51 – Labyrinth
"While it is possible to stab with the pointed end of a curved sword, I do not recommend it. Far better to play to a weapon's strengths." –Davo Abraxus, A Manual on the Art of Combat
"See? Easy as pie." With a slice from Imoen's dagger the tripwire went limp and fell away. Her voice was a low, controlled whisper, but it still bounced a bit off the close stone walls.
Skie pressed her lips together in a tight, uncertain line. It didn't look all that easy to her; she never would have spotted the ghostly little filament to begin with. Then again, she had no idea how to bake a pie either.
Crouching low with their backs to either side of the tunnel, the pair of scouts shimmied forward. They had blundered into the first trap without either of them knowing; a similar setup with a string that triggered a crude crossbow. Luckily they had both ducked and skidded back quick enough, and now they were creeping along with a little more caution. 'A bit like sneaking through the Hall of Wonders,' Imoen had remarked. 'Or the maze under the Thieves Guild. Ya remember that, right Skie?'
She did, though this labyrinth seemed a bit different to her. Instead of the crude wooden struts of the smuggler's tunnels the walls here were supported by engaged columns set at regular intervals, and everything was carved from smooth stone. The great slabs that formed the walls met each other in soft, complementary curves, and rounded coving lined the intersection between floor and ceiling. No hard edges anywhere, and everything fit elegantly together; all hints of the elven architects who had built the tunnels and the vaults that they connected. Most of the maze was relatively empty; loose stones and patterns in the dust and debris hinting that there had once been objects stored down here.
Another difference from the smuggler's maze: the thieves of Baldur's Gate had been polite enough to mark their traps with painted symbols. The uniform sameness of these tunnels made it easy to spot the little differences though, now that they were being cautious. Skie even noticed the next one, when they turned a corner and came to a stop.
Unlike the previous passageways, the floor ahead was free of dust, and there were little square stones that seemed out of place. Could those be pressure plates? There was something strange about the walls as well: small round pieces of iron the size of shields lined either side. Skie's imagination went wild with images of the spiked logs, sets of spears, or streams of boiling oil that could come out of those panels if they really were trapped.
Cautiously bending forward, Imoen examined the grooves in the floor and the patterns they formed, Skie watching over her shoulder and holding up her lamp. Yeah. The floor-plates were different from the old elven stonework. Newer.
Drawing her dagger, Imoen brought the tip down to one of the grooves and Skie continued to watch with a knotted stomach. Gingerly, the blade slid between the plates, Imoen's hands steady as she wielded it like a scalpel.
A metallic, scraping sound close by cut through the silence.
They both held their breath and froze in place for a moment, then Imoen's dagger slipped out of the groove and she looked over at Skie. "I didn't do anything…" Imoen seemed to mouth. Then their eyes fell upon a nearby iron disk as it rolled away to reveal a tiny hole. They both shrank back, though they were probably out of boiling-oil-range anyway.
A moment passed. Nothing. Silence.
Then something poked out of the hole just a bit: a scaly little head that reminded Skie of a miniature crocodile, its yellow eyes blinking in the light of the lamp. The head cocked to one side, then another, and Skie's heart lurched as the beady little eyes fixed upon her. The creature opened its mouth, and a tiny, narrow tongue rolled as it let out a surprised-sounding "Screeeee!"
Then the critter disappeared back into the darkness.
"Well that explains the traps," Imoen muttered.
Skie gave her a confused look.
"Kobolds," Imoen explained as she shrugged her shortbow off her shoulder. Skie followed her lead and drew her bow as well. "They love to-"
She was cut off by a metallic screech that echoed through the hall, and all at once several of the iron caps slid away, three little reptiles with crocodile-heads slithering halfway out. Tiny bows hung from their claws.
"Oh shit!" Imoen yelped.
Three sizzling pinpricks of light burst into being as the bows creaked. A heartbeat later, as Skie and Imoen were frantically backing away, the bowstrings twanged and the flaming arrows came streaking down the hall. Sparks and cinders exploded close to Skie's head, heat buffeting her cheek and forcing her to duck aside while Imoen's bowstring thumped nearby.
When Skie looked up, blinking back the sparks, it was just in time see Imoen tilt her bow and loose again without hesitation. Ahead in the darkness there was a high-pitched shriek and something dropped from a cubbyhole and hit the stone with a smack. Imoen was already knocking a third arrow when Skie realized that she was just holding her own bow out uselessly.
