Villains by Necessity (54 page)

"It will not be easy, but I shall. Wait for just a moment."

She turned loose his belt and rummaged in her pouches. At last she came up with a silver chain and lay it down on her palm in a spiral pattern. Then she took out a tiny glass flask, and very carefully let fall a single clear drop onto the chain. The air was filled with a sweet-sour smell. Then she waved her other hand in mystic passes over the chain, reciting words of power: "Remedius fabulum eguus placebo!" There was a sudden flash of dark purple, and the chain shimmered a minute in the radiance.

Then Valerie solemnly shook the chain out into her other hand and offered it to Robin.

"Wear that around your neck, centaur, and even if you walk the darkest, closest tunnels, you shall be safe."

"Gosh!" gasped Robin, swiftly pulling the thin chain over his head, pausing to disentangle it when it hung up on his ears. "Thanks!"

Valerie turned back around, and after a moment the party started on again, Robin now striding along confidently.

Blackmail turned to look at her, his mailed shoulders shaking slightly in what they could now recognize as laughter. Valerie smiled at the knight's silent amusement.

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" she whispered.

They wandered ever deeper into the complex of tunnels.

Perhaps at one time, back in the mists of history, Putak-Azum had been full of life, a city, a castle, a temple, a whole world. Now it was a great sprawling emptiness, like an abandoned badger set. Most of the rooms and passages they passed through had been built with humans in mind, with wide hallways and arched ceilings now filled with cobwebs and mildew. But much of the stonework appeared to be Dwarven work, and in places it was easy to see where older, smaller tunnels had been enlarged to form human-sized passageways.

Putak-Azum had had many inhabitants. The original caverns, perhaps hollowed out by mountainous forces, had-been the home of creatures from the dawn of time.

Then, perhaps, the unpleasant humanoids of darkness had made their homes here-the goblins and Groinks, the rock-trolls and ogres, until they were driven back into the far depths by the Dwarvenkind. The Dwarvenkind had perhaps lived here many centuries, in a state of intermittent war with the humanoids. They had then vanished, for some unknown reason, or moved away or down into the depths, seeking further wealth to mine from the bones of the mountains. Then the lords of man seeing in the vaults of Putak-Azum a secure stronghold had taken over the upper levels. Then the forces of darkness had encroached, and the great evil things from the bowels of the mountains swept up, slaying the humans and taking their treasures for their own. The great black dragon Kazikuckia came to rest in the upper vaults, guarding that most priceless object, the Necklace of Calaina. And the War had raged on until the Heroes had raided Putak-Azum, mortally wounded the dragon, battled strange and evil creatures in the depths of the mountains, escaped, and moved on. After the Victory, Putak-Azum had been a target for adventurers, who battled the few remaining reptile-men until they had been exterminated.

Then they could switch to the occasional party of goblins or rock-trolls that would venture to the surface in hopes of gathering food. For with the closing of the Gate and the destruction of the Darkportals, the forces of darkness, though they hid in the depths of the tunnels, grew weak and feeble, and slowly expired in the cold depths. From then on the Ruins of Putak-Azum could offer the hopeful adventurer nothing more than the occasional giant slug, bat, spider or other such unintelligent creatures that lurked in the cool caves and fed off their own slow ecosystem, without benefit of the sun or rain.

The little group of unlikely Druid-rescuers knew little of this, however. They could only conjecture on the nature of the place, aided by Valerie's knowledge and Robin's store of ballad lore as they wandered through the halls.

"I think we're lost," said Sam, after a few hours.

"Nay, we are not," snapped Arcie. "We Barigans can always tell wherever we be anywhere in the underground."

"That's Dwarves that can do that." 

"I can do anything what some smelly dwarf can."

Arcie looked affronted.

"Where are we, then?" asked Sam, folding his arms.

Arcie looked around.

"We're in a hallway, say five paces far from that arched doorway and yon side passage," he replied confidently.

"Wonderful," said Sam sarcastically, as the Barigan continued to look about him in slight puzzlement.

"Hmm, perhaps it does only apply to Dwarves," Arcie admitted after a moment.

"Fear not," said Valerie, coming up with Blackmail behind them. "I have been marking the way as we travel, and my magic will lead us safely out as soon as we need."

