The party rested.
Varien knelt before the
flickering flames of the tiny campfire and began to pray. "Tell me, oh
wise one," he intoned. "Flame that guides me through the darkness in
this ziggurat. I seek great power, as you seek my great devotion. Kindle my
strength. What must I do?"
Holy symbol in hand, he sat
watching the smouldering embers of the campfire while his companions rested,
muttering his prayers over and over.
The embers began to stir.
Varien’s eyes widened.
The ashes begin to swirl,
creating a grey funnel that reached the roof of the cave and sent a rain of
cinders down around Varien.
Varien looked at his
companions through the ashen snowstorm and realized they were not seeing what
he was seeing.
Even as the cinders caused
his eyes to water, he refused to shield them as his prayerful invocations switched
from Common to Celestial.
He was rocked by a
staggering wave of heat. Blinking away tears, he continued to search the
blazing flame before him for answers.
In agony, he rubbed at his
smoke-filled eyes and fluttered his eyelids furiously until the embers had
fallen away. As Varien refocused on the flames before him, he realized he was
no longer sitting in the cavern beneath Old Owl Well.
A searing vista stretched
before him as the smoke and ash billowed away, a fiery expanse like that of a
volcano’s caldera, fringed in the distance by rocky peaks that stabbed skyward
like knives.
The ground beneath him was
unnaturally smooth, like glass, but through its near-opacity he could see a
magma-like maelstrom seething underneath.
Over his head, stormclouds
roiled as forks of lightning flashed, reflected tenfold by the volcanic glass.
There was a tremendous clap
of thunder as lightning struck the surface of the caldera before him.
The glass cracked and
heaved, shattering as the volcano roiled to life – an active inferno that
bubbled and burst.
Varien could feel his skin
begin to blister in the heat.
Something began to emerge
from within the molten lava. An earsplitting cry echoed across the glassy
plain.
Rising from the lava and
flames, a phoenix began to take shape in the magma, stretching its fiery wings
as if for the first time. Its feathered form aflame, the creature beat it wings
like the bellows of a massive forge, and took flight, trailing fire and magma
behind it as it soared towards the roiling clouds above the volcano. The
volcanic glass reformed into a solid beneath it.
Varien was seized with a
word. A name?
Arcetalos...
Suddenly Varien was plunged
back into a firestorm of smoke and ash, and found himself back in his seat next
to the campfire inside the tunnel. He brushed soot from his forehead and felt
around for blisters, but seemed none the worse for wear.
He looked down. In his
hand, the centre of Sune’s rose glowed like a hot coal.
“Arcetalos,” Varien
whispered through parched lips. He felt a pang of understanding undercut by a
strong sense of separation, as though a great gulf of loneliness separated him
from whatever this Arcetalos was. The burning loss Varien felt was matched only
by the strength of his conviction that he would find this Arcetalos.
Determination flowed
through the paladin, who called out to Arcetalos in his mind’s eye.
Where can I
find you? What do you need? What have I lost?
Varien thought he could
hear a faint keening like a wail blazing within the fire before him. But
nothing more.
Then, even more faintly,
words in Celestial echoed in his head, weak, as though spoken from a great
distance.
Crystal...prison...
obsidian...circle...
crown...of...Illefarn...
A ruby-red tear formed at
the corner of Varien’s eye, reflecting the firelight.
Meanwhile, Radegast noticed
that both Varien and Xylon seemed more entranced than usual. She investigates.
She grabbed Xylon's
shoulder. "Hey, one bookworm per party, you know that, right?"
Xylon did not respond.
Radegast looked closer.
Xylon appeared to be glowing with an internal light.
"Uh oh, a textbook
case of possession here," Radegast chuckled at her own wit and looked
around to see if anyone had heard her. Nobody had. She sighed. "My
material is wasted on you guys."
Radegast cursed herself for
not having taken the time to learn the identify
spell. If she were in a proper library with a proper textsorcist or documancer,
she would be able to get a better handle on things. Cursed books were often fed
into enchanted crematoria just to make sure their foul passages couldn’t harm
unsuspecting readers.
