Chapter 3 Part 6

Tyson gazed across the dancing flames of the fire into the burning eyes of the gagged and bound druid woman. Here in the wilderness on a forest road was where she was the most dangerous. Should her gag slip, or her hands get loose, she would be able to summon the druidic forces of nature to her aid. In their present location that would be a disaster for Tyson and his troops.

As a precaution, Tyson had warded the gag and ropes so that they would remain sealed until he personally removed them. He apologized--somewhat halfheartedly--that the elf woman would not be allowed to eat or drink but once a day and Tyson personally would stand with a knife over Sam's throat to keep her in line. It was really a bluff, for he would never harm the boy, but she did not know that.

"Oh, yes," Tyson had warned her. "I spent twelve years traveling with Sam's mother. She was a very powerful druid. If you try a spell, I’ll know it." He would only allow her gag to be removed for her to drink. And even then he would erect a field of silence so that she could make no sounds.

When she had requested to relieve herself. Tyson had smiled and assured her that she would receive a bath and fresh clothing when they arrived at their destination. He gave her permission to relieve herself right where she was, bound and gagged as she was. He also mentioned that the guards were a little aggressive at night and that she might view her dirtiness as a means of preserving her monogamy.

Her garments were soiled greatly, but her reduced diet had cut down the frequency of her bowl movements and urination. Still in spite of that she had managed to vomit on several occasions. Tyson observed that she showed no concern for it, in fact it actually seemed to give her satisfaction, for the guards were beginning to whisper that she was with plague. Tyson had stomped that rumor fairly early, but as with all rumors, it simply refused to die out completely.

As they sat next to a fire inside a ring of tents and a picket line of horses, Tyson spoke absently to the elf woman. "So there we were, your Avery and I. His bow string had snapped and the raft we were on was about to go over a waterfall." Tyson had spent the evening entertaining his guest with stories of her mate.

"Avery doesn't swear very much, but at that moment he would have made a whore blush. We all knew that Keeneye had stolen his spare bowstring the day before, but no one could guess how much we’d need it." Tyson laughed heartily. "Fortunately Armegon was on the shore and he threw us a rope. When we got to shore Avery was so mad that he leaped almost ten meters to shore where he pounced on Keeneye. We thought he was going to kill the archer."

Tyson saw what he thought might have been a tiny smile behind the gag. "I can see that you’ve also seen a trace of that ranger's temper. We were beginning to think Avery didn’t have one until that day. Samson and Seymore had to drag him off Keeneye. Yes, your lover has a temper like an H-bomb. He’s as safe and easy to get along with as anyone you’ll meet. He can take abuse without end and keep on smiling, but under the right circumstances, Boom!" Tyson threw his hands up and wide demonstratively. "The best part is that it comes without warning. Alas, though I fear you may never see him again much less experience his temper."

Tyson saw the eyes begin to water. He was getting to her. "I’m terribly sorry that you got mixed up in all this. It would’ve been much better if you and Avery had remained blissfully ignorant and uninvolved. If anyone, you should blame Armegon and Ultrecht for invading your private little paradise. I can assure you we wouldn’t have bothered you way out in your forest like that. In fact my employer’s made a policy that the druids are to be left alone. After all you folks don't take sides in the eternal battle between good and evil, and we’ll need someone to care for the animals and wilderness for us. So we let you alone and you stay within your own little world. We might even have disregarded Avery. He wasn’t likely to cause much trouble if left alone.”

“Armegon and Ultrecht are a different story, though," Tyson rambled on. "Those two can't keep to themselves. Armegon’s far too arrogant to believe that the world will go on without him, and Ultrecht’s too curious about the world to ignore it. They both would end up drawing attention to themselves. Actually," Tyson said reflecting momentarily, "the real problem is Armegon. Ultrecht would’ve probably gotten along with Morteous quite well. They’re very similar to each other in many respects."

Tyson noted that Nikki was getting sleepy. He smiled and helped her to lie down. Then he spread a light blanket across her before departing for his tent. He paused and addressed the night watch. "Keep a very close eye on her," he warned. "We’ll be getting back into Aspberg tomorrow, so if she’s going to try to escape, she’ll try it tonight."

Nikki lay on her back. She detested the blanket Tyson had spread over her. The night air was chilly and she shivered in spite of the blanket. She would rather freeze than accept any kindness from that monster. The crackle of the fire was the only sound she could detect of her surroundings. The many men and the fire had scared away most of the wildlife in the area. The trees whispered their offerings of aid and advice, but with her hands bound and her voice stifled, she could not summon the magic necessary to animate them.

She was indeed despairing. The past few days of traveling and the layer of filth covering her body had dampened her spirit to the point that she was anxious to get to Aspberg if only to get fed and bathed. At that point she did not even care if Tyson himself scrubbed her back.

For Sam's sake, and the sake of the life she bore, she suffered in silence. Were she sure of Sam's safety, and if she were not pregnant, she would indeed antagonize Tyson or try to seduce a guard into freeing her long enough for her to attack.

Patience, she had to be patient. She resolved to bide her time and at the proper moment she would seize an opportunity and make good their escape. Either she would take Sam with her or she would not go. Eventually they would let their guard down.

The next morning, Tyson and the guards broke camp and with their charges completed their journey to Aspberg. As they entered the city, Tyson felt comfortable enough to have Nikki's gag removed. "Summon the forces of nature in this city," he taunted, "if you can."

"Should I summon the vermin of the streets or will they be waiting for us at your home?" she retaliated.

"Oh very good," Tyson commended. "I’ve so missed the wit and cut that my former associates had. I can see that some of Armegon has rubbed off on you."

"I'll do my best to keep you entertained," she spat back.

"You'd do well to speak a little more respectfully, girl," one of the guards snapped, "about the citizens of this city. No vermin dwell in the citadel."

"You mean Blackheart? Living off the suffering of others sounds like an excellent description of vermin."

The guard drew his short sword and reared back to strike, but was intercepted by Tyson.

"Control yourself, soldier," he chastised the man. "She was testing you." He glanced meaningfully at Nikki. "She doesn't mean to compare the House of Blackheart with vermin."

The guard watched Nikki for a moment. She rewarded him with a cold unemotional stare. Finally the man at arms re-sheathed his weapon and returned to his fellows. Tyson readdressed the druid. "If you value your life and Sam's safety, you might reconsider your comments about the city's patron house."

Nikki smiled for the first time during the trip. "Of course you are right," she agreed. "Vermin was too polite. An organism that lives off another organism is a parasite."

Tyson chortled. "That’s a very good comparison. But I suggest you don’t voice it in other company."

Nikki's first impression or Morteous Blackheart was that he was a fairly handsome man. His features were strong, even though his body was melancholy, the result of not enough exercise. The warlock obviously spent too much time thinking and not enough time working. Still all in all his elven ancestry gave him a fair complexion. His jet black hair was pulled back and slicked down wetly. He wore the traditional silver mantle of the head of a major house of the Keronian realm. The pendant around his neck supported the ruby stone signifying the House of Blackheart as an Earldom.

Though not properly cleaned nor presentable, Nikki saw no reason not to be polite. "Lord Blackheart," she greeted him. "As powerful as Aspberg has become, I would have expected it to be a duchy by now."

Morteous smiled. The other occupants of the audience chamber were not so well self controlled and showed their disgust at the druid's appearance involuntarily. "I fear," Morteous replied, "that the king has long overlooked that particular aspect of his duties. Of the other dukedoms, Allentown, Tycho, and Haganaw, only Allentown is larger and economically more powerful than Aspberg. It is one of our hopes that someday soon the emerald pendant of a duke will replace the present ruby."

Nikki found that in spite of the pain and suffering the Blackheart clan had visited upon her and the others, they were not at all monsters. "I am sure that the legendary ambition of the Blackheart line will eventually win its goals," she replied.

"Of that you can rest assured," Morteous agreed. "And speaking of rest, we are certain that you could use some rest and refreshment. Please consider yourself a guest of House Blackheart, albeit a restrained guest. When you are comfortable, we shall speak again. I look forward to it."

Nikki bowed and was led, gracefully for a change, from the chamber. She was directed to the lower levels where she was turned over to a trio of warrior women. They took her to the baths where she was allowed to clean herself. She did so diligently. When she finished, clean garments, a rich red and black gown was given to her. She donned the clothing reveling in the elegance of the satin and cotton mixture.

She was led from the baths to a room which had been allotted for her. The room was high above the ground, but it had a window she could see through. A lattice of steel bars prevented any egress, but at least she could see and get fresh air.

"There is a spell on the room," a polite voice said from the door. "Your druidic powers will not function. We would be very remiss should you alter your form into that of a bird and fly away."

Nikki turned and found herself face to face with a younger and more human version of the head of House Blackheart. "Miguel Blackheart, I presume," she addressed the stranger.

"You are as perceptive as you are lovely," the other returned. "My uncle spoke favorably as did Tyson." Miguel stepped away from the doorway. He wore a red robe bound by a black belt. His hair was the same color as his uncle's, but was parted down the middle and feathered back. He also wore a mustache and goatee, both neatly trimmed. He was tall, this son of the god, Ragnera. Over two meters tall, Miguel too was a handsome man.

"How can such manly beauty house such a foul evil?" Nikki asked to herself.

Miguel heard the comment and provided an answer. "What is one man's evil is not necessarily another man's. We work towards a goal that while painful in the beginning, will ultimately prove beneficial to the world."

"You mean to those who survive, don't you?" Nikki returned.

Miguel bowed his admission. "Would you join me?" he asked extending an arm.

Nikki suspected that the request was a formality and that she really had no choice. Reluctantly she accepted the escort. "Where are you taking me?"

"To eat, of course," he laughed. "We are not, after all, uncivilized. You will be dining with my uncle, Tyson and myself this evening. We are all looking forward to this evening's meal."

Nikki's jaw hardened. Tyson had not been able to draw anything very useful from her on the road. So now they were going to interrogate her en masse. "Then by all means," she said to her escort, "let us proceed.
"
Morteous and Tyson were seated at a large table in a miniature version of the audience chamber. This room was richly decorated with tapestries and sculptures. Four fully armored members of the elite house guard were stationed in the room as well.

"They tried to hide it and their efforts were good, but the healer made a tiny slip," Tyson was saying. "She accidentally referred to the unborn child in the masculine sense."

Morteous frowned. That was indeed grave news. "If the Dukes of Hell learn this..."