Hurrying to keep up, she snatched an arrow from her quiver and drew back just like she'd been taught. It was hard to see in the dim light, especially with the fallen lamp rolling on the floor a few paces away. How-
Then suddenly it wasn't hard to see at all. Not by the red glow of two fire-arrows flickering to life as the kobolds took aim. Skie just picked one of those flames for a target, held her breath, let go of the string, and hoped for the best. Imoen seemed to have aimed at the same target, and at least one of their shots must have struck true because there was another shrill shriek of pain. The flaming arrow twisted wildly before clattering to the floor and sending up a harmless cloud of embers.
By then the last burning arrow was flying, and Skie's heart seemed to stop as the flames zipped in close, filling her vision. She twisted her body and yelped, heat grazing her hip and sending the smell of burning cloth up to her nose a moment later, along with a spike of pain. Gripping her cloak in one hand, she tried to smother the flames that must have been smoldering at her upper leg.
By then Imoen had placed another arrow against her bowstring and seemed to be humming something to herself as they backed down the corridor, and Skie rushed to keep up again, knocking and pulling. There was no flaming arrow to aim at yet, but she thought she could make out an amber glow.
Yeah! One the lizard's reflective little eyes! Skie aimed, a white light shimmered around Imoen's head, and then the pair of scouts let fly in unison. Both arrows sank into something this time –Skie was sure of it!- and the kobold slithered back into its little hole with a high-pitched cry.
More tiny yellow eyes began to shimmer in the distance, but then the pair slipped around a corner and out of sight. "Hate those little buggers," Imoen muttered.
Looking about in the dim light, Skie clutched her bow tightly to her chest. "My lamp," she whispered. "I dropped it." How do adventurers do it? Seemed like you have to have at least three hands active at all times. Maybe four. Of course she did have an infravision potion sitting in one of the pouches at her belt, along with a vial of healing and two invisibility potions. If worst came to worst…
"Luz kreta allavias." With those whispered words a sparkling ball of magelight appeared in Imoen's palm, and a gesture sent it flitting over towards Skie. "There," Imoen whispered, eyes back on the bend they had retreated around and yet another arrow knocked. "We should-" She hushed at the sound of stone grinding on stone nearby.
To their left, and very, very close.
Whirling around in a crouch, Skie came face-to-snout with another halfling-sized reptile, which seemed to be standing where the wall had been a heartbeat ago. In its little paws was a bow, an arrow knocked and magical flames dancing on its tip. Knocked, drawn, and pointed right at her.
With a panicked yelp Skie swung the only weapon at hand, clubbing with the limb of her bow. Wood clattered and sparks sputtered and flew as the arrow went wild and struck a nearby wall. The bows were tangled together now, and Skie let go, her hand shooting to the hilt of her sword.
Her blade leapt free and plunged through the kobold's scaly chest all in one motion, and the little creature crumpled backwards, momentum taking Skie with it. She stumbled forward a few steps, the magelight reflecting off scales and claws and teeth all around in her periphery. Several more reptiles were close and closing; swishing tails and nattering jaws and twitching little claws in sight.
She spun around and away from the creatures as fast as she could, her back scraping against a nearby wall and a pain registering in her arm as she held up the shuddering body of the kobold that was still stuck on her sword. Its flapping, flailing bulk warded off a few probing pokes from its fellows and their crude little swords. There were three of them, as far as Skie could tell, trying to dart in past her haphazard shield and strike her.
With a plink and a thunk the head of one of the lizards shot back and its beady eyes bulged, one of Imoen's arrows buried in its back. Down to two.
Swiveling, Skie faced the remaining kobolds, kicking the dead lizard off her blade and in their general direction before she swung in with a frantic stab. Steel scraped and darted against iron, and she found her sword chasing after the quick little body as much as parrying, a stony grinding noise joining the sound of clashing arms.
A sharp pain welled up at the back of her thigh, and on reflex she swirled and stabbed towards the source, her sword catching something soft and eliciting a loud shriek behind her. The move left her open to the kobold in front of her (Master Meilum would not approve!) and she barely sidestepped a stab from its sword, bumping into a wall that seemed to have just appeared.
The lizard followed her but she managed to yank her blade up and free in time to parry. Swords locked, and scrabbling and clawing followed. Kicking little legs scratched leather, and claws tried to rake at Skie's face as she lost her balance and felt the impact of cold stone beneath her hip.
