Anthology - Untold Adventures - A Dungeons and Dragons Anthology

“Do you believe him?” Adda asked eagerly. Scorri looked up from her plate of stew with a scornful expression.

“As much as he deserves,” Bab said. He shared a glance with Coran. He didn’t want the locksmith going off on a crazy rant and drawing attention to them out of fear of death. Better to be gray shadows creeping in Mordint’s shadow.

Even the halflings’ sturdy feet were sanded smooth by the gritty roads by the time they heaved within half a league of the stronghold. The pathway looked different, notwithstanding the overcast sky showering it with misty raindrops. It had been straightened out and rid of its covering of rough grass. Grumbling, Mordint sent a couple of invisible tempters to spy out the scene. The rest of them waited out of sight of the cavern entrance.

Though no one could see them, everyone could tell when they returned by the soggy feeling in the air. Whispers went through the ranks as Mordint conferred. Thirty dwarves were below ground, with the lord and master, Hochster, in the grand hall.

Mordint strode over to loom above Bab and his companions. They sprang to their feet. He carried a pierced bronze pot on a chain that belched yellow smoke smelling of singed hair. He revolved the pot over their heads and chanted in a tongue that made the skin crawl. When they tried to escape from the foul fumes, Thangrik and a couple of the invisible tongues prodded them back into place. Coran, still in control of his own actions, held up a spiked silver charm, but it was batted out of his hand by Mordint’s next swing.

“I am not foolish enough to rely upon your word that you will do what I say,” Mordint said as the half-elf scrambled on the ground to retrieve his amulet. “So heed my words. You will return my stone to its setting and place it exactly as you found it.” He placed the blue-green rock in Bab’s palm.

Bab wanted to protest that he would have done that anyway, but it was hard to speak with the smoke filling his lungs. He swayed on his feet. Mordint held his gaze with his mud-colored eyes. When he broke off to stare at Scorri, Bab felt as if something had been wrapped around his head. The wizard withdrew the censer and stalked away.

“It’s a geas,” Coran said gloomily. “We’re fixed now.”

“At least he didn’t put a curse on us for after,” Legg said. “We can leave if we want after we’re through.”

“If we can,” Scorri said doubtfully.

“We will,” Bab assured them, hefting the smooth stone in his hand. It felt just as unwelcome as it did the first time. “I don’t know how yet, but we will.”

The orc held them back while Mordint blasted open the entrance to the cavern with a spell that tore the earth back as if it were made of leather. Flanked by his force of orcs and other minions, he strode inside. Bab heard shouts of challenge and yells of pain.

Thangrik urged them forward and inside as soon as the threshold, or what was left of it, was clear. Bab almost hesitated before stepping inside. The smell of burning flesh and leather made his throat sting, but he forgot all about it when he saw what was ahead.

The place was clean. Apart from the debris of the explosion that had opened the door, the cavern was spotless. No more mold, mud, or grime anywhere. No wonder Mordint was outraged!

The author of his distress was obvious to them all. The earth wizard stood facing a stocky dwarf with linen yellow hair and eyes to match, braids to his knees and a beard to his feet. His own minions shot arrows at the invading orcs from behind the prone bodies of the stone giants that lay all over the floor. The two enchanters paid no attention to anyone but one another. They chanted at the top of their voices and threw handfuls of power, each seeking to destroy the other. A burst of fire flung by Hochster exploded over the halflings’ heads. They hit the ground and took cover. Thangrik grabbed two of them by the scruffs and hauled them to their feet.

“Let’s go,” he said. “His magicness said you knew the way. Get moving!”

Coran had the presence of mind to put up a semblance of invisibility around them. Scorri led them around the walls as they dodged thrown furniture, severed heads, splashes of blood, and the edges of spells. Bab stayed at her shoulder, batting bodies out of the way with his hammer. Legg held his bow nocked in case anyone got in their way. Thangrik lurked behind them with his saw-edged sword, grinning like a fool. Bab sensed he was enjoying himself. He probably had orders to kill them all when they were done with their task.

The stairs were denuded of their newel posts, but Scorri was sure of herself as she went downward. The others followed cautiously on the immaculate stairs. Everything looked so different that Bab doubted his own memory of the place. He had to go by the ceilings to be certain they were even in the same building. The traps in the floor had been replaced by new paving stones, the cut marks still fresh on the surface. Scorri led them unerringly through the confusing maze.

They disturbed a dwarf with a long red beard putting a stack of clean white linens into the cupboard beside the stone’s empty socket. He drew the huge axe at his side and came toward them swinging. Legg loosed an arrow that lodged in the dwarf’s shoulder. It didn’t slow him down at all. Thangrik waded forward, swinging. Legg and Scorri lent their strength to the battle.

“Help me! Hochster’s men, help!” the dwarf yelled.

“Silence him!” Coran hissed.

Bab’s eyes went wide. He remembered the remaining two beads around his neck. He grabbed one and flung it into the dwarf’s beard.

“Hush!” he said.

The redhead’s mouth moved but no sound came from it. His eyes went wide with despair. Thangrik grinned and stalked his now soundless prey. The dwarf took to his heels with the orc in pursuit. Coran and the others took up guard positions around the cupboard.

Adda stood at the empty gray socket in the wall, staring blankly at the stone in his hand. He looked up at Bab.

“I can’t do it,” he said.

“Course you can,” Bab insisted. “Hurry it up.”

“No, you don’t see it,” the locksmith said. “There’s agony in there. Unbelievable agony.”

“There’s agony if you don’t do it,” Bab said. “We’ll all die! Mordint put a spell on us.”

Adda shook his head. “Death’d be less painful.”

His usual scatterbrained expression was gone. He looked sane as a judge. Bab knew that was more dangerous than flightiness. But it was Adda’s natural talent of undoing traps, puzzles, and enigmas that had made it possible to remove it. Was there any way to bring it back? Hating himself, he took the locksmith by his skinny shoulders.

“Adda… think how proud Morgana will be of you if… when you succeed.”

Adda blinked a couple of times. “She will?”

“Aye, old friend. That beauty, all aimed your way. Think of it! You can tell her all about it.”

Bab was both glad and dismayed, but the light went on in Adda’s eyes. He hefted the glowing stone, almost smiling, and fitted it into the setting. The smile didn’t leave his face even when terrifying blue sparks leaped out of the rock face and danced across his hands, leaving black streaks on his flesh. He turned the stone this way and that, as if it was a dial he had to set just right. The sparks went from blue to red to yellow. Adda’s knees buckled. Bab put his shoulder under his arm to support him. Pain lanced through his body wherever he touched Adda. He was horribly sorry for the locksmith.

“Can I finish that for you?” he asked.

“No… yes.”

“Leave it!” Legg said, over his shoulder. “You got the stone in place. That’s all we promised!”

“No,” Bab said. He could feel the yellow smoke rising in his lungs, but that wasn’t what made him stand his ground. “It’s not. If the stone men don’t move, Mordint will know we didn’t do what he asked. Besides,” he added, “I keep my promises. We all do. That’s why we’re here, spell or no spell.”