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A Story Of Might And Magic: Book 1
CHAPTER 4: Entrance To Blaksöl
Inja spotted two skeletons coming his way. Without a word from him, Gruesome leaped towards one of them as he readied his staff. He'd have to save up his magic power for the upcoming ordeal. With intelligent precision, Gruesome leaped right into a Skeleton's ribcage - and crouched on top of its lowest rib. That Skeleton stopped in its tracks, and jammed its sword right into itself, trying to get rid of the green blob occupying the space inside him. The other, meanwhile, came to blows with Inja Yew, not lasting long as it was already badly damaged. In a while, the other Skeleton simply destroyed itself trying to get the nimble Toad out of its body.
StormMaster, almost accomplished a swordsman as he was a spellcaster, had no problems with the three Skeletons who found their way to his hiding place. With his Sword he kept them at bay, and that combined with his Turn Undead spells soon turned them to a pile of bones. A fourth Skeleton, however, had come up behind him, and chopped him on his side. StormMaster went down with a poorly-suppressed yell of surprise.
Lord Roberts took out his rapier to defend himself against the lone Skeleton that found him. It didn't take long for him to realise its uselessness against something that was mostly empty space. So he reversed his weapon, holding it instead from the blade close to the hilt. Ducking to dodge a potentially decapitating swing, he thrust the hilt right into the Skeleton's head, knocking ITS head off its shoulders.
Wacko lay on the ground, writhing in pain. He had time to wonder why he took it upon himself to put himself in extreme danger before he saw that a Lich stood over him, cackling. It stuck out its finger, obviously intending to cast the Finger of Death. A sword right to its dead heart made it drop to the floor, having taken all the punishment it can take. King Louis stood over Wacko, and cast a Heal Wounds spell on him... It didn't heal him completely, but it did allow him to at least get up.
Artemia was left to deal with the other Lich. Inexperienced as he was, he found it surprising that the Lich screamed in pain every time his sword made even the slightest contact. It started to chant an incantation, but, encouraged by his apparent success, Artemia jabbed his sword right through the infernal being's head. A small flame shot out of the dying finger, singeing the hairs on Artemia's right arm.
The Skeleton who had ambushed StormMaster raised its sword to finish him off, but he had made a fatal mistake by standing behind one of the horses: Too hoofs smacked the Skeleton and literally broke it in half. StormMaster couldn't believe it, but he was eternally grateful to a horse.
When the dust had settled, there were just a few wounds for the Healers to tend to, Wacko's and StormMaster's being the most serious ones.
"Well, it's been fun, but I must be off," said Elspeth. "The passage you want is in there." She pointed towards a nondescript stone building, decorated to blend into the background. Had it not been for her knowledge most people might have walked right past it and not noticed.
"Obviously, the horses can't come with us either," commented King Louis.
"Oh, I'll take good care of them," said Elspeth. StormMaster was the only one not to see the drool shining off her lips, and he would have been the only one to object to what she had in mind at this point. The general consensus was that she more than deserved a couple of horses, even if it was for culinary purposes.
And so she led the horses away, leaving the group to heal its wounded and muse over the shiny barrel left behind by the Liches...
"It's... nice," was all Krundard had to say. None of them had ever seen anything like it before. It was made of a smooth steel-like metal, perfectly shaped - Not a bump, scratch or imprecision on its surface - and about two feet tall. Strange runes ran down its side in bold white. Lord Roberts felt a tickle of information in the back of his head, but nothing he could use.
The case it had come in was also metallic, and carried in it two more of those explosive arrows and a small book without a cover, written in seemingly the same runes as on the outside of the cylinder. Artemia picked one up and tried to size it up to his bow. King Louis grabbed his arm. "Did you see what those things do? Put it back in the case, before we're all turned to cinder!"
"Well, we can't use it," said Wacko, who had been healed back to normal. "I guess we might as well leave it here, rather than add another risk to our quest." Reluctant murmurs of agreement came from all around.
