18

Prince Andorin led their way in rapid bursts; rushing from alcove to side passage to shifting low tunnel, with several pauses for rest. The halts were necessary because Nalderick was still locked in sleep, and because 'This One' could only be fully possessed for so long before he collapsed.

The sea-elven bard remembered his path and retraced it, though he had been over a hundred years dead. Some things had changed in that time, slowing his progress, but the memorized map provided some aid.

Why he'd come down here at all… what he'd been after… the prince no longer recalled; just a sudden ambush, capture, a terrible blow to the head and paralysis; the long, slow drift into death. Then year after year of just hanging on. Of making up songs like The Pearl Hunt, to keep himself sane. And then he'd found This One and two fellow shades, along with a chance at escape.

Now, close… so very near to the sea cave… something quite unexpected came up. There was now a trapped room, where Andorin remembered only a stretch of bare corridor. He called a brief halt to study the altered situation, allowing the living to drop in their tracks like overrun horses. So much for the shade.

Those who still breathed had concerns of their own. The continued absence of Lord Orrin's mockery ought to have cheered them all. Only, something felt wrong about even that. As though His former Lordship were occupied elsewhere, or his silence had come at a very steep price. There was no way to tell, but nobody trusted the quiet.

A small make n' mend blaze was kindled, at which they rested and warmed themselves. Mischief and chaos got into it, though, causing the flames to turn different colors and form ghastly faces. Worse, all of their food now tasted of soap-bark and under-cooked dough, while the water fizzled with bubbles of sharp-smelling swamp gas. There was some debate about the nature of those bubbles until Sherlon exploded a handful, settling a bet with Roreck. Their wine was no better, having turned into thick, rancid butter.

…and if it wasn't the Shortest Day, that time was terribly near.

Once Lerendar stopped breathing frost and was able to stand again, one of the shades reclaimed him. Not Andorin, this time, but the arcane trickster, Elmaris.

The dark-haired rogue stood up, stretched and then had a quick look around, enjoying meat-senses. Next, bowing to his audience, he said,

"My Ladies and Lords, with your kind indulgence, I shall suss out the traps ahead of us." Once more, he held a gold coin, rolling it over his knuckles, making it vanish and reappear like some drifting bright spark. "'Ware, by the by. Something creeps up yon passage, hoping to snatch the weak or unready." His borrowed head cocked to one side, sending brown hair sliding over that sly, narrow face. "Another chuul, I think. Injured, somehow."

Filimar lurched to his feet. Drawing his sword, the young Arvendahl nodded at Marlie, who was already rising. Together, the two of them slipped like smoke from the circle of firelight. The others surrounded Their Majesties, though Genevera, at least, was ready to fight; bow in hand and arrow nocked.

Very quietly, knowing they'd hear him, Elmaris said,

"One shorn-off leg at the left side, right fore-blade crippled. Easy mark."

That done, he turned to focus on the traps that goblins and gnolls had set up to choke off Andorin's sea cave, letting those with a pulse look after themselves.

Elsewhere, forewarned and ready, Marlie and Filimar secreted themselves into a pair of shadowy crevices that might have held long-vanished statues. Masked their heartbeat and body temperature with basic hunt-magic, hardly breathing at all.

The chuul, when it came, was a stalking monster of leathery flesh and tough armor; part giant mantis, part snake. Scorched and hungry, it had lost one of its six needle-tipped legs entirely, while its right fore-scythe skittered and trailed on the ground. The rest was all maddened glare and wide, toothy mouth. With it, too, was a wraith; a shadowy billow of drifting, dark cloak and red eyes.

"An Arvendahl to the fray!" shouted Filimar, causing his sword to crackle with magical lightning. Together with Marlie (whose own blade shone like the moon) Filimar burst from concealment.

The chuul was the greater immediate threat, so the elves focused their slashing attack on that shrieking and chittering monster. The wraith wailed like a dying old woman, meanwhile; reaching its smoke-robes at Marlie and Filimar.

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

Both swords struck home with loud, spattering cracks, one blade half-severing the chuul's long neck, the other snapping its crippled foreleg right off. Marlie cast Moonlight… one of the few spells he knew… causing the wraith to ball up like dirty grey yarn. The chuul's lone forelimb shot out fast enough to leave an airless void in its wake, creating an echoing Boom and strong shock wave.

The elves reeled backward, heads full of stabbing pain and bright lights. Then Vashtie and Roreck raced over, calling out the team's rallying cry:

"Ever victorious!"

Smaller and lighter than her twin, tawny Vashtie used Invisible Cord as she did on the playing field; binding limbs to bring down a charging opponent. Roreck leapt full in the air, coming down hard, feet and sword first, on the chuul's plated back. Broke it in half, as his twin blew sunshine like a kiss at that balled up and shuddering wraith.

