Bruce Cordell: Plague of Spells

The senior whip urged the catfish deeper into the demolished community. It could be that which drew her into the depths below Faerыn would be found in this very space! The far wall of the hollow remained obscured in haze, and she wanted to be sure of the cavity's bounds.

The sea coach was drawn inward. It passed only feet over crumbling edges of unspecified structures without roofs, now only unmarked crypts where many monstrosities had met a sudden, moist end.

A new structure began to resolve from the swirling water. Its architectural style was different from the foregoing ruins. It retained most of its walls and many of its roofs. It was several stories high, unlike any of the other structures in the cyst, and it had no windows. Something about the new structure reminded Nogah of how the linchpin prayer had almost failed. Was it coincidence the divine ritual most vital to their foray would show instability just as they descended to the depths of the dead illithid community?

Perhaps the charm's collapse and the ruined cyst's proximity were no accident.

Nogah pulled back on the reins. "Curampah-"

The catfish screamed, a scale-shivering sound so intense Nogah dropped the reins. A region of free-floating detritus whirled in on itself, becoming a tight column of spinning water. Nogah scrambled for the reins. A moment later the whirling column expanded into a humanoid shape. Violet slime glistened over its rubbery skin. It’s awful head riveted Nogah's attention. Four long tendrils writhed there, muscular tentacles with bloodstained tips. Its eyes were darkened hollows, empty save for seawater.

"It's undead!" croaked Curampah, bubbles escaping his mouth in two exclamatory clusters. His pincer staff quivered in his unsteady grasp. "Mind flayer undead!"

Nogah forgot the reins. She yelled, "Curampah! Think!" If Curampah would stop panicking, they could-

Malign influence burst upon Nogah's brain, trying to insinuate alien desires into her core awareness. The catfish's scream burbled away. Curampah gasped and let his pincer staff float free.

The vacant-eyed mind flayer drifted toward them, making no movement yet accelerating. It had gained a facility in the water in undeath that its kind did not possess in life. What hoary god empowered this husk? It should have rotted to nothing like all its compatriots.

The very fact she could still formulate questions meant she had avoided the brunt of the blast that had left Curampah drooling. But without her fellow whip, she couldn't co-generate an answering stroke strong enough to offer salvation.

She tried to think through the terror. Curampah wasn't dead. It should still be possible…

She slapped Curampah's limp shoulder with her empty palm. Instantly, the tingle that alerted fellow whips to each other's presence intensified into a full-fledged connection. An electric spark burned between them, an eel of chaotic, fluctuating light.

The contact literally jolted Curampah from his mind-numbed haze. The junior whip blinked witlessness from his eyes.

Thank the Sea Mother! In the Spellplague's wake, many whips had lost the ability to co-generate the storm's sword. But not her, and not Curampah. Its call to destruction burned away the aftereffects of the mind flayer's blast.

The illithid undead slowed its approach, its tentacles suddenly writhing in some new configuration.

Nogah drew back her hand, and the lightning bridged the two whips. The crackling arc widened, then began to curve, bowing out toward the approaching illithid. The creature's tentacles writhed so fast now, the water began to froth. The hollows of its empty eyes glimmered with red light.

The connecting spark widened, grew into a ravening bolt that seared the water, creating a shroud of twinkling bubbles. Jittering shadows danced madly across the cavity's walls.

Nogah released the bolt. The stroke discharged the full brunt of her and Curampah's redoubled strength into the mind flayer's necrotic flesh. Its left arm, half its torso, and its left leg flashed away into ash.

Another mental assault blossomed from the illithid, but its aim was off. Only the merest edge of the psionic cacophony brushed her awareness.

"Finish it," she commanded. But what could they do? They couldn't produce another lightning stroke immediately. They would have to call on ranged battle prayers-

Curampah tensed to launch himself from the sea coach's deck. Nogah snagged his harness with her free hand, restraining him. She hissed, "Fool! Don't stray from the coach or the sea's heavy foot will smash you!"

The illithid squealed something, a warning, Nogah thought, then melted into a column of spinning water. The column widened and dispersed, leaving nothing behind but drifting silt and sediment.

"That was more than a corpse reanimated by chance," breathed Curampah. "It was dead, yet could still call upon the mental abilities it possessed in life. I think it may have been partially vampiric. Yet we defeated it!"

"We chased it away-but we failed to destroy it," interrupted Nogah. "Because of your incompetence." She pointed at the junior whip with her staff. "If I were less merciful, I would slay you here and now and offer your unworthy hide as a sacrifice to the Sea Mother."

The junior whip froze, uncertain. He knew she didn't make threats lightly.

Nogah considered ramming the pincer tip through his throat, despite her talk about being merciful. No-but it wasn't mercy that stayed her hand. It was practicality. Despite nearly killing himself, and allowing the undead illithid to slip away, she still needed him. If Curampah hadn't been present, the illithid would likely even now be supping on the contents of her skull.

"Bah," she said. "We wounded the thing, nearly tore it apart. It won't seek us out again soon, at least until it has regained its strength and form. We have some time. Let's investigate what it guarded all alone down here in the depths."

The structure was nestled into the great cavity's rear wall. Though some of its outer rooms had crumbled, an inner core structure of greenish stone remained intact. A jade dome emerged from the rougher surrounding stone. Tools were scattered everywhere: shovels, picks, buckets, and a variety of more arcane equipment apparently useful for digging. Most had almost rusted away. Nogah also finally recognized the strange mounds arranged around the greenish outcrop. They were tailing piles, the refuse of a mining operation.

She saw no open mine tunnel. The mine mouth must be under the dome.

"The illithids thought they were digging up something special here," she murmured. "Special enough to protect the mine mouth with this building. Not that it offered much protection when the water broke in."

"The dome reminds me of a temple, almost," volunteered Curampah. He gestured. "It even has a ceremonial entrance."

A six-sided extension protruded from the side of the smooth green rock like a tumor.

Nogah guided the sea coach to rest next to the extension and saw Curampah was correct. Within the protrusion was a dull black metal door, also six-sided. It was apparently still sealed against the surrounding water. She leaned over and touched the door's matte black iron. A familiar feeling thrilled up her arm and into her heart.

The strange influence of her dreams lived behind the door! The Sea Mother had guided her truly.

"We must enter," she directed.

"How, Daughter of the Sea? If we stray from the nautilus…" Curampah finished by squeezing his hands together. "Do you think I am so ill-prepared?" Curampah looked at her with half-lidded eyes, waiting. "Bring me my chest. Be quick!"

The junior whip soon returned from the nautilus's interior with a delicate chest fashioned of polished mother-of-pearl plates and placed it at her feet. Nogah whispered the pass phrase that bypassed the magical trap, and popped the lid.