Ed dug around in his belt pouch, digging out his mess kit along with his remaining supplies. He found some dried apricots that felt more like stones than food, a pack of tobacco and a small package of dusty-smelling crackers from the-gods-knew-when. They were nearly a decade old, preserved in the sterile holding space since the day he and his two best officers had been “retired” out of the army thanks to Righmond’s smarmy relatives. He’d never bothered to clear his things out of the bag – it had plenty of space, and you never knew when that sort of thing would come in handy.

Except now he did know. He was stuck and starving in a literal hell, and the water here tasted like a demon’s ass.

There was no telling how long he’d been here – the hells apparently didn’t enjoy a day and night cycle like any self-respecting plane of existence should. After hunting down that godsdamned imp, he’d spent what felt like at least a day looking around the general area. There was some kind of city in the distance, but the gigantic tentacles waving out from behind the walls were enough to convince him that a visit there was going to be a last resort. Eventually, he had been forced to accept that there wasn’t anything like a convenient gate home nearby. So, he had carved himself a shelter into the cliff face overlooking the hellfire river below. This was going to be his worst billet ever, by far.

Concentrating, he pulled out his battered tin cup and conjured water into it. Casting the simple spell was a laborious process for him, taking damned near five seconds, but he had plenty of practice. As an archmage, he was highly specialized, so casting a simple cantrip like this was more about cutting the spellform down to size than shaping it in the first place. Otherwise it would probably just cause a wet explosion, or something. He’d never tried it.

He dunked a fossilized cracker in the water and let it soak for a moment so he wouldn’t break his teeth on it.

He’d run into demons a couple of times already, though they were all weak little critters. That imp was the only thing that could cast anything resembling a spell so far, so he wasn’t overly concerned for his safety in that regard. At least, not more than he would be back home.

No, the hunger would get him first.

There was no way he could eat anything from here. There weren’t any plants, for one – just demons, rocks, and the ghosts. They were souls, Ed assumed, but they were damned creepy. They still looked sort of like people – humanoid shapes. But they didn’t behave right. They didn’t talk or try to communicate with each other, but there was still something there. They flinched away when they saw him, and when he saw a demon take one, the nearby ones had fled as if terrified.

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He’d killed the demon, of course, and a few minutes later, the ghosts just drifted back together, like sheep waiting to be culled.

Ed shuddered at the memory. It wasn’t right.

He needed to decide what to do. His food was going to run out within a day. As far as he knew, people didn’t just cheerfully travel back and forth from the hells. It was supposed to be a one-way trip. On the other hand, it wasn’t the sort of thing you were supposed to do when you were still alive, either. Radast, he was sure, would know how to get out of this place. Would they send somebody for him?

Only if they won the battle.

Ed scowled. He didn’t like their odds. The city would make it, he was sure, but his people? Iriala would have seen what was happening and sent the guilds to push the Duergar back down the tunnel. Considering that they’d pushed into the Undercity instead of retreating back to where they’d come from, the guilds would have had to drive clear through the enemy army to reach the Underkeepers.

No, he had to assume that they’d lost – and that meant nobody living would know he was here. Maybe if Iriala saw, assuming that she was scrying him at the time. But she’d had her own battle to deal with. No, that wasn’t a safe assumption. He pulled the soggy cracker from the water and put it in his mouth mechanically. It tasted like dirt.

Swallowing it down, he began soaking another one. If he was stuck here with limited supplies and no way out, then he needed to consider how best to use the time he had. These Duergar assholes had decided that Halfbridge was a nice, soft target to squeeze for all the godsforsaken souls they could feed to their demonic overlord. Or maybe the demon was calling the shots all along. It didn’t matter.

Considering what had dragged him here, he was willing to bet that that disgusting, writhing city he’d seen had something to do with Nuros, or more likely his boss, king… whatever they had. It was there, and he was here, too. And his clock was ticking, no matter what he did.

Well, that didn’t sound like such a hard decision after all.

Conjuring another cup of water, Ed downed it and tucked a dried apricot into his cheek as he rose. He dusted off his robes and started walking, packing his pipe on the way. Who knew? Maybe he could tear this Varamemnon character a new asshole before it ate him.