"I though of that as well," Tyson assured him. "That’s why I didn’t openly use the communication device. This information must be closely guarded."

"What can we do?" Morteous asked thoughtfully. "We most certainly do not want to lose the alliance with the Dukes of Hell."

"The Doyr are also a powerful alliance," Tyson added. "We don't want to go back on the agreement we made with them."

Morteous slammed his fist on the table. "What are the odds that Miguel would father a male this one time out of the hundreds before?"

"Not very good, I would think," Tyson replied. "Do you think the conception was manipulated?"

Morteous considered that. "It is conceivable, if you will pardon the pun," he decided with a smirk.

Tyson waved the joke off. "I've heard 'em all," he stated flatly. "The others used puns as a past time."

"We had considered manipulating a pregnancy, but the stipulation for the passing of an heir of the house requires the blood to be untainted by magical alteration."

Tyson leaned forward and propped his elbows up on the table. "If we could prove magical involvement, we could discredit any claim to the throne."

"They know that as well," Morteous said. "I think I know what they did. We thought of it as well. They did not actually work magic on the babe, they spelled the priestess and conditioned her body to accept only a male seed."

Tyson frowned. "I didn’t think your people or any others on this planet had the scientific understanding to know that the sex gene was transmitted by the male."

Morteous eyebrows lifted. "I did not really understand what you just said," he admitted. "I assume you know how the gender of a child is determined?"

"It’s ingrained in the father's seed," Tyson informed him.

Morteous nodded. "That is of no consequence," he said.
"Unless you are a female slave who frequents Miguel's sleeping chamber," Tyson pointed out. "I’d never question your traditions, but it seems a little cold to kill maidens who give birth to daughters when Miguel is the one who determines gender."

Morteous agreed. "It does, but the families take a chance. They gamble their daughters' lives against a barony."

Tyson understood. "Their choice then? I see. Well if they know the chances, then they cannot argue with the outcome."

"You raise a point though," Morteous regressed. "How did they manipulate the conception? I believe that they spelled the wench Miguel bedded. The Doyr are a matriarchy and demon worshipers. They may know more about child conception than any other group of people in the world. They might have spelled the girl's body to protect the male carrying seed and reject the others. In that sense, the child itself is untouched by magic."

"It still is a questionable conception," Tyson pointed out.

“It is," Morteous agreed, "and we could disclaim it for that purpose should they try to claim heirship to the throne. Still, I would like to avoid that episode altogether if I could. The whole scenario could bring about a civil war within the House. There are many vassals of House Blackheart who are anxious to see the promise of a continued line."

"Such were my thoughts as well," Tyson agreed.

A noise from outside the room heralded the arrival of the other dining guests. Morteous straightened his posture. "We will continue this with Miguel after dinner. Right now we have a guest to entertain."

The door opened and Miguel entered escorting Nikki. He guided her to a chair and Morteous and Tyson stood as she was seated.

"My dear," Morteous began, "you look marvelous. Rarely has elven beauty graced the
walls of this keep. You are as a ray of sunshine on a dreary day."

Tyson smirked. "How do you do, Nikki?" He seated himself as did the others. "I take it you’re finding Lord Blackheart's hospitality acceptable?"

Nikki nodded. "I will not let it be said in my presence that Lord Blackheart is not a gentleman," she assured him. "You, on the other hand, are hardly a gentle dog."

"Tsk, tsk," Miguel shook his head. "Tyson, did you mistreat the lady?"

"I don’t think it is her treatment that has her so angry at me as it is who I sold out," Tyson corrected. "M'lords allow me to introduce you to Nikki, druid, guardian of the boy, and lover of the wielder of Liberator."

"Well, now," Morteous said surprised. "This is quite a bargaining chip you have brought us, Tyson. How did you determine this?"

Tyson folded his hands and propped his chin in them with his elbows on the table. "Oh, it’s not too difficult to tell," he assured them. "I know Avery. She has spent over a year with him alone in the forest. Now Avery isn’t one to push a woman to compromise herself, but he is a man. Also, she knows a little too much about him to be a casual acquaintance. Trust me, they are involved."

As he spoke, servants carted in a series of exotic dishes and placed hot plates of food before each of the diners. "In addition," he continued, "some of the things she mentioned indicated that should anything happen to her, he might get a little more than irritated."

"Perhaps if he were to learn that she was our guest," Morteous offered, "he might be inclined to behave himself."

"Probably not," Nikki assured them. "If Avery knew I was here, he would more than likely come after me."

"He would attempt to storm this castle?" Miguel asked incredulously. "I did not think him a fool."

"And he isn’t," Tyson defended his former ally. "Avery would more than likely infiltrate the Citadel than storm its walls. That’s more like Armegon's style."

"Still," Morteous refused to believe the possibility, "for an individual to try to sneak in would be suicide."

"Don't underestimate that one," Tyson advised. "It’s been done far too often and very, very few of those who did so are still around to regret it."

Morteous nodded. "We consider ourselves warned." He studied Nikki for a moment. "Now, my dear, please enjoy your meal while we discuss your friends."

Miguel opened a very small chest and from its velvet lined interior draw forth a large gemstone. He passed it to Nikki. "Gaze deeply into this, my pretty," he coaxed.

Sensing danger, Nikki asked, "Why?"

"We simply want to show you that Sam isn’t in any danger," Tyson explained.

"I do not trust you," she pointed directly at Tyson. "You have a history of lying to get what you want."

"Have you ever heard it said that I have lied?" Morteous asked.

"No," Nikki admitted. "I have heard terrible things about you, but that was not among them."

"Those stories are exaggerated, to be sure," Morteous assured her. "Had we desired your death, it would already be so. I give you my word, you will not be harmed while you are in this room."

The thought of what might happen as soon as she left died on her lips. He was correct. If they had wanted to harm her they would have done so long before. Nikki glanced back at Tyson. He showed no anticipation nor did Miguel. She concluded, therefore that Morteous, at least for the moment, was being truthful. As she raised the gem to her eye, the thought occurred to her that the reason that no one had ever said that Morteous Blackheart was a liar might be because no one had survived to do so.

Gazing into the gem, she was startled by the image she saw there. There were two figures locked in a timeless loving embrace. One of the two figures was Sam.

"Yes, that is he," Tyson broke her vision and Nikki realized that she had spoken his name. "As you can see he’s unharmed and in no danger whatsoever. The other person that you see is a simulacrum of Marlena, his mother. Right now the boy’s frozen in time and in his mother's arms. Since he never met her, he won’t know the difference."

"So that is how you gained control of him," Nikki deduced. "What better bait than his mother?"

"Precisely," Tyson replied. "You see, I deeply care for that boy too. In spite of any threats I may’ve made, I wouldn’t have harmed him. Everything that’s happening right now is completely independent of him. He’s totally unaware of it all. All he knows right now is his mother's love."

"The love of a surrogate?" Nikki asked. "Do you think that little speech makes you less a monster?"

"This is a good start," Morteous interrupted. "You and Tyson can continue this argument later. Right now we have some other questions."

"First of all," Miguel reminded them, "we should let the lady have something to eat."

"Of course," Morteous agreed. "How insensitive of me? By all means, please enjoy yourself." He then turned his attention to his own plate.

They ate quickly and Nikki nibbled at her own food at first then commenced to wolf several mouthfuls down. She had fasted for so long that her stomach had shrunken, but still it was empty, and an empty stomach is very uncomfortable.

After a quarter of an hour, she pushed her plate away. The men were almost complete with their meals as well. She wondered just how much they knew. If only she knew where to start, she could steer them in the wrong direction.

From their discussion, she was aware that Tyson knew the others had gone west, and that they were in search of someone. He never did mention the Emerald Monocerus, though. Perhaps she could start there.

"Now young lady," Morteous began, "where did your friends go?"

"Fishing?" It had aggravated Tyson the first time. This time there was no reaction.

"Oh? And you as a druid approved?" Miguel countered.

"I am afraid you have fallen prey to a common misconception," Nikki explained. "Druids do not oppose the hunting of animals, so long as it is for natural use. My friends may fish as long as they want so long as they eat what they catch and waste nothing."

Miguel smirked. "Fine, fine. So where did they go fishing?"

Nikki paused, Tyson knew they had gone west. "West," she answered.

"And who were they seeking?"

Nikki turned to Tyson. "I never said that."

"Yes, Tyson," Morteous agreed, "she has not mentioned any other men."
Nikki's mouth twitched.

"Woman then," Miguel interrupted.

Nikki was on to their game now. While two of them grilled her, the third would watch for telltale signs of confirmation. Her work was cut out for her. Fortunately, they had made one false assumption, the assumption that they were seeking a humanoid. As a druid, she considered a unicorn as a person, but neither man nor woman fitted the description. Blind luck had given her a false trail she could work with.

"What woman were they searching for? What does she do that’s so valuable to them?" Tyson asked.

"What should I care what another woman does for a living?" Nikki snapped.

"Knowing who’s involved," Tyson hypothesized, "I’d suspect that she was a sage or witch of some kind."

"A witch?" Nikki asked.

"What did this witch have that they needed?" Morteous asked.

"She did not have anything." Nikki replied.

"Perhaps you did not understand the question," Miguel interrupted. "What my uncle is trying to ask is what did she know?"

Nikki paused long enough to make it seem that she was doing so involuntarily. "She did not know anything either."

Tyson did not miss the action. "Of course she did," he argued. "What did she know. How to free Sam?"

This time the pause was real. Tyson had hit the nail on the head. Nikki rubbed her eyes. She felt light headed. In spite of all her efforts, they had gotten the reason of the journey from her even if they had missed the person the others were seeking and the thing they needed.

Suddenly Nikki felt a twinge in her stomach. The food was not settling well. Almost desperately she concentrated on something nauseous. The result was a repeat of her last interview except that she emptied her stomach on the floor instead of Tyson.

Miguel politely gripped her shoulders and helped her back up. "Please," he offered, "let me help you. Are you sick?"

Desperately Nikki assured him that she was not sick. She explained that she was used to natural fresh foods, and sometimes when she visits a city the preserved food makes her sick.

Miguel stared at her for a moment then nodded. "Allow me to have someone see you to your quarters. There you may request whatever food you desire." He summoned a guard and repeated the instructions. The guard politely ushered Nikki from the room and a servant entered to clean the mess.

The three sat silently until the servant had completed his task and departed. Miguel leaned forward. "Well?"

