Lisa Smedman - The Gilded Rune

He was so close. Yet he might as well have been on the opposite side of Faerun for all the good it would do. That dome of spellfire was enormous. And deadly. If he went any closer to it, he’d likely be incinerated, reduced to ash before he got halfway there. Even though it was all the way across the cavern, the raw magic was taking its toll. A wizard protected by powerful magic might last a day or two before succumbing to the deadly wash of energy. Torrin would be lucky to last half a day.

Should he retrace his steps? Try to find Baelar and the others? See if they could think of a solution? Yet doing that would mean admitting he’d been wrong. Admitting that he wasn’t capable of undoing the rune magic on his own.

“Moradin,” he whispered. “Am I the one who is to be your savior?”

No answer came. Torrin hadn’t expected it to.

As he stood there with the runestone, wondering what to do next, a faint sound reached his ears: a clanging, like metal on metal. Was that really the clash of weapons? He paused, listening, and at last pinpointed the sound. He stared in that direction, squinting against the harsh blue light of the spellfire, trying to make out what was happening.

There! At the side of the cavern! About a dozen moving figures emerged from a tunnel to his left that definitely hadn’t been there a moment before. It was likely that the tunnel mouth had been cloaked by an illusion. Torrin saw two groups, locked in combat. The glare of spellfire made their outlines wavering and indistinct, but Torrin could make out that those on foot were being pushed into the cavern by attackers mounted on what looked like giant spiders.

Escaped slaves, being herded into the deadly spellfire by duergar?

Then he heard a sound like the wail of an icy wind, and saw a cloud of what looked like swirling snow-flakes erupt around a standing figure who’d just landed a blow. Torrin had seen that magical effect before. And he knew the weapon that produced it-a frost axe.

“By Moradin’s beard!” Torrin gasped. “That’s Baelar!”

He jammed the runestone into his pocket. Then he sprinted, crystals crunching underfoot, to the spot where the battle raged.

Torrin raced to the battle, his mace in his hand, ploughing through the floating crystals that crowded the air like floating hail. He wanted to shout Baelar’s name, to let the dwarves know he was headed their way, but that would draw the duergar’s attention as well. In the hazy, crackling light, there was just a chance that they wouldn’t notice him, or would think him some shadow or trick of the light.

As he drew nearer, he could see more clearly through the spellfire-hazed air. Just ahead, four dwarves battled three spider-mounted duergar. The dwarves were being pressed hard. They’d been forced out of the tunnel and into the cavern, where crystals on the floor made the footing treacherous. The crystals didn’t slow the spiders at all. One scuttled out of the tunnel and up onto the ceiling, where its rider rained arrows down at the dwarves. Another raced lightly along the wall and jumped down several paces beyond the entrance, flanking the four dwarves. The third spider leaped out of the tunnel and, as one of the dwarves stumbled and lowered his axe, grabbed him in its jaws.

The dwarf screamed in agony as the jaws scissored shut. He suddenly went rigid, and his axe fell from his hand.

Baelar ran at that spider, brandishing his axe. He shouted and swung. The blade sliced off one of the spider’s legs. Frost exploded in a cloud as what remained of the leg froze solid then shattered, wrenching a chunk of the body off with it. The spider released its hold on the dwarf and crumpled. Baelar’s second blow cracked its head wide open.

The dwarf who’d been bitten fell in a stiff-limbed heap to the ground and didn’t rise. Baelar glanced at him, then pressed home his attack on the rider who’d just leaped off the spider’s back. Baelar’s next axe swing, however, passed through empty air as the duergar did a peculiar leap backwards, twisting as he jumped. The foe suddenly appeared behind Baelar. His axe descended in a deadly arc…

But in that moment, Torrin reached the battle. “ Thuldnoror! ” he cried, swinging his mace. Thunder boomed as the mace smashed into the side of the duergar’s head, shattering the duergar’s skull like weakened stone in an explosion of blood and brains.

Baelar stared at Torrin for a heartbeat, his eyes wide. He gave the briefest of nods and pointed at the rider who’d landed his spider behind them. “That one!” he ordered.

Torrin scrambled to the spot where one of the other dwarves-Captain Blackhammer-was fighting the duergar rider who’d flanked them. Blackhammer was trying to lop the legs off of the spider as Baelar had done. But before he could, the duergar rider hurled his lance. Blackhammer dove under the spider and rolled, emerging beyond its claw-tipped legs. The lance clattered off the crystal floor and skittered away.

“Stoneshield!” Baelar shouted from somewhere behind Torrin. “Close the tunnel!”

Torrin could see Captain Stoneshield out of the corner of his eye. The gray-bearded knight punched a fist into the air above his head. An arrow that had just been shot by the rider on the ceiling shattered into harmless splinters as Stoneshield’s magic struck it.

“But the others!” Stoneshield shouted back at Baelar. “They won’t-”

“Now!” Baelar shouted. “Do it!”

Torrin risked a second glance at the tunnel behind him. He spotted another dwarf inside it, sprinting for the cavern and shouting at them to wait. Three more duergar on spiders were close on his heels, about to overtake him. Baelar shouted again at Stoneshield to close the tunnel. Stoneshield continued to hesitate. At the last possible moment, just as the running dwarf burst into the cavern, Stoneshield slapped his hands together.

The walls slammed shut, crushing the three spiders. Colorless blood squirted out in a spray from between the rock. A clawed foot caught in the rock twitched, then was still.

Then an arrow plunged down into Stoneshield’s neck. He crumpled wordlessly, slain where he stood.

Baelar shouted and hurled his axe. The weapon whirled through the air, blades flashing, and buried itself in the chest of the rider above. The duergar rocked backward, then slipped from the saddle to dangle from a stirrup, his twisting corpse spurting blood that froze to red hail as it fell. The spider scuttled away across the ceiling.

Torrin reached the last rider just as that duergar’s spider crouched for a leap. Shouting “ Thuldnoror! ” once more, he slammed his mace into the spider’s twitching abdomen. Thunder boomed, rupturing the abdomen and sending blood, strands of guts, and fragments of bristle-haired chitlin everywhere. Spider blood splattered onto Torrin’s face, blinding him. He danced back, frantically wiping a hand across the lens of his goggles and spitting out the foul-tasting liquid. As he moved, he heard a scream above. He whipped up his mace to parry the expected blow, and heard the thud of a body landing beside him. Another wipe of his goggles cleared them. He saw it was the rider who’d fallen, pierced by his own lance. Captain Blackhammer stood a pace away, panting. He must have been the one who threw the lance. Baelar was cursing as he watched his prized axe, still buried in the body of the rider he’d thrown it at earlier, being carried away by the fleeing spider.

Torrin grinned through the muck that covered his face. They’d done it! Killed the three duergar riders and their mounts, and sent the one surviving spider scuttling away. The squad had paid a heavy price, having lost Captain Stoneshield and the knight who’d been killed by spider venom, but three of them remained: Baelar, Captain Blackhammer, and a third dwarf who stood next to the spot where the tunnel had been, holding an axe in his hand.