Installment 28 [https://squirrel.dogphilosophy.net/Installment028.png]
A neatly groomed man stood to the right down the hallway outside the door, wearing the sort of plain but well-made clothing expected of a household servant. The man didn't appear to be armed. He was holding a candelabra with three lit candles in it as he leaned close to inspect an apparently decorative suit of armor holding a halberd. Al could tell they weren't real suits of armor as the metal was thin, and he could see riveted leather straps holding the limbs to the chest and torso pieces, which were in turn dangling from the helmet by more straps. Presumably, the helmet was hung against the wall. There were no embellishments like spikes or helmet-crests, though the helmet itself had a faceplate roughly shaped into a wolflike snout. Another identical suit of armor was just visible in the candle light at the far end of the hallway. Al was wondering how the servant had gotten into the hallway without Gruntle hearing him when the man suddenly turned to look away, then turned back with a look of terror on his face as he ran down the hall in Al's direction.
It was not apparent what the frightened man was fleeing, as there was nothing visible down the hallway nor anything to hear. In fact, not even the running footsteps of the servant made any sound. Al pushed the door open to block the man's path in hopes of questioning him, but he ran through the door as if it wasn't there. Al stepped out into the hallway, carefully watching where the spectral figure had come from for any danger but seeing none, he risked a glance down the hallway in the other direction as the door swung the rest of the way open. Al got a glimpse of the other end of the hallway, one door to the left and one to the right at that end of the hall. Another hall led straight away from the door Al was leaning out of. Two more of the decorative armor displays were visible in the candlelight for just a moment in the direction of the fleeing figure before it disappeared through the leftmost door.
"Who was that?" Wikwocket asked. "How did he do that?"
"I think that's the man Gertrude said she saw. She mentioned he didn't even seem to notice what was happening in the foyer," Al suggested.
Bote agreed. "Perhaps a poor victim of the beast, anchored to this world by his trauma? Or, of course, perhaps an illusion."
"That might explain the lack of sound. Shhh!"
Al suddenly motioned for quiet as a light appeared from he right end of the hallway again. Al leaned back out of the door for a cautious look. Wikwocket, not wanting to be left out, did the same.
Looking back down the hallway to the right again, they saw the same servant moving as though closing the already-closed door on the opposite wall. He held the candelabra up to inspect the suit of armor at the far end of the hall, then pulled a piece of cloth from a pocket to wipe a seemingly-objectionable spot of dust from the top of the helmet. He put the cloth back in his pocket and moved closer, leaning in to inspect the armor Al had watched him inspect the first time. The same performance repeated, miming the panicked flight past the watchers and into a door at the far end. As the image of the servant ran by, Al stuck out his hand, then pulled it back quickly when the specter passed through it. It felt cold, and for a moment Al shivered involuntarily.
"Are you hurt?" Bote asked, concerned.
"No, I'm okay, it was just...uncomfortable. It was like touching fear. I don't think that's an illusion."
"We should see if we can free this soul from his torment. I do not believe this was his soul's intended place," Bote asserted. "Carefully, of course. I expect there is more danger here than the beast we are seeking."
"Especially for those of us who won't be able to see it before it's too late," Al grumbled at the dark hallway. "Gruntle, could you let me have that torch, please?"
Even though the haft of the torch was clean and dry, it felt a little unpleasantly greasy or slimy in Al's left hand, but it provided light at least. Out in the hallway, the silent frightened ghost ran by again.
"Well, mister blind wizard, I can bravely take my properly-working eyes out there to check for traps and alarms if it would make you feel better," teased Wikwocket.
Al rubbed his forehead. "Yes, actually, that would make me feel better. Maybe start to the left, and we can find out where the ghost is running to."
"Leave it to me!"
Wikwocket drew her rapier, just in case, and carefully stepped into the hallway. She prodded the floor repeatedly as she went, until she had crossed to the opposite wall and then taken a few steps left to reach the corner where the hallway split.
"Seems clear so far," she stage-whispered to the others waiting at the foyer door, "unless there's something going on with those suits of armor. I'll check."
She prodded the floor again. When nothing happened, she took a step towards the nearest suit of armor. Then something happened.
A hollow whispering voice came from somewhere inside the empty helmet and the assemblage of armor took a clattering marionette-like step towards her, bringing the halberd's blade down and barely missing as Wikwocket leapt back and ran.
"Something's going on with those suits of armor!" she yelled as she fled back across the hall, grabbing for the handle on the open foyer door.
The hollow whispering voices and clattering of armor was now audible in every direction up and down the hall. Hanging from the door's handle, Wikwocket kicked off of the wall to get the door swinging, and let it carry her back into the foyer as it swung closed. She gasped and let go as another armored suit's halberd was thrust through the gap at her at the last moment, preventing the door from closing all the way. Gruntle grabbed the door handle and pulled on it, pinning the halberd in place, and Bote hefted his hammer in both hands and brought it down, easily smashing through the halberd's shaft. The suit whose halberd had been broken let go, shoved its gauntlet-fingers into the door's narrow opening, and began trying to pry it open. Several other suits could be seen trying to maneuver around each other to get their own halberds through the gap.
"That's one disarmed!" shouted Al, "Gruntle, can you hold on?"