Nearby, Alec had also chosen
this moment to pray to Helm.
Radegast went over to where
Varien was sitting. "I don't mean to interrupt your prayer circle, but I
think Xylon might be possessed by one of those books we took from the wraith's
lair in Wave Echo Cave."
Varien shook his head and
looked up at Radegast. “What?”
Radegast pointed at Xylon,
sitting up ramrod-straight against the cave wall, the book open in his lap.
Varien could see that the elven wizard was giving off light, which was a
strange thing indeed.
Varien frowned and cast lay on hands to no effect. He turned to
Radegast. "What if I just grab the book out of his hands?" He asked
the bard.
"That's got about a
50-50 chance of killing him outright," Radegast said. "I am going to
try to detect his thoughts. If I look like I'm in danger of going to deep, I
need you to drag me around the corner and put some thick rock walls in between
me and Xylon."
Varien nodded.
Xylon's eyes were now
glowing a solid white. The writing on the page was also glowing, as if glyphs
had been written beneath the ink in something more sinister than Common.
Xylon looked down at
himself. He appeared to be in one piece, carrying Glasstaff’s staff of defence
and wearing what he had been wearing when he sat down to read from the tome. He
shook his head. “Am I dead? A ghost? Living in the past?”
None of the other people in
the room paid him any attention. They were focused on a thin human man who had
pushed open the doors of the Forge, a stricken expression on his face.
“There are orcs attacking
the entrance of the mine!” he shouted at the room’s occupants.
The dwarven cleric frowned
and put his hands on his hips as he stepped away from the Forge. “Not even orc
raiders would be so bold as to attack our mine!” he said.
The man shook his head. “With
all due respect, Father Sefris, this is no mere pack of bandits. They have
ogres with them!”
In the dark recesses of the
mine there was a sound like a series of heavy thunderclaps in rapid succession.
The man blanched. “And they have mages with them!”
An expression of alarm
crossed the faces of the dwarf and gnome.
The human wizard held out a
placating arm. “Now, now Martius my good manservant. This is no time to panic.”
“Mages, fighting alongside
orcs?” Xylon said. “How can orcs know magic?"
"Where is the king at
this moment?" the human mage asked his servant.
"He is in the Great
Hall rousing his men," the messenger said.
“You see?” the mage said.
“Everything is yet under control. Let us see what defence we can offer King
Silverstrike, then.”
“Right!” the dwarven cleric
shouted, heading for the door.
Xylon frowned and put out a
leg, tripping the dwarf.
“Oi, watch yourself there!”
the dwarf turned to glare at Xylon. “This is no time for mischief!”
“Oh, so you can see me after all,” Xylon said.
“Yes, we can see you.” The
human mage said.
There was a sound of a
slamming door from elsewhere in the Forge. A younger berobed magic-user bolted
into the room. His hair fell in scraggly blond curls, framing a sallow face
twisted in fear. He pointed a bony finger at the other human mage.
“Mormesk!” the man shouted.
“Have you heard what’s happening?”
“Yes, yes, Sudeiman. We are investigating at the moment. As I was telling
Martius here, now is not the time to panic.”
“Not the time?” Sudeiman
repeated. “There are orcs and ogres stabbing and slashing their way towards us
right now!”
Xylon turned to the
handsome wizard. “Mormesk?”
The wizard smiled. “Yes,
friend.”
“Don’t you remember meeting
me once before?” Xylon said. “Our situation was a little…different than it is
now.”
“Now is not the time for common room chitchat, my elven friend. Come, we seek
the King.”
“Okay…” Xylon said. “Yes,
let’s protect the King, then! And which way would that be?
The party exited the Forge
of Spells. Xylon was surprised to see several well-armed guards standing at
posts at the Forge’s entrance. The sounds and smells of metal refining were
echoing from parts to the northwest, as was the sound of booming waves. But
there was an undercurrent of fear and fire drifting from the south, and there
were frantic shouts echoing up from the tunnels.
