Marc Anthony - Escape from Undermountain

Guss scratched his head. "So when I cracked my skull on the sky, that was really the cavern roof?"

Beckla nodded in agreement. "That's right."

"Wait a minute," Artek protested. "This doesn't make any sense. If the entire sky is a gate that lets through sunlight, why didn't Guss simply fly through into the desert beyond?"

The wizard tapped her cheek with a finger. "I think I know the answer to that," she said finally. "Guss, why don't you try to step through the gate here?"

"Oh, after you," the gargoyle said hurriedly.

Beckla sighed in exasperation. This is just a test, Guss. You don't have to be polite, you know."

"Oh," the gargoyle said sheepishly. He shrugged his massive shoulders, then stepped through the gap. At least, he tried to step through. There was a blue flash, and he was roughly thrown backward into the others.

"That's what I was afraid of," Beckla said glumly.

"What?" Artek grunted. That I would get crushed by a gargoyle?"

"Sorry!" Guss apologized, leaping off Artek and helping him to his feet.

"Not you, Ar'talen," Beckla said in annoyance. The gate. It obviously works in only one direction. People- and sunlight-can pass through to the forest. But they can't go back out. Just Шее Solthar said."

Artek felt his hopes evaporate like water in the hot desert sun. "It doesn't really matter. This gate couldn't have helped me. Or Corin. Wherever this desert is, it's certainly more than a day's journey back to Waterdeep. And less than a day is all both of us have to get back." He laid a big hand on Beckla's shoulder. "But this could have given you a way out of Undermountain. Fm sorry."

For a moment her brown eyes were troubled, then she shook off his hand. «I’ll survive."

Leaving the fissure, they returned to the edge of the forest. However, Artek had no idea where they should try to go. He was out of ideas.

"Shall I lead the way this time?" Corin asked. Before anyone could answer, he drew his rapier and began hacking at the tangle of branches and vines before them. However, the thin blade merely bounced off the dense foliage. It flew from the nobleman's grip and landed quivering in the ground directly between Artek's legs.

Corin’s face blanched. Artek gripped the rapier and jerked it out of the ground. He did not have the time to deal with Corin's foolishness. His blood began to boil. He couldn't suppress his orcish rage.

"I could try again," Corin said hopefully, reaching for his rapier.

Artek did not hand the blade to him. "No, Corin," he growled. "Don't try again. In fact, don't try anything again." Baring his pointed teeth, he advanced on the startled lord. "Don't do anything, don't say anything-don't even think anything. Understand?"

"But I-"

Artek interrupted him. "No buts, Corin," he snarled viciously. "You've landed us in enough trouble already. Escaping is going to be hard enough without you getting us into worse straits with your antics. Haven't you gotten it though your silly noble head yet that you're-"

Despite his anger, Artek clamped his mouth shut on the hurtful words he'd nearly uttered. It was too late. The damage had been done. Corin gazed at him with wounded eyes.

"That I'm what?" the nobleman asked quietly. "Go ahead, Artalen. You can say it. After all, I've heard it often enough." Artek gazed at him in silence, while the others looked on in concern. Corin shook his head ruefully. "Fine, then. I'll say it myself. I'm worthless. That's what you were going to say, wasn't it? That I'm stupid, and soft, and utterly worthless."

A look of defiance colored his pale visage. "Well, maybe you're right," he went on bitterly. "Maybe I am worthless. My father certainly would have agreed with you. Then again, you don't know me any better than he did. You don't know what my life has been like." He clenched his hand into a fist. "You don't know the first thing about me!"

Corin drew a deep breath, forcing his fingers to unclench. A fey light crept into his blue eyes. "Well," he said calmly, "I won't trouble you any further. I'm sure you'll fare far better without my presence to hinder you. I wish you all the best of luck. Good-bye."

With that, the young lord plucked the rapier from Artek's surprised hand, then turned and plunged into the forest. Artek started to lunge after him, but a hand on his shoulder halted him. It was Beckla.

"Let him go," the wizard said softly. "Give him a little time to himself."

Artek glared at her. "A little time to get himself killed, you mean? In case you'd forgotten, that foolish young noble is the reason Fm here in the first place! Hell owe me big when we finally get out of here."

Beckla thrust her hands on her hips, her brown eyes flashing with fire. "And in case you'd forgotten, it's because of your idiotic talk that he's run off into the forest."

Artek opened his mouth, but he had no reply to her stinging words. She was right.

"Well, you've botched things up rather nicely," Muragh said.

"Don't worry," Guss said, his gruff voice reassuring. "We won't let him get too far ahead."

Artek nodded silently. He moved a short distance from the others to think. Why had he said those harsh things to Corin? They sounded exactly like the sort of things his father had said to him when he was just a child. Arturg had been a hard.teacher, and it had seemed Artek's thieving skills had never lived up to hi? father's expectations. Even when he had grown into a man, and his abilities had far surpassed those of his father, Arturg's voice had still echoed stingingly in his mind. As a child, Artek had vowed never to speak cruelly to another as Arturg had to him. Yet he had broken that vow with Corin, hadn't he? Like father, like son. Arturg would be proud of you, he told himself bitterly. He hung his head in shame.

In the distance, an eerie sound echoed through the forest. Artek looked up. The sound came again- high, clear, and menacing. It sounded like the call of a hunting horn.

"Did you hear that?" he asked the others. By their fearful expressions, they had. Dread growing, Artek gazed into the trees where the nobleman had disappeared. The sound of the horn had come from the same direction. "Conn."

With a cry, Artek leapt forward and ran swiftly through the entangling forest. Beckla and Guss followed him as quickly as they could manage, but Artek moved with the strength and grace of a wild animal, ducking beneath low branches and leaping over fallen tree trunks. He soon outpaced the others. His nostrils flared as they caught a familiar, rusty scent-blood. He pushed through a thick curtain of vines, then skidded to a halt.

It was Solthar. A long spear, decorated with crimson feathers, had pierced his chest, pinning his body to the trunk of a tall tree. His feet dangled limply a foot above the ground, and his head lolled forward, staring with blank eyes. He was dead.

The vines rustled and parted as Guss and Beckla caught up with Artek. Both gaped in shock when they saw Solthar dangling from the tree.

"He was right," Beckla said. The Hunt did find him in the end."

Something in the leaf litter caught Artek's eye. He bent down and picked it up. It was a small square of grimy silk. He swore under his breath.

This is Corin’s handkerchief," he said grimly. He looked up at the suspended body of the madman. The hunters Solthar talked about must have come upon Conn. The old man must have actually tried to help him."

"I don't think it worked," Muragh said.

Artek dug in the pocket of his breeches and pulled out a small blue stone-the heart jewel he had used to find the lost lord in the lair of the Outcasts. Blue light pulsed rapidly in the center of the crystal. Corin was still alive, but he was terrified.

"Come on!" Artek growled. "We have to find Corin."

Artek dashed through the forest again, running in the direction in which the gem's light was strongest. As he ran, he tried to recall what Solthar had said about these strange Hunters. Their god is a beast, and a master of beasts. And beasts we are to him. His eyes. Too bright, his eyes. They burn as he crushes them in his jaws." Artek was filled with a deep sense of foreboding. He tightened his grip on the jewel. Instinct burned in his brain, urging him to hurry.