"Och," commented Arcie, "I were just at wondering, now as you've your Darkportal back, why don't you just poof-appear us to yon dragon's lair, or just right away to the Labyrinth thingy? One's always hearing of mages and things teleporting all over the place, in stories," he added to Sam.

Valerie shook her head. Her hair had been severely cropped in the dragon's attack, and now was almost as short as Sam's, hanging in uneven locks just above her shoulders. Nightshade examined them with a beady eye.

"It's not that simple, you uneducated Barigan. My powers are still quite limited ... the Darkportal I wear is only a small one, after all. I cannot teleport to a place I have never seen, which includes both the dragon's lair and the Labyrinth. Even if I was to try to get us to the lair, I'd run the risk of materializing us all into solid rock or empty air outside the mountains. And as for the Labyrinth..." she shook her head, then continued, "And lastly, I don't think my magic is strong enough to teleport us all safely.

Transportation isn't my field of expertise. I'm better at hurting people."

"Aye well," said Arcie with a shrug. "I was but asking."

"It's getting late," mused Sam, looking about. "Or early, rather."

"How can you tell?" asked Robin. The assassin didn't bother to look at him and poked at one of the walls with a frown.

"I've got a good time sense ... comes in useful in my line of work, to know how long you have before a poison works, or when to come out of hiding."

"Oh," said Robin in a small voice. "At any rate, it's time we started looking for a secure place to camp and get some rest at before going on."

"Aye, and eat," added Arcie enthusiastically. Sam shook his head in amusement.

"If we keep you hungry long enough I think you'd eat that dragon raw and roaring, Arcie," he joked.

"I've had dragon before," mused Valerie to herself.

"At my brother's wedding ... It's kind of strong, but very good with cave-rose sauce and apples. We had his mother-in-law as a side dish."

They moved on again.

Arcie peeped his head into a large hall, spotting a small doorway at the far end. The room was full of rubble and wood, as well as what appeared to be the mortal remains of a good number of creatures. Old rusted armor hung from whitened bones, the etched remains of swords were gripped in bony fingers. Arcie warily walked into the room and up to one of the skeletons. Nothing happened.

He kicked it. An arm snapped off and skittered across the room. He sighed in relief.

"What are you playing at, Arcie?" asked Sam, entering the room after him.

"Dead things ..." explained Arcie. "My father told me..."

"Undead? Don't be stupid, half-pint. There haven't been any undead for ages. There's no power source for them, remember?" scoffed Sam, as the other three stepped cautiously into the room behind them. As the pale light of the wand reached into the darker corners of the room, there came a sound like a tumble of sticks and coins. The skeletons, long dead remains of reptile-men, rose to their taloned feet in clattering ranks, their sharp rotted teeth grinning with malice from beyond the grave.

"Well Dusty, which way?" asked Tasmene. The White Tigers' stood in the first main hall at the end of the entry tunnel in Putak-Azum. Three passages offered themselves: two winding away into the darkness and one leading up a stairway.

Dusty Corners, a small, sprightly Wilderkin, with long brown hair and bright blue eyes, peered about. He was a "locksmith," the term applied to those who had the somewhat suspicious talent of opening locks and defeating traps. Dusty was something of a black sheep among his people. He loved adventuring, and despite being a fierce fighter in a pinch, was quite frivolous-doubtless a side-effect of his companionship with humans. It was frivolity now that ruled him as he inspected the tracks in the dust on the floor.

It seemed to his quick brain that the tracks led more or less in the direction of the stairway... but when his party had been in here before, they had gone that way and found it just kind of wound up connecting with the other two passages after going through a lot of rooms. The other passage, however, led not only to where the other two would meet, but also past several areas he hadn't been able to explore thoroughly last time. Curiosity won over.

"This way!" he piped cheerfully and bounded down one of the tunnels. The rest followed, wielding torches of magical light provided by the mage Tesubar.

"I don't know if we should trust that Wilderkin and his maps," rasped the mage as he marched along, his glowing staff held in one hand. Tasmene turned around and eyed the mage in concern.

"Something the matter with your throat, my brother?" he asked in concern. "Don't tell me your cough is coming back..." Tesubar cleared his throat and looked embarrassed.