“The Great Hall is this
way,” Mormesk said. He turned to his manservant. “Martius, go to the workshop
and secure our belongings.” His manservant nodded and ducked down a side
tunnel.
As they threaded their way
through the tunnels, Xylon could hear shouting and the clang of swords growing
closer.
Mormesk and his cleric
companions led the way out onto a platform where a great table stood laden with
food and drink. Xylon gasped.
The Great Hall of Wave Echo
Cave was in a much different condition than he had last seen it. Several long
tables and benches had been occupied, until recently, by dozens of stout
dwarven miners, who were even now picking up their hammers and pickaxes in
defence of their stronghold.
Before Xylon stood a
regal-looking elderly dwarf, his arms outstretched as squired hurriedly bolted
on bits of impressive-looking battle armor – fitted plate over finely-machined
chain mail.
Xylon recognized the dwarf
as none other than King Malcer Silverstrike, signatory to the Phandelver Pact
and dwarf-lord of the Silverstrike Clan. As his servants helped him into his
battle armor, one squire held a large stein of hammered electrum, letting the
King drink heartily from it.
"My king," Xylon
knelt before him. "I am at your service!"
King Malcer gazed into
Xylon’s eyes, which as he knelt were level with the dwarf’s. “Ah, I didn’t know
we were entertaining an Elven emissary today!”
“King Malcer, forgive my
impudence, but I must warn you that this battle may be your last,” Xylon said.
“These orcs seek to capture the Forge of Spells, but their actions lead to the
destruction of Wave Echo Cave.”
Malcer turned to his
retinue. “So, the orcs of Uruth Ukrypt think that they can take this mine from
its rightful owners? We’ll be having none of that, not while the flames of the
Forge of Spells burns, eh boys?”
His assembled guards, magic
users, and miners shouted their assent.
Satisfied that his armor
was properly buckled, King Malcer stepped down from his stone plinth and
grabbed a mighty battlehammer. Holding the heavy weapon aloft, he shouted, “For
Wave Echo Cave and the Phandelver Pact!”
As the assembled throng was
about to give a rousing cheer, there was a terrible smashing sound as a wall to
the south suddenly blew outward in a crush of shattered stone, sweeping several
miners away like children’s toys. Two wild-eyed ogres wielding tree-trunk sized
clubs charged into the Great Hall. The beastly attackers were flanked by Orc
shamans and berzerkers, all of them howling at the top of their lungs as they
rushed forward, bowling over surprised dwarves and gnomes in an instant.
“URUTH UKRYPT!” they
shouted as they tore into the assembly, hacking and stabbing. Every swing of a
club or axe scattered a handful of dwarven miners, but for now more were
popping up, streaming in from other tunnels, to join in the defence of their
home.
“Courage, lads!” King
Malcer shouted. “Don’t give way!”
A squad of armored dwarven
guards rushed past the King down the stone steps of the platform, springing
into action against the orc invaders. The air was suddenly thick with magic missiles as the gnome and dwarf
mages traded shots with their orc enemies.
Malcer turned to Xylon,
Mormesk, and the other mages. “Boys, we will make our stand here and drive
these tusked tossers back. You need to go and defend the Forge of Spells.”
“Yes, sire!” Mormesk said,
turning with a sweep of his robes.
Xylon eyed the carnage
unfolding before him in the Great Hall, remembering the jumble of skeletons he
saw scattered across the stone floor the first time he entered the room. “Good luck, King Silverstrike,” he whispered.
Back in the tunnels beneath
Old Owl Well, Radegast and Varien were arguing what to do about Xylon. Erwen
sat at the edge of the firelight, facing away from the rest of the party as was
his custom. His ears perked up as he
thought he heard a scrape of bone on stone in the darkness.
Sure enough, something was
moving towards their refuge. Several somethings.
The druid got to his feet.
“Incoming!” he shouted to his companions.
