T Lain - Plague of Ice

“What sort of magic?” asked Hennet.

Sonja shook her head. “I’m not entirely sure. My understanding is that they don’t cast spells like you or I, but they can draw on innate abilities that have similar effects. Something like your magic missiles but probably not as fierce. You’re lucky they didn’t use this on you up above. I’m not sure why they didn’t, but I suspect it’s something they can do only a few times a day.

She paused, then continued. “There’s something else, too. Regdar, you may be concerned about this. It shouldn’t worry the rest of us too much.”

“Why just me?” asked Regdar.

“Because you wear metal armor. They can chill any kind of metal until it’s extremely cold—your sword, your breastplate, anything metal. If it’s on you, it will become unbearable to touch, and you won’t be able to fight well, if at all. The effect fades before too long, but if a fight should break out with the mephits, he ready to shed your armor at the first sign of danger. Otherwise, you could end up frozen and unable to fight.

“Don’t underestimate these creatures,” she concluded. “They may be small, but that doesn’t mean they’re insignificant or easy to kill.”

“Amen to that,” added Lidda, who was smaller still. Then she froze in her tracks, keenly eyeing the floor and walls ahead of her. “There’s another trap here.”

All three of them behind Lidda likewise stopped, barely daring to breathe heavily.

“Good work spotting it,” Regdar offered. “Can you make it safe?”

“I don’t need to,” Lidda replied. “That’s what concerns me. It’s already been disabled.”

“What do you mean?” asked Hennet, striding up next to her.

Lidda pointed out a thin, horizontal line etched into the wall. None of the others would have noticed it without Lidda’s pointing finger to guide their eyes.

“There’s a scything blade in there,” she explained. “Walk through the hallway without first tapping on this part of the wall and the blade flies, out to slice you in two at the waist—or takes your head off, if you’re me.”

“Delightful,” said Regdar, who’d witnessed the effectiveness of such diabolical devices more than he cared to dwell on. “But you say somebody disabled it? Good of them.”

“What’s more, I don’t think it was done long ago,” Lidda said, running her finger along the inside of the thin groove.

“Why not?” asked Sonja.

Lidda pulled back her finger. It was covered with a dark brown, powdery substance. No one needed to be told what it was, but Lidda said it anyway. “Dried blood.”

“Could it be Glaze’s?” asked Hennet. “The mephits said he was down here.”

“It could be,” Sonja allowed, “but maybe not. Savanak talked about other humans who were heading here just before the cold began spreading.”

“Maybe,” said Lidda, “but if others came here before us, why didn’t the mephits mention them?”

“Perhaps they don’t know about them,” offered Regdar. “Maybe the mephits hadn’t been blown through the portal yet at that time.”

“Or maybe,” Hennet sneered, “our chilly, little friends didn’t want to tell us that we’re the second group of fools to tackle this job, because the first group never came back.”

“With no other evidence, it’s pointless to conjecture,” Sonja replied.

“Then consider this,” Hennet continued. “One of them—whatever ‘them’ was—met his fate right here. The question foremost in my mind is, what happened to the body?”

No one answered because Lidda was already proceeding farther along the hallway. Sonja did her best to hold her head high and look straight ahead. The jet black walls that reflected nothing felt closer around her with each step.

Regdar put a hand on her shoulder. Hennet, oblivious to the familiar contact, walked farther ahead, just behind Lidda. He had no intention of getting either ahead of her or too far behind her.

“Does something about this place bother you?” Hennet whispered to the halfling.

“A great many things,” she replied. “Do you have something specific in mind?”

“This tunnel is clearly not natural. No tools carved out this hallway—they would have left marks of some kind, even small ones. Magic dug this passage. The dimensions are perfect and the material is perfectly smooth. And yet—”

Lidda finished his sentence for him. “Yet the two traps we’ve encountered were simple, mechanical machines. You’d think that wizards who could build a place like this would install magical traps, or at least better mundane ones.”

“Traps that a thief…pardon me, a rogue such as yourself would have a harder time spotting.”

“Isn’t it curious?” asked Lidda. “It’s almost as if those traps were deliberately made simple. Why? Maybe to lure us into a false sense of security before… thwap !”

Sonja bit her lip and grew even more pale, much to Regdar’s concern.

“Please, you two,” demanded Regdar. “Some consideration for Sonja.”

The sorcerer and the halfling turned back to see the fighter, his hand still on the ice druid’s shoulder. She shook and trembled, and tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. Hennet raced back to her.

“Sonja, I’m sorry, so sorry. Look,” he said, “maybe you should go back to the surface and keep an eye on the mephits. We’ll bring back the Frozen Pendant.”

“No,” Sonja answered. “I will not go up there and wait for you, like some war widow. I’m just a little… out of my element down here, but I can deal with it. Bear with me.”

Hennet shot Regdar a stern look, as if to say “I’ll take it from here.” Regdar automatically retracted his hand from Sonja’s shoulder, just as the sorcerer folded her into an embrace.

The warrior gave them a long, hard look, his mouth sinking into a deep scowl, before stepping forward to join Lidda. He bent over and whispered to the halfling, “While we smooth over lovers’ squabbles, cities freeze.” Regdar strode forward, ahead of Lidda into the hallway.

It was just a moment’s lapse, and Lidda was ready to caution him, but before she could say anything, Regdar’s foot slipped through the floor. He tumbled forward, grasping fruitlessly at the slick wall for some kind of handhold, before vanishing completely. A loud crash sounded from beneath. The floor looked completely intact.

“An illusionary floor!” cried Lidda. She, Hennet, and Sonja all rushed forward to what Lidda estimated was the edge of the trap area. They feared the worst, until they heard a loud stream of profanity emanating from below.

“Regdar!” shouted Sonja. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” came Regdar’s voice through the false floor. “I’m an idiot, but I’m not hurt. Something cushioned my fall. I don’t know what it is

… there’s no light down here.”

“I can dispel this illusion,” said Sonja, extended her silver ring, but Lidda said, “No need.” She shoved her hand through the floor and held it there for about ten seconds. The illusionary floor flickered before them then vanished altogether. The pit it hid covered the full width of the passageway and extended for a fair length, though not so far that they couldn’t jump it if they needed to. Hennet held the torch over the pit, revealing an embarrassed Regdar standing in the pit’s center about twenty feet below them.

“How in all the Planes did you survive that?” asked Lidda.

“Well,” answered Regdar, “I landed on this.” He bent over and his face turned white as he looked up to the others. “It’s a corpse.”

The dead man’s neck was broken, undoubtedly in the same fall that Regdar had just survived. The body was otherwise intact—there were no spikes or other diabolical devices at the bottom of the pit.