Bladesinger (20 page)

He’d journeyed into enough dungeons and underground lairs to become familiar with the pulse of life beneath the earth, but he had never grown used to feeling like an intruder, an unwanted visitor from another plane of existence. To him, the darkness had a hundred eyes, each one peering at him from within the shadowy depths of the subterranean night.

“Where are they?” Roberc whispered from somewhere nearby, nearly causing Taen to jump.

The half-elf and his companions all huddled in the darkness, waiting for Borovazk and Yurz to return from scouting the tunnel ahead. Taen had extinguished his arcane light, not wanting to take a chance that its illumination would attract unwanted attention, so they waited beneath a blanket of night, relying upon Cavan’s sense of smell and their own instincts to ward them against any danger.

“They will return soon enough,” Marissa replied softly from somewhere to Taen’s left.

The half-elf hoped so. Though they hadn’t stopped too long ago, the group’s constant skulking through the lower caverns of the citadel was beginning to wear upon his nerves. The fingers of his left hand twitched slightly, moving unbidden in the patterns of an offensive spell he found himself eager to use. Such thoughts, he knew, were not helpful when engaged in a mission of infiltration, but they were his nonetheless. It wasn’t as if he regularly found himself following the lead of an enchanted goblin into the belly of a mountain, the half-elf reasoned—though that thought brought a wave of resentment spilling over him.

Damn Marissa and her spell of enchantment! Taen had given her his trust, and he’d meant it when he told her so, but he found their whole situation, as well as their relationship, completely frustrating. She was like a raging river, always moving on her own path, slowly wearing down anything, or anyone, that stood in her way.

The sound of footfalls padding lightly up the corridor drew Taen’s attention. Cavan let out a soft growl then settled down. The half-elf relaxed at that, for at the first sign of danger, the war-dog would have immediately alerted Roberc.

“Passage ahead is clear,” Borovazk whispered, “though we found signs of goblins moving through to eastern caves.”

“Man right,” Yurz confirmed. “Tribe patrols just passed. Yurz thinks we have only short time before they return. We must move.”

Taen gestured and a soft light floated a few feet before him, scattering the darkness. He blinked a few times to adjust his vision then moved forward, following the enchanted goblin. The others fell in behind them quickly, bypassing several small side passages that ran off of the main tunnel. The uneven stone passage twisted and turned, undulating through the mountain depths like a stone serpent.

Taen doggedly followed their swift-footed goblin guide along the sharply sloping trail and across a series of thin stone ledges. Finally, after nearly half a candle’s journey, Yurz stopped their march. The tunnel through which they had been traversing ended abruptly in a jagged wall of stone. Taen traced his hands across the length of the interposing stone while the others caught their breath, but the half-elf found nothing.

“You’ve lead us into a dead end, Yurz,” he said to the goblin, not quite keeping the accusation from his voice.

Yurz shook its head violently in denial as the others gathered around. “No, elfling,” the creature whined piteously. “Me not lead Pretty Lady and friends to dead end. We now at entrance to upper caverns,” he said, pointing toward the ceiling.

Taen followed the direction of the creature’s finger, eventually discovering a roughly circular hole that opened into the tunnel’s ceiling where it met the jagged wall. Walking carefully beneath the hole, he peered up into its depths and swore softly. What had at first looked like nothing more than a heavily shadowed section of the tunnel was actually a naturally occurring chimney leading up into darkness. He would probably never have found it were it not for Yurz’s knowledge of the area.

“Well, so it is,” Taen said, returning to the group. “So it is.” He placed a hand upon the goblin’s shoulder. “Good work, Yurz.”

The creature beamed, its orange skin flushing a deeper tone in the dim light. “We go up and soon see Big Chief!”

“That will be nice, Yurz,” Marissa said as she drew close to the goblin, “but before we enjoy your Big Chief’s hospitality, we’d like to see the inside of the citadel.”

Taen watched the creature’s eyes widen. “Oh no,” Yurz replied hastily. “Pretty Lady not want to visit man-castle. Ugly One there.” The goblin shook his head as if to emphasize the point.

Marissa sighed heavily and Taen could see her arrange her face in mock sadness. “I understand, Yurz,” she said. “It’s just that I so wanted to see the citadel. You wouldn’t consider letting us see it as a favor to me, would you?”

