Marc Anthony - Escape from Undermountain

Pale blue magelight flared into being. Beckla slumped against a wall, gripping her staff, grimacing but whole. With painful effort, Artek turned around, wondering how Corin had fared. He stared in amazement as the nobleman leapt easily to his feet, briskly dusting off his tattered finery.

"That was positively thrilling," Corin said exuberantly. "The danger! The excitement! The narrow escape!" His blue eyes shone brightly. "I don't suppose we could do it again?"

"Are you sure we can't kill him, Ar'talen?" Beckla grumbled, slowly pulling herself to her feet with the help of her staff.

"Don't tempt me." Joints and muscles protesting, Artek stood.

Corin eyed the others speculatively. "You know, I'm beginning to get the distinct impression that neither of you likes me very much."

"Wherever would you get such an idea?" Artek replied facetiously.

"Oh, I don't know," Corin mused. "I suppose it's all this talk about wanting to kill me. One might construe that as an indication of dislike."

"Really? What a fascinating interpretation."

The nobleman beamed. "Why, thank you, Ar'talen!"

Artek and Beckla exchanged meaningful glances. There was no need for words.

By the glow of the magelight, the three stood at the beginning of a corridor. Smooth stone walls rose to a flat ceiling high over their heads. Artek could see the trapdoor through which they had fallen. It was now blocked by the bases of the thick stone walls that had nearly crushed them in the room above. The darkness was dense and stifling here, retreating sullenly before the magical light of Beckla's staff, and only a few paces at that. A rank odor like the putrid reek of decay hung in the air, so thick that it almost seemed to leave on oily residue on their skin and inside their lungs. It was a stench of evil.

With no other options evident, the three started down the corridor. The tunnel plunged straight through the darkness, without openings or side passages, The sickening odor grew more intense as they walked, but there was nothing to do but swallow their bile and press on. Soft, ropy strands dangled from the ceiling. Artek guessed they were moss or fungal growth, for they glowed with a faint and noxious green light. They ducked to avoid the strands and kept moving.

Though he couldn't be sure, Artek had the sense that the passageway was leading gradually downward. He swore inwardly. They needed to go up, but it seemed everything they did only took them farther down. It was as if Undermountain itself were somehow conspiring to pull them deeper.

After a time, the inky mouth of a smaller tunnel opened up to the left. The fetid stench was stronger here, pouring like black water out of the side opening. Yet it wasn't just the smell that spilled from the tunnel-there was a malice as well, distant and faint, but chilling all the same.

"There's something down there," Beckla whispered nervously.

Corin nodded, his smudged face pale. "And whatever it is, I don't think it's terribly friendly," he added in a squeaky voice.

"Just keep moving," Artek countered. He felt the malevolent presence as well. He wiped his sweaty palms on his leather jerkin and kept his sensitive eyes peeled.

They continued down the murky passageway. The mouths of more tunnels opened to their left and right. Some were blocked by fallen rubble, and others were dry and dusty. But the same pungent reek wafted outward from several tunnels, as did the aura of evil. Without deciding aloud to do so, the three picked up their pace. Then Artek detected it- a subtle shift in the movements of the air.

"There's a space ahead," he whispered excitedly. "And a faint breeze. I think there's a way out. Come on, it's not far."

The others needed little urging. They started into a jog, hurrying down the passageway. At the same moment, the aura of malice swelled behind them. They reeled, nearly overwhelmed by the vile emanations of hatred. Something was following them, and it was gaining.

"Run!" Artek yelled.

Gasping, they hurled themselves down the tunnel, the darkness following thickly on their heels. An eerie whispering sound echoed all around. Lungs burning, the three kept running. All at once the walls of the tunnel fell away, and they found themselves dashing across a cavernous chamber. Strange white shapes littered the floor, crunching brittlely underfoot. Dense clumps of the same strands that had filled the tunnel hung from the high ceiling like a weird inverted forest, filling the room with a ghastly green glow. Artek caught another wisp of fresh air, stronger now. Then he saw it on the far side of the hall-a faint rectangle glowing amid the gloom. A doorway.

"Hurry!" he shouted, heedless of what might hear his voice.

The eerie whispering grew louder, filling the chamber. Thick blackness poured out of the opening behind them like a putrid flood. Legs pounding, Artek outpaced the others. As he neared the doorway, he saw that it was covered with more of the same green, glowing strands. With a cry, he hurled himself at the portal. Instantly his cry became one of pain as bitterly cold threads burned the skin on his hands and face. The silken material stretched under the force of his impact, then abruptly snapped back, throwing him roughly to the ground.

He stared up at the door in surprise, rubbing his throbbing hands. Then he leapt to his feet, drew a knife from his boot, and slashed at the chaotic weave that covered the door. The blade bounced back, jarring his wrist painfully. He had not so much as damaged one of the cords.

"What is this stuff?" he said in hoarse amazement as the others came to a halt behind him.

Beckla drew in a sharp breath, staring upward. "I think I know."

The strange whispering grew to a maddening din. The threads hanging from the ceiling stirred. Ghostly shapes scuttled down the glowing strand.

"Webs," Corin gasped. "They're spiderwebs!"

As they watched in horror, half a dozen bloated forms dropped down from the tangle of webs above, while several more scurried from the opening through which they had entered the chamber. They were spiders, but like none Artek had ever seen. They were huge, each the size of a dog. Their bulging bodies, as pale and waxy as corpses, were eerily translucent, and their long gray legs trailed off into dim tendrils of gray mist. Dark saliva bubbled from their vague pincer mouths, and their multifaceted eyes shone malevolently, like flame reflected off black jewels. Whatever these things were, it was clear they were not truly alive, but wraiths, in hideous spider form. As they drew near, Artek realized the nature of the white shapes littering the chamber's floor. They were bones.

Together, the three backed toward the web-covered doorway.

"So, are you having fun yet, Silvertor?" Artek said darkly.

"Actually, this is a little more fun than I had anticipated," the lord answered with a gulp.

"Mystra save us," Beckla breathed.

The spiders advanced on their misty legs.

Artek drew the curved saber Melthis had given him. The hilt tingled in his hand-it was the first time he had drawn it in combat. Warm energy flowed up his arms as red fire glimmered along the edge of the blade. A wraith spider lunged forward, and Artek swung the saber. The creature let out a mind-piercing shriek as two of its legs fell to the floor. For a moment, they twitched of their own volition, then evaporated into wisps of fog. The spider lurched backward.

Beckla uttered an arcane incantation. Blue energy crackled from her fingertips. It struck two of the wraith spiders, but passed through their ghostly bodies. They continued to scurry forward.

"My magic has no effect on them!" the wizard shouted in terror.

"Nor does my rapier!" Corin cried as he thrust without result at one of the creatures. He retreated hastily.