The group turned their attention to the door they were to gain access to. Dométma determined that there was no magic aura on the outside, even though Elspeth said the door was warded. This made some sense, as a warding placed on the outside of a hidden door would serve to reveal it to those that could detect the magic. There was an opening about 2 inches in diameter that might be a large lock.
"So!" Inja started sarcastically "Anybody here a thief?"
"Alas," said Wacko, "As a Ninja I know my way around locks... but I left my lockpicking tools at Castle Perron..."
Lord Roberts eyed Inja Yew suspiciously, as if not wanting to turn his back on the mad mage. "I know something of the trade, please stand back." He fiddled with the lock, sweating, giving occasional indications that he was succeeding. "There" he announced as he heard a distinct click.
Almost as if it were an audio trigger, another tumbler fell into place in Lord Roberts' head. He sank to his knees, muttering "The Warlock is causing something terrible over there too." He saw the other Warlock, the one dressed in fancy clothing in the Other World, and realised they were one and the same. When he snapped out of it, he got up and sprinted to the abandoned metallic case. He pulled out the book. "Man...ual. Oh Falla, guys, I understand this book!" He read it as the others watched on in silence. "This thing is incredible! And I know how to use it! We must take it with us!"
StormMaster attempted to open the door - but it slid slightly inward then stopped. "Damn, it must be blocked from the inside, help me push".
The strongest members of the party put their shoulders against the door and pushed. It gave a little, they could hear something breaking inside. Eventually it jammed again and no amount of force would budge it. "Here let me try something" Inja removed the frog from his perch and inserted him into the keyhole. Gruesome squirmed and fidgeted as he tried to squeeze into the tiny hole. It was apparent that he had become stuck. There was just a frog's butt and legs hanging out of the keyhole.
Suddenly, Wacko emitted a wild caw, for which he caught a Staff on the head. Just before the sorceror could begin to berate him, though, he saw Gruesome squirming with renewed energy. "What did you do?" asked a startled Inja Yew.
"One advantage of having wings is, you get a close-up view of birds. I've been able to study them pretty well in my spare time. I just emulated the call of the Mildonian Toad-Eating Owl..."
Sure enough, that did the trick. With a little frantic squirming, Gruesome was in.
"What do you see?" ventured Artemia, as Inja closed his eyes, his warts bulging slightly.
Gruesome looked around as its head poked out the other side of the lock. There were two bars blocking the door: One was a wooden log, as thick as a man's leg, set near the bottom of the door, and that was what had broken. The other was slightly above the keyhole, and it was made of metal. Not steel: It seemed to be made of the same metal that the weapon they gained from the Liches was made of. It was held in place by two hooks made of the same metal. It wasn't very thick, about as wide as a man's arm, but it wasn't even dented. The wooden barrier seemed quite superfluous.
The others frowned as Inja relayed what he saw. "Oh, if this weren't magically protected, I would have blasted through it by now!" cried Dométma impatiently.
"Hold on," said Inja, "The bar isn't bolted down. I wonder how much it weighs..."
Before anyone could ask what he meant by that, he knelt down in front of the lock. He opened his mouth, and stuck out his tongue. It slipped into the lock with a contortionist's ease. And slipped. And slipped. The others were awestruck when they saw that Inja's tongue was easily a foot long. He grinned at the look in their faces as he worked some unseen work on the other side of the lock. Soon, a metallic thump was heard on the other side. "Much lighter than I expected," he claimed when his tongue had retracted all the way back into his mouth.
"For all his looks, he must be quite the ladies' man," quipped King Louis.
The door now opened with no resistance, reuniting Gruesome with its toadish master.
As they set off to continue, Wacko hauling the barrel and his future vessel, StormMaster picked up the weapon (A "rokit lonchur", Lord Roberts had called it) to put it in its case, and saw what Inja was talking about: It was perhaps one fifth the weight of steel. Lonchur in case, StormMaster followed the others through the door.
