Richard Knaak - The Fire Rose

He reached for the staff, which was also snared by strands. The wizard gave a good pull-

A tremendous hiss from above was all the warning that he received. The bone white form dropped down on him, its long, sinewy body quickly coiling around the wizard from chest to ankle.

A ghostly head snapped at him. It was huge snake-a viper-with fangs as long as Tyranos’s fingers.

He used one powerful hand to grab the beast just under the jaw and thus keep it from sinking those fangs into his arm.

The snake pulled back its head. Tyranos immediately twisted the creature’s head just to the side of his own.

A spray of venom shot forth, a spray that only barely grazed his cheek thanks to his swift reaction. Still, the slight touch was enough to make the area burn like the coldest ice.

At the same time, the coils tightened painfully. The spell-caster felt his rib cage being squeezed impossibly hard. The viper was also a great constrictor, a double threat.

But Tyranos squeezed back. “There are things in the sea my people have fought that are far worse than you could ever be, worm!”

The wizard crushed its throat.

The viper stiffened. The head cracked off and fell near his feet.

Twisting, Tyranos broke free of the rest of its body. Fragments of the viper went flying in different directions, some of them landing in the strands.

Studying the pieces still in his hand, the wizard saw that the creature had indeed turned to stone upon dying, much as it was said certain draconians did. Of course, draconians-the dragon men who had once served the dread goddess Takhisis-were living creatures, whereas the serpent had more likely been an animated carving brought to life by some magical trigger.

Tyranos discarded the pieces and tried to free the staff again. It worked after he had pulled as hard as he could. The wizard inspected his staff for damage, and satisfied, looked around in order to consider his next move.

The most logical one came to mind. Tyranos raised the staff and concentrated.

A moment later, he lowered the staff in disgust. “So. Not so easy to escape, eh? Let’s see what else we can find.” He glanced over his shoulder at the representatives of the dead, adding with a mocking tone, “You’ll wait, won’t you?”

Holding the staff before him, the wizard muttered. The crystal point shone, albeit not nearly so bright as times in the past. Grunting in frustration, Tyranos studied the area around him.

There was a passage beyond the webbed area, which surprised the wizard. Shrugging, he headed to the passage.

It was narrow, but passable. The walls were absolutely smooth, even where the stone blocks met. The builders had been craftsmen and-so Tyranos discovered as he held the staff close to one wall-masters of magic. Latent forces swirled within the walls, their purpose undecipherable, and therefore potentially deadly.

The passage veered at a sharp angle to the right. Tyranos turned the corner and confronted a wall.

He also encountered another skeleton clad in the robes he was increasingly certain represented some generation of the High Ogres.

The poor fool had been crushed to death by something. Every bone was broken, the skull in several unattractive pieces.

But the dead were already familiar and only of mild interest. The wizard stepped gingerly over the remains and used the staff to tap against the wall at the end.

It sounded very solid.

“Blasted tricks.” Tyranos turned back.

There was a wall where the passage had been.

He was trapped.

A grinding noise sounded. The wall that had appeared behind him began moving in his direction.

The tall spellcaster was not amused. He stretched the staff forth and tapped the moving wall. Like the one he had just investigated, it sounded very solid. It continued toward him.

“And so I’m to be squeezed to a pulp am I?” It was an old kind of trap, Tyranos knew, a favorite of tomb builders who had some access to magic or very clever mechanics.

However, Tyranos had no desire to end up like the unfortunate under his feet or any of the many others he had come across in his searches. He gazed up at the ceiling, studying the point where the moving wall and the ceiling met a side wall.

Tyranos stabbed the staff’s head into the point of convergence. “Tivak!”

The silver strands of energy burst forth and struck the area.

Hot stone pelted him as the area exploded. Tyranos kept his head covered by the hood of his robe.

When he dared look up again, it was to find that the ceiling and the walls had all been scorched black and badly damaged. More importantly, the wall had ceased advancing.

“And that’s that done.” Tyranos turned to deal with the wall at the other end.

But the wall was gone and shortly beyond where it had previously stood, Tyranos could see a chamber.

A lighted chamber.

Tyranos told himself to be patient, measuring each step as though he were trying to cross a raging river by means of a bridge consisting of a single piece of rope upon which he was balanced. After succeeding with one step, he would dare the next.

By the time he reached the chamber, his heart was pounding from anticipation. Yet still the spellcaster did not leap inside the room. Instead, he extended his staffjust beyond the end of the corridor.

A gigantic pattern formed at the entrance, a complex, magical pattern filled with every color of the rainbow and every geometric design Tyranos had ever known. It blazed so brightly that he had to shield his eyes until they grew accustomed to the glare.

The pattern hovered there, utterly blocking his way. Yet it did nothing more aggressive. Tyranos studied the pattern, noting marks of the three moons, of the constellations as they had been before the ones designated for Paladine-once highest of the gods of light-and dark Takhisis had vanished from the heavens. There were also geographic marks, some of which he did not recognize, others that he did, and a few that were possibly places he knew, but with small variations.

The pattern altered. Some of the locations became other places. The constellations shifted positions. Several of the geometric designs realigned themselves and, as they did, Tyranos felt the magic of the pattern as a whole take on a new significance.

He cocked his head. There was something about the entire creation-

With his head high, Tyranos strode forward. He braced himself as he reached the shimmering pattern and breathed a deep sigh of relief when he emerged on the other side untouched.

“By the kraken!” the wizard rasped. He turned around to see the final traces of the pattern vanish. “So not so concerned about someone who’s not bound to any High Ogre, eh?”

Tyranos had studied much about the ancient race since first hearing about the Fire Rose. He had learned about their ways and about rivalries between their different factions. The pattern was designed to keep out anyone of a certain group-or possibly one particular individual. It had also been created to sense anyone who in any way served that group or individual, a piece of complicated spellcasting that truly impressed him.

“But why so precise?” Tyranos asked the vanished pattern. “Why worry so much about one type of intruder and not so much about others? Did you think the other traps sufficient?”

Still puzzled, he turned back to face the interior of the chamber. He hesitated. There, before him, was a wall filled with the flowing, beautiful script of the High Ogres.

And nothing else.

“That can’t be right. Let’s just see if we can decipher what you’re saying. ‘The way to freedom’ or something?”

Stepping up to the writing, he studied the text, one line after another. Tyranos mouthed it out syllable by syllable, sometimes learning a word by deciphering those around it.