25th Day of Goodmonth, 565 CY

The Dungeons of the Slave Lords

The Aerie, The Pomarj

"Talass!" Elrohir screamed. "By the gods, NO!"

Far below and on the other side of the cavern, Zantac cried out in anguish.

The wizard paid little attention to Sitdale sliding over and Unru just now starting out. Zantac had just sighted his target and been about to cast when it pulled back out of his sight.

Based on the size of these creatures, he didn't think his one lousy spell was going to make all that much of a difference, anyway.

But he was damned if he wasn't going to try.

"Elrohir!" Zantac shouted as loudly as he could. "Get it back to the edge! I've got to see it, Elrohir- I'VE GOT TO BE ABLE TO SEE IT!"

A smell like sour beer suddenly washed over Elrohir.

The ranger ignored it as he tried to lift his legs up and secure a hold on the ledge. His cave fisher was pulling him up- but just a few seconds too slowly.

As Elrohir's head finally lifted over the level of the ledge floor, he could see Talass again.

The giant insect holding his wife, like the one nearer him, was a horror to behold. Shaped like a colossal beetle, the cave fisher was covered in a hard exoskeleton. Giant compound eyes stared blankly out from either side of a bony protuberance on the top of its head that no doubt held the organic "winch" that held the filament line.

It had eight segmented legs, two of which ended in the giant pincers and the other six which seemed glued to the ledge floor. Elrohir could see a clear liquid oozing from pores in the creature's shell and flowing down the first set of the thing's six anchor legs. Those two legs were no longer attached to the floor and had made it possible for the fisher to draw back as it pulled Talass closer to her. Now as Elrohir watched, more of the alcohol- based liquid spewed from the horrid thing's mouth, spraying his wife and dissolving the sticky substance coating its filament.

Talass had no chance to escape however, even as the fisher's filament swiftly withdrew into the monster's snout. One pincer had punctured her left arm, and now the other grabbed the cleric firmly around her waist. Talass grabbed at this with her right hand, but it took no notice at all.

Elrohir screamed in frustration. The cave fisher holding him had stopped pulling him up in order to spray the bat on its filament with the alcohol spray while delicately plucking the mammal off with one pincer.

The ranger didn't see the bat disappear into the fisher's mouth. He had to close his eyes as the spray washed over him as well.

And as Elrohir finally hauled his exhausted body over and onto the ledge, he opened his eyes again.

And he wished he hadn't.

It all happened so quickly.

A few seconds that seemed to take a lifetime.

What Elrohir would have died to prevent, or failing that, to even be spared the sight.

The cave fisher holding Talass was clearly not used to dealing with such large prey. The priestess had dug in her feet, pulling against the claw trying to lift her up off the ground and towards the thing's mouth. Talass remained firmly where she was, even as she continued to scratch and scrabble at the pincer holding her fast.

In response, the fisher held Talass firmly around the waist with one claw, while the other holding her left arm began to twist.

Elrohir's scream was lost in that of his wife as the worst happened.

There was a horrifying crack, and Talass' arm rotated at an unnatural angle. Blood began to spurt from the cleric's shoulder as the flash began to twist and tear and then, in one penultimate, ghastly, blood-drenched moment, Talass' left arm was ripped from its socket and vanished in the cave fisher's mouth.

At that instant, Elrohir regained his footing.

And from that point on, there were no more words.

There were only screams of rage.

Elrohir launched himself directly at the cave fisher holding him even as the filament holding him began to retract.

Running ahead of the fisher's pincers and right up to its mouth, the ranger began to swirl his right arm around and around the giant insect's jaws and snout.

Uncoiling the filament as he went, Elrohir went faster and faster. Hidden in the depths of the coils, the filament's tip had not yet been hit with the fisher's solvent and was still sticking to Elrohir's hand.

When he was done, Elrohir yanked as hard as he could and slammed the tip down on the creature's skin.

He shrieked in agony as he saw the flesh rip off his palm, but that didn't matter.

He never stopped screaming for his wife, anyway.

And even though it might well be too late now, the ranger had accomplished his initial task.

He had glued the monster's mouth shut with its own filament.

Elrohir ducked under one snapping pincer and batted the other away with his bone club.

Talass was not dead yet, or even unconscious, but she was clearly in shock. The priestess' body had gone limp in the fisher's grasp even as blood continued to spurt out from her shoulder socket. Talass' eyes were open, but nothing came out of the cleric's mouth as it opened in a silent scream.

The cave fisher was not strong enough to drag Talass closer with only one claw, but now the other one clamped down over one of Talass' legs.

The giant insect gushed forth more of its fluids from its mouth.

With it came human arm bones, scoured of all but a few scraps of skin.

Slowly, the creature dragged its prey closer.

The pincer holding onto Talass' leg began to twist.

And at just that instant Elrohir shoved the piece of light-imbued flint point-side down into a little recess just behind the thing's giant eye.

And then he rammed his bone club as far as it would go down the cave fisher's throat.