Alec jumped up from his
bedroll and in his excitement cast a firebolt
that blazed a path of light into the darkness, impacting against the far
tunnel wall.
Bob sighed and got to his
feet, readying a firebolt of his own.
As his companions scrambled
into action, Varien tried casting compel
duel on the oblivious Xylon. The spell had no effect.
"That's it, I am
taking this book from him!" Varien said, taking hold of Mormesk’s tome.
"You are going to rip his
soul out!" Radegast shouted, trying to loosen Varien’s grip.
Varien shrugged the bard
off and pulled. The book remained attached to Xylon via a ropy ectoplasmic
discharge, like hot stringed cheese. Xylon was wracked with a seizure,
trembling the moment the connection to the book was endangered.
"Ugh!" Varien
said.
Back in Wave Echo Cave,
Xylon was rushing down a corridor behind Mormesk and Sudeiman. The smaller
wizard was complaining to his companion.
“Ah, I shouldn’t even be
here!” Sudeiman was whining. “I was just visiting, and at your invitation, at
that!” He pointed an accusatory finger at Mormesk. “You’re the reason I’m here
at all!”
“I am sorry about this,”
Mormesk said. “The orcs of Uruk Ukrypt have a poor sense of timing.”
Xylon felt a sudden stab of
agony, like his spirit was trying to leave his own body. Dizzy, he fell to his
knees on the smooth stone floor.
“Tread carefully there,
friend!” Mormesk said, pausing to lend a helping hand.
Varien shook his head and
let Xylon keep the book. “Fine!” he said.
He cast command . "Rise, my friend!" There
was no effect.
Erwen pointed as three
creatures shambled around the corner. The party heard the now-familiar sound of
dozens of worms screeching in unison, embedded within the bodies of the
zombies.
Bob launched his firebolt at the first creature he could
see.
Erwen conjured Bert and
Ernie again, but this time in the form of a pair of ravenous dire wolves. They
snarled and immediately rushed at the approaching wormspawn zombies. They began
snapping and clawing at the creatures, shredding rotten flesh with every
attack. Bert yelped as a burrowing worm lodged itself in his lower jaw, but
pressed the attack.
Erwen wildshaped into the
form of a dire wolf and jumped at the oncoming zombies.
Bob strode forward and cast
bane on the approaching creatures.
“It’s time to test out a new spell!” He yelled out. “It’s time to go to church,
zomboids!” He cast toll the dead.
A dolorous ringing sound,
like hell’s bells, filled the cavern. Bert and Ernie immediately joined in,
howling at full volume.
The zombies danced like
puppets on a string for a moment as necrotic damage rattled their very bones.
Theryn leapt into the fray,
spinning his bo staff and smacking one on the top of its head, before driving
it deep into the creature’s midsection and finishing off with a heel strike
that rocked the zombie back a few paces, dripping crushed worm ichor with every
stumbling step.
Alec reeled from
casting his firebolt .
Varien drew Talon from its
scabbard and slashed at the nearest worm zombie, opening deep cuts on the
creature.
Radegast watched as sweat
began to bead on Xylon’s forehead. “Okay, I’m going in,” she said. She cast detect thoughts on Xylon and began to
concentrate.
Immediately, she detected
some of the wizard’s surface thoughts. Am
I going to die? Am I in the past?
Radegast probed deeper. She
let her subconscious detach and begin filling in those details she could glean
from Xylon’s psyche. From the darkness behind her closed eyelids, faint lines
beginning to fill in a chiaroscuro shadowed dreamscape. She could make out
walls of stone, and the blurred outlines of humanoid shapes in the dim gloom.
Oh Xylon,
what have you gotten yourself into?
One of the blurred forms
bent forward and began to speak, his voice muffled and pitched low. Radegast
listened.
Mormesk helped Xylon to his
feet. "You look troubled. Speak quickly, my elven friend."
"You and I have met
before," Xylon said, "except that you were a wraith in this very
cave."
Mormesk stared at Xylon,
bemused.