She struggled with both hands. With kicking feet. With punches and bent knees and everything she could muster, though her blade did the decisive work in the end, once she got a chance to put a clean stab in. Soon she found herself panting out long and ragged breaths over the convulsing body of the kobold.
Ack! There could be more! But a glance around revealed no beady little yellow eyes. No Imoen either. The moving wall must have slid between them.
Looking down, Skie realized that her fingernails had indeed dug painfully into her palm when she had punched the little monster a few times. That was nothing compared to the sourness in her knuckles as she tried to open her hand and found that she couldn't. Yowch!
"You realize that is a pressure plate, correct?" The drow's question was casual and dry, but thankfully it froze Garrick's foot in midair, just before it touched down on the raised surface. He stumbled back, then turned, catching Eldoth's smirk and Viconia's quirked eyebrow.
"I uh…didn't," Garrick admitted. "But thanks." (I guess.) "Traps huh? Yuck."
Viconia crossed her arms at her chest and stepped forward, surveying the passageway. "Crude ones, at the least," she stated in a bored tone. "They stand out from the darthiir architecture like a boil. Kobold-made, I would guess. I was forced to sneak through many warrens of the little pests during my exile."
Garrick frowned down at the floor. Then he started when he felt the drow's fingers trapes across his shoulder. A feather-light touch. Like a spider's. "Worry not," Viconia went on. "I shall not allow any harm to come to our leader's favored pet male."
"Urm. Thanks…" Garrick muttered, looking away. He knew that they all had to try and comfortably work together (if they were to be a proper mercenary band,) but once again he sighed inwardly at the fact that instead of following Imoen and that polite Silvershield girl, he had been saddled with Team Creepy.
"So I guess we should try to hop over the traps?" he asked. As usual Eldoth was no help at all; he was just looking off with a bored expression on his face.
The drow shook her head. "There are spikes hidden in that dust beyond. A leg-trap, I would guess."
"Of course there are," Garrick grumbled. Why am I here again? Quiet footwork he could do, and even a little lockpicking, but traps were a bit beyond him. Still, after a glance around the hall he got an idea. Turning and bending, Garrick picked up a nearby piece of stone that had chipped away from the ancient masonry. "How about we just set all the traps off then?"
"That would work," Viconia mused. "We would of course alert the trap-builders, but I suspect they can already-"
Nearby scraping cut her off as the wall at the end of the tunnel swung open, revealing over half-a-dozen little reptiles, all armed with spears. "Ah," Viconia noted, unsurprised. "And here they are." Her voice shifted to a tongue Garrick had a hard time placing as she stretched her hands out and called upon her goddess.
Specks of darkness crackled at her fingertips in answer, and then a cloud of the billowing stuff burst into being in front of the kobolds. Garrick cringed at the choice of spell (Why does it always have to be darkness? Doesn't she know we need to see too?) but he fired his crossbow anyway, and a pained squeak echoed down the hall in reply to the half-blind shot. One of Viconia's chakrams sailed into the darkness a heartbeat later and brought out another cry. Then the little creatures came spilling forward, some blinking at the sudden change of light but others screeching and charging, their spears leveled.
Instead of trying to load another bolt, Garrick bent down and snatched up the stone that he had dropped. He timed his aim, and once the kobolds closed and their tiny feet had started dancing past the pressure plates and spike-trap he tossed as hard as he could. There was a click when the rock struck one of the plates, then more clicks as four crossbow bolts shot out from nearby holes. Two bolts caught a pair of lizards in the sides of their heads, and they fell with twin screeches.
And then Garrick's rapier was free and the spears were snapping close, forcing him to dodge and dance and parry. He managed to snatch the nearest haft with his free-hand and yank the kobold who was wielding it forward, running it through in the same motion. A kick and a lash from the creature's tail knocked him off-balance though, and a spear-thrust from another kobold forced Garrick to hop awkwardly backwards and into a nearby wall.
There was a sound like a millstone grinding and the wall seemed to slide behind him, slipping away rapidly. Garrick wobbled and stumbled and fell on his ass, and there was a frantic moment of backwards scrambling where he thought the wall was going to swing in and crush him. Then it clicked to a stop and he found himself huddled up against an opposite side of a separate tunnel, the kobold he had impaled laying in front of him and now just twitching.
Straightening up, Garrick hummed a few bars over his open palm, conjuring up a faint blue-white light that floated up above his head. A glance around showed no sign of Viconia or Eldoth, though this passageway looked similar to the one he had just been in. Turning to the wall that had swiveled at his touch, Garrick shouted. "Can anyone hear me?!"
