“I have been shot wildly and my arc is now near complete.”
***
“Everyone to the stairs! I fixed it! The portcullises are going up!” She screamed while lifting the sconce back
into position. Her efforts had revealed
the large iron bracket to be a heavy lever.
The clanking and grinding of gears,
pulleys and chains filled the chamber as the stairs rotated back into position
and the portcullises began to rise.
Sammy was the closest downed comrade to Billy and she ran up the stairs to
him as Val struggled to his feet at the top of the staircase,still dazed from
his efforts to help Rocco survive. She
felt Sammy’s arm for a pulse as Val sluggishly made his way towards her as soon
as the gate rose high enough for him to get under.
“Sam’s alive but not well. Do what you can for him Val.” She stood up and headed back down the stairs.
“Where are you--?”
“I think Ar-Raguel is dead,” she
answered without looking at Val. She couldn’t bear to see the young wizard’s
expression. Of them all he was the most
sensitive. He heard and felt and saw
things they couldn’t. The world touched
him and pressed upon him in ways she would never understand.
“Well then I should go--”
“There’s still too much fighting,
Val.” She paused at the end of the stairway and turned to him just before
turning the corner. His expression had
gone from pale and languid to positively vampiric. His eyes were wide and welled. His open mouth, though silent, revealed more
than sadness; it spoke of a desolate helplessness. “Get Sammy upstairs, Val. We’ll be right there.”
He nodded and she ran to Ar-Raguel.
“Sister,” the broken elfkin coughed
at her. He lay, legless, in a pool of
blood impossibly large. He turned to
look up at her, one side of his face now covered in his own blood so completely
it could easily have been mistaken for war paint. His skin that wasn’t blood-stained was
alabaster. Pale for even a full-blooded
elf, let alone an elfkin.
“Brother, my sweet, sweet
brother…” The sight of him was frightful
even to someone who had braved dark, Drow dungeons. “Hold on for, just one more moment.”
His eyes opened and closed randomly,
awkwardly; he offered a weak but sincere smile.
She turned her attention to the beast
that stood between Rocco and Dudley. The
dwarf was, much to her surprise and relief, lifting himself ever so slowly off
the ground.
He
is one well-engineered engineer.
Her heart infinitesimally uplifted,
but uplifted nonetheless, she reached into one of the many hidden pockets in
her leather jacket and took out a small flask containing a clear liquid. In place of the stopper she stuffed a piece of
cloth into the vessel. Her Grandmaster
had called it naftha; most in her guild called it liquid fire. With the beast an immobile target she’d have
no better opportunity to use it. She
hurled the flask and added a violent snap of her wrist at the end of her throw sending
it spinning end over end, over Rocco’s sword - which ignited the cloth - and
then sinking quickly, shattering as it smashed against the beast’s beak and bursting
into a wave of flame that engulfed the monster’s head in an instant.
Rocco stumbled backwards - shocked,
surprised, delighted, confused - and looked in her direction. He dripped relief and sweat exhaustion and
for the first time in several minutes dared to let his guard down. Almost in tears, he mouthed, “Thank you,” which
was followed by an enormous sigh as he nodded his head towards her in gratitude
before straightening up and running to Dudley’s side. The monster wailed and swung wildly in every
direction, snapping its beak and spitting flames. Its senses were being taken
by the fire but it was still far too dangerous in its recklessness for Rocco to
consider trying to finish off.
“Get Dudley, quick! Come here!”
She shouted at Rocco.
“You throw like a girl.” Ar-Raguel said from the ground.
“What?” She asked as she kneeled
next to him and wiped away some of the blood and sweat from his face with a
cloth she had pulled from another of her many pockets. The monster’s screams were weakening, if only
because its throat was scorched – she could see from the corner of her eye it was
still struggling as violently as ever despite its head and shoulders being
aflame.
“That’s a joke somewhere, I
think.” He replied. “Or maybe an insult. Maybe it’s not funny at all.”
“I don’t understand, Ar.”
“It’s OK. I hear things from somewhere else now. Maybe the gods. We are but a game to them, you know?”
She bit her lip as tears streamed
down her face. Rocco limped up behind carrying
Dudley over his good shoulder and the blazing sword held tenderly in his right
arm. It cast an unnecessarily bright
light on an unbearably grim scene.
“Oh no.” Rocco had his first real look at Ar-Raguel
since the battle had begun.