"I do not have time
for such flights of fancy,” Mormesk said. “We have a job to do, and we are
going to do it."
"Lead on, then,"
Xylon said.
The party entered the
starry cavern. The gnome and dwarf headed into the Forge of Spells and closed
the double doors.
Xylon, Mormesk, and
Sudeiman ventured south past the Forge Guards, where they could hear the
desperate sound of battle already taking place.
“Oh no,” Sudeiman
snivelled.
The trio stepped out onto
the ledge that bifurcated the large cavern. They could see the wizard workshops
huddled against the cavern wall. The
twisted form of Mormesk’s manservant Martius lay prone before the door, half a
dozen arrows sticking out of his lifeless body.
In the cavern were half a
dozen dwarves and gnomes, fighting for their lives against an onslaught of Orc
warriors and shamans. An ogre was busy grinding dwarven guards into a fine pink
mist, while gnome mages attempted to get spells off before Orc archers riddled
them with arrows.
“We are already lost!”
Sudeiman wailed.
“No, we have yet to bring
the battle to them!” Mormesk shouted. He cast thunderwave on the approaching horde.
“I’ve got this,” Xylon
said, stepping forward. He cast fireball
from his spot on the ledge, taking care to sculpt some pockets of safety for
the dwarves and gnomes. The blazing sphere launched from his fingertips and
sailed overhead, detonating in a firestorm.
Radegast winced at the
sudden brightness that illuminated the dreamscape.
A worm zombie raked his
claws at Theryn.
Varien fought to raise his
shield as a second creature pounded on him.
Bob cast a chaos bolt that missed, arcing out and
striking Ernie, who howled.
“My bad, Ernie!” Bob
shouted.
Theryn took another hit
from one of the zombies. Blood flowed freely down the monk’s robes as he
staggered back. “I could use some help here,” he moaned.
Varien called down his celestial light, raising his sword and striking the nearest
wormspawn. The creature fell apart under his onslaught.
Bob cast Toll The Dead again, killing another
worm zombie.
Back in the cave, Xylon
cast a second fireball . A wall of
flames blazed through the cavern, scorching orcs and ogres. Even as a few
toppled over into piles of ash, more orcs surged through the southern tunnel,
screaming URUTH UKRYPT at the top of their lungs.
An orc mage stepped out
from the shadows and cast silence .
Deafening silence filled Xylon’s ears and he stumbled, disoriented.
Orc raiders jumped up the
steps and slashed at Mormesk and Xylon. Mormesk pulled out a dagger and slashed
back, killing one of the orcs and sending him sprawling back down the steps.
Mormesk used hand signals indicating
that the wizards to withdraw as a horde of orcs rushed up the stone steps after
them, swinging their axes as the last dwarven defenders fell under their
blades.
Outside of the cone of
silence, Sudeiman’s cowering and cursing were suddenly audible. “This isn’t
right, this shouldn’t be!” he blubbered. “All is lost!”
Radegast began shouting as
a ghostly apparition in the back of Xylon's mind. Xylon shook his head, hearing
something, but unable to make out what the disturbance was.
As the wizards retreated,
Mormesk signalled to the phalanx of Forge Guards, who obediently rushed forward
to cover their escape. They threw themselves into the tide of orcs that
threatened to spill out into the northern part of the cavern. From the howls of
pain and rage that echoed off the cavern’s roof, they were holding for the
moment.
Mormesk threw open the
doors of the Forge, letting Xylon and Sudeiman in after him, and slammed the
doors shut.
“Sefris, Tannith,” Mormesk
said to the dwarf and gnome. “We are in dire need of your skill. Orcs are at
our doorstep.”
From outside the doors,
there was a clang of steel and a raucous dwarven laugh. “Take that, ye beasts!
Ha ha ha!”
The door flung open and in
staggered King Malcer. His hammer was coated in orc blood, but the King was
bleeding himself, and several orcish arrows were sticking out of sections of
his chain mail.