There was no reply. He waited, then shouted one more time. "Can anyone hear me?!" Hrmph. Would be just like them to instantly abandon me. He looked up and down the hall, pondering which direction to take.
"Oh, I can hear you," a teasing, sibilant voice echoed through the tunnel. There, rounding a corner, walked the white-haired witch, her hand outstretched and curling into an arcane gesture. Kryll's last remaining thrall shambling along behind her. "So nice of you to happen by. A gift for the oni will-"
She paused and flinched when a bolt from Garrick's crossbow struck the air just in front of her chest, falling away with a flash and a clatter. Then, with hardening eyes, Kryll pointed two curled fingers straight at Garrick, long nails trailing through a gesture that he had seen Xan had use many times.
Garrick's heart thundered in his chest, memories of being lulled and trapped in his own mind bubbling up. Tranzig's spell. The sirine's song. Transfixed and helpless like a little lamb.
At the same time the little brass horn that hung from his belt had been pulled free and was rising to his lips. I AM NOT getting charmed again! I'm not!
With a determined glare Garrick puffed in a great breath and blew out the discordant note, waves of air blasting from the horn and rushing towards the necromancer. Her cloak billowed as the sound-waves struck, and her arms curled up to shield her face, the final words of her enchantment lost.
Good! It was a simple little spell, but it had served Garrick well. Mages so rarely shield themselves from sonic attacks.
Crossbow clattering to the floor, Garrick rushed forward, gripping the hilt of his rapier as his legs pumped to close the distance. Steel whistled free before Kryll could recover, piercing both her arcane barrier and her bloodstained robes. The lunge drove the blade cleanly through her chest, and Garrick's momentum carried him in close.
Instead of faltering, Kryll managed to rasp out some words near Garrick's ear. He thought at first it was some northerner curse, but he recognized some Draconic syllables around the same time that something sharp gripped his shoulder and squeezed. The touch delivered a terrible, burning pulse, then his nerves went numb. Trying to wriggle away, Garrick shook and shivered, a chill spreading through his arm as artic air tickled his cheek.
Another twist of his body and he managed to pull back, carrying his rapier and a long trail of blood with him. Stumbling, Garrick dropped his horn and gripped his shoulder, then yelped and pulled his hand away when the ice there burned his palm.
Kryll's hand still glowed a ghostly blue-white, and she took a menacing step forward, but Garrick managed to fend her off with threatening jabs of his sword. She stumbled back and he pressed, then with a scowl Kryll whirled around, robes swishing.
She fled down the corridor, shouting out a few words. Once the spell was complete she became a blur, zipping forward and around the corner with supernatural speed.
The enthralled man turned and awkwardly lurched after his mistress, trying and failing to keep up. He was determined though. Mindless and marching forward.
The poor man. Pushing aside the icy ache in his shoulder, Garrick raced down the hall. A few sprinted steps, then he leapt and tackled the thrall.
Together they tumbled to the floor, Garrick's arms wrapped around the man's waist as he pitched and crawled and struggled. "Mistress!" the thrall cried out. "I am trying! I am trying to follow!" He bucked and twisted, rocking Garrick one way and then another. At least the man didn't seem very strong, and he was pretty uncoordinated (perhaps because of the enchantment?) Still, the struggle was relentless.
No. You are not going to feed that witch! Garrick managed to steady himself and raise his rapier high. This is for your own good! He brought the pommel of his blade down hard and it cracked against the man's jaw. There was a little shudder beneath him, then the man went limp and dropped to the floor like a sack. At least for the moment.
Garrick took several deep breaths and clutched at his shoulder once more, wary of the cold this time.
Thank Lady Luck. And Ashura too. 'They say it's best to go for the spot right at the hinge of the jaw when you're punching people,' she had once told him. 'Most likely spot to knock someone out. Nerve endings or something.'
"Well there's got to be a lever or something somewhere!" Imoen shouted right against the stonework, her own hands feeling along the wall and pressing any sort of stone that looked irregular. A lot of them did though. Compared to the elegant elven masonry in most of the tunnels this wall was a patchwork of bumpy, uneven rocks, halfway-mortared together. Probably an addition the kobolds had made, along with the cubby-holes with the iron covers. Little hop-lizards had given themselves woodwork to pour out of, and boy where they pouring!