The creature exploded into spasms, simultaneously trying to escape whatever was half-blinding it and removes the giant bone that was choking it. One claw waved wildly in the air while the other tried to grab hold of the piece of bone still protruding from its mouth.

Elrohir ran over to Talass.

He thought her eyes might have focused on him for a moment, but then they rolled back in her skull.

A split-second glance to his left showed the first cave fisher just now picking off the sticky piece of filament with one of its pincers. The other claw swung at Elrohir, but the ranger was too far out of range.

But as the filament retreated back into the fisher's snout, the ranger could see the creature exuding solvent down its legs.

It was getting ready to move.

A glance to the rear crushed any hope of escape in that direction. There was no way off. This ledge wasn't much bigger than the two giant insects who occupied it. Perhaps five feet of space separated the giant bugs' rear ends from the cavern wall.

An unnerving sound was coming from the stone all around them.

Elrohir grabbed Talass and half-carried, half-dragged her between the two cave fishers to the rear of the ledge.

Zantac wouldn't let himself cry.

He couldn't afford to let a single instant pass without keeping an eye on what was happening on that ledge.

But oh Lord, he wanted to.

The wizard could still see part of the first cave fisher, but Elrohir had vanished out of sight along with Talass. He could still faintly hear his team leader yelling.

Or was he screaming?

Zantac gulped hard and prayed.

He was going to save his last castable spell for the very last moment. Where it might actually make a difference.

But he also knew that that moment might arrive without him realizing it.

Indeed, it might already have passed.

Cygnus and Sir Menn had already crossed over. Only Aslan, Nesco, Arwald and Thorimund remained behind.

The breeze blew hotter and faster from the tunnel. The shaking of the ground had subsided, but the terrible thunder all around them was getting worse.

"Nesco," Aslan said. "You're next."

She hesitated. "Aslan-"

But the paladin interrupted her with a wan smile.

"Don't worry, Lady Cynewine. Elrohir has proven once again why he is our leader."

The paladin's gaze drifted upwards before settling back on Nesco.

"Whatever happens, I'm not going to disappoint him."

Nesco stared into Aslan's eyes, and try as she might, the ache welled up in her heart again.

In the paladin's crossing order, she knew he had placed himself dead last.

"Be careful, Aslan," she told him.

The paladin kept his face neutral.

"I will."

Elrohir collapsed to his knees in agony, awkwardly pulling Talass down with him. The pain from his right palm and from his foot was finally starting to overwhelm his battle rage.

He looked towards the front of the ledge just in time to see the second cave fisher yank the bone club out of its mouth with a pincer and fling the femur away and over the edge.

Elrohir watched it tumble end-over-end until it fell from sight.

Now the second cave fisher began to dissolve its attachments as well; and with only four legs to go, it would be free to turn and attack before its brethren.

The ranger turned to gaze into the face of his wife again.

And somewhere through the pain and the fear and he blood loss that was draining her life away, Talass recognized him.

She couldn't speak.

But Elrohir knew how to read lips very well. He could see the word.

Dearest.

Despite his own injuries, Elrohir pulled his wife closed and hugged her close, burying his face in her hair.

"Don't worry, dearest," he whispered through his tears. "It'll all be over very soon."

"I am sorry, my old friend. I wanted to bring you back with us. I'd give my own life for that. But it's not meant to be. Rest easy in the Sunlit Glades, my old friend. You… you will be forever in my heart… and the hearts of all those who love you."

With those words and a final cry of anguish, Arwald rolled the body of Hengist over the edge of the chasm and watched it vanish into the darkness below.

"Talass, you have to heal yourself!"

The cleric's light blue eyes washed over those of her husband again. Recognition flitted in and out of them.

Elrohir cradled his wife's cheek with his left hand.

"Please listen to me, dearest. You have one healing prayer left. You've got to use it on yourself and then try climbing down from this ledge! You said you were an excellent climber, Talass, remember?"

He hugged her again as the tears overcame him again.

"Remember?" he whispered. "Remember?"

Thorimund, his own egg-shaped face wracked with pain, tears and exhaustion, watched Lady Cynewine slide across the chasm and then wearily turned his emerald green eyes to Aslan.

"I'm sorry, Aslan," the wizard wheezed. "I'm still… too weak. I… I'll never be able to make it. Take… take Arwald and go. I'll… look after Hengist."

"Like The Hells you will!"

With a growl, Arwald stomped over to the mage.

"Grab hold around my neck, Thorimund. I'll carry you across."

But Thorimund turned a doubtful face to Aslan.

"The rope… it won't hold two of us."

Aslan stared back at the mage.

"Will it, Aslan?"

The paladin was about to reply when he caught a faint light from the edge of his vision.

Aslan whirled. An orange glow was coming from somewhere back in the passage they had come from.

The hot breeze from the tunnel grew into a roaring wind, like that of a desert sirocco.

And Aslan decided in the blink of an eye without anyone ever noticing.

I know what to do.

"It might, if we can get you over faster," the paladin announced, striding over to the stalagmite.

