Tim Waggoner - Thieves of Blood

The light revealed a mottled green-gray crab large as a mastiff. The sudden burst of illumination caused the creature to retreat several paces, its segmented legs making soft clack-clack-clack sounds as it scuttled back, large front claws waving back and forth in a defensive posture.

Ghaji was about to step forward and split the crab’s shell in two when Hinto stepped past him, long knife in hand. The halfling waved his long knife in the air as he advanced on the beast, and the crab leaned left, right, then back again as it tracked the movement of Hinto’s weapon. When the halfling was close enough, the crab lunged forward, ready to snap up the tasty morsel in its front claws. Hinto dodged to the side and smacked the flat of his blade hard against the one of the crab’s eyestalks. The creature let out a hissing noise, scuttled to the edge of the dock, and flung itself into the water with a loud splash.

As Hinto rejoined the rest of them, he said, “It’s just a dire crab, and a young one at that. They hate it when you hit their eyestalks. They’re timid enough, until they smell blood. Then they can be downright nasty.” Hinto chuckled. “Here I thought it was a monster.”

Diran and Ghaji exchanged looks. It seems there was no predicting what would set off the halfling’s panic.

“Right… the crabs,” Tresslar said. “I’d forgotten about them.”

Ghaji turned to the artificer. “Is there anything else you forgot? Sea dragons? Cannibalistic merfolk?” He concentrated and the flames flickering on the surface of this axe died out. “At least we know there’s no one watching us. The light from my fire axe would’ve alerted them.”

“Not to mention making us perfect targets for any archers,” Diran said.

“I’m just glad you didn’t set fire to the dock with that thing,” Yvka said.

Tresslar, recovered from Ghaji’s rebuke, sniffed. “Whoever attached the dragonshard to that weapon did a decent enough job, but if you want to see some serious flames…”

“I’ll let you know,” Ghaji said.

The five companions continued walking and reached the semicircular entrance to Grimwall without further trouble. The stone door was down, and there didn’t appear to be any method of opening it.

Tresslar stepped forward. “It’s been a while, but since I’m the one who constructed the locking mechanism on the door…” He leaned his face toward the stone surface of the door and pressed his lips against it. There came the sound of rock grating against rock, and the artificer quickly stepped back as the door began to rise. When the door had receded all the way and the entrance stood open, the others turned to look at Tresslar.

“It opens with a kiss?” Ghaji said.

“From one of the original crew of the Seastar, yes.” Tresslar shrugged, his face coloring in embarrassment. “I used to have something of a whimsical nature when I was young.”

The five companions paused at the threshold of Grimwall, as if something should be said. Good luck, perhaps, or as dangerous as their separate missions were, perhaps a tentative goodbye, but in the end they simply nodded to each other and went their separate ways.

Tresslar touched his wand to the containment ring’s column, and the metal-painted black, of course-began to glow bluish-green. He could feel the vibrations as his device began absorbing the spells that other artificers had woven into the internal structure of both the column and the ring affixed on top of it. He didn’t expect the process to take long. He’d already taken care of the elemental on the other ship without any difficulty. The spells the artificers had used, while serviceable, were crude and simplistic and presented no challenge to him. As the ships had been left unguarded, he’d faced no resistance.

Tresslar sighed. Forty years he’d been on Dreadhold, and if the spellwork he’d seen so far was any indication, artificers had become sloppy since he’d chosen to absent himself from the world. Perhaps the erosion of magical standards was an inevitable result of the Last War, when too many artificers had been forced to do rushwork out of necessity, but the war was over now, and there were no longer any excuses for such shoddy craftsmanship as far as Tresslar was concerned.

After a few moments, the greenish-blue glow where the golden dragonhead touched the column subsided, and it was done-no flash of light, no crackle of discharged energy. Tresslar preferred to avoid showiness in his work whenever possible. Restrained elegance was the hallmark of a true master of spellcraft, though in truth he couldn’t take full credit for his wand’s performance. He’d discovered the golden dragon’s head during a voyage to Trebaz Sinara with Erdis Cai. The uninhabited island held many wonders and even more mysteries, and the origin of the dragon’s head as well as its intended purpose was one of the latter. Tresslar had understood the dragonhead’s power well enough to use it to create his spell-absorbing wand, but he didn’t fully fathom the artifact’s nature-not that he’d ever admit it to anyone.

His task was complete. Two of the Black Fleet’s three galleons no longer possessed air elementals to fill their sails. With nothing else to do, he supposed he should disembark this vessel and board the ship he’d spared and wait for the others to finish their work.

Yet…

Tresslar turned and looked toward the open entrance to Grimwall. It had been four decades since he’d set foot inside, over half his lifetime. He knew it wasn’t the same place that he remembered from his youth and that terrible things walked its corridors now. Still, he felt a powerful urge to walk down the ship’s gangplank and head across the dock to the entrance and go inside. More than simple nostalgia, it was almost a compulsion, but he really didn’t want to simply revisit Grimwall, did he?

What he really wanted-what he needed-was to see Erdis again. Perhaps Tresslar wanted to see if any trace of the great explorer he’d once revered remained inside the undead creature that now ruled Grimwall. Perhaps, as Diran suggested, Tresslar had been afraid for too long, and it was time that he faced that fear, looked it straight in the eyes, for better or worse.

Tresslar continued standing and gazing at Grimwall’s entrance for several more moments before finally reaching a decision. Gripping his dragonwand tight, he headed for the gangplank.

Yvka and Hinto moved down the corridor with silent ease. Both of them possessed excellent night vision as well as nonhuman dexterity and grace, though Yvka might have made somewhat better time if she hadn’t needed to shorten the length of her stride so the halfling could keep up. The greenfire torches which lit the corridor provided enough illumination to make it seem bright as day to elven and halfling eyes, and from what they could see, Grimwall-at least this section of it-was deserted. Whatever the grisly nature of the rite Erdis Cai was preparing to conduct this night, it appeared his people were in attendance as well. All to the better; it would make Hinto’s and her task much easier.

The corridor they traveled curved slowly to the left, and Yvka saw that she’d allowed herself to become overconfident. Two male guards dressed in the familiar garb of the Black Raiders stood in front of a larger wrought-iron gate with burning braziers of greenfire mounted on either side. Despite the guards’ bald heads and false vampire teeth, Yvka knew they were human, or at least she hoped so, and that meant there was a chance they hadn’t spotted Hinto or her in the corridor’s gloom. She stopped and crouched down, putting one hand on Hinto’s shoulder to stop him and another over his mouth to prevent him from making any noise. Hinto must’ve already seen the guards, for he nodded, showing no surprise at Yvka’s actions.