Though at least the poorly-built wall was easy to talk through. Maybe if she was stronger she could have just punched the dern thing down!
"I'm trying," Skie's muffled voice came from the other side. "But I don't see anything!"
The creaks of several bows drew Imoen's attention back down the hall. She narrowed her eyes and focused, taking command of the illusory double of herself that she had placed at the bend in the tunnel. In response the decoy-Imoen did a flip and then bounced off a wall as burning arrows streaked and skittered by harmlessly. The illusion was distracting the kobolds for now, but boy was it a pain to keep the spell up and search for whatever mechanism opened the secret passage.
"Maybe you could try to break through?" Imoen suggested. At the same time she used the hilt of her dagger to hammer at what looked like a weak spot, but she only stirred up a little dust.
"Uhm…" Skie sounded doubtful. "I'll try." There were some stony tink-tink-tinks from her side, but it didn't sound promising.
The decoy-Imoen spun around, stuck her bum out and shook it at the kobolds, then did a somersault while another flurry of arrows clattered by.
"Can't put a dent anywhere," Skie complained. "Don't you have a spell that blows stuff up?"
"Boy do I wish! Next thing on my priority list." Helpful as Xan had been at teaching her new spells, he seemed allergic to the sort of magic that explodes.
Yikes! That seemed like a lot of arrows flying at the decoy. Once it had danced past them, Imoen made the illusion string an arrow for a counterattack, then thought better and had it knock three at once, shooting them all down the hall. Hopefully that'd have 'em ducking for cover! Maybe next Decoy-Imoen could try shooting five arrows at a time. That'd be cool!
"Maybe you're not looking in the right place?" Imoen suggested. "There could be a pulley-rope high up. Or something on the far wall?"
"I've looked! There's nothing here but a long, empty hallway."
"Well-" Imoen fell short and grimaced when three closely-grouped arrows zipped by and went straight through her decoy.
Focusing hard, she managed to keep Fake-Imoen from winking out of existence, but the damage had probably already been done. The kobolds were shouting something now instead of shooting arrows, and their 'Screeeeees!' sounded especially annoyed.
Woops! Imoen started to back away down the corridor as the shouts grew closer. "Uh, sorry Skie. I've gotta run. Just stay put and I'll rescue you soon as I can! Or…run like hell if you see kobolds. Whatever works!" She turned and fled as the small army of lizards started pouring out from around the bend. "Sorry! Sorry!"
One turn, then another and another. She thought this was the right way. Unless the kobolds had moved the walls. And boy did she wish she had an invisibility spell ready right now. Burned that one up too early today.
Another turn 'round a sharp bend, her hand touching the wall to keep her balance, and then Imoen was plunging down a wider hall towards the open chamber where Xan and the warriors had been left waiting.
"Kobolds!" Imoen shouted as she sprinted.
Ashura looked up from a lizard with a twitching tail that she had just pinned with her boot and stabbed. "Well, yeah!" she shouted back. "Tell me about it!"
Oh. There were quite a few kobold corpses strewn across the floor, and Dorn seemed to be holding two up, the neck of one clinched between his fingers while the other was impaled on his blade. Vicki and Eldoth were back in the room too, both panting hard.
"Well uh…" Imoen replied as she dove into the chamber. "More kobolds!"
Ashura didn't seem surprised or bothered. She stepped in between Imoen and the tunnel, Shar-Teel slipped up beside her with a fierce scowl on her face. "Of course," Ashura grumbled. "There's always more."
There were a lot of things that Skie Silvershield was not, and she was well aware of this.
Strong, for one. Worldly as well. She was definitely not worldly. And though she had started practicing recently, she knew that she was a terrible cook. The first omelet she had made for Eldoth had browned and blackened on one side almost to the point of being inedible, and the second omelet had fallen apart when she tried to flip it too early. Finding the perfect moment between solidified and burnt egg was still something that eluded her.
But Skie liked to think that she was aware of her strengths as well. She could easily dance the shifting alliances, the Amnish estampie, the twirling basse, Akadi's grace, or the swan glide, and recently she had added the scandalous dances practiced in the secret clubs of the Undercellars to her repertoire. She knew exactly how deeply to bow and what to do with her hands when meeting with a baron, an earl, a duke, a high lord or even a pasha, and how not to offend a Turmishman, a Sembian, a Chessentan, and even an Estagundian (you have to be real careful with your hands around them! No touching, and there seemed to be at least a dozen simple gestures they considered obscene.) She could also read adequately in six languages, speak fluently in four, embroider, knit, weave, and even play piano.