"She is very good at lying, herself," Morteous observed. “When I tapped her mind I discovered that she has been leading us a long merry tale for a while." He folded his hands. "They went west to meet someone, but that is all that was true. I think they were seeking a non-humanoid, but I can not be certain."

"That sickness of hers is mighty convenient," Tyson observed.

"I thought so too," Miguel agreed. “When I helped her I searched for a disease and found none. It may be as she says, but I am still puzzled."

"There is one other possibility, " Morteous suggested. "At first I did not understand it, but it makes more sense now. When I tapped her mind, I felt more than one mind present--immature, yet very potent."

"You mean she is with child?" Miguel asked. "That would account for the nausea."

"The father is undoubtedly Avery," Tyson said with a grin. "You know, my lord this might answer your problem."

Morteous looked puzzled. "Please explain." Tyson did.

"That is preposterous," Miguel exclaimed. "It is unthinkable, it is...it is..."

"Ingenious," Morteous finished. "It is a plan worthy of a Blackheart."

Tyson accepted the praise. He had outlined the possibility of using Nikki to eliminate the threat of a male Blackheart in the clutches of the Doyr. If Nikki's own child was male, they could swap it for the female child of one of the slave girls Miguel had blessed making it seem that the slave girl had borne an heir.

With no legitimate claim on the throne, the Doyr would undoubtedly turn their heir to another path. When the way was clear for a legitimate heir who would eventually be born to take the throne, Nikki's son could be accidentally pushed off a cliff or something of that nature.

Should the child be female, a little extra magic would easily change that. At the present stage in fetal development, the sex change would be simple. Since it would not be a true Blackheart in the first place and would never live to sit on the throne, what would it matter if it had been magically altered.

"Miguel," Morteous ordered, "I think that House Blackheart should show its compassionate side by giving its guest a complete physical. Find out where we stand."

Miguel smiled. "It would be a pleasure."

Chapter 3 Part 5

Morteous Blackheart placed another box on the shelf in his private lab. He absently tidied up the dark chamber reflecting on the day's events. He had not intended to absorb his latest victim, but the sage had seen a glimpse of the future much too accurately to be allowed to leave the citadel.

The sage had scrythed a series of unexplained disappearances of minor magic users in the area of Aspberg. Knowing that Morteous was a strong advocate of the unionization of magic users, the sage had thought that Morteous would be the logical senior magic user to notify.

Normally he would have bee correct. Unfortunately for the sage, his vision was not strong enough to identify the culprit, or else he would have sought another. For Morteous, it was a stroke of luck. He resolved that he needed to find a way to block the vision of sages who might also stumble on the same portent.

He recalled the moment of panic he had felt when the sage had begged an audience claiming that several mages had disappeared without a trace. After a few moments of interview, Morteous had been relieved to hear that the sage had shared his discovery with no one else. It was then that Morteous had invited the sage to accompany him to his lab so that they might examine the details of the mystery.

Morteous really had not intended to absorb any sages with his Darkwind form, but he really needed to eliminate the sage, and he decided that a sage's vision might be useful in the future. It was for that reason he did not simply slay the sage and forget him.

Now, as it usually was following the Darkwind transformation, wild thoughts kept pushing themselves to the front of his mind. Morteous was having to dominate and subdue a new addition to his mind. The sage's memories and thoughts were rebelling against their new master, but that would soon diminish as Morteous' superior mental disciplines vanquished the rebellion. Within an hour, the struggle was over. Rarely had Morteous required more than two hours to absorb the knowledge, and power of another person.

As usual, Morteous was hungry. The effort of the Darkwind transformation was very draining on his stamina as well as his psyche. The warlock finished his cleaning and departed the chamber, resetting the wards that guarded it as he exited.

Tyson would return soon from the Doyr stronghold in the north, he recalled. The initial indication from Tyson was that a druid had indeed been captured, apparently the mate of one of his former allies, as well as the boy. The communication was done by a bracelet that allowed a secure voice communication over great distances. Many of the Blackheart senior agents carried such devices, but they were limited to a single sequence of ten words every day. As a result they were used primarily in emergencies.

Tyson had also indicated via the word, cloud, that there was a problem. A second code word, storm, indicated that the problem was severe, but a third, horizon, meant that it was not immediate.

Morteous had conversed with Miguel and the two had decided against any immediate action out of panic. Tyson's assurance that the problem was not immediate, meant that they could await his return.

The warlock meandered through the dungeon beneath the citadel and back into the upper levels. There, the halls were busy with servants running errands or attending to their duties. The ever present guards saluted him with the traditional sword-across-the-chest tribute of the House Guard.

Morteous made his way back to his private library. Between his laboratory and his library, Morteous spent the greater part of his free time researching or experimenting. That along with his additional unwanted duties as head of House Blackheart left little time for him to travel much. It was this particular problem that had made Tyson so invaluable. The monk was unknown outside of Aspberg. He had a great deal of knowledge, most of which Morteous was certain was useless at the present, but in the future it could prove beneficial.

Morteous had not ruled out the possibility of traveling to the world that had spawned Tyson and those who had come with him. A whole world where no warlocks existed, but magical mastery on a level as exhibited by Armegon and Ultrecht would be a tempting goal. With his Darkwind transformation spell, Morteous would be like a wolf in a fold. The very idea was exhilarating.

One prerequisite to that venture, would be to consume the combined knowledge of Armegon, Ultrecht and Tyson. That in itself could prove enlightening. The spell Armegon had cast on the plains of Gly-ou-vogue had destroyed hundreds of soldiers and nearly wiped Serpent and himself out as well. He had pressed Tyson hard for the details on that spell, but Tyson only knew the general terms of the spell.

Still Morteous could make out from what little Tyson did know that the spell actually invoked very little magic. Instead the Siege Spell, as Tyson had named it, relied on a natural property of certain heavy metals. Morteous' mouth watered at the very thought of gaining that knowledge.

Chapter 3 Part 4

Bodies littered the ground like leaves beneath a tree on the first day of winter. Sticky blood clung dryly to the waving sawgrass. It was a battlefield. Two rival clans of southlanders had met on the field to settle their grievances. The hot blooded fury and battle lust had drawn an unseen spectator to the fray. Ragnera strolled amidst the testimony of carnage.

His minions were arranging for tensions between the city states of Asille. Already the political strife was building to a point where the king of the mortals was expending vast quantities of effort and funding to maintain the peace. That could not last much longer. It was just a matter of weeks before some event snapped the king's control over the cities.

Ragnera had taken some measures to see to it that Aspberg and House Blackheart was in a good position to reap a cream from the crop, but the other cities would suffer a great deal. In the spectral form that the god of war occupied, he was not visible to the two ragged men who were picking over the bodies. They were removing anything of value and burning the remains. Even carrion feeders had a purpose.

In spirit form, the god drifted up from the field. Spreading his presence wide, he coalesced upon another battlefield on the far side of the world. There too a fight had occurred. He had not missed it. He had been there during the battle, but had departed when the marauding had decreased. The reason for his return was simply a matter of curiosity. The god wanted to know how many souls he had reaped.

It was not a generally known province of the god of war--the former god of war made no use of it--but one of his rights as the god of war was that all those slain in combat were considered his minions. Ragnera could bring a considerable force of warriors to bear if necessary. And what pleased him most was that it would be an army of the fearless dead.

Ragnera moved on. His next stop was at a shrine where a worshiper was asking his blessing in a battle yet to come. Ragnera was not partial to granting favor to combatants, but this case was different. The half ogre gladiator was preparing to enter the arena in the Freon Circus. Ragnera did not think much of the mortal's intellect in fighting ten men, but the gladiator had slain over three hundred opponents in the last year. He was good for business.

Ragnera descended into the shrine as a black cloud of vapor. The gladiator was kneeling before a statue of Serpent Blackheart, the last known form of the new god of war. Ragnera ignored the mistake. Settling a whisp of darkness upon the shoulder of the gladiator, Ragnera spoke.

"I have come at thy request," he said. "Thy want is known to me. Rest assured that thou will do well." He left it at that as he vacated the shrine. Ragnera had not promised victory nor survival. Should the gladiator win, it would be attributed to the god's blessing. Should he die, Ragnera would gain a new soldier.

The god moved again. This time he settled over the altar of a sacrificial temple in his name. A priest was offering a sacrifice to him. The sacrifice was a human girl child of no more than six years of age. Ragnera was pleased. The victim was terrified to a state of shock. Nearby an acolyte carried forth a sacrificial dagger.

The priest, a middle aged man repeated the invoking prayer that summoned Ragnera in the first place. As he spoke, he lay the girl, bound, on the altar. When the invocation was completed, the priest addressed the reason of the sacrifice. He begged blessing on a finely crafted weapon which was the heirloom of a minor noble of Freon.

House Cadaver, the ruling house of the northern city, always rewarded the loyalty of its lesser nobles by commissioning elegant weaponry for the family in question. In this case, a knight of the city had managed to put together enough funds to have the blade enchanted. Now they were asking of Ragnera a blessing to make the weapon powerful.

Ragnera noted the blade's owner, a tall and youthful man with a terrible scar across his left cheek, stood nearby. Ragnera experienced a jolt of satisfaction as he recognized the family resemblance between the man and the girl on the altar. The sacrifice was obviously the daughter of the favor seeker. Ragnera admired the man's resolve. This was an excellent sacrifice.

As the priest concluded his plea, the knife fell and neatly parted the immature, soft chest. As efficiently as a butcher, the priest sliced the body in half lengthwise. He then parted the two sections and placed the sword between them. "Please, Oh Ragnera, your servants beg your blessing and give tithe with blood of our own flesh."

The god was flattered, if that was possible, and responded by blowing out the torches and candles. In the darkness, he touched the blade of the virgin metal. "I name thee Blight, the decayer," Ragnera spoke aloud. "May the wounds of thy infliction not heal."

He withdrew again after changing the sword's enchantment to insure that only magic could close its wound and that each wound would be infected with a gangrenous decease. "Go my children," he added as he snatched up the blood and gore that was a delicacy he found to be very sweet. As the priest rekindled a torch, Ragnera departed.
A touching ceremony, he reflected. With a gesture, he reformed the body back into a whole child. Then he breathed the animated breath of an undead into her lungs. The dead eyes opened and blinked.

The girl spoke with a voice devoid of life. "How may I serve thee master?"