"BAM!" she exulted, watching the foul thing crumple like burning paper.

Roreck checked on Marlie and Filimar. Found them blinded by headaches, but otherwise sound. Returning to Vashtie, he seized the back of her neck with a hard hand and gave her a roughly affectionate shake.

"Alright, ViVi?" he asked, looking her over with magic and eyes.

"Better than you," she shot back. "Faster, too."

Roreck shook his blond head.

"What a shock that you're still unmarried," he snorted. His twin rolled her gold eyes in response, grumping,

"Too many muscular louts in my life, already. Maybe I'll find a good human, instead. They don't live long enough to be much of a problem."

Roreck pondered that in silence for a moment. Then, once they'd disposed of the carcass and wraith-shred with fire,

"That's fine, I guess… You'll make sure to find one with a sister, though, right?"

Elmaris had been busy, meanwhile; dealing first with the trapped door, which was rigged to burst into flame, and then with the room beyond.

In life, he'd always been lucky... Until he wasn't, way down deep in the goblin caves. He'd gone in after treasure. No quest or redeeming fine virtue, at all. Just greed and insatiable curiosity. He'd come by himself and died that way, too; left to starve in a constantly moving cell. But Lady Fortune's smile had returned at last. He could feel it.

Finessed the door with a smile, humming his favorite tavern song all the while. Glided on through, then dispelled the aura of life-drain that hovered, beyond. Next, he had to disarm a wildly tilting floor, which began to sway like a pendulum, the moment his foot hit the surface. The big stone platform was mounted on gimbals, causing it to rock and shift with each step. He laughed aloud at that, and at the venom-smeared spikes down below. This One's body was strong and quick, but not especially lithe. The rogue had to allow for reduced agility, while enjoying the best time he'd had in fifty long, boring years.

Dashing, leaping and balancing like a dancer…like a cat… he reached a trio of iron wall-mounted switches. Stood with legs braced apart, shifting with the floor as it rocked itself back to sleep. Each lever had a riddle carved into the stone underneath. A bold thief, having got this far, was intended to solve each puzzle and pull the right lever, thus locking the floor. Anyone belonging here would already know the correct response, but Elmaris wasn't much worried. The correct switch would have a puzzle whose answer was "stillness" or "path" or some such, so the rogue read them through very carefully, starting at the near right.

'The beginning of eternity, the end of time and space, the start of every everything, and end of every place,' he read, grunting:

"Child's play. Ehwaz, which turns up everywhere… but will not settle this wonderful floor." Clearly, not the right switch.

'At night they come without being fetched, and by day they are gone, without being stolen,' was next, written under the middle lever.

"Eh. The stars, obviously… which is no help, at all," he shrugged, moving onward.

Last of all, inscribed in stone beneath the left switch, he read,

'What passes through towns and cities, but never moves?'

Elmaris laughed in delight, as he had on the tilt-floor, answering,

"A road, no more, no less… and the one I am seeking." Started to reach for the lever, then hesitated, gold coin spinning in midair over his outstretched hand. Glancing upward, he said,

"I am not alone here, Beautiful Lady, dispenser of riches and luck. More than the tender pink hide of Elmaris depends on my choosing correctly. Smile on us, Lovely One, that your favorite suitor may go on making ridiculous choices, and that these high elves may save their bold lord."

With that, he filled This One's lungs, took hold of the lever, and gave a great downward yank. Rust flaked. Gears rocked and then slowly started to turn.

Fortunately, This One was strong of arm, for the lever did not move easily. In his own body… back when he'd had one… Elmaris would have been struggling. Even now, the contest seemed slanted as badly as the floor had been. Finally, though, something clicked and locked into place down below, converting that unstable panel of fun to firm, solid boredom.

A door opened up in the eastern wall, then, releasing a powerful gout of trapped storm-wrack and seawater. Not enough to fill up the trick chamber, or it might have gone hard for Elmaris. He ended up treading cold, bitter water and ducking logs; smashed against the chamber walls like a child's toy; coughing out warnings to those who fought and waited, behind.

The water level dropped nearly as fast as it had climbed. Then most of his living companions peered through the doorway; battered, wet and concerned. Elmaris waved an arm at the new door, through which sunlight now flooded, along with the pounding hiss of high surf.

"Royals, nobles and gentles, take note," he said with a bow. "I bring you success and offer you freedom!"

At that point, exactly, just past the cave mouth, a magical gate opened up. Flaring like sunlight on water, the portal revealed His Imperial Highness, Sherazedan.