"Um, no. It's fine now," he said in his normal voice.

"That's good," muttered Thurbin. "You used to drive me half out of my skull with all your blasted rasping and coughing." 

"Bleeding Tharzak," cursed Sam, drawing a dagger, then thinking better of it, swapping it for his shortsword.

"By BARIS and Bella!" yelled Arcie in surprise, as he jumped back. He drew his morning star and swung wildly at one of the skeletons. The blow caught the leader of the reptile skeletons, shattering a kneecap. It fell on one knee, slashing at him with a broken sword and lashing its clattering tail.

"What's happening?" cried Robin, drawing his sword uncertainly. "Why are they attacking?!"

"Don't talk, fight!" grunted Sam, slashing at one of the rattling warriors. His blade clattered between the ribs without effect, and he ducked as the creature opened its long jaws in a silent warcry and swung at him with its rusty sword.

Valerie quickly began chanting a spell. Blackmail swiftly drew his huge sword and dealt a charging trio of the skeletons a blow with the flat of it that sent them scattering.

A moment later, Valerie completed her spell, and a wave of crushing force lashed out, hurling several of the undead warriors against a wall. The others halted a moment, then attacked with renewed vigor as the sorceress stared at her fingertips in puzzlement.

"That spell should have disintegrated the bony bastards ... what went wrong?" she hissed.

"Ha!" yelled Arcie, and swung his weapon again at the skeleton before him. "Bang thy head!" The heavy spiked ball crashed into the skull, shattering it and sending the rest of the bones clattering in unorganized attack. "Sam!

You'll need a piece of wood, or something else blunt!"

Sam had other plans. He grabbed one of the skeletons by its ribcage and swept it off its feet, avoided its sword and lashing tail, swung it over his head, and hurled it through the air. It crashed into some of its fellows and they shattered and collapsed. He spun around in pain as one of them landed an awkward blow on his shoulder with its sword. He kicked it mightily in the sternum, sending it stumbling backward across the stone floor.

Robin, terrified, lashed about with his sword. The blade seemed to have no effect upon the creatures, rattling harmlessly off the smooth bones.

"Use your hooves, idiot!" Valerie yelled. Robin shuddered at the thought, but then one of the skeletons made a mistake. Trying to grab at the centaur's arm, it instead wrenched the harp from his back and held it as though to smash it. Robin gave a squeal of pure rage, and turned into a whirling bronco. He reared and pawed, then turned and kicked. The skeletons shattered under his hoofblows like kindling, but still more kept coming even as he grabbed his harp and tucked it safely under his arm, panting with exertion.

Blackmail swept a swath clear with a blow from his sword. "Why are his sword working?" mused Arcie, from where he busily broke the ribs off another foe and dodged its rotting spear as best he could. Och, sure it must be magical...

"What's causing them?" roared Sam, flipping another one over his shoulder and smashing it against a wall. Valerie gasped in sudden realization.

"It must be my Darkportal amulet! They're drawing power from it!" she cried. One of them charged her, but the dark knight deftly interceded with the point of his sword, catching the creature through the reptilian pelvis, hurling it up into the air, and smashing it against the far wall with his incredible strength.

"Well do something!" whinnied Robin, squealing in pain as one scored a hit on his haunch. He reared up and stomped it through the shoulders.

Arcie had found that a swift smack to the vertebrae was the best way to deal with them; if you were lucky, the shock sent the whole rest of the skeleton tumbling down in disarray or at least in two halves. He leaped about in delight, sending bones flying, and ducked as Sam hurled another one over his head. Blackmail waded through them, defending Valerie and mowing the bones down like a harvestman.

"Nothing I can do!" replied Valerie. "We'll have to run for it!"

"No need!" yelled Arcie back. "We'll be taking care of these!" He smashed through another, then darted about the floor, reducing the few still-thrashing bone torsos and legs into shards. Sam threw the lightweight figures into each other, and left the broken struggling bits to Robin's hooves and Arcie's morning star. Blackmail, swift, silent, and methodical, sent the bones shattering and cracking.

Finally the last twitching fragment was ground to powder, and the room was silent save for the panting of the living.