Taen almost felt sorry for the hapless goblin as he watched the creature’s face trace the battle of fear and awe waged in his enchanted heart. It was clear which side had won when Yurz reached out a grime-covered hand to Marissa.

“Pretty Lady no worry,” he said with eyes glistening with eagerness. “Yurz will lead her to man-castle. First we go to upper caverns then over bridge to the place of the dead. Then we be in man-castle pretty quick.”

“Thank you, Yurz,” Marissa said. “You are certainly a brave friend.”

Taen was forced to turn away at the look of pure devotion that crossed the goblin’s craggy face. As he did so, the half-elf noticed Borovazk and Roberc staring up into the chimney.

“Borovazk no engineer,” the ranger said, “but he does not think that climbing up dark hole will be easy.”

Taen looked at the massive-shouldered Rashemi then back at the chimney opening, and he had to agree. Though the stone inside the chimney was rough and uneven, providing several possible hand-and footholds, the width of the opening itself would make the climb very difficult for the large human. Taen thought about it for a moment. Their best possible bet was probably to send an unarmored Roberc up through the vertical passageway first. Once up there, he could find a nearby stalagmite or outcropping of rock to secure their rope to and lower the rest of the rope down the chimney. They could then go up one at a time—though Cavan did present a bit of a logistical problem.

Taen was about to verbalize his plan when Marissa strode forward with Yurz. “Listen,” she said softly. “Yurz believes that there could be some sentries near the entrance to the chimney. Let me climb through the passageway in another form. I can move swiftly and remain unseen by whatever guards the entrance to the upper caverns.”

Taen nodded at the druid’s suggestion and noticed the others doing likewise. Within moments, the air around Marissa began to shimmer and ripple, as if folding in upon itself. One moment Taen saw the druid clearly, and the next, a large spider, almost the size of his two hands, scuttled forward from the space where she had just stood. Yurz leaped backward at the sight of the spider, and the creature would have let out a shriek had not Borovazk moved swiftly to clamp a meaty hand over the goblin’s face.

Taen reached down and lifted up the spider, carrying it to the wall just beneath the chimney. Within moments, the transformed druid had crawled into the darkness of the chimney. He whispered a quick prayer of safety to any god who would care to hear.

It was at that moment that Cavan leaped up from where he was lying down on the uneven floor of the cavern and growled a warning. Instantly, Roberc had drawn his sword and peered out into the shadows. Out of the corner of his eye, Taen caught Borovazk releasing the goblin to draw his own axe. Yurz fell backward, whimpering softly as he crawled to his feet.

Several bulbous-headed shapes resolved out of the darkness, padding closer on light feet. Taen swore again as he caught sight of them. Goblins—about ten of them. They stood about twenty feet from Taen and his companions with crude crossbows pointed in their direction.

“Stop! Intruders,” one of them shouted in a voice so like that of Yurz that Taen cast a quick look behind him at the quivering goblin.

Taen could see his companions frozen, not in fear, but in preparation for explosive action; their muscles were coiled and tensed like a panther’s before it springs down on its prey. The coiling expanse of the underground tunnel would, Taen suspected, likely carry the sounds of any combat to sensitive goblin ears—and that was a discovery they could ill afford. The half-elf reached slowly into his belt pouch, pulling out a small handful of dust. As the goblin sentries drew closer, crossbows firmly pointed at the intruders, Taen whispered the words to an old spell, and he gathered the arcane power at his command. Eldritch energy flooded his senses, swelling like a river pent up behind a dam. At the exact moment when Taen felt that the dam would break, he released the power, scattering sand over the heads of the approaching goblins. The tiny granules spattered and sparked when the spell activated.

First one then another of the goblins jerked as if struck sharply from behind, their bodies pitching forward, bereft of consciousness. The measured sound of goblin snoring filled the tunnel.

“That was well done,” remarked Roberc, “though I do wish that you could have left one or two for the rest of us.”

Taen smiled at the halfling’s words, though in truth he wasn’t sure the fighter had been entirely joking. “Come,” he said, ushering Roberc and Borovazk back to the chimney in the rear of the tunnel, “we probably don’t have too much time before another patrol stumbles upon us.”

