Jess Lebow - Obsidian Ridge

Coming around the next corner, the passage straightened out and widened into sort of a crossroads-four passages heading off in opposite directions. The Claw launched himself forward, hurling himself out of the hallway and into the open space. Landing in a ball, he somersaulted once, came to his feet, and spun around, his gauntlets out like the claws of a tiger, ready to fight.

The helmed horror appeared at the end of the hall, its blade clutched in its huge hand. Stones rained down around it, denting the creature as it tried to escape. The advancing crack in the ceiling shot out over the archway that led from the room into the hall. The keystone crumbled, and the end "of the passage collapsed, dropping to the floor in a collective mass, sending dirt and the sound of crushing metal spewing out into the room.

The Claw cowered back, covering his face and protecting himself from the floating debris. The crossroads, brightened by mage-lit stones in sconces along the wall, went dim from the cloud of black dust. The Claw coughed through his cloak, sucking air through the fabric to block out the floating filth.

There was a light tinkling sound as the heavier particles settled back to the ground-the last sprinkling of the stone rain. The Claw moved toward the mouth of the hallway he'd just come from. His eyes burned and itched from the dust, but slowly the air cleared. Where the archway had been only a few moments before, there was now a huge mound of crumbled stone.

He couldn't see the construct, even a piece of it, through the pile, but he was certain nothing was going to make it out of there alive-or still moving. He checked the ceiling, wary of having to dash away from falling stone. But the cave-in had stopped at the end of the passage, and the crossroads was spared.

He was safe-for the moment.

King Korox stepped back into the storage closet where Genevie was being held. Upon seeing him, the half-elf recoiled in fear.

"I have very little time for this," said Korox. His head hurt and he rubbed his temples. "So I'm going to ask you some simple questions, and you're going to answer them." He looked right at Genevie, his tone threatening, his words sincere. "Do you understand?"

The handmaiden nodded.

"Good. Then we will start." The king paused, looking for the right way to phrase his first question. "How many mages can you gather before nightfall?"

The half-elf woman looked puzzled. "I don't… I can't gather any."

The king slammed his fist into a wooden shelf, shattering it and sending the pieces dropping to the floor. "I don't have time for your games. I know you're the Matron, and I'm willing to make a deal with you. That is what you offered, isn't it? That was what you sent Whitman here to tell me. That you wanted some sort of an alliance? So name your price. What is it you want to release my daughter and help me defeat Xeries?"

"My lord, please forgive me, but I am not the Matron. I don't know any mages or about any deal, and I do not know where Princess Mariko is." She stood in the corner, looking at the king with wide, wild eyes.

"Damn you!" he shouted, pointing at her with one thick finger. "I will have no more of this! You will deal with me now, or you will die."

"I told you," Genevie sobbed, terror on her face, "I have no mages. I don't know where the princess is."

There was commotion behind the king. It sounded as if the guards were holding back someone who wanted to get into the closet.

"Let me pass!" came a voice. "The king is making a terrible mistake."

Korox stopped shouting and lowered his finger. "Vasser? Is that Vasser?"

"Yes, my lord," came the voice. Then, "You see. I told you the king would want to see me."

The guards stepped aside and into the closet came Vasser. He lifted his very large hat from the top of his head, and swung it out before him as he gave the king an elaborate bow.

"Before you get carried away, my king, allow me to tell you what I know."

Korox nodded.

Placing his hat under his arm, Vasser slipped past the king and stood beside the half-elf woman. "I have been following the princess's handmaiden-among others-for some time. Three days ago, however, she managed to give me the slip, and I've been looking for her on your instruction ever since. This morning I discovered that she has been in the south, purchasing medicinal herbs to give to her grandson." Vasser looked down on the terrified half-elf, her cheek swollen from where the king struck her. "He has a rare disease that will require a very expensive spell to cure. In the meantime, Genevie has been getting a copper weed poultice from a druid in Duhlnarim, to soothe her grandson's symptoms while she collects the coin to pay for the spell."

"So you're telling me that her disappearance was a complete coincidence? That it had nothing to do with the princess's kidnapping?"

Vasser nodded. "That is what I am telling you."

"She…" The reality of the situation hit King Korox, and a heavy pang of guilt set in. "You're telling me she's innocent?"

"Not entirely," said Vasser. "She is guilty of stealing candlesticks and bits of silverware from the princess's chamber."

"I was going to repay her. As… as soon as I had the coin." Genevie held her face in her hands. "I'm so sorry, my lord. I'm… I'm ashamed of what I have done, and I should be punished."

The king was completely deflated. "I am the one who should be ashamed." He dropped to his knees in front of the handmaiden. "You're not the Matron, are you?"

Genevie shook her head. "No."

"Your only crime is that you tried to help your sick grandson."

The half-elf nodded, not looking at him.

The king tried to take her hand, but Genevie flinched away.

Korox's heart sank. He had never done anything so vile as this before. He had never acted in a manner so unbefitting a king. He no longer felt as if he deserved all of his riches and power. If Bane were to appear before him and demand that he turn over all that he had, he would do it right now, without complaint. Nothing he could ever do, no matter how much good it would bring, could possibly make up for the thrashing and accusation he laid on this poor woman today.

He pulled his hand away from the half-elf. "I know that what I have done to you is wrong. And I am certain that my apology does not excuse me for my behavior. Nor, I suspect, will it make you feel any better." He paused. "But I give you my apology all the same."

Getting to his feet, the king stepped out into the hall. "Get her a healer, right away. And send a message to the temple of Ilmater," he said to the wizard who had been summoned to ward the room against magic. "Have them send a high priest to cure Genevie's grandson. Whatever it costs, no matter the expense, I will pay for it personally." He glanced back into the lightless chamber Vasser was helping the old half-elf get to her feet. "And I want her to have a bodyguard. For the rest of her days. No one will ever be allowed to lay a hand on her in anger, ever again."

The Claw sneezed. The dust in the room was making his nose itch, and he scratched it with his shoulder, rubbing the tough cloth up under his mask. The blades on his gauntlets made some of the simple things quite a bit more difficult, but it was something he'd learned to live with.

There were three passages left in the crossroads after the hallway collapsed. The silver needle pointed to one on the Claw's fight. Eager to get out of the dust cloud, he turned and followed the compass.

The passage emptied into a much larger room. A series of large stone pillars, each the same distance from the next, dominated the space-all of them radiated out in circles from the center of the chamber. There was a crack in the ceiling, out of which a purplish glow emanated.