25th Day of Goodmonth, 565 CY
The Dungeons of the Slave Lords
The Aerie, The Pomarj
More and more in the recent months, Elrohir had felt compelled to speak up when an uncomfortable situation arose among his friends. He never felt right about it and telling himself that his position as party leader demanded that he make a possibly unpopular decision did nothing to alleviate his feelings.
Not for the first time in his life, Elrohir wondered where the line of nobility and self-sacrifice ended, and the inability to be a real leader began.
"I'll make the jump," he announced.
The ranger saw a dozen heads turn towards him.
"I'm the only logical choice," he explained. "Many of you have been weakened by the roper."
"I wasn't," Sir Menn declared, rising to his feet.
A glint in his eye told Elrohir that the knight was prepared to argue.
"I didn't even take part in that battle, Elrohir, and I dare say I'm your equal in strength. You're our leader; risking your life in this fashion would be foolish, not when you have a dashing and handsome alternative ready to take the plunge."
"As it were," Unru added wryly.
Argo Bigfellow Junior cleared his throat while propping his bone club up against the side of the tunnel entrance.
"Since we're apparently permitted in this instance to blow our own horns, I'll throw modesty to the wind and state that I'm the strongest individual here and I really wasn't affected all that much by the stone cone back there. I'd be happy to arm wrestle anyone here to prove it."
"I don't see a convenient table around here, or even a flat rock," Sir Menn responded, looking around. "And in any case, your gallantry belies your unsuitability, Mister Bigfellow. You have a wife waiting for you back home and I'll be damned if I'm going to have to explain to her how her husband chose to throw himself into a pit rather than come home to her."
"I think all of you are missing the point. I'm by far the best choice."
Once again, a dozen heads turned, this time to regard one of the last people they would ever have expected to speak up at this point.
Zantac clambered to his feet.
"The best person to make the jump is the one who has the strength to do it and yet hurts our chances least if they fail," the Willip wizard stated, his face pale but his expression determined. "I have all of one spell left, and I'm certainly no warrior. Even if I fail; and I think we all know that failure in this case means death, the rest of you can backtrack. The web will dissipate in about an hour. Since you know the roper is there, you should be able to dash past it and try one of those other passages we didn't take."
Elrohir didn't even bother glancing over at Talass to check her reaction to that statement.
"We don't have an hour, Zantac," the ranger replied. "I doubt we have even half that time left."
"Besides," Cygnus added, taking a step towards his colleague, "failure doesn't automatically mean death here. Whoever jumps will be holding onto the rope, which will be tied around that stalagmite," the Aardian mage gestured. "The jumper can hang on while the rest of us pull him back up."
Zantac shook his head. "If they miss, whoever it is will swing on that rope and slam into this side of the cliff about thirty feet down. That's going to be one hell of an impact."
Cygnus smiled. "Precisely. That's why someone who is as strong as anyone else here, but yet won't cripple the party if they fail, is the best choice. I also have only one spell left. I'm strong enough to make the jump or to hang onto the rope if I don't." The tall wizard smirked. "By your own criteria, Zantac, I'm the one best suited here to do it."
But Aslan stepped forward, shaking his head.
"You have a son at home who needs you, Cygnus. You are hereby disqualified."
Cygnus whirled on the paladin, his face turning unexpectedly hard.
"Thorin isn't at home, Aslan; he's with the elves of Welkwood! My coming home will make not one bit of difference to his safety; not as long as Nodyath still lives! If we hadn't volunteered to come here in the first place on this pointless quest, this whole damn discussion would be moot!"
This set off a whole series of arguments, shouts and claims.
Standing back by the edge of the pit, Nesco Cynewine watched the confrontation with a terrible sadness.
Lady Cynewine was as eager as anyone present to try and make the jump herself; she was confidant she could do it, but she had doubted Elrohir would even consider the notion.
A terrible thought entered the ranger's mind. Could she just grab the scroll and-
No, Nesco stopped herself. It wouldn't work. Cygnus was the only one who had actually read that scroll at this point. Whoever wound up making the jump, it would have to be Cygnus actually casting the spell on them; she was actually pretty sure she could hear him making that point now, in the midst of all the shouting and yelling.
Nesco turned to look at Yanigasawa Tojo, who was standing near her. The ranger was amazed that the samurai hadn't insisted on being the one to make the attempt. She was even a little surprised, though very glad, that Tojo hadn't gone and done something foolish like attempting to leap over the gorge on his own, without the spell.
His code of bushido was going to drive him to his death. She knew this.
And Lady Cynewine remembered her promise to him.
She found it surprisingly easy to accept the fact that she fully intended to keep it.
But when she looked over at him, he wasn't looking at his bickering companions. He wasn't even looking at her.
Yanigasawa Tojo was staring out over the pit.
Nesco tried to follow his eyes. The glow-fungus, crawling at an excruciatingly slow pace, was perhaps half-way to the far exit by now. Even in its dim green glow, the occasional bat could be seen swooping down and into the tunnel, or emerging from it and flapping its wings furiously, fly almost straight up and out of sight, where its squeaking joined the thousands of its unseen fellows perching upside down from the cavern roof.