“I’ve always appreciated your
candor, Rocco,” an impuissant Ar-Raguel replied. “But I’m afraid, oh yes.”
“Isn’t there something Val--”
They were startled by a sound, like
a knife cutting through hide when preparing it for tanning, but much, much
louder, followed by gags and muted screams.
“It’s free. Holy. Fucking.
Shit.
It’s free.” Billy said, eyes wide,
watching the beast free itself, tearing off half its foot and leaving a large
piece of flesh and fur still stuck to the chamber’s floor and Ar-Raguel’s sword. It lumbered towards them limping on a bleeding
stump. Some combination of its senses still functioned well enough to let it
know where they stood.
“Give me your bow and run!” Ar-Raguel screamed, somehow lifting himself
up with his arms and leaning back against the wall. “Do it now, Sister! Now!”
She felt him casting a spell. What little immortal blood there was still
running through his veins was loathe to give up the ghost just yet. He was trying to force her hand, to forestall
any argument. Normally she could resist
such simple charms, but, in his death, in his truth, in her fear, she succumbed
and without thinking further about it handed him her bow and quiver, turned,
and ran towards the stairs calling back to Rocco to follow her.
Rocco stared at his dying friend
for a second longer.
Ar-Raguel spoke softly. “If ever anyone calls you a fool my friend it
is they who are too foolish to realize when someone is simply frank to a fault,
impossibly impulsive, earnest and ever trustworthy.” He said to Rocco as he notched an arrow. “I have been shot wildly and my arc is now near
complete.”
Ar-Raguel waved Rocco to the
stairs. The wounded warrior succumbed to
Ar-Raguel’s final spell and followed Billy up to the mausoleum as the burned
and blinded beast bore down on their brother.
The next thing Billy remembered they
were all, but for Ar-Raguel, gathered up in the mausoleum in the niche where
they had found the secret passage originally.
The door hiding the chamber below had been pivoted back in place. She
and Rocco were leaning against it. Val
tended to Sammy and Dudley in the center of the niche. The effects of Ar-Raguel’s spell had faded. He had succeeded in stopping them from saving
him and in doing so helped save them all.
Damn
him. We could have dragged him out and …
and … and what? What sort of twisted
priest would even consider calling back a soul to such a body? Rocco could
barely carry Dudley out of there in time – and Dudley has his legs.
Val wasn’t wearing his pants. Instead,
he had wrapped a towel or a blanket around his waist. She wanted to ask him why but she was still
too overwhelmed and exhausted to do much more than sit against the wall.
“There were some balms and
ointments in Ar-Raguel’s bag.” Val said
to her as she came back to her senses.
There was no mistaking a certain apologetic tone to his voice. “He must have left it up here before he
followed Rocco down the stairs.”
She turned her head and pressed her
ear against the wall. She heard nothing coming
from the chamber below but whether that was because there was nothing left to
hear or the door was too thick she could not know. Did not want to know. The marble was cold against her cheek and
made her realize she was covered in sweat.
And blood. Her hands were covered
in grease and guts. Val was still
staring at her, seeking forgiveness it seemed.
“May I see it?” She asked reaching out for the bag.
Val was all too happy to pass it on
to her. “Yes, here, use some of the
menthol cream for Rocco’s breathing. His
rib is cracked and cutting into his lung.
That cream is powerful. He’ll
begin to heal right quick.”
“Thank you, Val.” Billy took the bag from Rocco’s big brother
and found the small tin of cream Val had just described. Rocco was barely conscious, eyes closed, his breathing
terribly labored. She wasn’t sure how
much of the conversation he had heard.
“Love? I’m going to rub some of this on your lip,
your moustache, ok?”
He turned towards her, lifted his
lids with enormous effort and managed to grunt, “Mm-hmm.”
She rubbed the ointment under his
nose and quickly she could hear an improvement in his breathing. It was deeper and less restrained. She listened for a few more breaths, each
improving, and then turned her attention to the bag.
Rope and spikes, some chalk and
caltrops. A bit of bread and salted
meat. A quill and some vellum. And of course a variety of tins and vials, each
carefully wrapped in cloth to protect against breaking, each full of some salve
or potion, cream or ointment he’d made to help heal himself and his comrades.
“This bag and a few things back at
the Keep. That’s all we have left of
him.”
Val looked up from tending to the
broken boys. “I have some of his blood.”