And she could be sneaky. She had had many long lessons in that, starting at age six when she would slip out to play round-the-dragon and odd-ogre-out with the cook's little nephews after her mother had forbidden it. She could make herself small. She could cling to the walls and shadows. She could set her feet down without making the slightest noise. And all else failing, there was the invisibility potion left on her belt, bought at great expense from Sorcerous Sundries.
So sneak she did, creeping along the ancient elven corridors with her back to the wall and her knees bent low. Her left leg felt raw and sore, but thankfully the wound there hadn't bled too much, and she had tied cloth tight over it. She had also been relieved to find that her hand wasn't broken from punching the kobold. Just very, very sore.
Imoen's conjured light had winked out long ago, forcing Skie to drink her infravision potion, but that was probably for the best. You can't really sneak around with a big glowing wisp hanging over your head.
Infravision was handy too, she had to admit. The cool walls and buttressing columns of the complex stood out in clear, sharp blue, and the little bodies of patrolling kobolds were beacons of red-orange against that backdrop. She had already spotted and avoided a few packs of the hopping little lizards, stilling her breath as they passed. And the darkvision even made it clear enough to spot the traps along the walls and floors, now that she knew what to look for. There were some up ahead in fact: ugly, knobby little bits that the kobolds had tacked on over the distinct elven stonework. Easy enough to avoid.
Tiptoeing over a pressure-plate and rounding a sharp bend, Skie once again had to fight the urge to let out a gasp. There, a mere couple of paces ahead, stood a kobold in a padded tunic that looked oddly clean and well-cut. It was using its bow like a crutch as it surveyed the darkness ahead, tail slightly curled.
Skie's sword was out and ahead of her, but the little reptile had its back turned. Hadn't seen her yet. Best to slink back down the tunnel. I can just find another way. Not like I know-
The creature suddenly sniffed, and its shiny little head swiveled, one of those yellow snake-eyes fixing right upon Skie. The eye bulged wide and the creature's jaw fell open.
That settled things! All Skie could think to do was lunge.
The end of her blade pierced padding and scales, and her hand stung as claws raked and fought back. More sharp pain sprung in her other hand when she reached out and grabbed the creature by its crocodile-jaws, squeezing hard to keep it from crying out. Spikey bumps at its snout worried against Skie's hand, and the little beast's tail frantically beat against her side as she twisted and tugged with her sword, stabbing again and again.
Skie Silvershield wasn't very strong, but she found that she was at least stronger than a kobold. It was easy enough to hold the creature up and grip its jaws shut as the struggles became death-spasms. Then, panting hard, she threw the reptile to the floor with a scraping sound that made her cringe. She'd been working so hard to avoid noise.
Looking up, Skie glanced around the hall. The little buggers tended to travel in packs. Where there more? Should she try to hide the corpse? But it seemed empty enough. She was just pondering which side-passage to take when a noise echoed down the hall and had her gasping and holding her sword up all over again.
But no. That hadn't been a 'screeeee!' It was a human voice. And a familiar one? Skie cocked her head to listen.
"You pushed me!" the voice went on. Gruff, female, and snarling. It was Shar-Teel. "Deny all you wish, but I felt the shove, pig!"
"Oh spare me," Eldoth's voice echoed back, composed as always. Eldoth! He's here! "It's hardly my fault that you are such a clumsy, useless wench."
Still minding her steps, Skie crept down the hall. Easy to find the pair, since they seemed to be shouting. She hoped there wasn't a nest of kobolds nearby that could also hear.
"Watch your mouth Eldoth," Shar-Teel snapped back, "or I'll end your life where you stand." There was a light whisper of steel for emphases, and Skie hurried now, turning a corner and racing towards the voices.
Once again they had a trail of blood to follow, incremental droplets speckling the dusty floor, though it was unclear whose blood it was. All Ashura could hope for was that it wasn't Garrick's. Or if it was that not too much had leaked out. She bristled and stamped and paced the halls each time Imoen stopped and knelt before a trap, which was far too damn often. Those annoying little lizards had really gone wild with this maze.
Perhaps even worse than the traps were the shifting and rotating walls. First they had lost Garrick and Skie to them, and then during the most recent battle Ashura had seen Eldoth stumble into Shar-Teel, sending the two of them sliding through one of the secret passageways. Probably intentional on the kobold's part: dividing the group up so they were easier to hunt would be smart. Most annoying: they had yet to figure out how the creatures operated the walls. After a few trials, they had just resolved to stick close, occasionally shouting for their missing companions.