Ragnera gestured and banished the zombie to the lower planes of Hell. There the girl's body would spend eternity as maid servant to the grand daughter he had taken from the altar under Miguel's knife. He had gifted the lass to one of the Dukes of Hell as a concubine. It had made a very strong knot in the alliance he had built in his former existence.

Ragnera drifted high through the sky. Perhaps a visit to his son was in order.

Chapter 3 Part 3

Tyson made his way back to his quarters as he contemplated this new data. He stood on the brink of serious consequences. When he arrived, he found Nikki bound to a chair. The guard explained that at first she had refused to eat, but as soon as he had left the room, she had made quick work of the food. Tyson gazed at the druid. She possessed a crown of reddish gold hair that, at present, hung damply across her left shoulder and down her chest and stomach and tumbled across her right thigh. Her features were girlish, as were those of most elvish women. She was petite and very pretty by human standards.

How she had come into possession of Sam's body was somewhat of a mystery to Tyson, but she obviously knew him well enough to recognize him and hate him. "So you’re the druid who single handedly whipped over three quarters of the raiding party sent to collect you," Tyson started with genuine respect. He could see how the unprepared could underestimate her.

"And you must be the bastard who attacks young boys with trickery and steals their minds," Nikki replied with a voice dripping with venom.

"Oh very good," Tyson applauded. "But for your information, my parents were married long before my birth." To his satisfaction, the woman regarded him silently with eyes full of hatred. Tyson was not deterred. "You present somewhat of a mystery," Tyson explained. "You obviously know me so you have probably dwelt if not for a long time with one or more of my former associates. Since you are a druid, the obvious choice would be Avery."

The change of expression on the woman's face confirmed his deduction. "Avery then," Tyson decided. "Avery always was fond of druids. At least this time he picked one with some looks." Nikki took on a look of disgust.

Tyson did not miss the grimace. "Jealousy?" he asked. "Can it be that you two are more than acquaintances?" The monk bellowed a hearty laugh. "So he finally found a woman who would have him. I suppose you and he have been living together ever since he was lost. Well that explains how you became involved."

"Our affair is none of your business," Nikki growled. "You had no right to do that boy harm. He did nothing against you. If you have a grudge against Avery or Armegon or Ultrecht, then you should take it up with them, or are you too afraid?"

"Too smart," Tyson objected. "Even when you’re angry you betray your feelings for the ranger," he chuckled. "You speak of him first and with a detectable softness. It’s very amusing." He reached out and cupped her chin turning her head so that he might see her profile.

"Avery was never one to know beauty, but it seems that in this case he chose well. For you are a very lovely wench," Tyson observed. "Tell me would you trade your loyalty for your life? Would you bed with another if it would see you and the boy living another day?"

Nikki answered him by spitting. Tyson did not fool her, she knew he would not kill Sam.
Tyson rewarded her action with the back of his hand. The blow broke no bones, but there was a great deal of pain and undoubtedly would be a black eye the next day. He grasped the front of her tunic. "Listen to me you arrogant hussy," he hissed. "I have the power to destroy each and every one of those who you protect and so foolishly give your loyalty to. Should I wish to take you to bed, there is little you could do to stop me. I think, however, that I might find a better bed for you to dwell in."

Nikki struggled in her chair. Tears stung her reddened cheek. "Pray to whatever gods you serve that I do not get loose," she warned him. "These people already will pay a toll when Avery finds out what has happened."

Tyson glanced nervously around. "Oh, no," he said fearfully, but with a smirk. "I’m terribly afraid. Is he really that dangerous?"

"Mock me if you will, but you will not be the one laughing when they return. Ultrecht knows it was you who murdered his friend and Armegon has sentenced you to death for your actions against Sam. But if you kill me, none of that will matter because Avery will hunt you down and relieve you of your head."

"No doubt he’ll waltz down the halls of the Citadel in Aspberg and call me out?" Tyson asked.

"What means 'waltz'?" Nikki asked confused.

"Never mind," Tyson replied. "I think not. Avery’s a fine tracker but I now move in circles of great power and Avery’s hardly a menace there. Besides I have no intention of killing you."

"We shall see," Nikki said slyly.

"Yes we shall," Tyson smirked. "Now let us talk a bit. How long ago did they leave?"

"Oh, I do not remember," Nikki said innocently. "You know druids. We measure time by the month, not the day."

"Of course," Tyson relinquished that avenue of thought. "Let us try again. Where did they go?"

"Really, do you expect me to tell you where they are?"

"In a manner of speaking," Tyson grinned. "All I really have to do is pick it out of your mind." He knotted his eyebrows. "Tycho? No further than that. The Twin Cities. Okay they went to the Twin Cities."

It was actually a bluff. Tyson knew that the others had gone west and had done so rapidly. That meant the ice boats. His gambit was to convince Nikki that he could read her mind so that she might slip and tell him something useful.

"Did they stop there?" he continued. "They did not. They went west." The effect was satisfactory. Though she guarded the response well, her eyes twitched at that last remark. Tyson smiled inwardly. She at least knew that they were going west.

Tyson continued the interrogation. "Where did they go?"

"Fishing?" It was Nikki's turn to grin. She did not know if Tyson was really reading her mind, but if he was the best defense she could muster was by thinking of things apart from the subject.

"I don't think so," Tyson replied. "Avery might, but Armegon and Ultrecht aren't anglers." She was making a fight of it, he thought. Tyson decided to alter his attack. "Okay then, why did they go west?"

"To get away from me?" Nikki suggested. "I have been nagging them recently."

"Again, I think not." Tyson rebutted. "They were searching for something or some one." The woman's jaw muscles tightened slightly. "Some one? Good now we’re making progress."

Nikki considered biting her tongue. She absolutely had to shake Tyson up. He was getting too many answers, and she was not feeling very well so she was not in a fighting mood. An idea came to her.

"Who were they seeking, and why?" Tyson thought to himself. "Most assuredly it was to help Sam," he said finally. "But now we have Sam here. They don’t know that so effectively their mission’s been submarined."

Nikki did not understand the last comment; she was not really paying attention. She was concentrating within.

"Still I’d like to know why they were seeking this person," Tyson muttered. He casually watched Nikki. She bowed her head slightly and whispered something.

Sensing success, Tyson leaned closer. "What was that again?"

Nikki suddenly lifted her head and her mouth opened. Bile and vomit erupted from her tiny throat and soaked Tyson's face. The man jumped backward fretting in disgust as he sprinted to the water basin and proceeded to scrub himself feverishly. Nikki allowed herself a grin. Morning sickness did have its use after all.

Chapter 3 Part 2

Tyson left the dungeon and returned to the upper chambers. The Doyr, in spite of their religion and methods, had proven themselves to be excellent fighters and allies. There was really no wonder that Morteous and Miguel had chosen them for this job.

Tyson asked directions of a temple acolyte and was directed to the healer's chamber. He followed the directions and arrived eventually at the destination. He knocked on the door. After a moment it opened and he was admitted. The healer was speaking to young woman wearing the robes of a high priestess. She and the healer, an elderly woman were talking about the characteristics of early pregnancy. Tyson concluded that the young woman must have been the one mated to Miguel. An interesting encounter, he concluded, but not important to him.

The healer dismissed the young woman with a laugh and the young woman departed also laughing. "An interesting turn of events," the old woman cackled as she crossed the floor to where Tyson waited.

"How’s that?" Tyson asked.

"The seed of Blackheart waxes strong," she returned. "The Doyr will have a strong leader soon."

"Is that why the Blackheart seed was needed?" Tyson asked. Something was amiss here. The old woman was hiding something.

"The Blood of Blackheart is respected in many realms," the spinster replied. "Now let us look at your troubles." She peeled the cloth back from the wound. "A nasty cut, but not fatal," she observed. "How did you get it?"

Tyson fed her the lie as he had told the guard. His mind had shifted to another track, however. He decided to fish for more information.

The old woman worked her magic, and the wound stopped bleeding. She took a needle and some spider web and sewed the wound closed. Then she cantriped another incantation and the wound mended itself leaving a crusty scab which soon crumbled away leaving a pink scar. Tyson noted that her ability fell far short of either Avery or Armegon, but was still effective.

Tyson thanked her and shifted his voice slightly. "How goes the pregnancy," he asked.

"It fares well," the hag answered. "I insist on monitoring the child's development and advising the mother of the changes her body will undergo."

"It will please my lord that his efforts have been appreciated. May I assume the priestess is exempt from the usual fate of the women who bear the Blackheart seed?" Tyson asked.

"Mmm? Oh, yes," she responded. "That is of no concern. Now you be sure to wash this wound when you get back to your own chamber," she said. "And try to be more careful."

"Yes, ma'am," Tyson replied. Now was the time. "Will you deliver the child?"

"Oh absolutely," the woman replied.

"There are no complications?"

The woman snickered. "He's just fine," she muttered as she strapped a poultice over the wound."

"Thank you, madam," Tyson said as he closed his shirt. "Your efforts are appreciated. I wish you well, as does my lord."

"Send Blackheart our greetings."

Oh, I will, Tyson thought to himself. He had been very subtle with the spell he had used, but it had reaped a bumper crop. By encouraging her to ramble on, Tyson had only but to wait for some vital information to slip out. He had gotten it. The Doyr priestess had conceived a male Blackheart. That could cause trouble. If the demons produce an heir to the House of Blackheart, the Dukes of Hell would revolt against the alliance. This was news of catastrophic proportions. Morteous and Miguel must be told.

Chapter 3 Part 1

THE HOUSE OF BLACKHEART

Tyson gazed gently upon the still body of the boy he had betrayed. Sam lay on stone slab wrapped in a cocoon of webbing from the neck down. The Doyr priestess who had admitted him told him that the garment was to protect him from harm. Tyson, though repulsed by the web, accepted that explanation. As soon as he got Sam out of there, though it would come off.

Tyson caressed the boy's face. Even in the short time that had elapsed since Tyson had fled, the boy had grown visibly. If there had been any doubt as to whether Tyson still possessed a heart, it was admonished by the pain he felt seeing Sam laying helpless before him. "I’m so sorry," he whispered to the still form. "I was forced into this. I hope you’ll understand."

Tyson stepped back and called his escort. "Take me to the druid that was captured," he commanded. The guard departed and Tyson followed closely. His mind wandered as he was led through the corridors of the Doyr stronghold. With a little work, he could convince Morteous and Miguel that Sam would make a useful operative. The belt buckle could be replaced and a series of indoctrination and reeducation lessons could realign Sam's morals to match his own. If he could sell this point to the Blackhearts, he might convince them to release Sam.