Inside the building there was a small room, sparse and featureless except for the breached door and a stairway. It spiraled downwards into the darkness. Casting a Torch spell, sword at the ready, King Louis led the team down.
After a good ten minutes' descending, Wacko nearly out of breath from easing the barrel down the stairs while it blocked his view of the steps, they finally reached level terrain. They were in a huge cavern, twice as big as King Louis' Throneroom. Stalagmites and stalactites decorated the area. One third of the cavern was taken up by a wild, roaring underground river. It came from one end of the room, and rushed into the other end.
Krundard was becoming visibly agitated. "There is a powerful presence nearby" he warned "We must hurry, it smells like ... like death" he finished with a chill in his voice.
Out of the corner of their inner eyes, where the Wizard Eye spell was still in effect, the heroes saw two red dots. They seemed a much brighter red than the enemies they'd seen outside. Before anyone could discern where in the room they were, the spell wore out. But an otherworldly snarling brought the new threat to their attention once again.
"Poutine help us!" cried the cleric pointing at the general direction from which the large creatures approached. "They are here!" Two tremendous dragon-like creatures stepped out from behind a stalagmite. The guardians were here to protect their master. They were patient, vigilant and obedient, for they were the epitome of the undead.
"Ghost Dragons!" shouted King Louis. Dométma quickly cast a Power Shield spell.
"O Kingo," said Wacko in the casual tone that he reserves for when he's facing an extremely dangerous enemy, gingerly putting down the barrel, "...You don't happen to have a Dragon Tooth remaining in your inventory do you?"
"You know that won't work," replied King Louis in that same tone. "Besides, I lent it to Etienne. He wanted to... play a Hero of Might and Magic."
Not wanting to waste his new-found information, and feeling it seeping out of his brain once again only at a much slower rate, Lord Roberts sprinted to where StormMaster was standing, sword at the ready, and grabbed the metal case he had put down...
The two Dragons towered above the adventurers, their heads almost hitting the ceiling. One was a ghastly greenish-black, and the other was a ghastly brown.
King Louis cast the first stone, with a Destroy Undead spell aimed at the greenish-black dragon. Although a direct hit resulted, the Dragon showed almost no sign of reaction. Wacko decided to save his measly Shurikens for now, stay out of the way, and let the magic-users do their business.
Lord Roberts signaled to Artemia and Inja Yew to come over and help. As the two stood bewildered over the case, Lord Roberts crouched and tried to open the case. His face red, he realised that although StormMaster closed it with no effort, there must be some trick to opening it. Gruesome jumped off Inja Yew's shoulder and landed on the case, slightly depressing a small circle near the mouth of the case. Once pointed out, it was obvious to him - Lord Roberts reached out and pressed the button. The case opened easily.
Meanwhile, King Louis, Krundard, Dométma and StormMaster were at least trying to keep the Dragons at bay with their spells. Of the four of them, only Krundard's powerful Clerical spells seemed to have any effect. But the Dragons' attacks were far worse. They hadn't hit anyone directly yet, but the Power Shield had long since evaporated, and a wave of extreme cold emanated from wherever it is their spells hit. Wacko flew overhead, more to distract the Dragons from the ones who could really do them harm than to harm them himself. He threw Shurikens sparingly, aiming them very precisely.
Lord Roberts carefully pulled out the Lonchur from its case, and started setting it up from what he remembered in the manual. To his great dismay, he found himself straining hard to remember things he knew like second nature only minutes ago... With Artemia's help, he started to slowly set it up and load the rokits into it.
The two dragons fired their freezing spells at King Louis at the same time. He was nimble enough to avoid one, given fair warning, but he was caught off guard here. He was hit head-on with one of the spells, the other landing where he was just an instant ago. He lost consciousness instantly.
In a cry of frustration, StormMaster expanded all his energy casting the most powerful anti-Undead spell he could. It hit the brown Dragon, causing it to stagger. Dométma cast a Dragon Breath spell, also wasting all his spell power. The brown Dragon swayed more noticably.