“What?”
“In a vial. He gave it to me. Elves’ blood is hard to come by and
half-elf’ll do in a pinch. He was good
like that.”
“Oh.” She replied with unexpected
neutrality.
Val, she remembered, was not
exactly socially adept in the best circumstances. The poor, foolish genius honestly had no idea
what to say.
Rocco broke the awkward silence.
“What the hell were they,” his
voice hoarse, his exhales almost louder than his words. “What the hell were those things down there –
those things that ate Ar-Raguel? What
were they brother?”
“Those were owlbears.”
“What … the fuck … is an owlbear?” Rocco replied slowly. His voice grew stronger and angrier with each
word.”
Val answered Rocco in a similar
apologetic tone to that he had just used with Billy, “It is a horrible hybrid,
an evil sorcerer’s mad idea to combine the fierce hunting skills and
intelligence of the owl with the immense strength and power of a grizzly bear. They are cursed, aware they are an
abomination and that any living thing that meets it will likely try to kill
it.” Val was almost sobbing as he spoke. “And so they fight to the death. Always.”
“You wizards weren’t satisfied with
the Pegasus? The Manticore? The Griffin?
The Hippogriff? You went and made
a fucking Owlbear?”
“I didn’t do it! They were almost entirely wiped out in the Southlands
during the King’s time. And the Duke of
the Southlands still offers a bounty on them.
But here in the Northlands, they were often prized for their pelts and
some … some were … domesticated? Even
trained as guards. There have always
been stories of them still lurking near far flung villages and seldom used
mountain passes. And now with the wars …
eldritch beasts roam as they please.”
“I honestly though they were myth.” Billy said.
“You’ve heard of them?” Rocco asked, surprised.
“Aye.” It was Dudley, lying on his belly but alert
now. “That was no myth that just
eviscerated me and dined on our dear friend Ar-Raguel. But it’s been a century since I’ve seen one
with my own eyes so I understand Billy’s surprise.”
“I knew a halfling family – whole
family – all had matching coats cut from one hide.” Sammy was awake with them now too. He was sipping some sort of concoction Val
had made for him from items in Ar-Raguel’s bag.
“You all knew what we were fighting
down there?”
“Well, I didn’t know at the time,
but yeah, they’re legends, Rocco. Well,
not legends, because they’re real, so…”
“I think you mean ‘legendary’,
Billy.”
“Yes, Val, thank you. Have you never flipped through any of the folios
of fiends at the Keep’s archivist and scrivener, Rocco?”
“Or one my codex of creatures
malign and benign?” Val added.
“Oh hell, Rocco, I have...” Sammy reached into his knapsack, “A Manual of Monsters of the Northlands,
right here.” The halfling tossed a thick
book into Rocco’s lap.
“I guess I have some reading to
do,” Rocco muttered angrily as he leaned back against the wall, still obviously
exhausted. “And no smart-ass remarks about
my reading Sammy.”
“No.” Sammy sipped again from the broth that was
bringing him ‘round. “You’re a warrior
without rival and sharper than most who live by the sword. You stood toe-to toe against a demon in the
dark and gave blood and bones to protect ours.”
“We’re all sharper than most. What happened in there? Why didn’t we see the stairwell was false?” Billie asked.
“We’re better than that!” She
slammed Ar-Raguel’s bag down in frustration.
“We all three missed it, but at
least you fixed it, Billy. You saved
us. Whatever went wrong, it could have
been far worse.” Sammy surprised her
with his sincerity.
“Kind words for two people in a
row?” Rocco said, clearing his
throat. “We should bump your head on
walls more often little man.”
“You all could have left me for
dead.”
“Like we did Ar-Raguel,” Billy
sighed.
“No.”
Val stated firmly and a bit too loudly.
“We didn’t fail Ar-Raguel. We
were not careless.” Val spoke with an
unusual tone of authority. “The whole chamber
was cursed,” he growled as he stood up and walked towards a corner in the niche
where the secret door met with one of the mausoleum’s true walls. “I started to get suspicious when I saw an
emblem of a red-eyed face, maybe a demon, or an iron mask, or both, on the
leading edge of this secret door. I
called out to you about it Rocco.”
“Yeah. Something about red eyes. I remember that
now. I was a little out of it at the time.”
