yet again. “I suggest youhelp me make a plan to get you up this shaft!”
“What rope?”
With an unkind glare at the sword, Escalla wandered over to the edge of the toadstool. Amongst a collection of dismembered skeletal remains lay a backpack, a rope, and a broken lantern with all the metal bits missing.
“Stay here!”
Escalla whirred over to the rope and managed to retrieve it. With much picking, she peeled away enough hemp stands to make a three-hundred-foot long strip of hairy string. She tied one end about the sword, scared the rust monster away with an illusion spell, then zipped up the shaft to find Private Henry anxiously waiting for her return.
The girl handed Henry the end of the string and said, “Heaveho. Company’s coming!”
“Company?” The young soldier blinked. “What sort of company,ma’am?”
“Irritating company!” Escalla dived back down the shaft.“There’s a blabber-mouthed sword on the end of the string. Bring it up when Igive you two tugs. Lower the line again once you’re done. There’s scrolls orsomething down there, too.”
The transfer took about ten long minutes-time that Beneluxspent lecturing empty air on the shortcomings of the new generation of adventurers. With the swords voice dwindling above her, Escalla took stock of the spells written on a newfound scroll, gave a happy smile as she saw some useful new magic, then sped up the shaft in pursuit of Benelux.
Up at the head of the shaft, Henry sat with the sword in his lap, looking chastened and bemused. Benelux was in full flow, informing the boy of the shortcomings of his uniform, when Escalla appeared and slapped the weapon on its overly ornate, enameled sheath.
“Hey, Spiky! Meet Private Henry of the Keoland border guard.”
“Nope. Henry has enough troubles of his own.”
The beholder lay paralyzed at the rear of the cave, looking angry but incapable of doing much about it. Escalla summoned her old trusty Tensor’s Floating Disk spell beneath the beholder. The spell bore the monster ona bobbing plate of magic force. Escalla had Henry toss the sword behind the beholder, and the faerie happily sat astride the monster and rode the whole contraption down the passageways.
“The grand plan! Step one: Catch a beholder. Step two: Get asword.” Pumping her fist like a cavalry general signaling the charge, Escallasent her ponderous cargo floating off down the corridor. “All right, Henry,let’s do a quick stage three, then get this show on the road!”
Stepping confidently behind her and looking the part of a conqueror, Private Henry checked his crossbow, drew himself straight, and followed Escalla as the disk drifted off to who-knew-where. The caverns lay empty, the dead ghouls decomposed, and Escalla’s voice argued with the magicsword as she drifted off into the dark halls.
16
In a dark universe of fear, all manner of hideous creatureshad set their minds to inventing tortures to inflict on living souls.
There were tests.
There were punishments.
There were foul torments so horrific that even their creators screamed at the very thought of them.
There were mind-wrenching terrors so foul that even the lords of the Abyss dared not speak their names…
… And then there was being tied back to back with Polkthe Teamster.
Two hours, and Polk was still talking.
“…see, a
Polk leaned his head back against the stalagmite at his back. Behind him, Jus tried to heave on his own ropes and use the pressure to strangle Polk to death, but the bugbears had used too many knots and turns. Jerking at his ropes in fury, Jus flung his head about to try and catch sight of Polk behind him.
“Polk,
“See? Now I knew you were going to say that. That’santicipation, son! That’s what you have to learn.” Polk sighed sorrowfully andcontemplated the sad state of the world. “Guess I still have to train you. Guessthe fault’s all mine. I see errors, son, and I’m too forgiving, too quiet! Ijust let ’em slide. I don’t comment-too polite, that’s always been my failing.Never say an unkind word. Try to let fellers figure things out for themselves. A doctrine of non-interference, son! That’s my way. I’m too quiet!”
Jerking back and forth to try and break his ropes, Jus breathed heavily, his eyes bloodshot with an utterly volcanic rage.
“Well, that’s nice of you to say, son. I see what you’regetting at. The way I teach you is good enough for normal folks, but you’re justa bit slow on the uptake, thick as a plank…” Polk gave a concerned shake ofhis head. “Ain’t
His hands tied behind his back, Jus flexed his fingers with the need to crush and rend.
“What?”
“Fed to demons, son. These drow are agents of evil. Stands toreason they have demonic overlords. Stands to reason overlords have to be fed.”Clucking his tongue, Polk leaned around the pillar to look back at the Justicar. “Son, that’s what I mean. You ain’t got a logical mind.”
They both sat roped back to back, tied to a huge, solid stalagmite. Bruised, cut, and gouged, the Justicar was still smothered with blood. Savage and dangerous, the Justicar watched events in the lich’s cavernswith predatory interest.
They were tied beside a slave caravan. A line of dispirited bugbears, goblins, and troglodytes-apparently failed tribe members-were chainedin a line beside a reeking pack lizard. Drow merchants and guards lounged nearby, breathing perfumes, drinking wines, and idling away their time. The merchant leader walked languidly behind his men, seeming utterly unconcerned. Jus took stock of each drow, the position of their weapons, and the location of intervening cover.
The lich’s cave, a dark cavern opening from which hundreds ofsoft voices were murmuring, stood only thirty feet away to the north. Beyond that, the main cavern was relatively empty. Four bugbears stood guard at the southern entrance-the one through which Escalla would come when she started herrescue. The rest of the cave sloped away eastward where it became warrens for the mutually hostile tribes of bugbears and troglodytes. The two species were ferociously antagonistic. Raw terror kept the stupid creatures in line-terrorand a greed for the rewards brought by service to the drow.
There were signs that another previous caravan had left only hours before. Tracks and less wholesome spoor betrayed that Sour Patch’s lostpopulation had been brought here and then moved on. Conceivably this second, smaller slave train was heading in the same direction.
A hooting noise began to grow and swell. Around the cavern, colors shifted as troglodytes dropped their