Lady Cynewine could feel Tojo's eyes turning to her.
The ranger turned to meet them. She knew Tojo was coming to some kind of decision; his eyes would never come to rest on her face if that wasn't the case, and she wondered what it would be- or how she would react.
But then she saw the samurai's frown and his brow, creased with puzzlement. In all the scenarios she had imagined, she never thought that Tojo would be asking her a question.
But he did.
"Nesco-sama, why do bats not fry over to this side of cave?"
"Enough!"
Elrohir's shout, coupled with a savage sweep of his arm, managed to silence everyone, at least for the moment, and the ranger didn't intend to let it slip away.
"This discussion is over! I am your leader, and I have made my decision. The one criterion that overrides all others is who has the best chance of making that jump. Now I know there are some people here who are at or close to my strength, and if I had definitive proof that someone like Cygnus or Argo was more likely than I am to make this jump, I'd tell them to do it, family be damned. But I don't. We have no means to determine that, so it all boils down to a few people with just about the same, best chance of succeeding."
He took a deep breath. "Since that's the case, I'm going to make the jump. The terrible truth is, if we don't make it over this chasm, and very soon, it's not going to make a difference anymore who our leader is, because we're all going to be very dead."
Elrohir walked over to the rope strung together from the filaments, walked over to the stalagmite, knelt down and began tying one end around it. Without looking away from his work, he announced, "Cygnus, cast the spell on me from the scroll."
When the ranger had finished the knot to his satisfaction and stood, he was scowling, irritated that his command had not yet been carried out. He was about to start swearing when he noticed Cygnus, Zantac, Unru and Thorimund all looking at each other and talking. All four wizards were saying, in effect, the same thing.
"I thought you had them."
Elrohir was getting angrier by the moment. This was nothing but some childish delaying tactic that-
"Elrohir?"
The group leader whirled around, but it was only Nesco Cynewine. At least she had stayed out of this ridiculous argument.
"Yes, Nesco?" he asked, trying to use this pause to calm himself down.
His fellow ranger gestured behind her to Tojo, who was standing placidly by the side of the gorge. "Tojo has asked why there aren't any bats flying around in this half of the cave. I think that's a valid question that deserves some consideration."
Elrohir gaped at her for several seconds, and then realized she was serious.
Then his anger flooded back.
"Lady Cynewine, I am no expert on bats, but I cannot possibly imagine how that might be relevant right now! We're all perhaps minutes from death, and you're talking about bats?"
He threw up his hands in disgust and turned away. "Dammit, Cygnus! Aren't you holding the accursed thing in your hand?"
The tall mage shook his head, however. "This is just the invisibility spell, Elrohir. I'd set both scrolls down here earlier, but now I can't find-"
"I've got it."
And for the last time, a dozen heads turned.
"Cygnus," Talass said calmly while displaying the rolled parchment in her hand, "Please come over and cast the spell on me. I'm going to make this jump."
Elrohir sighed.
"Talass," he began, deliberately avoiding the word dearest. "May I remind you that I am the leader here, and-"
"And may I remind you," his wife cut across him, "that you just now stated the only consideration here was who would be most likely to make the jump successfully. Well," she continued, crossing her arms across her chest. "That person just so happens to be me."
Her husband looked around, seeing the same incredulous faces on other faces that he expected was on his own, but Talass was speaking again even before he turned back to her.
"All you great warriors here in your plate armor," she gestured. "You have great endurance to wear it, truly, but how often do you jump in it- and how far? Different muscles in our bodies are best suited for certain tasks. While I'm sure my dear husband has forgotten this, I've often mentioned to him that amongst my people, the Fruztii, being physically fit is not merely an option; it's a necessity of life. For man and women. For the young and the old. The gods demand it as surely as do the rigors of our existence."
She looked directly at her husband now.
"When I was fifteen or so, I participated in a jumping contest that was part of a great three-day feast and celebration, celebrating a joint Fruztii-Cruski wedding. The younger brother of the Cruski groom, a lad about my age and famed for his athletic prowess, participated, and was of course heavily favored."
Talass allowed a smirk to cross her face.
"I beat him; and everyone else. My jump was near to twenty feet and that was with no spell or prayer to aid me." The cleric gestured, indicated from left to right the area in which they now stood. "Any one of you, right here and now, show me you can jump that far, and I'll relent. We don't have the time for a full-scale contest, so don't do it frivolously. I'll tell you right now, though- you'll lose."
No one seemed to have a response.
Elrohir crossed his own arms over his chest. "Those glory days of yours were some years ago, dearest."
Talass raised an eyebrow at that, but there was a hint of warmness in her ice-blue eyes. "Are you saying I'm old, my husband?"
He smiled, knowing his wife had only three years on him. "I'd sooner hurl myself into a dragon's maw than say that. But I'm not yet convinced that none of us could contest you."
