. It was just an idea, with nothing to back it up.

The tall magic-user sighed and tried to keep all his senses alert.

Tojo was walking in front of him; right behind Frump. His right hand rested on the hilt of his katana.

The samurai had made no bones about his dislike of the illusionist, but that was just Tojo for you. He acted according to his honor system. Cygnus thought their Nipponese friend would charge Iuz himself if he thought the demigod had insulted his honor. The mage shook his head. What a waste of a good person that would be.

Talass was alongside Tojo. Cygnus couldn't understand Talass' suspicion as anything more than a gut feeling, like his own. He'd asked the cleric if her distrust of Frump was based on anything solid, but she'd pointedly looked away and not answered him at all.

Cygnus looked behind him. Elrohir and Aslan were behind him. Occasionally, they would exchange a few sentences on tactical matters, but for the most part they kept quiet.

Argo and Zantac were the next rank. Zantac seemed jittery, but Argo was being his usual flippant self, making jokes to Zantac that the latter responded to with little more than nervous laughter. Cygnus suspected that Bigfellow just liked the sound of his own voice. At least, he wasn't being paranoid about being apart from Caroline, as he'd been on that first trip to the stockade.

Nesco was alone in back, acting as rear guard. She had her bow out and seemed to take little interest in Frump or anything else going on ahead. Cygnus thought that she might-

"Collapse up ahead. We'll have to go through single file."

That was Talass. Both walls had partially caved in, and although the rubble had been pushed to the side, it was going to be a tight squeeze, especially for those in plate mail. Cygnus could see about twenty feet past it, the corridor took a sharp turn to the right.

"We're almost there," Wimpell announced as the party pulled up short. "There's one more trap here, and that's the last of them. The cave exit is only a few hundred feet past that turn. I'll dispel this ward now."

Frump, now standing at the bottleneck, looked back at the party. "I trust that you will have at least begun to accept that I have been honest with you. I expect the same when the time comes."

He received no reply. Frump frowned, took a deep breath, turned to the right-side wall and began incanting in a low voice.

He went on for some time longer than he had previously. Even with the hoarseness from his burned throat, the illusionist's voice had a mesmerizing cant to it. It seemed to fill the whole corridor.

It immersed the group within its folds. No one said anything.

Could this be the prelude to some kind of hypnotic effect? Cygnus wondered. Perhaps I'd better-

And then Talass shouted.

"He's lying! There's no trap here, or anywhere else! He's been faking it!"

And from that instant on, time seemed to move in precise increments, each infinitesimally slow.

Wimpell turned suddenly towards Tojo and spat out more gibberish.

But this gibberish, Cygnus recognized.

Tojo's eyes turned a solid, milky white.

The samurai cried out.

The sound of moving stone came from ahead of them.

Frump bolted.

Talass looked at Tojo, unsure of whether to pursue.

Cygnus rushed forward, and nearly collided with Tojo and Talass, who were blocking the corridor.

Tojo screamed. Not in pain, and not in anger.

It was his battlecry.

Like wind, the samurai drew his wakizashi and threw it towards the sound of receding footsteps.

The sword penetrated into Wimpell's back, but not deeply. It fell out.

Aslan and Elrohir began to more forward now, the others right behind them.

Talass dashed after Frump.

Blood began to ooze out of the illusionist's back. He stumbled.

Something was glimmering in Cygnus' continual light.

Wimpell tripped a few feet short of the turn and fell forward.

Cygnus saw a nozzle of some kind protruding out of a hole in the stone wall at waist height.

It was pointed right at them.

Wimpell Frump hit the floor- and immediately disappeared.

There was a clicking noise from the nozzle.

Cygnus' hand dove into his spell component pouch.

Talass, still running, suddenly leapt into the air as high as she could.

There was a whooshing sound.

Cygnus could feel the others moving up. There were shouts but he didn't listen. With his left hand, he reached out and shoved Tojo backwards.

His right hand found what it was looking for.

Talass landed just about where Frump had.

Tojo fell down.

A glimmer of light came from the nozzle.

Talass vanished.

Liquid sprayed from the nozzle.

Cygnus began to cast.

And with a deafening roar the liquid ignited and the entire corridor became an inferno of merciless death.

Right up to the point where it met Cygnus' wall of ice.

The sound filled everyone's ears as the flames slammed into frozen water. Steam instantly obliterated whatever vague sights might have been visible through the translucent wall. The illumination was greater than all the party's light sources combined. Everyone could only watch in dumb amazement as the ice wall grew thinner and thinner. Beyond it, a rolling maelstrom of orange continued to consume every inch it could find.

Cygnus was about to tell everyone to move back when Elrohir suddenly screamed.

"Talass!"