"How does the defence
of your mine progress?" Mormesk asked the King.
Malcer shook his head with
a grim smile. “Uruth Ukrypt has sent his main force against us after all.”
"This is not
survivable," Xylon interjected. "You all die here, and you, Mormesk,
will be reborn as a wraith!"
"This one talks
sense!" Sudeiman shouted. "Listen to him!"
Mormesk
gestured to the other wizards in the Forge. “Perhaps we should call for
reinforcements.”
King
Malcer shook his head. “The orcs already hold the mine’s entrance. There’s no
way to get a messenger through.”
“Not
on this plane, perhaps, but we could get creative.” He turned to Xylon. “Help
us to complete a ritual that will bring us some otherworldly fire support.”
Xylon
shrugged. “I’m sure it can’t hurt at this point.” He stepped forward with
Mormesk, Sefris, and Tannith, who began chanting. A summoning circle began to
take shape around the Forge.
“This
is madness!” Sudeiman wailed. “We are defeated!”
"No dwarf is defeated
while there are still orcs to be killed!" Malcer shouted, breaking off the
orc arrows in his side with barely a wince. He threw down his shield and hammer
and pounded one gloved fist into the other. There was a banging sound like a
gong. "Now, let's do this!”
He threw open the door. A
dwarven defender reeled past, bleeding from several axe gashes across his body.
Malcer stormed out,
swinging his gauntlets at the orcs that threatened to overrun the Forge.
“Bring it on, then, knaves of Uruth Ukrypt! You’ll pay
for every square inch of ground you take!”
With each blow there was a
blast of magical energy that echoed even louder than the waves. The king ran
out of sight.
Radegast felt her heart
flutter at the King’s heroism.
Two
globulous creatures suddenly appeared inside the summoning circle. Their
spherical bodies were studded with twin eyestalks, and they had a single,
twinkling eye and large mouth in the centre of their bodies.
“We
are Spectators,” they said in unison telepathically. “Here to observe, report,
and retaliate.”
“A
horde of orcs and ogres have penetrated our defences and are attacking our
dwarven and gnomish allies,” Mormesk said to them. “Please aid us in the
defense of this Forge of Spells. That is your task.”
“By
your command!” the Spectators said, floating out into the melee outside the
Forge. Their eyestalks began firing ray after ray into the oncoming orc horde.
Xylon thought he saw a
ghostly apparition out of the corner of his eye. “Radegast?” he asked
uncertainly.
I’m here , Radegast’s
voice was soft inside his mind.
One of the spectators, its spherical hide streaked
with gore, floated halfway into the Forge. “At this point I calculate only a 25
percent chance of successfully routing the enemy,” it said to the wizards. From
outside there was a shattering sound and assorted screams. The spectator winced.
“Recalculating. 15 percent.” It slipped back out and rejoined the battle.
“There
is one option left to us,” Mormesk said to the other wizards in the Forge. “It
is clear that the Forge of Spells is the horde’s objective. We must deny them
their victory.”
“Deny
them how?” Sudeiman shouted, cowering near the door.
“By
turning the power of the Forge against the orcs,” Mormesk said. Sefris and
Tannith nodded in growing understanding. “Unleashing its energy in one
tremendous burst will destroy the horde. We can bring this cavern down right on
top of these foul creatures and seal their doom. Their victory will be a
crushing defeat.”
“But
you can’t control the full power of the Forge! It will mean our deaths…this is
suicide!” Sudeiman shouted.
Mormesk
smiled sadly and clapped a hand on Sudeiman’s shoulder. “No, old friend. This
is a sacrifice.”
Mormesk
turned to Xylon. “It would appear that events are proceeding as you have
foreseen, my elven friend. I cannot ask you to join us in our sacrifice, but I
will not refuse you. Perhaps someone will remember our story.”
As
he spoke, he, the dwarf, and the gnome took up positions around the Forge of
Spells to the north, the south, and the east. The western spot was vacant.
Sudeiman made no move to fill it.