He tried to ignore the wide-eyed stare Yurz threw his way as they waited beneath the dark hole, but the goblin remained at the periphery of his vision. “Friend of Pretty Lady great wizard,” he said finally, after Taen had spent considerable time pretending the goblin wasn’t there and wishing that Marissa would soon emerge from the chimney. “Maybe greater than tribal shaman,” he finished.

The half-elf was spared having to respond, as Marissa’s rope spilled out of the chimney’s darkness, landing with a muted thump on the cold gray stone of the tunnel floor. He turned and urged Yurz up the rope. The goblin stared a moment longer then leaped on to the rope, scurrying up its knotted length with the grace and skill of a seasoned seaman climbing the rigging of a tall-masted ship. Borovazk followed soon after, though the ranger needed some help sliding through the initial hole in the ceiling.

Taen and Roberc conferred for a moment regarding Cavan. The war-dog gazed up at the hole then offered Roberc a crooked stare, as if measuring the probability of a successful ascent. Taen thought for a moment. They had been in a few spots like this in previous underground explorations, but none quite so physically daunting. He did know a spell that would help reduce the war-dog’s size, which might make the dog more manageable as they hauled him up the chimney. Their success depended upon Cavan’s patience and cooperation, however.

A few moments later, with the help of Roberc’s firm-voiced commands, a much smaller Cavan stood still and, if an animal could experience such a thing, bewildered as several lengths of rope were coiled and tied around its front-and hindquarters. Taen watched as their companions above lifted the war-dog, now the size of a large puppy, up through the chimney. When that was accomplished, the half-elf followed the always-grumbling halfling up the rope and into the caverns above.

The ogres stood like ancient trees rooted to the rough stone of the cavern floor. In the dancing light of his arcane illumination, Taen could see their dull yellow skin cracked and pitted like old bark. Both of the creatures’ mouths hung open, frozen in mid roar. Teeth as thick and long as his fingers glimmered in the shifting illumination.

Roberc whistled softly when he drew near the half-elf. “You did this?” he asked, turning to Marissa. The druid had long since shed her arachnoid form and sat quiet and still in the center of the cavern.

She nodded. “They were arguing over something just a few yards from the chimney hole,” the druid said. “I didn’t want their argument to draw any unwanted attention, so I crept up on them and changed form. I was going to try and use a different spell, when this”—she lifted the Staff of the Red Tree—”began to whisper to me again. I heard the words and repeated them. In moments, the ogres were petrified.”

Taen shook his head. He’d seen his way around enough items and artifacts of power to know that the gift of the Rashemi telthor was unusual to say the least. In point of fact, Taen felt a great sense of unease around the staff—an experience that worsened any time Marissa described the staff’s somewhat conscious actions. He had never been comfortable with the untamed power of natural magic; it refused to follow established laws and yield to the mastery brought on by rigorous study. Though he did not feel even remotely suspicious of the telthor and their gift of the staff, such power answered to its own laws.

At this moment, however, Taen said nothing. There were times to engage the enemy with persuasive rhetoric and razor-sharp logic—but wandering through a maze of caverns on your way to assassinating an evil witch bent on wide-scale domination and destruction was not one of those times. Once again, he would wait until after they had completed their mission before speaking to the druid.

Not that it would matter in the slightest, he thought with a bit of acrimony and turned to search for their guide. Yurz, who had nearly gibbered himself into apoplexy at the sight of the ogres, had finally regained some of his goblinoid poise. Now the creature stood at an opening in the far northern section of the huge cavern, beckoning with his bony fingers.

“Pretty Lady, come,” he hissed. “Path to man-castle go this way.”

Marissa and the others turned from their measured contemplation of the petrified ogres and marched dutifully after the goblin. Taen gave the high-ceilinged cavern one last glance before following his friends.

Chill air blew steadily through the passages and side tunnels of the upper caverns, carrying with it a deeper bite. As they progressed, Taen watched his breath coil upward in white plumes. Here and there, moisture running down the cold, gray walls of stone curdled and formed a thin layer of ice. Even Borovazk, seemingly immune and inured to the temperature extremes of Rashemen, pulled out another fur shirt to ward himself from the deepening cold. That fact brought Taen a little comfort as he fought his teeth’s chattering.