T Lain - Plague of Ice

“It’s ash,” he said. “Ash, and something else.” He poked the toe of his boot against strange bumps and splash marks that seemed almost to be iron, as if something had melted onto the floor then cooled again.

“Why build a room shaped like this?” Sonja asked.

“Wizards built it,” answered Regdar. “Even if they were here right now, there’d be no point in asking their motivations.”

Lidda went to work on the far door. No sooner had she slipped her lockpick into the lock than a loud noise came from behind her. All four of them turned to look and saw that the door they had just come through had slammed shut, closing them inside the strange room.

“Don’t worry,” Lidda reassured everyone. “We’ll worry about that on the way out.” The expression on her face, though, made it clear to Regdar that she wasn’t entirely convinced of that herself.

“If there is a way out,” muttered Sonja. She was standing in the dead center of the room, intimidated by the unnatural black walls and trembling slightly. A bead of perspiration rolled down her forehead and onto her face. Her eyes watered, and she tried her very best to resist the urge to complain.

“It is hot under this armor,” complained Regdar, adjusting his breastplate.

Hennet felt the sweat building in his armpits and dripping down his sides. “It’s hot even without armor. Lidda, I hate to annoy an artist while she’s working, but is it possible to pick a little faster?” He walked over to the side of the room and put his hand against the wall but yanked it away in shock.

“This room is an oven!”

Lidda looked back at him.

“The walls are growing hotter by the second,” the sorcerer said. He reached down to touch the floor. “And the floor too! It’ll burn through our boots in no time.”

Regdar frantically cast aside his armor, which was growing hotter. He tossed his breastplate onto the floor, where it formed an arched platform. “Your shoes are the thinnest,” he told Sonja. “Stand on it.” The druid stepped onto the piece of armor but wondered what good it would do.

“I almost have it open!” said Lidda frantically, “but there has to be a way to turn the heat off. Search the walls, search for a hidden panel or something.”

“This heat is infernal!” cried Regdar, running his hands along the near-scorching wall, hopping to keep the soles of his boots from burning. How could something so black be so hot? “What I wouldn’t give for some ice right now!”

The sickly, dry smell of superheat filled the air. The ashes on the floor smoldered, and the soles of everyone’s boots smoked. Regdar skipped back to the door they’d come through only to find that it, too, was locked. He pushed all of his weight against it to try and force it, burning his shoulder in the process, but the door wouldn’t give in the slightest.

“Wait,” said Sonja, still perched on the breastplate at the room’s center. “This must be a magical effect, and that means I can dispel it using this ring.”

“How many more charges do you have on that?” asked Regdar.

“I think just one,” the druid answered.

“Then save it” the fighter advised. “We’ll need it to use on that rift. Save it until there’s no other choice.”

The halfling’s hands worked on the ancient lock, the only part of the door that wasn’t superheated along with the rest of the room. As the locks were made of iron, she reasoned, it wouldn’t do to let them melt. There was, however, a definite danger of the lockpick melting inside the lock and ruining their chances of ever getting through. The sweat dripping off her forehead irritated and clouded her eyes, and that didn’t make the job any easier.

“I think I’ve found something,” Hennet announced. He pulled out his short spear and ran it against a subtle crack in the wall, forcing open a sliding panel. Inside, two lips were carved into the stone, like a mouth partially open and about to speak. And speak it did.

“ Etos hui vanots ,” the stone mouth said, in a high-pitched, chirpy voice, with a flatly cordial tone. Hennet had seen magic mouths like this before.

“ Etos hui vanots ,” the magical construct repeated.

It probably wants me to give it a password, the sorcerer thought. “Uh…”

“ Nai vanots ,” the lips said with the same, emotionless voice. Then the panel slammed shut in front of Hennet.

“Lidda,” Hennet said. “I think you should work harder on that lock.”

“Thanks for the advice!” Lidda shouted back. “Very helpful!”

Regdar abandoned the walls and rushed to the center of the room to comfort Sonja. The fighter took a gulp of hot air that burned him from the inside. Around the room, smoke rose from their clothes. The wool of their winter cloaks threatened to burst into open flame. Regdar felt a sudden wave of unbearable heat roll up his side from inside his robes. He realized that the water was boiling in his waterskin. It had blown off its top and now was releasing scalding steam against his naked flesh. With a yelp, he yanked it out and tossed it away.

Regdar wrapped his arms around Sonja, who wasn’t weeping or making any noise, though sweat poured from her temples. She stood still, gently trembling in Regdar’s strong arms as might a terrified rabbit.

The threatening black walls blazed as Lidda worked at the lock furiously, drawing on previously unknown reservoirs of strength. She felt on the verge of fainting. Hennet danced at the room’s edge, trying desperately to pry open the secret panels once again. Regdar watched the pile of ashes in the corner and wondered if that was one of the earlier party and if so, whether that was the fate that awaited them as well—to be dead and beyond resurrection, consigned to ash that would never be scattered by wind or water. Sonja raised her trembling hand, ready to activate the ring of dispel in an effort to save them and in the process perhaps doom the world to eternal winter.

Regdar saw what she was doing and said, “Not yet, Sonja, hold on just a little longer.”

The druid wasn’t listening. Her eyes were closed in concentration.

“Sonja!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. Getting no response, he grabbed her ring finger and pulled the magical ring off of it. Sonja looked at him, shocked,

“I think I have it,” croaked the halfling with a parched throat. “I think…”

She cawed in triumph, deftly hopping backward as the black door to safety flew open. With lightning speed everyone jumped through it, Regdar sparing barely a moment to kick his super-heated breastplate through the door into the next room.

When they were through, the door rolled back toward the close position. Hennet thrust his short spear through the diminishing opening, leaving the heavy door open a crack when it came to a rest. Exhausted and gasping, everyone sprawled on the floor, breathing deeply of the blessedly cool air. Sonja magically filled their boiled-dry waterskins with cold water, which they sucked down desperately, saving the last to splash on their faces.

In a few minutes, heat from the adjacent room stopped rolling through the open doorway.

“I’ve heard of going from the frying pan into the fire,” Lidda quipped, pulling herself to her feet, “but I’ve never done it quite like that.”

Finally, feeling recovered, they looked around to see where they were. It was another room like the last, a large cube in form, but this one wasn’t empty. It was almost completely filled with supplies of all kinds. Everywhere they looked, something glinted or glimmered in the magical torchlight. Suits of golden and silver armor hung on the walls, glowing magical weapons rested atop carved teak and mahogany cabinets, potions were stacked in cabinets, and pedestals supported devices of strange antiquity and unknown power.