“Sudeiman,
we need you!” Mormesk shouted.
Reluctantly, Sudeiman took his place on the western side. “I can’t believe
we’re just giving up.”
“We’re
not giving up,” Mormesk said. “We are giving our lives so that others may
live.”
The
four of them began to chant, raising their hands as they sought to unshackle
the Forge of Spells from the enchantments that kept it in check.
The
Forge began to glow, its green flames licking higher and higher.
"Any last tips?"
Xylon asked Mormesk. “Any spells, or languages you could teach me?”
Mormesk shook his head.
"You there!” Sudeiman
shouted suddenly. “If you want to survive, follow me!" He darted into the
northern side chamber off the main room.
"Sudeiman we need
you!" Mormesk shouted. “If this is not a controlled affair, there’s no
telling how badly we will damage Wave Echo Cave!”
The Forge began to crackle
and hum.
Xylon shrugged and followed
Sudeiman out the Forge's back door and the pair steathily moved around the
desperate melee, Radegast’s ghostly form hot on their heels.
Of King Malcer there was no
sign. Orc and dwarven bodies were piled three deep on the ground as the battle
raged. Arrows and magic missiles found their targets, and the screams of the
dying were barely overpowered by the rhythmic booming of the subterranean hot
spring.
“This way!” Sudeiman
shouted. He was babbling to himself as he ran. “This can’t happen, there must
be a way out of here!” He and Xylon ducked as orc berzerkers slashed at them
from behind. Then they were through, into the large cavern where a waterwheel
powered an immense bellows and furnace. The metalworkers were either dead or
desperately defending themselves against the orc advance.
The pair darted into the
tunnels near the shrine to Dumathoin and turned south into the network of mine
tunnels. The sound of battle ebbed, for now. But there was a deep, droning
sound that threatened to burst Xylon’s eardrums.
They found themelves in a
dank cavern near a shallow pool of water. The droning sound rose to a deafening
crescendo behind them, and for the first time they could hear the sound of
caverns collapsing into rubble.
“Told them it was suicide,”
Sudeiman mumbled. “They wouldn’t listen. They never. Listen!” He shouted, his
voice echoing cruelly off the cavern’s walls.
From the south there was
the savage hooting of orcish warriors.
"No," hissed the
wizard. "Not when I was so close."
Xylon looked to the shallow
pond and then looked to Sudeiman, his mind working.
“Say, do you carry a wand
of magic missiles around with you, by any chance?” he asked the wizard.
Sudeiman slowly turned
around to face Xylon. “Why, yes.” He reached into his robe and pulled out a
wand. Xylon recognized it as the wand that his friends had recovered from a
waterlogged corpse in this very pool.
And with a start, he
realized that the stylizing lightning bolt on the handle of the wand looked
more like an M than an S.
“Did you say your name was
Sudeiman?” Xylon ventured.
A look of cold cunning came
over the wizard’s face. “No, you fool. I am Mormesk.”
This is
beginning to make sense , Radegast thought to herself.
“Sudeiman,
that pompous fool you saw before, was responsible for the disaster here,”
Mormesk spat. “We could have escaped. We could have let the orcs take the mine.
But no, he had to be a hero. The Forge’s explosion did more than kill orcs. It
brought the very mountain down on top of us and sealed us in for half a
millennium. There could be no escape.”
From
the south, the sound of running feet.
“I
was the last one left,” Mormesk continued. “Even as the caves collapsed around
us, I was hunted down and slaughtered by a volley of arrows. Each penetration
was a betrayal.”
Xylon
started to back away, but Mormesk raised his wand threateningly.
“I
died, but my rage lived on. It took me decades, but I was able to give form to
my hatreds and my angst. When I discovered that I could raise the dead and
control their corporeal forms, well, I began to draw my plans against the Fates
who condemned me to this place. “
“Yeah?
How?” Xylon said, vying for time.
