Thrown
Room — which was the Aghar's new name for Flint's and
Perian's quarters — or the rest of Mudhole. Most darted around blindly, screaming, waving their arms, or huddling on the ground, terrified by the approach of the monster.
'Follow me!' shouted Perian. An officer of the House
Guard was trained to lead by example, not to mention ex pected to be followed. She grabbed a carving knife and started for the footbridge at a run, ready to cross it and con front the monster personally.
'Get to the Thrown Room!' Flint's voice was a thunder ous bellow, but even that sound was washed away in the panic-stricken babble of hundreds of Aghar. A few of his closer subjects started toward the exits, but chaos reigned in the cavern. Flint snagged Fester, the nearest Aghar, by her collar. She held a large, bent roasting fork in her hand.
'Fester, look at me!' commanded Flint. 'Tell everyone to get into the Thrown Room. Get everyone to the Thrown
Room!'
The frawl stared at Flint dumbly for a moment, but he held her arms until he saw the fear fade from her eyes, and then she nodded vigorously. He took the fork from her hand and turned her loose, and immediately she began pushing
Aghar toward the exits. One down, thought Flint.
Turning back to the action, Flint saw several Aghar run blindly into the beast, only to be struck and paralyzed by the flailing tentacles. The small forms tumbled to the ground, but thankfully the beast didn't stop to feed on them immediately. Flint hoped it wouldn't get a second chance later on.
But how could they stop it? He sprinted after Perian, see ing her reach the footbridge and start across with Nomscul at her heels. The roasting fork in his hand was a pathetic weapon, but anything was better than his bare hands against the huge, segmented monster.
More Aghar fell before the beast, and it crawled over the motionless forms, intent on the great mass of prey before it.
Almost gleefully, it surged upward, stretching its bloated body a dozen feet in the air, still lashing with its tentacles.
Suddenly Perian stopped on the bridge and screamed.
Nomscul, right behind the queen, ran into her and fell back ward onto the approach to the bridge. Flint saw the hid eous, hunchbacked figure of Pitrick soaring through the air over her head. The derro was flying straight for Perian!
Raising the long fork, undaunted by the incongruity of the gesture, Flint sprang toward the narrow footbridge. He saw the grotesque Theiwar land near Perian and seize her wrist in his right hand. The frawl twisted back, but Pitrick pinned her against the railing on the side of the bridge. The derro settled to the planks beside her and spoke a sharp word, cancelling his flying spell so that he could place his weight on the ground.
Nomscul climbed to his feet and charged forward, only to be kicked aside by one of Pitrick's heavy boots. Desperately, Perian pulled away. Flint charged as fast as he could, push ing his way through the Aghar.
'Your smoke weed will be a little delayed — but no worry.
You will be leaving with me,' hissed Pitrick to Perian, the thick odor of mushale heavy on his breath.
Pitrick gripped his amulet with one hand, staring into
Perian's eyes. She twisted in his grasp but could not break away.
'Kan-straithian!' he barked. Instantly the blue light flashed. The savant released Perian and turned to face the charging hill dwarf. Nomscul, climbing to his feet behind
Perian, seemed momentarily forgotten.
Perian tried to run but her feet refused to move, as if they had been cemented to the bridge. She tried to turn, to open her mouth and speak, and found herself paralyzed by magic. Her eyes wild, she struggled against the spell, but Pitrick's magic had her frozen in place.
'Now for you,' growled Pitrick, his huge eyes glaring in sanely at Flint. The hunchback's fingers tightened around the amulet, and he raised his hand to point a bony finger at the charging dwarf. Flint knew that he would never reach
Pitrick before the derro cast his spell.
'Incinerus… Incinetoria…' Pitrick began his spell, sneering at Flint, preparing to envelop him in an inferno of sorcerous fire. He did not notice Nomscul stepping around
Perian's petrified form.
'In-sin-jin-fin-jin yourself!' challenged Nomscul, aping
Pitrick's wizardly pose. He thrust his magic sack before him self and clapped it sharply between his hands, throwing a cloud of fine dust into the air.
Pitrick recoiled from the insidious powder, but too late to keep it from his nose, eyes, and throat. His fingers stabbed at his burning eyes, and then his whole body doubled over.
'Ah… uhhh… CHOO!' Pitrick's sneeze almost blasted Nomscul from the bridge.
'Maggot!' Pitrick hissed, stumbling away from the dust cloud. He delivered a vicious kick to Nomscul. The little shaman crashed through the railing of the bridge and splashed into the pool, gasping and wailing.
Then Flint reached the bridge, racing full-tilt toward the derro, his roasting fork poised above his head. Still strug gling to regain his senses, Pitrick snatched a long, straight dagger from his belt.
Below them, Nomscul popped to the surface of the pool.
'You got my magic stuff all wet!' he whined, paddling to ward the bank.
The two dwarves came together. Flint's momentum car ried Pitrick over backward. Locked together, each strug gling for an advantage, they rolled over and over toward the shore. Each held his own weapon in one hand, his oppo nent's wrist in the other.
As they tumbled onto land, Pitrick thrust out his leg, pin ning Flint below him. He threw all his weight behind his weapon, forcing the blade down toward Flint's unprotected chest. Caught off guard, the hill dwarf strove to straighten his arm, but Pitrick's blade inched closer. Desperately Flint kicked the derro away and rolled to the side. Both combat ants jumped to their feet, stabbing and parrying as they scrambled momentarily to a safe range.
'You thought to escape me, hill dwarf?' cackled Pitrick, breathing heavily. 'I admit you surprised me by surviving the Beast Pit.'
Pitrick stabbed at him, but Flint skipped out of the way, driving his own long, pronged weapon into the derro's chest. As they jumped apart Flint expected to see blood on his enemy's robe, but instead he saw links of chain mail shining through the ripped fabric. Glancing at his weapon, he saw that the tines of the roasting fork had been bent and twisted — such a feeble weapon would never punch through the derro's armor.
'I'm full of surprises, too,' taunted the Theiwar. 'Here's another: when I finish with you, your whole town will be next to perish. You've shown me that Hillhome and all your sun-dwelling kin are too dangerous to my plans!'
'You should live so long,' growled Flint, feinting toward Pitrick's left side. Nonetheless, the warning sent shivers along the hill dwarf's spine. Pitrick had to be stopped, now!
The evil derro sneered as he evaded the attack. 'I shall, with Perian at my side. Together we shall destroy Hillhome and make slaves of its people.'
The derro turned and darted along the side of the pool, moving with surprising speed. Flint raced after him. The hill dwarf knew his only hope was to press the derro so closely that he could not cast a spell.
Both figures turned suddenly when they heard Perian shout, 'I'm free!' As the last effects of Pitrick's hold spell fi nally wore off, the frawl spun and started toward them. She snatched up a long, sharp cooking knife. Grinning, Flint turned back toward Pitrick.
But the savant surprised him. Instead of reaching for his amulet, Pitrick laughed defiantly and touched the ring on his left hand. Instantly the derro disappeared from sight.
Perian's scream drew Flint's attention back over his shoul der. Suddenly Pitrick was standing next to her, and the der ro seized her left arm with both hands.
'I must leave now,' he taunted Flint. 'But I will be back, once I see that my property gets safely home.' He leered at
Perian, and icy daggers drove into Flint's heart.