"Okay, we're all set." proclaimed Lord Roberts to Artemia. "Ready? Aim?" He took an instant to push Artemia away from the rear of the Lonchur, having remembered what happened to the Lich that stood behind it. "FIRE!"
A loud explosion from behind gave Wacko an instant feeling of deja vu, and he dodged just in time to make way for the rokit. The precision was remarkable: It flew right into the Brown Dragon's mouth, which it had opened it to fire again. After a thunderous bang, there was nothing left on top of the Dragon's neck but a bloody stump. Soon it collapsed, and evaporated into nothingness.
StormMaster took out his sword and charged the remaining Dragon. The remaining spellcasters tried to back him up, while Wacko fired Shuriken at the Dragon's eyes. Just as StormMaster neared it, though, the Dragon lifted a foot and brought it down on him. The foot stopped just inches away from the uncowering Paladin: Inja had cast a frantic Power Shield and stopped the foot just in time. Lord Roberts scrambled out of there and back to relative safety.
A second explosion behind them signaled the firing of the second - and last - rokit. The Dragon, knowing its fate could equal that of its partner, started to dodge. Amazingly, even though the Dragon was extremely nimble for its size, the rokit followed its movement. It hit the Dragon on its flank, creating a huge, gaping hole that a man could easily have walked into.
The spellcasters had mostly run out of spellpower. They were now casting a few weak spells, mostly in desperation. Wacko continued to fire his Shurikens. All attacks were directed towards the hole, if they could hit it. The Dragon moved to the left, hiding its right flank, and started firing once again.
A ball of ice hit a stalactite next to the hovering Gargoyle, felling huge pieces of rock on him. He landed on the ground, dazed but still in fighting condition.
Now the heroes were mostly running around, trying to avoid what the Dragon dished out. "Artemia! No!!" cried Inja Yew. With a speed that seemed almost immortal, Artemia had run up to the Dragon's right flank. He jumped and, with one hand, held on to the edge of the wound. With the other, he stuck his sword deep into the rotting guts of the Ghost Dragon.
A roar sounded that was almost powerful enough to collapse the caves around them. The Dragon shook and bucked with all its might, but Artemia was still there, hanging on for dear life. Inja attempted to help his friend: With a mighty toad-leap, he was on the Dragon's snout. Toes digging into the nostrils for a foothold, Inja took his staff with both hands and stuck it in the Dragon's right eye. Wacko flew in just in time to grab Artemia's hand as his grip had run out. He picked Artemia up, and placed him inside the wound. Artemia stood, swinging his sword every which way he could.
Eventually the Dragon could take no more. With a final snort, it fell first on its knees, then onto its left side.
Cheers came from all around as Krundard tried to use the last of his magic to revive King Louis. Eventually he came around, but Louis knew something had changed about him: He felt slower, weaker... He realised that hit had aged him! By the feel of it, a good three years...
The party gathered around the hero of the day. Artemia grinned. "Whattaya think of my swordplay?" he asked.
"Gimme that," said StormMaster, who had some significant Identification skills. After studying the sword for some time, he looked up in awe. "Where did you get this boy?"
Artemia shrugged. "I found it in my father's treasure chest before I left my village for good. Why?"
"Because," replied StormMaster, still in that tone of awe, "You have an incredible weapon here. If I'm not mistaken, this is a long-lost artifact by the name of Buffy the Undead Slayer. It causes about twenty times the amount of damage on the Undead that you could cause with a regular sword."
"Look at us," moaned Lord Roberts. "We can't go on! We haven't even the spellpower to get through the aqueduct alive! We have to rest."
"No can do," said Wacko. "It won't be long before the Warlord realises his little platoon didn't make its target. We must go on now."
"That's a death wish and you know it."
