T Lain - City of Fire

“Keep moving!” Grawltak ordered, cuffing the nearest scout. “Follow the trail.”

The younger gnolls jogged ahead of him, but Kark held back. The two older gnolls followed, keeping out of earshot of the rest.

“What did she say, Grawltak?” Kark asked in a low voice.

The pack-master cursed and clutched the magic amulet, as if by doing so he could keep his mistress from hearing.

“She was not pleased. I do not think she expected the half-orc to lead them to the caves so quickly.”

“How could she think otherwise?” Kark snuffled disrespectfully. “She didn’t know where the passage was. She didn’t even tell us we were looking for a passage!”

Grawltak thought of reprimanding the old gnoll for his candid comment, but sighed tiredly. “She has not told us other things, either. She insists that we follow and that she will find us before we must enter…” he hesitated.

The mistress had been very clear in her instructions. “Do not tell your followers this, Grawltak,” she had said. “Follow the half-orc to a city—a magic city, with great treasure in it. Stop the half-orc from entering, or you enter yourself and slay him and all with him.”

She said other things, too, things he needed to consider carefully before going much farther, but he continued, “We must enter a passage. The passage leads to a gate, which leads to a city.” He shot a look of warning at Kark, and the older gnoll understood and nodded. “I cannot tell you more, but if we do not catch the half-orc and his friends, we’ll have to go into the city and… and that’s something I do not wish to do.”

He growled, deep in his throat. Gnolls seldom admitted to fear, and never to their subordinates, but Grawltak was tired and Kark was his friend.

The old gnoll nodded and asked, “And she will find us?”

“She will, curse—curse the half-orc,” he amended. He nearly tore the amulet off his chest. “I’m not sure I want a reward anymore, Kark. The mistress drives us, and I do not think we will gain a reward anyway. I would rather go back to the north and raid.”

Kark chuckled and let out a soft howl of laughter. Despite himself, Grawltak found himself chuckling, too.

“Would that we could!” Kark said. “But we must hunt our quarry and kill it. Only when the half-orc’s blood stains our fangs and we tear out the throats of his friends will we be free again!” He clapped his leader on the back. “Come, my captain, let us join the hunt before the young ones run into trouble.”

Grawltak grinned and the two set off down the passage.

A strip of dirty cloth leaped up at Naull from the floor. She started in surprise and moved her fingers, but the band wrapped around her hands and arms tightly. She tried to cry out, but another strip whipped at her face and drew blood. When she opened her mouth, rough leather gagged her. Eyes widening in panic, she tried to pull away.

Krusk hacked at the cloth, yelling his war cry. He narrowly missed hitting Naull as she felt herself jerked back and forth by the animated cloth. As the tatters and bands of leather and fabric wrapped around her, she felt herself spun this way and that.

From the corner of one eye she saw the other bits of ripped clothing fly up off the floor. They formed roughly humanoid shapes. Bits of gems and metal peeked out from behind the tatters, and the shapes jerked as if manipulated by a puppeteer’s strings.

One of the shapes leaped, or flew, or in some other way moved toward Krusk. He still tried to find a way to strike the fabric grappling Naull and the shape caught him from behind. The half-orc cried out as strips of cloth and leather bound his mighty legs. Dropping his axe, the half-orc wrestled with the tattered form.

Then something struck Naull—from inside. Something that felt like a ragged but powerful consciousness tried to envelope her mind even as it covered her body. She tried to scream again, forgetting the leather bonds around her mouth, then she fell back on her training.

Concentrate… concentrate, she thought.

In an instant, she felt the consciousness repelled. It could not control her as long as she maintained her focus.

So the fabric started squeezing her.

Alhandra and Regdar rushed forward as they saw the cloth snake out and grab Naull. They reached the room as it completely covered her and as Krusk dropped his weapon. Regdar shifted his bastard sword to his left hand and drew a knife. He tried cutting at Naull’s bonds but succeeded at slicing both the fabric and the wizard underneath. With a cry of dismay he hardened himself and hacked again. The fabric shuddered and Naull’s blood flowed, but the creature was shifting to avoid the blade and that meant it was releasing the wizard. Naull gasped as air came back into her body.

Alhandra paused at Krusk’s side to help him, but a third tattered shape leaped toward Regdar. Alhandra rushed between the fighter and the magical horror and swung her sword down. It cut through the humanoid shape easily, shattering one of the gem-stones in the process. The floating rags uttered no cry, but did recoiled as if in pain. Stepping forward, Alhandra raised her arm to strike again.

Before she could slash through the jumping fabric, something smashed against the paladin’s unprotected back. If it hadn’t been for her fine steel armor, the blow from Krusk’s axe would have severed her spine. As it was, Alhandra stumbled forward in agony, her own blade slicing wide. The tatter-creature retreated before her, though, and she turned to see Krusk raise his axe again.

It was Krusk, and it wasn’t. He was wrapped up the same as Naull, but his eyes were open and staring blankly, not even focused on Alhandra. His axe came down and she dodged aside easily.

“Krusk!” she cried out. “Fight it off!”

But the barbarian didn’t seem to hear. He swung his axe again, this time less clumsily. The leather and fabric wrappings gave him the appearance of an unraveling mummy, but whatever force was at work had him completely under its control.

With Regdar’s help, Naull finally jumped clear of the grasping creature. The moment she was free, two bolts of force jetted from her palms and struck the rags in what should have been their chest. Fabric shuddered, then fluttered harmlessly to the ground.

Alhandra continued blocking and evading Krusk’s powerful blows, but another of the rag monsters was moving up on her other side, trying to get behind her. Either it would get her or Krusk’s axe would, that seemed certain.

Picking up his sword again, Regdar jumped behind the half-orc. Turning the blade to the flat, he didn’t hesitate. In a mighty, two-handed blow he brought it down on the half-orc’s skull.

Krusk turned toward him and swung his axe.

Regdar cursed and deflected the blow. Alhandra, seeing Regdar in danger, moved forward and swung her own blade, one-handed but flat side out, at the back of Krusk’s head. The second blow was too much even for the half-orc’s thick skull, and the fabric-covered barbarian went down. The cloth and leather strips unwrapped from his still form and jigged above him, but two more magic missiles struck them and the rags disintegrated.

Glittering sparks erupted from the sole remaining creature, blinding the adventurers. When their eyes cleared moments later, it was gone.

“Krusk—is he all right?” Naull asked as she bent to the barbarian’s still form. Alhandra was there as well, while Regdar stood over them, watching for any attack. Nothing came, however, and Alhandra drew off her gauntlets.

“He’s only unconscious,” she assured Naull. “He’ll be all right.” Still, she placed her hands on the half-orc’s face and they glowed faintly.

“What were those things?” Alhandra asked.