Sighing while Imoen fiddled with a pressure plate, Ashura turned towards Xan. "And you've got no divinations that could help here?" she asked again.
And once again Xan nodded. "I could prepare and conjure up an arcane eye, but it would require a long period of meditation. Had I known we would be exploring a labyrinth today I would have made that spell a top priority."
"No time to rest," Ashura grumbled, glancing down the passageway. The moment Imoen gave the thumbs up she was going to charge ahead.
"That is often the way of it," Xan noted sadly. There was a pause, then to Ashura's surprise she felt the elf's slender fingers rest upon her bicep. "We will rescue him," he stated firmly. Or in as firm a voice as could come from Xan, which wasn't saying much.
Turning towards him, Ashura raised a brow. "Not going to tell me that he's doomed?"
Xan looked down. "I know that the two of us are not the…best of friends. But I admire your hopefully little lad. He is tougher than he thinks. And we will rescue him."
A chuckle. "Saying that you wouldn't expend the same effort and optimism to rescue my ass?"
"You…have needed far less rescuing in the time I have known you. Still, I would try. For the sake of your friend if nothing else. She loves you dearly, misguided though she may be." There was a hint of a teasing tone in Xan's voice. His attempt at a ribbing?
"Hm. Thanks." She broke off and went through a few more frustrated paces, then Imoen raised her thumb and Ashura stomped forward immediately. Dorn followed just a hairbreadth behind her. Hopefully that was the last damn trap.
Ashura's guts were churning and her blood was boiling as she passed the uneven strains on the floor, faint little droplets and growing fainter. Perhaps the wound had been staunched. In any case, there was only one way to go for the moment. They'd find the source of the blood soon enough.
The others hurried to keep up.
The moment Skie caught sight of Eldoth and Shar-Teel her heart leapt even higher in her throat. Both of them had their weapons drawn and were warily facing each other from opposite sides of a small chamber. "If you wish to engage in one of your silly duels," Eldoth stated flatly, "I would be happy to oblige, and show you just how silly your delusions of superiority truly are. You stupid. Lumbering. Cow."
Shar-Teel's upper lip twitched but her head shifted from side to side, weighing her weapons in her hands. Rage and incredulous suspicion warred on her face. "You seem eager to die, swine. A little too eager? If-"
"No!" Skie shouted, rushing as fast as she could now. "Stop this! Don't hurt each other! Why in the world are you two fighting? And here of all places!?"
His cutlass still aloft and on guard, Eldoth gave Skie a brief sidelong look. "Hello, Skie."
Frowning, Skie scrunched up her lips and slowed a little. There was less emotion in the greeting than she had seen from the lizards she'd been fighting, and his glance seemed so cold. What did I do?
"Stay out of this, little girl," Shar-Teel snarled, bending forward and glaring; her stance like a coiled spring. "If Eldoth really wants his guts spilled-"
A deep intake of breath and then Skie dashed the rest of the way between them, holding her hands up and interposing with her body. "No!" she screeched, facing Shar-Teel. "No one's guts are getting spilled! You hear me?!" There were tears in the corners of her eyes, and she fought back a hysterical tone. But she had to make them listen! This was madness. "We can all just walk away, alright? No one has to…to…AH!"
Her eyes bulged wide and the tears flicked from her lashes, her head jerking back. A weak little whimper was all that escaped her lips; all that got past the overwhelming pain. The worst pain she had ever felt in her life, hot and stabbing. There was a heavy presence behind her, and another jolt of agony as she was roughly forced to shift on her feet.
Shar-Teel had started to move, drifting to one side with her swords raised, and Eldoth –yes, that was Eldoth right behind her, holding her up- Eldoth had turned her, keeping her body between him and the warrior-woman. Like a…like a shield. What..? What's happening?
His hand snaked over her shoulder and he hummed something close to her ear. Heat-ripples flickered from his palm, dancing through the air and striking Shar-Teel. The waves of faint magic spread out and surrounded the woman, covering her body briefly; a shimmer like ice. Then Shar-Teel was frozen in place.
A shove sent Skie stumbling forward, and she felt the steel of Eldoth's blade slide out of her back. Felt the hole rip open further. Her cloak was damp and warm, head light and feet wobbly. His blade! He had…oh gods! "Eldoth…why?" she managed to stammer, tears filling her eyes and her hand pressing to the wound at her back, hot blood welling up around her fingers and soaking her hand in an instant.