"We-ell... " said Dométma with a grin, "that's not entirely true." From a pouch he kept on his side, he produced eight yellow potions. "Potions of full rejuvenation. I was hoping I could make these last till later, but... drink up!"
King Louis drank with the others, knowing full well that though he was healed of all physical and spiritual wounds, he was still stuck with the matter of his aging... Not to mention the potions added another year to your life.
"So! Who's ready to go swimming today?" asked Inja cheerily, rubbing his hands...
Inja returned the potion to Dométma. "I am afraid this would be fatal for Gruesome. His lifespan is very short as it is, and since we share the effects of magic, he would age far too much. Besides because of him I can regenerate much quicker. Already I am able to cast several sparks."
Inja studied the underground river. It was far too swift to swim upstream, even for his frog. This would be a one way trip. Still as everyone agreed, it would be a good idea to know where the river was diverted into the castle. The mad mage tied a rope around his frog and eased him into the current. Not far in they discovered a passage with steel grates.
Inja commanded his familiar to swim around and loop the rope on a rusty bar. "Ok fellows, lets give it a heave and see what happens." The group pulled and fell back as the rung broke free. Several more attempts and they had opened up the passage enough to pass the barrel through.
"Um, if you put me in the barrel and push me into the river, won't I just rush past the small opening" Wacko sounded concerned.
"We must all tie ourselves together and once the lead is in the tunnel, the rest shall follow." Dométma suggested. "The barrel with Wacko should make a good lead. Gruesome, here, can give us some feedback as we try to position the barrel in the passage. Once there, the rest of us can simply follow along."
"As I see it we have a dilemma" Inja considered the situation. "There may be more barriers further down the tunnel. This may be unlikely because things could then clog up the siphon in areas that were there is no access. We do not have enough rope to send Gruesome all the way to the end, and I am very hesitant to send him alone if I can not get him back or protect him that far away. Besides we will need him to guide us into the passage"
"We've faced bigger uncertainties before, even today. What Inja says make sense, further obstacles would be poor design, we must proceed" King Louis offered bravely.
"Yeah, but you were conscious for all those other uncertainties" Lord Roberts remarked.
The group tied one end of the rope to a stalagmite and the other to the barrel. The gargoyle got in. "May Poutine be with you" offered the King. Storm Master read off the scroll and Wacko fell into a deep slumber. The lid was but on and sealed with a tarry substance. "I hope this is watertight" the king murmured.
The end of the rope was tied around the barrel. They lowered the barrel into the water and eased it down till the bouncing current guided it into the passage. One by one the party members gripped the rope and wound it around their legs. In this position they were turned to stone and lowered into the current. Finally only Inja Yew remained.
The mad mage stood at the edge of the raging current. All his so called friends were turned to stone and dangling inside the siphon. A dark and evil realization crept into his subconscious. Here totally helpless were the greatest enemies the Warlord might ever come up against. How easy it might be to simply hand them over to his old master. He would certainly be betrayed, his conscience fought back. But the evil pulled at his will. "Just think of the riches and power you could have from the artifacts these mighty warriors wield." Inja considered this betrayal as well. He began to understand better how the way of evil was such an easier route to power. All he had to do was pluck the power from the hapless adventurers.
But his conscience pointed out the true power that the group as a whole possessed. A power stronger than all the artifacts that they possessed. Inja understood that the power of good may not be as easily reached by an individual as that of evil, but good had an advantage evil never could. Evil does not trust other evil, but the forces of good always rally together. His friends had entrusted their very lives to him, and in essence the lives of their families, should their mission fail. This was a trust he could never allow himself to feel toward others before, maybe he should.
The water felt very cold as Inja Yew waded in and entered the tunnel. He felt very solemn as he realized a small transformation had occurred. It may not be noticeable to others, but the mad mage was not quite so mad anymore. He felt he had made the right decision, at least he hoped he had. This was not one of those things you could second guess yourself about.
