Marc Anthony - Escape from Undermountain

"Then work on freeing the door!" Artek gritted through clenched teeth. "Ill try to hold the spiders back as long as I can."

He swung the saber in whistling arcs, and a dozen more many-jointed legs fell to the floor, turning to mist. The spiders advanced more slowly now, wary of Artek's crimson sword. The plan was working for the moment, but there were too many of the wraiths. It was only a matter of time until one got through.

"I don't want to tell you your job," he growled, "but you might want to hurry, Beckla."

"Quiet!" the wizard snapped. Tm thinking." She studied the webs that crisscrossed the door. After a moment she nodded. "All right, if my magic won't work on these things, let's see what some good, old-fashioned, mundane fire will do."

Beckla uttered a command', and the end of her wooden staff burst into scarlet flame. She thrust the blazing brand at the webs. Instantly the sticky strands ignited, engulfed by brilliant fire. In seconds they were burned to fine ashes, clearing the doorway.

"It worked!" Corin cried excitedly.

"Come on, Artek!" Beckla shouted. "Let's go!"

Artek started to back away from the spiders, toward the now-open door. Then he suddenly froze. The saber in his hands jerked violently. As if imbued with a life of its own, the blade danced forward, pulling Artek roughly with it. He tried to release the sword, but his hands were suddenly glued to the hilt Seemingly of its own will, the saber swung at one of the wraith spiders. Artek stumbled wildly, trying to keep his balance as he was carried along by the blade.

"What are you doing, Ar’talen?" Beckla demanded frantically. "The door's open. We've got to go!"

"I can't let go of the sword!" he gasped. "It won't let me retreat!" He lurched as the sword thrust itself at a spider, pulling him along with it. With a surge of rage, he realized the truth. "Damn Darien to the Abyss. This thing must be cursed!"

Beckla let out a fierce oath. "All right, I’ll see if I can use my magic to remove the-"

The wizard's words turned into a scream as a pale form dropped down from above, landing on her back. Her cry was cut short as ghostly pincers dug into the back of her neck. Her body went limp, and she fell to the floor. The still-burning staff slipped from her fingers, rolling away.

Out of the corner of his eye, Artek saw Beckla fall. He strained against the dancing blade in his hands, face twisted in effort, then managed to turn it on the spider that clung to the wizard. The saber sliced through the thing's bloated abdomen. It waved its thin legs, then exploded into a puff of foul vapor.

Grim satisfaction turned to cold terror as Artek realized that his back was now toward the other wraith spiders. Sensing their prey's vulnerability, they chittered hatefully, closing in. Artek knew he had mere moments to live.

His eyes fell upon Beckla's burning staff, and an idea struck him. But he could not let go of the cursed saber. There was only one chance.

"Corin!" he shouted. "Grab the staff and hold it over your head!"

The lord stared at the approaching spiders, frozen in horror. He did not move.

"Now, Corin!" Artek screamed. "If there is any drop of truly noble blood in your.veins, do it!"

The young lord blinked. Mechanically, he obeyed Artek's orders. He gripped the staff, then thrust the blazing end over his head just as the wraith spiders closed in. Flame licked the bottom of a clump of pale webs dangling from the ceiling. For a terrible second, Artek thought his plan had failed. Then crimson fire snaked up the hanging strands, and all at once the chamber's entire ceiling burst into roaring flame. Gobs of burning web dropped down, landing on the wraith spiders. They shrieked and writhed as they were engulfed in crackling fire.

As his enemies were consumed, Artek felt the cursed saber release his arms. He thrust the blade back into its sheath, then bent down to scoop up Beckla's motionless form. He threw the limp wizard over his shoulder.

"Run, Corin!" he shouted over the roar of the flames.

This time the lord obeyed. They dodged falling clumps of blazing spider web and dashed through the door. Leaving behind the blazing inferno of death, they ran into cool darkness.

When they no longer heard the roar of flames and the echoing shrieks of the wraith spiders, Artek slowed to a halt, still balancing the motionless wizard over his broad shoulders. A second later, Corin-unable to see in the thick gloom-collided with Artek's back. The nobleman stumbled, caught himself, then leaned against a slimy wall, clutching his chest and gasping for breath. Artek glanced down at Beckla's face. Her eyes were closed, her skin deathly pale. He couldn't tell if she was breathing or not. They needed to stop and rest, but not here, not in this open stone corridor. There was no telling what things might wander by and catch them unaware. They needed someplace out of the way, someplace safe.

Then something caught Artek's eye. Set as it was into a deep alcove, he almost didn't notice it, even with the aid of his darkvision. It was a small wooden door. Resting behind a portal they could barricade would certainly be preferable to sitting in the middle of a drafty passageway. Artek made for the alcove, and Corin stumbled after him, feeling his way through the murk.

The door was locked. Artek drew the dagger from his boot, slipped the tip into the iron lock, and gave it an expert twist. The door swung open with a groan. Beyond was a small chamber bathed in leprous green light that emanated from phosphorescent fungus clinging to the room's damp walls. It was not a wholesome light, but at least Corin would be able to see. They entered the room, and Artek shut and relocked the door behind them.

"I must say, I've had better accommodations," Corin noted in a quavering voice.

"But you can't beat the price," Artek replied dryly.

There was little in the room but a few heaps of rusted metal and rotted wood. Atop one of the piles of refuse was a yellowed human skull. A drooping, frayed tapestry hung on one wall, and Artek yanked it down and spread it on the cold floor. As gently as he could, he laid the limp wizard down on the worm-eaten cloth.

"How… how is she?" Corin asked quietly, hovering over them.

Artek shook his head. It didn't look good. He laid a hand on Beckla's throat. Her flesh was as cold as ice, and he could feel no pulse. He held his dagger before her mouth, but the cool steel did not fog. She was not breathing. Artek turned her head, and on the side of her neck were a pair of small, dark wounds.

The wraith spider bit her," he said grimly. I suppose the tiling was poisonous." A tightness filled his chest, and his eyes stung. He had only just met the wizard, but she had helped him when he was alone, and he considered her a friend. "Beckla is dead, Corin," he said hoarsely.

"No, she isn't."

Artek glared up at the nobleman. This really isn't the time for your boundless optimism, you know."

Corin looked at him in surprise. "But I didn't say that," he gulped.

Artek frowned. "Well, if you didn't say it, then who did?"

"Hello there!" called a cheery voice. "It was me! I said it!"

Artek leapt to his feet and Corin spun around. Both stared in confusion. There was nobody else with them in the chamber.

"Over here!" It was the voice again: odd and hollow, almost like the sound of a low flute. "On the rubbish heap. No, not that one. This one!"

Artek and Corin blinked in shock as their eyes finally fell upon the mysterious speaker-a yellowed skull. Lower jaw working excitedly, it hopped and spun atop the pile of refuse.

"Surprised, eh?" the fleshless skull gloated.

"You could say that," Artek said cautiously, wondering if they were again in danger.