His answer came in the form of another stab, and this time she threw her head back and screamed. When he yanked the cutlass free Skie lost all balance and control, crashing to the floor in a heap. She shifted and struggled to right herself, feeling his towering presence over her.
When he finally spoke his voice was just as composed and matter-of-fact as always. "Many reasons, Skie," he stated dispassionately. "Partly because I've been turning the matter over and over in my mind for the past tenday, and I simply could not see a chance of extracting any sort of ransom for you. Your father made that very clear." His voice was so cold. How could…how could he?
"But mostly," Eldoth went on, "because I simply could not stand another simpering, whining, high-pitched word from that mouth of yours. Not another vapid observation or endlessly needy demand."
There was emotion rising in his voice now. Fury.
"And every word was a cruel reminder of how I had gambled, and had lost. How I had wasted half-a-year planning the grandest heist of my life, and there was nothing to show for it but the company of a whiney, demanding little bitch." He sighed slightly, and his composure returned. "It grew to be entirely too much."
Skie had wobbled up onto her hands and knees, limbs trembling as she fought to stay upright. To crawl along the floor. To move and do…something. What? Her fingers fumbled, scratching stone and dust.
Gods, her head was so light. Like any moment it could just float away. And her limbs were so heavy. They no longer felt like her own. Appendages forged from lead, dragging her down into the darkness.
The glow her potion had given the world seemed to be fading. So dark down here. And cold. And lonely.
Eldoth. He had never really cared at all, had he?
"Goodbye, Skie," Eldoth muttered as he walked past her. "Glad to never see you again."
With every bit of will and fury she could muster, Shar-Teel tried to tense her muscles. To strain against the damned spell. To thrash or writhe or something. It was no use though.
In truth she just felt disconnected from her body. She couldn't even scowl. Or move her raw, burning eyes. Or even fucking blink! The spell of holding was as absolute as the swine's triumphant grin. He held his bloody cutlass aloft, sneering right into her eyes as he stepped past Skie's still body. They were roughly of a height, and stood face to face now.
Eldoth swung his blade about, flicking drops of blood heedlessly. A few spattered against Shar-Teel's cheek. "It is so tempting," he taunted, "to end you right here and now. One swipe of this sword would do it." He chuckled. "An ignoble end for the proud warrior-woman's final duel. Oh, you and your silly, silly duels." A shake of his head sent his long, immaculately kept hair swishing about. "But I have an even better idea." Another brief little laugh.
"Shar-Teel Dosan. I had heard long ago that Commander Angelo Dosan was searching for his runaway daughter, but never dreamed she would be such a woman as you. Not until the little redhead told me. Betrothed to old Lord Felonius wasn't it? Until you ran off just before the wedding and caused quite the scandal. The bounty your father is offering is a pittance compared to ten gold trade bars, but it will at least be something to show after this horrid misadventure."
The swine wiped his cutlass carefully before sheathing it, flexing his fingers and showing Shar-Teel pearly white teeth. "Now let's see about opening this secret passage and giving our 'companions' the slip, shall we. Hopefully they left some useful goodies in their saddlebags as well. We've got a long journey to ahead of us." His smirk grew. "And of course you'll cooperate."
Eldoth closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then began to hum. The hum rose from his throat and grew into a wordless intonation as he parted his lips. When his eyes opened they twinkled sharply, and each rising note just seemed to make them brighter and brighter. Soon the air was humming all about him, and despite every effort she made to fight it Shar-Teel felt her rage ebbing away, all the edges of her mind and sight growing soft.
As the world around her became blurry, Shar-Teel heard Eldoth break from the wordless song and chuckle once again, fingers still traipsing through the air as if pulling invisible strings. "Ah yes," he said through the growing haze. "This will be even more pleasing than ending you with a sword-thrust. Shar-Teel, from now on your lot in life shall be to bake cookies and bare children."
Another deep breath, and he began to hum a few more soothing bars, the colors shifting and dancing all around him now. Then he stopped abruptly, his head half-turning in surprise at the sound of glass shattering just behind him.
But he never turned around completely. Never managed to look over his shoulder at the healing potion that had broken upon the stones, or the girl who had dropped it. The four inches of Skie Silvershield's sword that had just burst through the front of Eldoth's chest stopped him before he could.