That of course depended on how things fared with Armegon, Avery, and Ultrecht. Their last reported location was in the far west. What they were doing there was anyone's guess. Most probably they were trying to undo the entrapment, but unless Tyson knew what they were doing, he could not counter it. That may make a strong argument for freeing Sam. He would have to remember it.

The others undoubtedly still believed Sam safely in the care of the druid who had destroyed eight out of every ten troops used in his capture. He certainly made the Doyr pay for their success. Tyson was anxious to meet him.

The architecture of the corridor they had entered was the classic design of a prison or dungeon. The place was designed to bring about an oppressive atmosphere and induce a feeling of helplessness in its unlucky residents.

The guard led down several side passages before approaching an archway flanked by yet another set of guards. "The maximum security wing," the guard explained. "This druid fought valiantly and we are taking valiant measures to prevent an escape." The guard approached an iron door and produced a key. "It is well that your employer commissioned us for this task. We are ruled by a matriarchy and so did not underestimate her power."

Tyson started. Her?

The door swung open and the guard, with short sword drawn and a torch in his other hand entered. Tyson followed.

"Bastard!" The shout preceded the blow only by a fraction of a second.

Years of study in hand to hand combat saved Tyson from a blow that would have certainly done him serious damage. Even then, the attack was still sudden enough to catch him with a glancing blow. His shoulder, where a split second before his heart had been, was gashed by splinter of jagged mortar. The small figure that had lain hidden under the straw until he had entered, then had erupted, ducking under the weak, surprised sword parry of the guard, slashed the monk's shoulder open before bouncing off the wall. She spun about for a second attack, but the snake like reflexes of the monk placed a gentle, but firm blow to the base of her neck instantly stunning her immobile. She fell to the floor in a heap.

"I am sorry my lord," the guard offered feebly. "I should have been more alert. My blood will be spilled for this."

"Don’t worry," Tyson assured him. "It’s not a serious wound, and if you say nothing of it, then neither will I." He was not usually so forgiving, but the girl on the floor totally occupied his thoughts. "This is the druid?"

"It is."

Tyson knelt and jerked Nikki to her feet by the front of her ragged and dirty tunic. He could tell that she was not a girl, but an elven woman. The torch light revealed her dirty and badly treated condition. "Prepare a bath for her," he ordered. "Bring fresh clothes and food and drink as well. Set it up in my chambers. I’ll be there within an hour. I want her unharmed, cleaned and fed when I get there."

"Yes, lord," the guard answered. "I will see to it personally. Will you be returning to the main building?"

"Yes," Tyson admitted. "I need to have this wound seen to." He smiled. "It was careless of me to not watch where I was going. Tripping and falling onto the corner of a metal bound table is inexcusable. I should be ashamed."

The guard returned the smile. "I will see to it that she is presentable."

Chapter 2 Part 5

Ruk contemplated his fate that night. He had been traveling alone for a long time, following his personal quest. It was almost as if he were playing a part in a theater production how he had happened to be serving on the very ship that Armegon and his companions had chosen to travel by. Humankind called it fate. But in Minotaan society, it was something deeper, something more spiritual when events fell into place to bring a life quest to its fruition.

Ruk felt a great amount of gratitude, admiration, and fellowship towards his new comrades which stemmed from their unquestioning acceptance of him. Throughout his travels, he had been victimized by people for many reasons. Many of the human and demihuman races were prejudiced against his people. He had often wondered what horrible stories about his homeland of Minota prompted such a reaction. And yet his new compatriots cared nothing for his physical differences. They treated him as an individual and gave him a level of respect that he had never before experienced in his life.

Ruk had not only made a close friend with Calista, the young human female, but had also befriended the halfelf ranger as well. And although he considered Armegon his master, for that was who he served, he was continuously treated as an equal by the mage.

Ultrecht was a master of magic and deserving of treatment comparable to that of a visiting dignitary, but acted as if Ruk was an old drinking companion. Was any of this any more surprising than the way they treated Ganatar, a unicorn--one of the most mystical and revered creatures in all the world? They showed him neither scorn nor did they cater to him. They let the unicorn stand on his own merits. How could Ruk have anything but total admiration for his new friends.

When the time came for the change of the watch, Ruk woke Ultrecht. The mage had volunteered to take the late watch stating that he wanted to do some early morning reading. The exchange took place with very few words. The mage climbed out of his bedroll and donned his robe and boots. He then took several long droughts of water and returned to his blanket. He folded the covering treble, making a mat upon which he sat cross legged and began reading from a leather-bound book he extracted from an inner pocket.

As the minotaan bedded down for the rest of the night, his thoughts changed from the past to the future. In his heart was a knot of fear for the unseen dangers that seemed to be aimed for the people he had become attached to, but his soul felt a peculiar fire for the adventure ahead. Either way, he would complete his quest one way or the other.

In his dreams the minotaan saw the face of the old sage woman who had given him his life's mission. He remembered his excitement at hearing from her that he would travel far to the north. In his dream he relived the cold chill when she told him that after he found his quest, he might never lay eyes on his homeland again. The minotaan knew that his quest could end in his own death.

When Calista awoke, Ultrecht was nursing a pot of coffee. Avery and Ganatar were at the edge of the firelight doing something, and Armegon and Ruk were still asleep.

"Good morning," Ultrecht greeted her.

"How do you know?" Calista asked peering about in the gloom of the cave.

Ultrecht jerked a thumb indicating the ranger. "He told me."

"Oh." Calista stretched. "Where do we go today?"

"Well as soon as those two," he nodded at Ruk and Armegon, "wake, we will travel on up cave. Avery said that it narrows too much to allow Ganatar to travel, so he will stay here with the supplies. The rest of us will press on. We hope that the cave somehow takes us to the Tower."

An hour later they were all awake and two torches were lighted. Armed and armored, the five bipedal members of the group marched on into the cave leaving behind a nervous unicorn and enough firewood to last several hours.

Ruk, axe at the ready, lead the way with the torch carrying Armegon following closely. Calista and Ultrecht trailed side by side while Avery carrying the second torch brought up the rear.

After their last journey in a similar environment, they were almost expecting an ambush. What they did discover was therefore not totally surprising. It was no more than an hour and a half of crawling up the winding passage when they emerged into a gallery filled with sticky vinelike cables. It did not take an experienced traveler to recognize the characteristic work of a spider. The size of the webbing, however indicated a creature of immense size.

"Wonderful," Armegon muttered as he stared up into the gloom. The webbing vanished into the darkness beyond the illumination of the torches with no hint of thinning. "This is just what we need. There is no telling how many of these things there are here."

Avery held a torch close to the web and inspected it closely. "It has moisture on it," he reported. "That means it’s relatively new."

Calista reached out to touch it when the ranger's own hand reached out and slapped at her wrist knocking it away. She stifled a yelp.

"Sorry," he said. "Don't touch it. Not only is it very sticky, but the slightest touch will alert the spiders to your presence."

"What about the torches? We used fire to keep those things back the last time," Ruk asked.

"Possibly," Avery agreed. "But I’d rather we didn't rely on it. Let's avoid a confrontation altogether if we can."

"I’m not certain how easy that’s going to be," Armegon said from the front. "This stuff gets pretty thick up ahead. I don't know if it’s going to be possible to weave through it without tagging the web at least one or two times."

"Spiders tend to be docile for the most part," Ultrecht said. "But if we vibrate the web they will come to the attack."

"We might try a decoy," Calista suggested. "We could set fire to the web, or we might try to lure them into a trap."

"Those are good ideas," Armegon commended. "We may try one of them yet, but without knowing how many we’ll have to face, the trap would be a terrible gamble."

"Setting fire to the web is a distinct possibility," Ultrecht mused. "We could light it and take shelter in the cave. When the fire reaches them, they’ll be at a disadvantage. Some may even fall to the ground and get killed."

"I agree," Armegon said. "It appears to be a foregone conclusion that we’ll have to face them sooner or later. This way, at least we can force it on our terms."

"Okay," Avery said hefting his torch. "I’ll set the web afire and we can take up defensive positions in the cavern. If they attack, Ultrecht can hold the torches while the rest of us stand ready to fight."

Calista and Ultrecht took up positions in the cave entrance. Ruk hefted his battle ax while Armegon and Avery set the lower webs on fire. The moist adhesive secretion burned readily and soon the flames were tracing orange lies of fire spiraling upwards. Avery and Armegon passed their torches to Ultrecht then drew their own weapons while Calista braced her bow and notched an arrow.

Several long minutes passed before a crescendo of clicking and squealing like old rusty doors drifted down from above. It was immediately followed by the frantic shaking of the lower parts of the web.

"I would venture to guess that we’ve disturbed their slumber," Armegon joked nervously. No one replied, for the noise grew louder and the chamber floor was becoming littered with falling bits of flaming webbing.

Suddenly to one side, a large burning shape fell to the floor and bounced once. An acrid odor of burned flesh drifted about them as a second body fell not far away.

A few moments later and a third spider lowered itself to the floor by a freshly spun web. It was followed by three more in quick succession. Within moments, four huge arachnids were scurrying about avoiding falling debris and seeking shelter. Two of the spiders chose the cave for their retreat while the other two undoubtedly sought the shelter of another sanctuary.

As the creatures, each easily twice the size of Ruk drew close, the minotaan and halfelves attacked. The chamber was fairly illuminated by the fire from above as the trio burst outward and swarmed over the nearest creature.

Calista did her part as well. Two well placed arrows embedded in the eye clusters of the second spider caused it to slow and hesitate in rendering aid to its web mate.

Ruk charged into the waiting arms of the monster. The huge axe bit deeply, severing one of the eight limbs and causing the spider to leap backward in surprise. Armegon stood at Ruk's left and chopped lightly at another leg. The cold saber drew a gash in the hairy flesh, but contributed pain only to the monster.

The creature reared up and back raising its remaining foreleg and extending a pair of half meter long fangs like a pair of twin ebony swords oozing with a sickly yellow gel. Ruk braced himself for the rush and met the spider's forward lunge with a great sweeping over-the-shoulder blow. The razor sharp edge of the ax clove neatly between the eye clusters and into the head of the creature--driven by the monster's own forward momentum. The shock of the blow bowled Ruk over on his back and likewise knocked Armegon to the floor as the monster rolled over them.

