17

That faintly glowing green path looped and swirled on the glassy black stone. About a yard wide, it seemed to fade quickly behind them while vanishing into the swallowing darkness, a few feet ahead. The pressure of evil was great, here; the power of Chaos at flood.

Strange, random things began happening. Gildyr's twig hairpin came to life, turned into a serpent and slithered out of his coiled bun. Dropped to his shoulder, then onto the polished obsidian ground. Reflexively, Gildyr started to reach for the hissing brown-and-green twig serpent, hair tumbling loose all about him. Only, the snake dashed off of the path to escape his grab.

Salem's hand on his cloak drew him roughly back. Just inches away, that hungering darkness engulfed the twig serpent, draining its spark of animate force. The small corpse turned ashen-grey, then sank into the very stone. The floor glowed, briefly; flaring from somber black to smoke grey; revealing the thousands of moldering shells trapped within it.

"Beware, Mwef. Heed your own warning, and remain on the path," growled Salem, claws hooked deep in his old woolen cloak.

He nodded by way of response, shifting his grip on the unconscious ranger. A few steps later, the water contained in their pouches swelled to double, then triple its volume; first filling their pouches, then bursting them.

After that, all the tools in Salem's thief pockets turned into sharp, metal birds. The screeching, silvery raptors rose into the air, swooping and diving in constant attack. Their knife-sharp, tool-hooked beaks and talons slashed clothing and flesh with each strike. Worse, they combined forces to take hold of Cap'n and Kalisandra, trying to wrest them away from the others.

Salem leapt, twisting into the air to seize her noble beast, tearing him out of their claws. She came back down on the path, perfectly balanced, as Cap'n shot back into his safer golden tattoo form. Her tail, though, lashed partly out over that shadowy floor. Two feet of it… all that projected beyond the path's light… went icy-numb, turned grey and broke off. Striking the ground, it twitched once, then sank in. Once more, the floor glowed, and this time there was a length of golden-ringed tail curled up there, inside.

Salem yowled frantically, for the tail was connected to her still, by contagion magic. Her life-force was draining like water out of a broken cup. Gildyr broke the connection with Breath of the Forest. Healed her raw stump with Fresh Growth.

"Right, so…" he said to her, as he patted the Tabaxi's heaving back. "We add to the lore of this place: Never reach out past the path, either."

He'd had to drop Kalisandra to fight off the tool-birds, but… except for part of her cloak and long, scorched braid, the ranger was safe on that glowing green trail. Very carefully, Gildyr released Salem, then bent to retrieve Kalisandra. She came up, well enough. The strayed hair and cloth stayed behind, though, joining Salem's tail and a flock of metallic birds in the tomb at their feet.

No water, no thieves' tools and, somehow, Gildyr's dagger had gone missing, as well. It had been a gift from his mother, in a different plane, and the sudden loss hurt. The druid took a deep breath to steady himself.

"Old Oak," he prayed, "If your roots stretch down this far, hear me and answer my plea. This place kills in ambush and inches, and we have a ways yet to go. Help us, Lord of the Greenwood. See us in safety to our friends, that we may help to hasten the Dawn."

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Otherwise, the terrible winter, the long dark, might win; claiming goblin, Tabaxi and elves… then the world. Salem got herself together with an effort.

"My people follow the Sun," she told him. "Ever-bright Lady sets each night to traverse the darkness and make Her way east. She sees us here, Mwef, and her eye never closes. Take heart."

Gildyr took and clasped the thief's hand. Nodded, saying,

"My regards to Ever-bright Lady. May Her light and the roots of the Oak guide us and shelter us."

Then it was time to set off once again. Added "no food" to their list of troubles, as well. Now, reaching into a belt pouch or faerie pocket yielded nothing but hardtack that bit, and dried meat that squirmed away like flipping and writhing, uncovered worms.

Oddly enough, they did not grow weary, thirsty or hungry all the rest of their way. Until they reached the end of that dark chamber and came within sight of a massive ice-arch built upon regular stone, their gods kept them healthy. There too was Orrin; seated atop a pile of provisions, holding Gildyr's dagger in one hand, while the other fist twisted hard in Pretty One's hair.

"Well then, what's this?" mused his former lordship, with a smile and a slight, mocking bow. "The thief who stole nearly all of my wealth… and a creeping, disguised weasel. Welcome. Come and enjoy my banquet. As yourselves, and by invitation, this time. Your friend, my third guest, will be here shortly. Only High Lord Arvendahl himself could be more anticipated than you three."

Orrin was pale and staring-eyed; spattered with blood. His breath misted, and that ghastly smile seemed frozen in place. The arch's cold, spitting light made his features seem to flicker and fade. There were corpses frozen into the ice, except in one spot, where space had been made. A scatter of burnt, broken bodies surrounded Orrin. Dead goblins, over a hundred of them.

Gildyr very carefully eased Kalisandra down on a safe patch of plain, humble rock. Felt around in his chaos-shifted faerie pockets, but came up with only Valerian's seed bag.

Pretty One was in bad shape, meanwhile. Her eyes were scrunched closed. She was gasping and panting; doing her best with both folded arms to keep loops of intestine inside of her. Sensing his presence, she started to cry, causing more blood to flow.

"Gildyr…" she gasped. "Gildyr, it hurts."

The Druid pulled out and flung a great handful of seeds, which bounced and scattered all around Orrin. Next, Gildyr shifted to bear form. Salem had begun stalking sideways; keeping to stone, yellow eyes skewering Orrin. Meanwhile, a golden tattoo moved from just over her heart to the thief's right hand. Ready.

Orrin just chuckled.

"I see that the ladies have left a bit of themselves behind," he remarked. "They shall return, then. At their final gasp, they shall be dragged to their spot in the vault of souls. Oh… was that a bit of a shock? So sorry. Not unlike finding my sanctum raided and all of my treasures stolen away. My wife, gone off with another."

Gildyr held out some hope, still. In a low and rumbling voice, he said,

"Let the girl go and come to me, Orrin. You've enslaved yourself to darkness, but there's still a way to break free. I can…"

The half-elf simply laughed at him.

"Enslaved? Empowered, rather!"

He stood up, then, jerking Pretty One upright, as well, though she pulled up her thin legs to help hold her entrails in place.

"No one is laughing, now!" howled Orrin, swinging the dagger around.

With a snarled spell, Gildyr caused a forest of vines to burst from the ground, twining Orrin's legs and both arms.

"Milady, get the girl!" he bellowed, as everything happened at once.

Salem moved through shadow. Emerged shaken, with frost-whitened fur, but whipped off her cloak and flung it over Orrin's bulging-eyed head. Cap'n leapt screeching, to land on the half-elf's dagger hand. Bit him, hard enough to snap off three fingers, loosing a shower of dark, icy blood. Salem wrenched Pretty One out of Orrin's grip, using her claws to sever the tendons at the back of his hand.

Roaring like a volcano, Gildyr hurtled forward. Swatted Orrin with one massive paw, snapping the vines and hurling him sideways. The half-elf shrieked with laughter as he tumbled, struck cold, glassy ground and started to sink. His face came apart, then, becoming nothing but tooth-ringed mouth and a long, lashing tongue that shot out to snatch Kalisandra's limp form by the ankle.

"As I have lost mine, so he shall lose his!" raged all that was left of Orrin feen Arvendahl.

Still laughing madly, the monster dragged Sandy off the stone platform, biting deep as both of them sank through the Vault of Souls.