one wish left in this thing. We have to use it wisely.'
Artek scratched the dark stubble on his chin. He was still skeptical that the goddess Mystra had truly spoken to Beckla. But even if the wizard was wrong about the ring, it couldn't hurt to make a wish on it. And if she was right…
He glanced at the silversanns at the far end of the chamber. The glowing creatures still slithered and undulated in ecstasy, completely oblivious to their ssspecimens.
Artek turned back to the others. Then he had it. The last apprentice!' he said, snapping his fingers. 'The ring can't transport us out of Undermountain. But it can take us to the last of Halaster's apprentices! It's our only hope.'
Beckla arched a single eyebrow. 'I thought you didn't believe that this is really a wishing ring. Have you changed your mind so soon?'.
He glared darkly at her. 'You're not making this faith thing any easier, you know. How will the ring work if we don't even know who or where the apprentice is?'
Beckla smiled smugly. The ring knows.'
'All right, we'll give it a try,' he growled. 'Beckla, you put on the ring. Now, let's all gather close so-'
His words were cut short as the chamber's iron door burst open with a thunderous boom! It flew through the air and struck one of the silversanns, crushing the hapless creature against a stone wall. For a moment, its antennae twitched jerkily, then went still.
A half-dozen steely forms lumbered through the gaping doorway, serrated claws waving menacingly.
'SQUCH! WRONG!' one of the thanatars droned angrily.
'PRISONERS! OURS!' intoned another.
Razor-sharp tails swiping wickedly, the thanatars charged the silversanns. Apparently, the lobster-creatures had decided they did not care for Squch's decision concerning Artek and the others. The silversanns screeched in terror, waving their feelers wildly as they tried to slither out of the reach of the larger mechanicals. Several were too slow, and the thanatars caught them in their pincers and squeezed, cleaving their sinuous, metallic bodies in two. The halves fell to the floor, twitching feebly. The thanatars droned in what seemed like satisfaction. Then one of the lobster-creatures caught sight of the adventurers.
'PRISONERS!' it droned. 'GET!'
The thanatars lunged forward, and the five companions gaped in horror.
'Now, Beckla!' Artek cried.
Jamming the ring on a finger of her left hand, the wizard opened her mouth. At first nothing came out but a fearful croak. She took a deep breath, then tried again. This time, faint words escaped her lips.
'I wish… I wish we were in the lair of the last of Halaster's apprentices,' she gasped.
The thanatars opened their jagged pincers, ready to snatch up the prisoners. But a sudden, brilliant flash of azure light sundered space. In an instant, the stony chamber, the writhing silversanns, and the violent thanatars vanished. For a single moment, humans, gargoyle, and skull were neither here nor there. Then came another blinding flash, and a new reality abruptly coalesced around them.
Fatal Game
'Now where are we?' Beckla asked in amazement.
'Near the end of our journey,' Artek answered solemnly.
They stood beneath a high stone archway. Behind them, a corridor stretched into endless shadow. Before them lay their goal-the lair of the last apprentice still in Undermountain.
It was glorious. Walls of pale marble flecked with gold soared upward in vault after dizzying vault. An intricate mosaic adorned the lofty ceiling, depicting a fantastic sky: radiant day shone brilliantly upon one side, while night glittered with jewel-like stars upon the other. Light streamed down from the mosaic above-part of it sun-gold, part moon-pearl-refracting off the polished walls. It filled the chamber with shimmering luminescence.
In keeping with the ceiling, the chamber's expansive floor was a patchwork of marble squares, alternating in a checked pattern between white-gold noon and onyx midnight Each of the squares was perhaps three paces across, and the floor was bordered on all sides by a swath of mottled green marble. On the far side of the hall, set into a shallow nave, was a door of gold. Instinct told Artek that, for good or for ill, they would find the last apprentice beyond it.
Tucked in the crook of Artek's arm, Muragh let out a reedy whistle. 'I'll say one thing,' the skull murmured in awe. 'Whoever this apprentice is, he certainly has a flair for decorating.'
Over the centuries, no visible signs of age or decay had touched the grand hall, which seemed to indicate that it had not been abandoned. This, in addition to the sheer beauty of the chamber, boded well for their chances. Or at least, so it seemed to Artek. Together they conferred on a course of action-all except for Corin.
'I'll just try to stay out of your way,' the lord said meekly. He huddled just inside the stone archway, his back to the wall, staring down at his scuffed shoes. Artek sighed quietly, but he reminded himself that there was nothing he could do.
They had come here to seek the help of Halaster's apprentice, so it seemed best to approach the wizard's door directly, without stealth. However, so as not to alarm the apprentice, they decided Artek should go alone at first. Then he would signal the others when he deemed it appropriate for them to follow.
'Wish me luck,' he said nervously.
The others all did so-except for Corin. Taking a deep breath, Artek turned to stride boldly toward the golden door across the room. As he left behind the strip of mottled green marble where the others were gathered, his boot stepped first upon a square of black. He took another step forward, onto a square of white.
Then he ran face first into some sort of a wall.
Like sunlight glancing off a clear window, a plane of white radiance flashed momentarily in front of him. With a cry of pain he stumbled backward, onto the black square.
'What in the Abyss was that?' he muttered in confusion, rubbing his throbbing nose. Whatever it was, it had hurt.
Beckla stood up, a curious frown on her broad face. 'It looked like a magical barrier blocked your way,' she said.
Artek tried moving onto the white square to his left. Once again a thin plane of white energy sprang into existence before him, blocking the way. The same thing happened when he tried to move to his right. Knowing what to expect, he did not smash his face against the magical barriers. Perplexed, he turned around and stepped back onto the swath of green marble that bordered the floor.
'Something very strange is going on here,' he grumbled in annoyance.
Beckla's eyes suddenly went wide with surprise, and Guss let out a low growl of shock.
'You aren't kidding,' Muragh said with a low whistle.
Artek turned back around, and an oath escaped his lips. As he watched, something appeared out of thin air on the far side of the room. Images flickered into existence, wavered like desert mirages, then grew solid. No, not solid, for Artek could still see dimly through their ghostly forms. They stood in two straight lines upon the two farthest rows of black and white squares, one creature per square, sixteen in all.
The eight in the first rank looked to be dwarven soldiers of some sort: long-bearded, horn-helmed, mail-clad, and bearing shimmering half-moon axes. Standing behind them in the rear row-one to each side-were two tusked, long-armed ogres; two silvery knights mounted upon black steeds and bearing gleaming lances; and a pair of stern- faced sorcerers in pointed hats. These six flanked two tall, imposing figures in the center of the back row. Flowing mantles fell from wide shoulders; glimmering crowns rested upon high brows; pale eyes gazed forward in steely authority. Proud they were, and cruel: a king and a queen.
With terrible certainty, Artek knew it was going to be no easy task getting to the gold door across the room. Even if he could find a way to avoid the glowing magical barriers between white and black squares, he now had an eerie army to contend with. At the moment, the ethereal figures stood motionless, gazing forward with impassive, unblinking eyes. Yet Artek suspected this would rapidly change if he drew near.
He fixed Beckla with a piercing look. 'You had to wish us to the apprentice's lair, rather than to the apprentice