Avery was playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse with the second spider. Though wounded and partially blinded by Calista's arrows, the creature could still detect movement well enough to know where the ranger was. The slim blade of Liberator flicked gracefully at the legs of the beast inflicting great amounts of impeding but non-lethal damage. Of the other two spiders, there was no sign.

Avery and the bison-sized tarantula continued their dance in a circle until as Avery had planned, the monster turned it's blind side to the others. When the spider drew back to dodge a false lunge, Avery unwisely spared a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure the other spiders were not in sight. The move almost cost him his life. He sensed the motion and ducked as the spider bolted forward sensing an advantage. The huge fangs missed impaling him by scant inches as the monster's forelegs knocked him to the ground and pinned him there.

A double thunking sound heralded the arrival of two more of Calista's arrows, but their impact was no more than a minor irritation in the armored backside of the spider.
With his sword arm hopelessly pinned, Avery struggled vainly to squirm out of the creatures many-limbed grasp. He gazed up at the mechanical workings of the jaws as saliva dripped down on his chest and the nightmarish head lowered to make a poisonous bite.

Suddenly the spider reared back again and the pressure was gone. Avery sat up and saw the minotaan straddled across the creature's back. The huge ax rose and fell rhythmically cleaving the monster's skull in two.

"Where are the other two," Armegon said as he helped Avery to his feet.
"I don't know," Avery replied.

Ruk untangled himself from the second corpse. "I think they went that way," he announced. "When the fire was brighter, there were a collection of several cave openings there."

"How much do you want to bet that we’ll have to go through one of them?" Ultrecht asked as he and Calista approached.

"That would be a fool's bet," Armegon replied sheathing his weapon.

"I think we were lucky no one was hurt in that skirmish," Avery replied. These spiders have some ugly fangs. There’s no telling how toxic the venom is and without our healing magic, that would have been a nasty situation."

"Venom?" Ultrecht asked curiously and knelt to inspect the dead creature's offensive weaponry.

"Don't get too carried away with your experiments," Armegon warned. "We still have an unknown number of these things to contend with."

"Some of the webs did not burn," Calista noted. "Do you think there may still be some of those spiders aloft?"

"I wouldn't discount it," Ruk muttered as he too looked up. The flames were mostly gone, but there were still enough of them to see some structures among the webbing. "At least it appears as if something is up there. At least it is not moving."

"I suggest we try to find the passage we need to take us on up into the cliff side," Armegon said. "Come on Ultrecht. You can check this thing out on the way back."

Ultrecht had a long thin dagger out and was cutting at the base of one of the dead spider's fangs. "Hold on," he pleaded. "This will take only a moment. I think these things use a powerful neurotoxin in their venom. I haven't seen anything like it. I must get a sample."

Armegon folded his arms and tapped his foot impatiently. "It can't wait?"

Ultrecht sliced at the base of one of the fangs and caught a trickle of the sap like yellow liquid in a small vial. "It doesn't have to wait," he said standing. "I'm done." Ultrecht sealed the vial with a stopper and wrapped it in a fold of cloth before returning it to his knapsack.

Ruk and Armegon headed off towards the distant openings and Ultrecht and Calista followed. Avery stayed back for a few moments to make sure the objects in the web overhead did not move, then he trotted after his companions.

It took several long moments to cross the chamber. It appeared to be larger than it really was. Before long they were cautiously drawing close to the first opening. "I don't know which one of these the other spiders ran into. We had better treat each one as if the spiders are in there," Ruk suggested.

"Maybe we can find out," Calista said unslinging her bow and notching an arrow. She took a breath and fired into the dark tunnel. The arrow made a few sounds as it rebounded off several walls before going silent.

"That was a good idea," Avery commended. "But what if you just plain out missed?"
Calista responded by firing two more arrows at slightly different angles into the dark hole. Both resulted in the same sequence of ricochets and silence.

"Each shot increases the probability that the cave is vacant, or that the spider is very far back up the tunnel. Either way we get a safe entrance," Ultrecht noted.

"I could still find some flaws in that logic," Avery argued, "but it would be a moot point. We have to check the cave out regardless."

"Then let's go," Ruk said impatiently. He gave his axe a few practice swings.

Armegon took a torch in one hand and adjusted the grip on his saber with the other. Side by side they cautiously entered the cave. Ultrecht took the second torch when Avery passed it to him and with Calista, bow at the ready, followed a few paces behind the vanguard. Avery checked their rear once more then entered the cave.

"Well now," Ultrecht's voice sang happily. "This side trip may be quite profitable after all."
Avery entered the cave. Except that it wasn't really a cave. The tunnel appeared to be nothing more than a deeply recessed alcove in the stone. What was so interesting to Ultrecht, however, was the vein of gold running through the rock.

"We don’t have time to start a major excavation," Armegon reminded him.

"Yeah," Calista added. "We’re trying to save someone. Remember?"

Ultrecht looked hurt. He had not forgotten their mission and was insulted that they should believe him capable of it. "Don't worry, Cal," he assured her. "I haven't forgotten Sam. I just meant that this may be worth remembering if we ever get a chance to come back here."

"I’m not sure I would want to," Ruk said. "One does not willingly walk into a prison."

"Well we’ll see." Ultrecht smiled. "Who knows? Cal and Sam may want to move here. Remember the inhabitants do not die of natural causes. This place may be the answer Sam needs. He and Cal could live hundreds of years here."

Calista grew dreamy. "Hundreds of years," she repeated. "But we couldn't have children."
"Have them before you come back," Armegon suggested.

"That sounds good, but a prison is still a prison."

Ultrecht patted her on the shoulder. "Maybe we’ll be able to find an easier way into and out of this place." He fingered the streak of yellow metal on the wall. "It certainly would be profitable."

"We can discuss this another time," Avery said from the mouth of the alcove. "Right now we have a visitor."

The others hurried to the opening and watched as one of the huge spiders crept across the open chamber. "Does he see us?" Ruk asked.

"Probably," Avery replied. "Chances are that he has but doesn't think of us as dangerous or worth his time. If we play this right, he’ll continue to ignore us and we can avoid another fight."

They watched silently. No one moved very much. Though they were certain of their ability to defeat the single creature, they acknowledged the fact that they had gotten lucky in their fight in that no one had been seriously injured. It was true that death by natural causes was unknown in the realm, but death by combat was anything but natural, and they had been told that in a Tower one could die.

The arachnid crawled across the gallery floor to one of the intact web anchors and began an ascent to the elevated dwelling. When it had disappeared into the gloomy altitude, the five watchers emerged from the alcove. Keeping in mind that at least one more spider was unaccounted for, they edged along the wall towards the next opening.

This time there was no question. They heard the scuttling about within well before the creature charged them. Fortunately they were well prepared. The fight was brief and pitiful. The spider was drastically out numbered and over matched. Ruk made a merciful end to the creature. Distracted by Armegon and Avery, it never saw the black minotaan coming until it was too late. The huge battle-ax neatly separated its thorax from its abdomen. After that there was no resistance.

This time the opening led to a winding tunnel that meandered back into the rock several hundred meters. Finally, though, it ended in a small room filled with a littering of bones and spider carcasses. This was apparently where the dead were dumped.
"A dead end," Ruk said with a hint of a smile. That drew a sour look from Calista.

"'Dead end?'" she repeated. "Are you trying to be funny?"

Armegon and Ultrecht looked at each other. Avery simply shook his head. "It is contagious," he said. "It has to be. No one can pick up puns like that genetically."

"I thought it was a good one," Ruk chuckled.

Calista groaned as did Armegon and Avery. Ultrecht on the other hand leaned closer and whispered. "It was good," he said confidentially, "but they won't admit it."

"That still leaves us with a major problem," Avery reminded them as they emerged from the passage. "There aren’t any more tunnels. And we still haven't found a way up."

"Maybe that is what we have to do," Ultrecht suggested. "Climb."

"Hoo boy," Ruk said. "I don't really like climbing. Especially when it is in a web full of spiders."

"Speaking of which, where did that other spider go?" Armegon asked.

"I spied her near the far wall just before we had that last fight," Calista said with a giggle.

"You what?" Ruk asked.

"I spied her ..."

"ENOUGH WITH THE PUNS!!" Armegon's voice rang out and bounced about the room. His face turned red and he hung his head. "Sorry," he apologized. "But could we please cut out the humor? We’ve got way too much to do."

"Okay," Avery cut in. "First things first. Since there aren’t any more passages on this level, we have to face the possibility that we’re going to have to climb up. But first let's get some idea as to where we need to climb and what we might encounter in the rafters up there." He took his torch and passed it to Ultrecht. Then he motioned Calista over. "Let's put together a little reconnaissance arrow," he said.

He took one of her arrows and wrapped its shaft in a winding of cloth. Then he doused the cloth with oil from a bladder he had in his own knapsack. Passing the arrow back to Calista, he urged her to draw the bow as best she could. Then under his direction she aimed for as much height as possible. Avery took the torch again and held it so that the arrow would pass through the flame as it left the bow.

When she released the arrow, it ignited and dragged a small trail of light in a high arc; illuminating the gallery walls revealing a large opening and at least three more spiders which scampered irritably at the intrusion of their privacy. In addition the light revealed what appeared to be a huge cocoon.

"Wonderful," Armegon groaned. "How do we get past that?"

"We could set the rest of the web on fire," Calista suggested.

"Then what do we use to climb with?" Ruk sighed. "What is that large bubble thing?" he asked referring to the cocoon.

"Probably an egg sack," Avery hypothesized.

"Then let's set that on fire." Armegon said. "It’ll burn from that level up but some of the lower webs will remain intact and you know how that will affect them. They’ll try to save it and most of them will get killed in the process."

Avery thought about it. "Unless someone has a better suggestion," he said. "At least it's something. It sure beats doing nothing."

Again Calista was asked to fire her bow, but this time the cargo was two arrows and this time there was a definite target. Her aim was true and the two flaming arrows bit deeply near the bottom of the cocoon. The fire spread rapidly lighting up the upper web.

To avoid falling flames and spiders, Calista and the others again took refuge at the cave entrance. This time the results of their action was more dramatic. If soon began to rain spiders. The egg sack must have ruptured and poured forth as stream of young spiders. Most of them died upon impact. The few that didn't were crushed by others falling on them.