Gruntle's reply was a manic grin and barking laughter, as he let the door slip open just slightly to let another halberd try to thrust in at him, then yanked back on the door again to trap it in place. Bote swung his hammer against the shaft of that one as well, snapping it. Wikwocket took the opportunity to lunge in from the side and stab at the one whose fingers were in the door. Her rapier slid along the surface of the vambrace to stab into the joint where an elbow should have been. instead of striking flesh, the couter was knocked loose and fell to the ground. There was no elbow inside, only some leather straps holding the pieces together, and curling lines of crimson light which pulsated disturbingly like a heartbeat.
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"No fair! There's nobody in there to stab!" she complained.
"How many are out there?" Al asked urgently.
"I saw three from where I was, then the two to the right, so probably five?" Wikwocket answered, trying to line up another rapier-thrust through the narrow door opening.
The whispering voices from the suits of armor outside grew louder. Another set of gauntlet-hands joined the first in pulling at the door, and a third halberd tried to thrust its way past the door at Gruntle.
"I wish I could tell what they were saying!" Al griped, swinging his mace at the fingers of one of the gauntlet-hands pulling at the door. The strike connected, and the gauntlet fell in pieces to the floor.
"Go around. Other door," said Gruntle, having to strain and put his weight behind his efforts to slam the door on the latest halberd, against the suit-and-a-half worth of hands now trying to pull it open. Bote broke that haft with his warhammer as well. The empty suit of armor holding it began trying to use it to help lever the door open.
Out in the hallway, the clattering of some of their attackers could be heard retreating, and a door creaked open somewhere.
"The room next door!" Al shouted already moving in the direction of the other foyer door, "Gruntle, can you handle these?"
Al saw Gruntle's pupils dilate wide, and his reply was a loud grunt as he shifted from pulling on the door to violently shoving it open. With a crash and a sound like a kitchen's worth of metal cookware being dropped, the two suits pulling at the door were knocked back and fell to the ground, though they immediately began to rise again as if they were being lifted by their heads.
Bote ran to join Al near the side door. Wikwocket hesitated, then decided Al and Bote needed her help more and joined them as well. They readied themselves as the door opened away from them. One halberd-wielding suit of armor began rushing into the room only to be met by a charging dwarf heading in the opposite direction. Bote's warhammer swung at its hip, but the suit changed direction with unnatural lightness to avoid it. It was not so lucky with Wikwocket who followed immediately behind Bote and stabbed upward, cutting through the strap under a pauldron. The right arm clattered to the floor and lay still.
Al rushed the one who had opened the door. Before it could get a grip on its halberd again, Al saw an opening and brought his mace cleanly down against the helmet. Being ornamental, it caved in. A swirl of pulsating light spurted from the eye-slits accompanied by a sound like someone whispering a scream. The light faded almost immediately and the suit of armor flopped limply to the floor.
"Ha!" Wikwocket yelled at her own disarmed foe, "You can't use a halberd with one hand, can you!?" In rebuke, an armored foot lashed out, kicking her in the ribs.
"Bote! See if Gruntle needs help!" Al urged, trying to hit the helmet of Wikwocket's attacker as it dodged and fended him off with its remaining arm.
Wikwocket snarled and slashed viciously at the attachment point for the leg that had kicked her, cutting through the thin leather that connected it to the body. It fell away.
"Not well made, are you?" she taunted it.
Uncaring of the insult or the loss of its limbs, it reached to grab the back of Al's head, pulling him into a vicious headbutt.
Bote ran back to the hallway to find Gruntle happily trading violence with the other three suits of armor. The one in the middle had a smashed-in breastplate, and as Bote watched, Gruntle brought his flail down onto its shoulder with enough force to completely crumple the body. As the swirls of crimson light fled from it as it fell, Gruntle continued through and caught an incoming punch of the leftmost suit in his jaws, crushing the gauntlet and ripping the arm free. He paid no heed to the broken haft of the last one's halberd clubbing him on the back of his head with a loud "BONK".
Rather than get in the way of the melee, Bote offered a brief prayer to call out haft-wielding suit's interference in the ineffable plans. In response, a flash of divine light shot down from the ceiling upon it, eliciting a whispering scream and a few wisps of smoke from its insides. The strap holding its right arm snapped.
As for Al, he lost his temper completely at the unexpected sharp pain of the headbutt. With an incoherent roar of rage, he pulled away and swung wildly at the arm that had grabbed him. They were not well-aimed strikes, but after absorbing several dents the straps that held it gave way. Al struck the falling arm one last time, driving it firmly to the ground.While the suit was occupied by trying to fend Al off, Wikwocket saw her opportunity and cut the other leg free. The now helpless body-and-helmet dropped, bouncing noisily on the floor.
Gruntle let the torn-off arm fall from his teeth as he brought his flail down on his current foe's helmet, smashing it entirely down into the empty chestplate. The pulsing glow seemed to squirt from the collapsing armor's joints and fade away as he lunged to the right and bit the last suit's snoutlike faceplate, tearing it away from the helmet like metal foil. Two brighter points of light floated like eyes amid the glowing strands swirling in the otherwise empty helmet. They seemed to glare at Gruntle as his shield struck the armor's arm, stopping another swing of the broken halberd-haft.
Bote stepped back into the foyer so that he could see both conflicts. While Gruntle was enjoying his now rather unfair conflict with the last of their attackers, Al was angrily bashing away at a broken-off arm though their enemies were both lying in pieces on the floor.
"Al, what are you doing?" Wikwocket asked him.
Al shook his head.
"That hurt," he grumbled angrily. "Felt good to hit it back a few times."