Arwald looked confused. "Aslan, what are you-"

But Aslan suddenly grabbed the loop from around the stalagmite and lifted it as high as he could over his head.

Increasing the angle of the slope.

"Arwald! Thorimund!" he shouted over the wind. "Go!"

Never in his life did Elrohir imagine that the last emotion he might ever feel towards his beloved wife Talass might be anger.

But…

"Talass!" he yelled at the priestess, shaking her roughly now by her right shoulder. "I know you can hear me! I know you can understand me! Heal yourself! Heal! I order you, as your team leader- heal!"

The cleric, the clear light blue of her irises fading now, looked back over to his face.

And now, here, at the end, Elrohir could finally read his wife perfectly. She didn't even need to mouth the words.

It's not going to be you.

"Talass!" he roared, wishing to all the gods that he could somehow force his wife to heal herself. "If you don't heal yourself and climb down the ledge, we're both going to die here! Barahir needs you! It's the only way! It's the only-"

But then Talass, incredibly, reached out with her left hand and placed one finger on Elrohir's lips.

He stared at her, disbelieving.

And one word came from her own lips, mixed with blood.

"Jump."

Aslan was glad Arwald and Thorimund screamed all the way across the chasm.

The paladin let their screams drown out all his thoughts.

He didn't want to think about them not wanting to make it.

He didn't want anyone else to die.

Not if they didn't have to. Not if there was no purpose to it.

Arwald's slide across was nerve-wracking to see, let alone experience. Despite the higher slope Aslan had provided them, the combined weight of the two individuals caused the filament to sag alarmingly, and it still took them almost ten seconds to make the crossing.

But they made it.

As the others helped Arwald and Thorimund back to their feet, Nesco Cynewine looked with horror at the rope.

It hung down, stretched long. All its elasticity was gone. It wouldn't hold two people anymore.

Nesco looked over the chasm and met Aslan's gaze, and the ranger knew the paladin was already aware of what she was just now realizing.

It won't even hold one now.

Aslan slowly replaced the loop around the stalagmite.

Elrohir was out of miracles.

The ranger tried to plead for his wife to heal herself again when the words died in his throat.

He knew she'd never make that climb. Even if Talass still possessed every single healing prayer her faith would allow, she couldn't regrow her arm- and she'd never make that climb without two good arms.

Elrohir tried not to let his wife see the failure in his eyes. He just wanted to hold her in his arms right here, keeping her face away from their approaching death, until it was all over.

He didn't want her to know how he had failed her.

All his heroics counted for nothing at the end.

But now Talass was trying to rise to her feet and instinctively Elrohir aided her, standing up himself and still holding her close.

The priestess was now shivering violently, and with her right hand she grabbed hold of her husband's hair.

"Jump," she repeated, staring hard into his eyes.

Elrohir shook his head emphatically.

"Dearest, even if could make it to the far side, the impact from this height would probably kill us! But we wouldn't make it, anyway! We can't jump that far, Talass!"

In frustration, the ranger tried to shake the truth into her.

"Don't you understand, Talass? The jump spell has worn off!"

Talass tried to reply, but the cleric suddenly began retching violently and would have collapsed if her husband had not held upright. As it was, she doubled over. Mixed blood and vomit splattered on the ground.

Unable to speak anymore, Talass let go of Elrohir's hair, grabbed the ranger's left hand and guided it down-

-until it rested on her thigh.

And somehow Elrohir knew.

As he turned to look one more time into the pale, blood-and-bile streaked face of his wife, Elrohir saw the barest hint of that look again. That icy glare Talass always gave him when she thought he was being foolish, or stubborn, or obstinate.

Or maybe, Elrohir realized now, the real underlying reason his wife gave him that look sometimes was when she felt he wasn't living up to his true potential.

But he knew now that that she had never, never stopped loving him.

And he also knew that the jump spell had not, in fact, worn off yet.

Zantac peered upwards.

Sitdale had cast his own light cantrip now, but Zantac still couldn't see either Elrohir or Talass. He watched one of the cave fishers scrabbling ineffectively, trying to dislodge the piece of flint their team leader had jabbed in or near one of its eyes. There was still no sign of the two humans however, and the Willip wizard could only pray that there was a passage at the rear of that ledge that led back into the caverns, perhaps meeting up with one of the tunnels they had not taken before.

But even as he wished it, he knew it was a foolish hope. A wasted hope.

And then he heard the voice of Argo Bigfellow Junior behind him.

"Listen to me, each and every one of you. Mount Flamenblut is erupting and you all know it. We have to get out of here, because this whole cavern complex is going to collapse very soon. Now, I'm not going to order anyone to leave, but if you choose to stay here, remember who Elrohir and Aslan are sacrificing themselves for."

The ranger hesitated.

"Don't let their deaths be in vain."

Please, Zantac prayed. Please, Elrohir. Please, Talass. Please, Aslan. Come over- come back to us, because that son-of-a-bitch bastard Bigfellow is right.

The wizard turned and caught Nesco's eye.

"He's right," she said, barely managing the words. "We've run out of time."