After about ten minutes the rain of debris ceased. There were a great number of bodies and scorched strands of web littering the floor. So cautiously did Avery and Ruk emerge from the cave that it took several minutes before they were satisfied that all of the corpses in the vicinity were indeed dead.

The egg sack was a huge glowing mass of smoldering thread high over their heads. Still it emitted enough light to show them the nightmare descending carefully from the heights. A gasp from some one behind told the ranger that the others too had seen the monster.

It was apparent that the spiders they had fought up until now were also very young, because the monstrosity lowering itself via the thread it was spinning was easily the size of a small house.

"This may be inappropriate," Armegon said slowly, "but I think we’re in deep trouble."

"There may be a bright side to this, Ultrecht observed. "If we beat this one the others will leave us alone."

"'If' is a very big word," Armegon muttered.

Ruk hefted his ax once again. "This will be a battle worth remembering," he announced. "We could certainly use the magic of your sword, Avery."

"No can do," the ranger replied regretfully. "This is their domain and we are the intruders. The sword refuses to do more than defend. I can protect Ultrecht and Cal, but the offensive work must be done by you and Armegon."

The other halfelf drew his saber. "Cal," he called over his shoulder as he stepped to Ruk's side. "See if you can land some blows before it gets to the ground."

The hickory bow sang with the sound of the string and the whiz of arrows whistled through the air. Ultrecht held both torches as high and far apart as possible. Without magic, he was essentially a spectator. Avery had dropped Liberator and was rummaging through his pack. He located several bundles and began to unwind cloth wrappings from them to reveal fragile looking ceramic flasks.

By the time the monster reached the ground, four arrows had embedded themselves into the joints of the legs whereas almost a dozen others had rebounded harmlessly from the armored hide.

Eight legs like tree trunks and their accompanying claws dug into the ground carrying the huge body toward the defenders. Fangs like spears and the many eyes reflected the torch light as if warning beacons that the beast's head was a place of great danger.

Coming face to face with a horror of such proportions had an effect on each of them. Ruk knew only resolve whereas Armegon came to grip on a side of himself he had never before seen. Magicless he faced a creature with only his fighting skill and a blade of metal to defend his life's blood. The result was traumatic. Armegon froze and the saber dropped loosely to the ground.

Avery, accustomed to not depending on magic for his defense, reacted differently. He was a survivalist and as the horror of nature closed the distance, he scooped up two of the small flasks and heaved them at the lumbering body. They both shattered near the point where the head joined the thorax. Calista, under Ultrecht's direction loosed a flaming arrow at the same point. The arrow failed to penetrate the hide, but the flame erupted as the splattered oil ignited.

No weapon wielded by man or minotaan had ever generated the reaction as the most ancient enemy of all living creatures. The behemoth reacted violently as the flames covered the head and flowed beneath the body feasting on the dripping oil slick.

Ruk staggered back as the heat of the flames struck at him like a hammer. He and Armegon tumbled to the floor as they blindly entangled each other in retreat. The monstrosity took no notice. It leaped and twisted in the air as the flames found their way into the crevasses in the tough armor and penetrated to the soft, vulnerable flesh inside.

Ruk disengaged himself from the fear paralyzed halfelf and retrieved his ax. He was soon joined by Avery who scooped Armegon's saber from the floor and followed Ruk as the two cautiously closed the distance to their foe.

As the fire died down enough for them to attack without getting burned, the spider, still hampered by the searing pain where the fire was scalding the inner flesh beneath the exoskeleton, was not unaware of their approach. With a quickness that seemed almost impossible for such bulk, the creature snapped a foreleg out and only the lightning like reflexes of the ranger kept his head on his shoulders as the serrated claw severed the empty air where Avery's head had moments before been.

The ranger ducked and rolled forward reflexively. Without the benefit of forethought, he suddenly found himself kneeling beneath the abdomen of the tremendous body. He hesitated not a single second but used all his strength to drive the saber to the hilt into the swollen lower body. An off white pasty fluid dripped out and the sword was suddenly wrenched from his hand as the large body vaulted skyward. Avery responded by diving safely away from the area.

The spider, burned and impaled, now regarded its foes respectfully. Ruk placed his form between his comrades and the wounded monster. Avery could have predicted the animal's response, but it was fairly obvious. The creature charged wildly.

Ruk simply had not the size to stand against such an onslaught of claws and fangs. He didn't. At the last moment, Ruk too dived forward and rolled coming to his feet beneath the monster's body and heaved the huge double bladed ax into the slimy wound already opened by Avery's previous attack. The larger cutting edge of the ax opened a slit almost a meter in length as the minotaan dragged the razor edge along the underside of the spider's body. The saber dislodged and fell to the floor with a clang that seemed to punctuate the severity of the wound.

The fairly disemboweled spider staggered back, now considering its chances to flee. Ruk, however had other ideas. He charged and waved his ax in a sequence of double handed sweeping cuts that cleft the claws off two of the creatures legs.

The spider, now desperately seeking escape made the mistake of turning its back to the ever resourceful ranger. Avery, again with Armegon's sword, leaped atop the creatures back and buried the weapon deeply into the armored flesh. A quivering beneath his legs told him that the battle was over as the spider, in a final denial of the inevitable weakly attempted to leap away and failed miserably. Ruk delivered the final blow as he neatly cleaved the spider's head.

Avery slid to the ground after freeing the saber. He and Ruk carefully studied the fallen creature's corps.

"Well," Avery said between breaths, "that was amusing."

"What happened to Armegon?" the minotaan asked.

Avery glanced back over his shoulder. Armegon was huddled up in the fetal position. "Something we thought was long gone," he explained. "Apparently it isn't."

It took almost an hour before Armegon would even acknowledge the existence of the others. When he finally did, it was almost as if nothing had happened. Alarmingly, though, he could not remember the attack of the giant spider, and when pressed, he avoided the topic. Ultrecht and Avery elected not to pursue the topic.

They took another ten minutes to recollect themselves before they addressed the task of where to go next. It was finally decided that they should try to climb the web. They let Avery take the lead and the ranger bounded lightly up and down on the strong, sticky cable, purposely alerting any other spiders of their presence. He stated that if there were any other spiders left in the web, he wanted to know while they were still on the ground. His actions got no response and the ranger proceeded to climb upwards followed by Armegon who seemed to be unshaken. Then followed Calista, Ultrecht, and Ruk, who brought up the rear.

"What was wrong with Armegon?" Calista whispered to Ultrecht at one point when Armegon and Avery were discussing the path ahead.

Ultrecht glanced briefly ahead then replied. "Long ago, when we first met, Armegon had a weird fear of spiders. The actual term is arachnophobia." He studied the layer of sticky adhesive on his hand for a moment. "We don't really know where it came from, but it was rather obnoxious so Avery and I worked on him to block whatever memories it was that caused the disorder. It worked quite well actually. For the last century or so, he has shown no anxiety whatsoever over spiders and the like. I don’t know why it suddenly decided to reappear."

"Perhaps this place has caused his fear to resurface," Ruk suggested. "This whole realm is so strange. Anything must be possible."

"Not to worry," Ultrecht said. "Unless we run into more spiders."

"A distinct possibility," Ruk noted.

"Avery doesn't think there are anymore, or that if there are they are not going to show themselves."

Avery led them up continuously staying on webs with as shallow a slope as possible until they had drawn even with the charred remains of the giant egg sack. Avery signaled for the others to hold their position while he moved ahead to investigate.

Ruk watched interestedly as the ranger cautiously entered the web spun cocoon. He soon reemerged and motioned for the others to join him. They all made their way into the large structure amazed at the work its construction must have involved. The walls were formed of hardened web material except that it was much more closely woven and intermingled. On the floor was a littering of bones, and rubbish. Also there on the floor was an intact skeleton encased in a partial cocoon of its own. The skeleton was wearing a jeweled amulet. At one side was a dusty book and a small cloth bundle.

Calista and Ruk inspected the cloth while Ultrecht examined the book. Avery and Armegon removed the amulet and searched the rest of the locale. Their scouring turned up a handful of gemstones and a ring with a star shaped ruby cluster and a ceramic coin made of porcelain.

"Now that is an oddity," Ultrecht wondered as he examined the coin in Armegon's hand. "Did you hear anything from your coin dealer in Allentown about a clay coin?"

"No," Armegon admitted. "But if it’s worth anything, I’ll find out." He pocketed the trinket. "What about the book?"

Ultrecht shook his head. "I can't read it. We’ll have to wait until we can activate a magical comprehension spell before we can translate it."

"Is it magic?" Ruk asked.

Ultrecht shrugged. "Without magic I can't tell."

"How about that ring?" Calista pointed to the ring Avery was admiring. Avery smiled and passed it to her.

"You can have it," he told her.

"Let's not worry about anything that we have found," Armegon suggested, "until we can test all of it for magic."

Calista unwrapped the cloth bundle. "Well look at what I found," she announced happily. She held her prize up for the others to see. The object was immediately recognized. It was a small octahedron, an identical twin to the object that had activated the powerful magical pump on the island.

"Can we assume that all we have to do now is find the mechanism and start the device?" Ultrecht asked.

"It would seem so," Armegon said. "After all, now we have the key." He took one last look around the chamber. "Let's get out of here," he said. "This place gives me the creeps."

Avery and Ruk led them back the way they had come, back out to the web. They climbed another dozen meters higher and transferred to a different strand that was anchored to the wall near a jagged opening. In just a few moments, they were safe and sound on solid rock. Armegon and Ruk again took the lead and with torch in hand blazed a trail into the rock.

The tunnel was fairly straight and took on the appearance of carved rock. It soon ended in a room. They were apparently in the second Tower. The room had an opening directly opposite that of the tunnel as well as an open ceiling. The white cloudless and sunless sky could be observed through the opening. In the center of the room, on the floor, was a shallow dome of onyx. The polished black surface was like a mirror.

Ruk and Armegon conversed briefly then continued down the opening on the far side of the room. Almost immediately they recognized the unmistakable signs of technomystical structure. Stone steps led upwards in a tight helical manner. Soon they emerged on a platform landing near a corner that had daylight shining in around it.

Almost cheerfully they hurried to the corner, like moths to a flame. As they rounded the turn they stepped out onto a ledge similar in design to the one that housed the machinery in the mountain on the island.

The blast of frigid air struck them with the force of a battering ram. Staggering under the blizzardly onslaught, they were rescued as Avery, once more protected by the magic of his enchanted weapon, led them back around the corner.