In response, Talass touched the outside of her right thigh, drawing everyone's attention to her sleek, if dirty skin, and the lean musculature underneath.
"These legs aren't just for you men to drool over- and I mean you, Unru."
The illusionist blushed but did not look away. He merely flashed the cleric a guilty-boy smile and bowed slightly.
"I've always excelled at running, jumping, climbing, swimming and so forth," Talass continued. "And if any of you still have any doubt, try pushing an eight-pound baby out between your legs!"
Now there were quite a few blushes going around.
"I'm the best qualified to do this, Elrohir," Talas concluded. "And this is just not your wife Talass telling you that..."
She trailed off, meeting her husband's gaze with a fierce determination and perhaps, a sense of triumph.
"These are the words of a Priestess of Truth."
Elrohir couldn't answer her.
He wanted to. He wanted to find some chink in her argument. He didn't want her to make the jump. Less than anyone else here, he didn't want her to do it. But he couldn't think of a single thing to say that would make sense. She had beaten him with his own logic.
Talass walked slowly over to her husband until she stood only a few feet in front of him. Close enough to see the inevitable in his eyes.
"Dearest," she said softly. "Silence is how you agree."
Elrohir still said nothing. Talass moved closer and took his hand in hers. Now she could see beyond the defeat in her husband's clear blue eyes.
She could see the fear.
"Don't worry, dearest," she told him. "Once I'm across, I'll tie the rope off and you all can cross."
She leaned forward and kissed him on his grizzled cheek.
"This will all be behind us soon," she whispered.
Elrohir couldn't bear looking at his wife anymore. The ranger turned his head away, towards the rest of his companions.
"Cygnus," he said. "Take the scroll and cast the jump spell on Talass."
"Everyone move aside a little bit," the cleric gestured from her position at the entrance to the passageway. "I don't want to trip over anyone's foot just as I'm about to jump."
Six people moved to the right and six to the left alongside the edge of the pit.
Talass took one last deep breath and closed her eyes.
She clenched the coiled up rope in her right hand. The other end was securely fastened to the stalagmite.
The cleric could feel the power of the incantation coursing through her legs.
She knew she would make this jump.
When she opened her eyes again, Elrohir was looking directly at her.
And for perhaps the first time in their marriage, it was Talass who couldn't tell what Elrohir was thinking.
The priestess began to run.
She reached the very edge of the chasm and launched herself forward.
An invisible force magnifying the power of her jump, Talass shot out into space.
It was obvious from the very first instant that she was going to clear the pit.
But half-way across, something happened.
The cleric's body suddenly jerked spasmodically.
She continued on perhaps a foot more- and then went backwards the same distance and hung there in midair!
And all Elrohir could think was that it looked like all the world to him that his wife was caught in some kind of terrible, invisible, spider's web.
Talass thrashed about.
The end of the rope dropped from her hand.
And then with a jerk, she was pulled upwards about a foot, and then hung there again.
"Look!" Sitdale cried, pointing outwards.
It took them a moment, but soon they could all see it.
About three feet to Talass' left, their light was glinting off something.
It was almost impossible to see, but every so often there was a suggestion of a line hanging down from above. Drops of what looked like dew on it occasionally caught their illumination.
Talass was entangled in another one of those lines.
The priestess was hauled up with another jerk. And then again.
She looked up.
And none of the twelve people who had endured so much with Talass had ever seen such a look of terror of her face.
And then she screamed.
And they knew she was looking at her approaching death.
"Talass!" Aslan screamed, one voice among a dozen
The paladin couldn't do anything. He had no Talent. With his Talent, he could save her half a dozen ways. Without it, he was helpless. He was nothing. But he still had to do something. Elrohir had-
Aslan suddenly looked over. Elrohir, who had been standing next to him, was nowhere to be seen.
"OUT OF THE WAY! GET OUT OF THE WAY!"
Aslan spun around in amazement.
Screaming at the top of his lungs, Elrohir was now charging back towards them from the front of the passage entrance, where his wife had been standing not thirty seconds earlier.
In the ranger's left hand was not only Argo's bone club, but their other glowing piece of flint, as well.
"Elrohir, what are you doing?" Aslan shouted.
But their team leader was already running between their two groups.
Elrohir didn't reply. He didn't hear any of them. He didn't see any of them. He wasn't thinking about them. He was looking only at his wife.
His wife, who was being hauled upwards to her death.
Nesco was the first to realize his intent.
"ELROHIR!" she screamed. "YOU CAN'T MAKE IT! YOU DON'T HAVE THE SPELL!"
He never slowed.
With a scream of his own, Elrohir launched himself off the edge of the pit. All hands that reached out to stop the ranger were too late.
Directly ahead of him, about fifteen feet out, was the other line.
The twin to the one that was hauling his screaming wife forever away from him.
The line that, for whatever reason, apparently meant death for anyone who touched it.
And as Elrohir reached the apex of his leap that was powered only by human desperation, his right hand reached out directly for that line.