Inja Yew looked up at the rope and another realization hit him. A thought more disturbing than the dark vision he had just had. How was he going to cut the rope? He possessed no knife, the staff's jealousy would never allow it. Panic started to grow. He knew that some sort of desperate action was required. He crawled down the rope to the body of Storm Master. His sword was but a stone shape firmly attached to the rest of the body. The hero would surely die if Inja were to turn him back to flesh.
Still, the life of one might not seem so bad to save the rest.
Shurikens, he thought, the gargoyle is not stone and his weapons would be useable. There too he risked the hero's life. If only he could get something sharp to release the rope. But then he was a powerful mage, might there be nothing he could do. With renewed determination, Inja grabbed the rope and faced the rushing current. He subvocalized a spell and sent forth a deadly shrapmetal spell. Jagged shards of metal appeared and shot toward the entrance. Some hit the rope and others bounced off the
walls. The swift current stopped them quickly and sent them rushing back at Inja. The mage pulled himself into a fetal position. The rope held and now the shrapmetal came mercilessly back at it's caster. The only bit of wisdom that seemed to occur to Inja at this point was "He who piddles into the wind piddles on himself." Then the rope broke and Inja found himself at the tail end of the train to hell.
The chunks of shrapmetal went by at relative speeds that were harmless. Soon Inja became aware of the growing pressure of the water around him. Occasionally, he would brush the side of the tunnel. It seemed like forever, but finally the path leveled off and they were not being swept down anymore. Another half an hour went by and gradually Inja could feel the party being swept upwards. Their buoyancy was constantly causing them to scrape across the top of the channel. Fortunately the siphon
was smooth and he would just have to deal with some nasty bruises. He hoped that no major parts of the anatomy would snap off any of the stoned adventurers.
There was a loud clang and Inja felt his heart sink as he realized his earlier conclusion was at least partly wrong. He felt himself slammed against an iron grate. The barrel in which Wacko had traveled had hit first and instantly splintered. The stone bodies of his friends had struck this obstacle and pounded the poor ninja who was now tangled in the ropes and quickly regaining consciousness. Instinctively Wacko tried to breathe, only increasing his frantic struggle. Inja saw that he could not reason with the gargoyle to relax and hold in what little air he had. The mage swung his staff expertly knocking the gargoyle back into unconsciousness.
Inja examined their situation. They must be near the top as an eerie light filtered down into the area. One of the bars had come loose under the pounding it had just received. Inja swung around and began striking the stone in which the metal bar was embedded. He swung with a conviction he could rarely muster. The rock came away in small chunks and the mage was able to push the bar out of its mounting. He looked up to see his faithful familiar cutting through the ropes with a shuriken he had
liberated from the gargoyle. Inja guided the freed bodies through the opening and sent them floating to the surface.
He swam quickly to the top. Turned over the gargoyle and applied the heimlick maneuver. This was no easy task while floating, but he would need Wacko's help in getting everyone else to shore. The gargoyle sputtered and wheezed, Inja now tried to cover Wacko's mouth so he would not make so much noise. "What the ... ! " He yelled. His remarkable constitution had pulled him through this ordeal. His loud mouth was getting them into another.
Inja's mind raced. If the Warlord had put such fearsome guardians on the outside, what must lurk on the inside? The gargoyle and mage looked around trying to find a suitable place to get out of the water. The room was impossibly huge. It was easily as big as the great temple of Evermoore. It appeared to be a natural cavern. A dim greenish light revealed stairways winding their way out of the water at several points. The two picked the closest stairway and began to push the stoned party members toward it.
A pinprick of greenish light was approaching. Floating unhindered several meters above the water. "Merciful Poutine, its an evil eye." Wacko exclaimed. Summoning strength that came from the adrenaline rush of imminent battle or the fear of certain demise the gargoyle somehow launched his body up out of the water, grabbed several loose ropes and began pulling the floating group toward the stairway. Inja Yew held the rest of the group together and kicked furiously helping as much as he could.
END OF CHAPTER FOUR
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