“For 500 years I spat my hate out onto the pages of my
memoirs, imbuing them with the force of my will. You, you fool, are reading the
story of how I died, but that story will no longer end with arrows piercing my
flesh. For you are now my prisoner!”
“Is that so?” Xylon said, tensing.
“No longer will I inhabit not the pages of this tome,
but the inside of your mind from this day forward,” Mormesk hissed hungrily. “And
then I will live again. Your spirit, on the other hand, will be forced to live
out my story time after time, year after year, century after century, just as I
have.”
So this is how I die , Xylon thought to
himself.
Mormesk screamed and cast scorching ray .
Xylon shuddered at the
impact.
Now a shade of silken white
in the cavern, Radegast gave Xylon bardic
inspiration and tried to disrupt Mormesk's attack.
Xylon cast chromatic orb . The attack missed its
mark.
Mormesk returned fire,
hitting Xylon with lightning damage.
In the cavern, Radegast
looked on in horror as wounds opened up on Xylon’s body. He jerked as if being
struck by invisible blows.
Radegast shouted for Bob.
“We need heals! Quickly!”
Bob rushed in and skidded
to a halt next to Xylon, unstrapping his healer’s kit.
As Xylon staggered under
Mormesk’s magical attacks, the wizard hurled himself at Xylon, grasping his
head with ice-cold claws.
“Let me in!” Mormesk
shouted, fingers digging deep as he probed Xylon’s consciousness. Xylon could
feel himself slipping away into oblivion.
“NO!” shouted Radegast, now a fully formed version of herself, though still
translucent. She rushed at Mormesk. “Let me mother you! Feel the warmth of my
affections!”
“What is this?” Mormesk
hissed, clawing at the ghostly bard. “Your distractions will not work on me
here!”
“Oh really?” Radegast
smirked. She was able to do a quick read on the wraith’s spirit and surmised
that the book’s narrative had to come to completion before Xylon would have any
chance to escape.
Xylon stepped out from
behind Radegast and cast another chromatic
orb .
Mormesk screeched and
reeled from the attack. He turned to the bard. "Stop it!" Mormesk
shouted. "Maybe your mind is more susceptible than his!" He rushed at
Radegast.
Orcs flooded the southern
section of the cavern, out for blood.
Mormesk whirled, a panicked
expression twisting his featured. “No! Not when I was so close!”
The
orcs leered and sneered as they nock arrows into their bowstrings.
“No!”
Mormesk shouted again, wading into the shallow water and fumbling for his wand.
“You won’t get me this time! You won’t!”
He raised his wand and fired a volley of magic missiles at the orcs, who fell
back and died even as they fired their own arrows.
Xylon cast his last chromatic orb .
The globe of force
detonated against Mormesk’s back even as his body was riddled with orc arrows.
Mormesk slowly turned
around to face Xylon. “That's…that’s not usually how this goes!"
He fell back into the
water, sinking out of sight with a wail that trailed off into dark whispers.
Another tremor shook the cavern as the Forge of Spells
expended itself in a final blast of green flame. The light suffusing the cave
network began to dim.
Xylon's world faded to
white.
Alec cast witch bolt, which struck the last worm
zombie.
Bob threw up his hands.
"Oh, so when he uses witch bolt
it works! Typical!"
Bob cast scorching ray , killing the last
creature.
Xylon suddenly opened his
eyes and coughed, the light from the cursed tome fading. He looked up at
Radegast. “Say,” he said groggily. “That was a real page-turner. Very well
written, I must admit.”
Radegast snatched the book
from the wizard. "Don’t. Do. That. Again!" she slapped Xylon for
emphasis.
Xylon struggled to his
feet, eyes shining. "It was so realistic, like I was right there in the
action. Like it was your own little reality. Well worth it!" The wizard
reached for the book. “I bet it’s better on the second read-through…”
"No, no, this is going
to get disposed of in the proper fashion," Radegast said.
"Maybe we should force
the Black Spider to read it!" Xylon said. "He wanted Wave Echo Cave
to himself, after all."
Radegast began to grind her teeth.