“We all were. Except maybe me. But I’m not entirely sure of that cuz, well,
I hear voices all the time so my sense of normal and cursed is … well … it’s …
confusing … ya’ know. Ar-Raguel was cursed too.
He told me he could perceive the world differently when a feather--”
“Brother!” Rocco interrupted surprising everyone a bit. “We will mourn and remember Ar-Raguel most
certainly,” Rocco said more quietly as he re-positioned his massive, broken
bulk against the wall he was leaning on, moaning and sighing in between his
words. “But you were just saying
something about the curse on this chamber?”
“Right. Well, after Billy got the portcullis to open
and I dragged Sammy up the stairs--”
“You dragged me up the stairs?”
Sammy interrupted. “I’m not
exactly heavy.”
“I was bleeding out of my nose and ears!
I nearly caused myself a brain aneurism trying to keep Rocco alive. I wasn’t at my best, Sam.”
“So some of these bumps and bruises
might not even be from the brutalization the beasty gave me?”
“I admit I probably shouldn’t have
dragged you by your legs.”
“My legs?!”
Billy watched as they stared at
each other in silence and was genuinely unsure of who was playing who. Sammy liked to consider himself the cunning
con artist and even his words of thanks a moment earlier might have been a ploy
but he appeared to have everyone else’s trust despite being a brilliant
bull-shitter.
They’ve
all known him a good bit longer than me and even Rocco seemed surprised by his
sincerity.
Val’s naiveté, though real, was,
she suspected, sometimes intentionally overplayed.
He’s
too damn smart to be so damn innocent.
“Hmph. Give me some more of this
broth and I’ll consider forgiving you.”
“The curse!” Rocco shouted. “My Gods man, what the hell did you see?”
Sammy and Val both turned towards
Rocco looking surprised and hurt. Billy
was certain at least one of them was feigning surprise but not sure which.
Maybe
both?
“Fine. Yes, the symbol.” Val began anew. “I saw one on the door’s leading edge and
then a matching one on the wall right where, if the door was shut, the symbol on
the edge of the door would face the one on the wall.” He was mimicking the swing of the doors with his
hands while he stood in the corner where the symbols were now once again hidden
and joined face to face. “When we opened
the door, we separated them and that set off a curse on all who entered: The curse masked the obvious to us. I couldn’t sense the evil magic at play in
the room; Billy, Dudley, Sammy, you couldn’t find the clearly booby-trapped
stairs and Rocco couldn’t resist running off blindly into the darkness even
though that was obviously a terrible idea.”
Val paused. “But to be honest,
Rocco, the curse didn’t really have much of a challenge with you.”
“Fair enough.” Rocco conceded.
“The mural,” Val continued, “before
it fell and released the Owlbears … I think there was another version of this
red-eyed mask painted on it … I think.”
“Whose unholy symbol is this?” Asked Dudley who was now in a sitting
position. Various ointments and bandages
seemed to have contained the wound on his back as well as the pain.
“I’m not sure. It’s not a common image, but the elements
are. If I had to guess, one of the demons
of Dis has a cult here. Which one, I am
not sure but this cult – or its leaders - they are powerful. The keeping of Owlbears, the engineering of
the traps, the power of the curse…”
“And by the size of that chamber
and the halls leading off of it, this is no small cult.” Dudley added. “There is much more to explore beyond that
hall of horrors. Much darkness to shed
some judicious light upon.” Dudley’s
voice began to rise and Billy marveled at his resilience. Healing potions and ointments aside, this man
was bleeding to death not ten minutes ago.
And now he spoke of returning and avenging his friend.
“I’ve always wanted an Owlbear fur
coat myself,” Sammy added.
Billy surprised herself when she
said, “And Ar-Raguel’s sword. It was a
Mithril blade. A gift from his sister,
he told me. It should not fall into the
hands of some demon’s slaves. It is a
blessed blade and should not be left to lie in such a cursed place.”
“Well then, it’s decided,” Rocco
said. Billy saw that he was smiling for
the first time since he had joked with Sammy about throwing the torch and
surprising them all.
Was
that even ten minutes ago? When I was teasing him and calling him an oaf? So
much - so much lost. So fast.
“We head back to the Keep.” Rocco said.
“We patch ourselves up. We get
ourselves a little backup and we rid these hills of this evil temple. And when we find the motherfucker who set us
up we’re gonna’ bleed him out like he did our brother Ar-Raguel.”
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