"I would have thought that the illusion would not be in operation at this far from the ground," Avery commented as he watched the others trying to keep warm. Even with the illusion out of sight, they knew that it was there, and so they were still under its influence. He took the octahedral key to the mechanism and stuck it in a pocket. "I think I had better activate this thing before you all freeze to death."

Avery once more rounded the corner. The illusion was still there, but he easily ignored it. The platform was occupied by a marble cylindrical pedestal upon which sat what appeared to be a cube made of pure glass. It was some unknown mineral crystal, of that he was sure. There was nothing above the cube, but behind it was a highly polished mirror, and on the side of the cube facing the outside in the exact center was a smaller mirror.

Avery took in the sight quickly. He was searching for the key mechanism, like the one on the island. It was no where to be seen. The only thing else in the room was a tapestry, a copy of the other one, and a door.

The door had to be the answer. He trotted across the balcony to the door and grasped the handle. The door opened readily. Apparently, he thought to himself, the builders figured that anyone who could get through the illusion and the guardians would not be hindered by some old door. The chamber beyond the door held the device he was seeking. It also held a wall full of runes, scriptures and magical equations. Ultrecht would kill him should he pass up the opportunity to record this find, so Avery postponed his duties long enough to copy the writing onto the back of a map. When he finished, he rolled the map up and drew the key from his pocket.

In the corner of the room a small stand stood exposed revealing a plain gray metal disk. In the center of the disk was a depression molded, it seemed, to be an exact fit for the key. Slowly, almost as if afraid, Avery placed the key in its receptacle. The key slid home. For a long moment there was no sign that anything was happening. Avery was about to remove the crystal from the slot when suddenly the pedestal slowly retracted into the floor.

Satisfied that the machine had been activated, Avery retreated from the room. As he crossed the ledge, he felt the hairs on his arms rise even though he could not hear or see any evidence that any energy was being manipulated.

When Avery rejoined the others, they all retreated back along the passage they had come. Once away from the lighted ledge, the others were freed of the illusion's spell. "What happened?" Ultrecht asked.

Avery shrugged. "What is there to say? I found the starter and put the key in it. It was designed a little differently as was the transmitter. Remember the last one was a tetrahedron? Well this one was a cube."

"Both are regular polyhedrons," Armegon observed. "Does this mean that the next one will be a dodecahedron?"

"That would be a logical conclusion," Ultrecht said, "the faces of a dodecahedron are pentagons, and the map showed pentagons in the desert." He followed Ruk into the small room that had the onyx dome in the center. This time, though the onyx dome was rotating, and a shaft of light was gyrating up through the ceiling opening. The room reverberated with a buzzing like the hum of a bee hive, only louder.

Ultrecht expressed some desire to wait around and see what the thing was going to do, but he was easily outvoted. Once more they followed Ruk until they again were face to face with the giant network of spider webs.

Excitement aside, they carefully made their way down to the bottom. After all that they had gone through it would be a shame to fall at that point. They also kept a sharp eye open for any unwanted visitors, but none appeared and soon they were on the ground and were marching back down the tunnel they originally had entered through. Soon they were greeting a worried and lonely, but otherwise unmolested Ganatar.

By the time they were settling down for a rest, the very rock of the caverns was humming at a low, dim, but persistent buzz. Armegon and Ultrecht glanced at the writings Avery had copied.

"I can't make out the language," Ultrecht said. "Just hang on to it and we will deal with it when we get home."

Armegon snapped his fingers. There was a tiny flash of light and his thumb caught fire. He quickly blew it out. "The magic is back on," he announced. "At least for a while," he added as an afterthought. It would be handy for the moment, but before long they would be without it again. "We can do away with the illusion problem now."

"Let's wait until we have had a chance to rest," Calista begged. "I'm pooped. We’ve been going all day."

"She’s probably right," Avery agreed. "I think we can assume that we’re relatively safe here. Let's catch some shut-eye. We can move on later." No one was really in a mood to argue the point as they were all fairly tired and fatigued. Ganatar volunteered to take the watch since he had been in place all day and was if anything simply bored stiff. He confessed that to pass the time he had taken several naps.

With the unicorn watching over their affairs, the band of travelers bedded down for several hours. Even though they really had no idea about how long they slept, Avery roughly guessed that they had slept on into the night and through to the next morning. He could not explain his estimate, but as they approached the exit to the tunnel, the light of day assaulted their eyes. Instantly the light was followed by the bitter cold of the illusion.

This time, though Ultrecht used his magic to expand the enchanted sword's true vision to the whole group and the ice fairly vanished from sight. Only by looking very carefully and partially attempting to convince ones self that the ice was there could one actually make the illusionary substance out.

"Well at least we have magic back for a while," Armegon commented.

"Which way now?" Ultrecht said as he gazed skyward. The ledge spat forth a steady azure shaft of light towards the distant horizon.
Avery pointed to his left as he faced the direction of the central mountain. "The map says that there is a desert there. The third tower should be there. I presume that’s our next target."

"That can wait," Armegon interrupted. "First let's take a look at some of the things we picked up in the spider kingdom back there," he said nodding back up the tunnel.

"That is a good idea," Ultrecht agreed. "Now that we have a little of our magic back we can investigate those acquisitions."

"Plus we need to work up some water carriers if we’re going to cross desert," Ruk added. He shook his canteen. The sloshing water sounded low. "These small canteens won't see us very far from a water source."

Armegon asked Calista for the ring and she begrudgingly gave it up. The mage then spread a cloth on the ground and placed the trinket on the cloth along with the ceramic coin and the book. He then knelt before the arrangement and muttered a few words to himself. A calm fell across him and his face went blank. With unblinking eyes he gazed across the display of merchandise.

Quickly he reached out and took the ring. Slipping it on his finger he then reached into a spell pouch and pulled out a velvet rag. Unfolding the rag, he exposed a trio of tiny but beautiful pearls. He removed one and returned the others to their pouch. This pearl he placed in a small bowl and to Ruk, Calista, and Ganatar's dismay crushed the valuable orb to a powder and sprinkled it over the ring.

Calista and Ruk looked at each other, but neither knew what was going on. She was about to ask one of the others what was happening when Armegon suddenly spoke in a trance-like voice. "Pyrus," he whispered. Alarmingly, the ring flared into a circlet of flame around his finger briefly then extinguished. Armegon responded by removing the ring and placing it back on the cloth.

He then picked up the book. Slowly he opened the cover. There was a pause, and without warning, the mage screamed a bloodcurdling howl of agony and the book dropped from his fingers. He hands flew to the temples of his head and he flopped back writhing in pain.

Avery was instantly there and the healer stuffed a piece of plant into the mages mouth. Then he placed his hands on Armegon's. "He'll be all right in a few moments," he informed the concerned audience. "Whatever he read in that book overloaded his protection. The pain was a reflexive defense mechanism. It made him abort the spell before the book could harm him."

Armegon nodded slowly. "I feel miserable," he added.

"What happened?" Ultrecht asked.

"The book is definitely a spell book of great power. It’s too powerful to read here. We’ll have to wait until we get back and can generate more powerful protection spells."

"The book attacked you?" Ruk asked amazed.

"Essentially that is what happened," Ultrecht explained. "A spell book resists attempts to read it by anyone other than the writer. The more powerful the spells within, the more powerful the resistance."

"Didn't you once tell me that you read the Tome of Creation?" Calista asked. "Didn't it resist you?"

Ultrecht nodded. "I didn’t try to read any of the spells," he explained. "Spell books hold more than just spells. They also have information, equations and formula that explain how the spells work. Some even have history or letters or mementos in them. What ever the writer sees fit to put in them is there. The magical defenses of the book are usually not activated against the reading of those pages. I even read a recipe for ginger bread in a spell book once."

Avery interrupted. "Okay so we wait until another day to work with the book. What about the ring?"

Armegon thumbed the ring. "It is a ring of elemental control; fire elementals, that is," he added. "The command word is 'Pyrus'. But it is pretty useless here. We are too cut off from the lateral elemental planes."

"And the coin?" Ultrecht asked.

"A coin," Armegon informed him.

"No magic? No hidden secrets?"

"That’s it," Armegon assured Ultrecht.

"You mean the only thing I get out of this whole venture is a lousy ceramic coin?" Ultrecht was visibly upset.

"That’s about the size of it," Armegon replied. "But this isn’t over yet. You may well find something later."

Avery passed the ring back to Calista. "Here," he said. "You can have this. These two don't need it, and it might even save your life one day. Remind us when we get home and we’ll show you how to use it. But be sure not to use the command word until you learn how to use it."

"This has been very entertaining and educational," Ganatar said, "but do you not think we had better get going? We have a desert to cross."

"Right," Ruk agreed, "and if the pattern follows, we’ll have some obstacle to pass in order to get to the desert Tower."

"Obstacle?" Ganatar asked.

"The acid lake was an obstacle hindering our efforts to get to the island," Ruk pointed out. "The ice was a hindrance to the cliff wall. I expect there’s going to be something in our way crossing the desert."

"Maybe it’s the desert itself," Calista suggested.

"It may be." Ruk agreed. "But either way we won’t know until we get there."

"A hint if ever I heard one," Avery said as he shouldered his pack. The others did likewise and soon they were underway with Avery and Ruk in the lead.

They traveled for about six hours when Calista broke the silence. "Is anyone else getting cold?"

"Now that you mention it," Ruk admitted, "I am a little chilly."

"I was afraid of that," Ultrecht said as he signaled for a stop. "We’ve gotten far enough from the Tower that my magic is beginning to fail."

"The illusion will soon reinstate itself," Armegon predicted.

"That sounds reasonable,"" Ultrecht agreed. "I suggest we use what magic we have left to prepare for traveling through the ice and desert."

"What did you have in mind?" Avery asked.

"Well," Armegon suggested, "we can enlarge some of our blankets and make robes and cloaks. That’s a very weak spell but it should do the job."

Ultrecht agreed and he and Armegon began working their magics on a pair of spare blankets. The garments soon quadrupled in size. Avery then took a long knife and cut the blankets into ponchos and wraps. He urged everyone to wrap themselves in layers of cloth. "The dead airspace between the layers will keep you warm as easily as an extra blanket."

Clothed in their makeshift arctic clothing, they decided to spend the night on location while they were still partially protected against the cold by Ultrecht's magic. The next day they would try to sustain a forced march out of the ice. With any luck they would see the desert by the end of the next night.