It had taken only three hours before the passage made a sharp turn to the west. Avery was leading the way with a torch, while Marlena followed and Armegon, pushing the floating form of Seymore, brought up the rear. The mine had been travelling slightly downhill and the going was easy.
"I expect the others will be waiting for us at the end of the tunnel," Avery said during a rest stop. He filled a bowl with water from a wine sack. Removing a needle from the lining of his cloak, he stuck it through the winesack's cork stopper and then placed it in the bowl. With his makeshift compass, he checked the direction.
"The tunnel leads west by southwest," he announced.
"That presumes that there are no magnetic fields in this mine," Armegon reminded him.
"Right," Avery agreed. "But Regalus said this was a silver mine and silver is non-magnetic."
"How do you feel, Marlena?" Armegon asked.
"I'm okay. I wish you two would stop fussing over me," she replied irritably.
"Listen lady," Armegon scolded. "We're all healers here. There is no need to be shy or to talk around the subject. You are pregnant and we are guessing as to the gestation period."
"You’re getting very large fast," Avery added. "I think you’re going to go into labor within a month, maybe less. Any heavy stress may make you go premature."
"We know that you’re strong," Armegon said respectfully, "but the child isn't."
"I get the message," Marlena said. After a moment she stood. "I’m ready to go again."
Two hours later the tunnel opened upon a beautiful double sunset over a huge mirror that stretched from horizon to horizon. "I had expected the name of the Glass Desert to be a figurative one," Armegon said in awe. "I never thought to see anything like this."
All three stood gawking for almost ten minutes before another word was said. "I wonder how this was formed?" Avery murmured.
"I noticed that we don't have any company," Marlena observed still looking out at the picturesque scene.
"I didn't see any merging passages with airflow marks other than the one we were in. I figure they’ll emerge from another exit," Avery explained. "In any event, I think we should move on. If we don't see them between here and Allentown, we can wait for them at the University. They know the destination."
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Chapter 4 Part 24
Keeneye led his comrades for another two hours before he saw evidence that they were going in the wrong direction. Suddenly, the passage was less clean than before. Bits of old rotten cloth and layers of undisturbed dust appeared on the floor with bits of debris littering the way.
The elven archer quickly called a halt to the march and instructed his followers to aid him in locating an opening which lacked the tell-tale signs of still air. The task was easily described, but in practice was more difficult. The mine had many branches. They had passed at least three or four dozen since the mine cave-in.
They had an idea as to where the sought-for passage would be, because Keeneye could reasonably determine where the signs of stillness began. That cut their possible choices down to about three branches. But upon close inspection, none of them showed the characteristics of a wind cleaned tunnel.
"So, that is it?" Norwind flopped down on a fallen timber raising a cloud of dust in the process.
"I must admit it is weird," Keeneye offered apologetically. "It's not easy to track the wind."
"I agree," Ultrecht said after a while. "It doesn't make sense that our trail would just end right here. One would almost be compelled to believe that the wind just came out of nowhere."
"Well then," Samson said, "if we can't find a way out naturally, I suggest using magic to teleport us out."
"I don't think that is a good idea," Ultrecht said. "Teleporting the four of us is easy enough, but I have no reference to focus on except the places we've been to and that would only take us in the wrong direction, and Armegon has the scrything bowl."
"Maybe we should pause for some sleep," Norwind offered. "I could think better after some shut-eye."
"I tend to agree," Keeneye yawned.
"Sleeping is not going to get us back on track," Samson warned irritably. "We should keep going!"
"Then pick a direction and check it out," Keeneye said as he fluffed his backpack into a pillow.
Ultrecht meanwhile was unpacking a book. "Don't get lost. And don't go too far."
Samson kicked at some dust which became a cloud and drifted into Norwind's face. The monk coughed a couple of times then gave Samson a dirty look.
"And watch where you step," the elf said.
Samson picked up one of the two light crystals and started down the nearest side passage.
Keeneye watched him go. "A little on the hyper side, isn't he?"
"You would be too if your wife didn't remember you, was about to have a baby that was not yours and was lost in a mine in an alien world," Ultrecht reminded him. "You have antagonized him enough, both of you. Now, go to sleep."
Samson walked along the mine passage shuffling his feet as he went. He did so to make a plain trail that he could backtrack and that the others could follow should they desire to. It was evident that the passage he had chosen was not the direction out. There were cobwebs hanging from every outcropping and the settled dust was several inches thick. There was also some evidence that the passage had been used recently, whether by the enemy's troops, the undead wights that seemed to infest the place or perhaps some occasional explorer he did not know. He was not worried. The only thing other than the few fighters he had seen so far were a few undead and they would not approach the light crystal.
Samson moved ahead. With the light crystal in his left hand, he had drawn a long dagger to use for clearing the cobwebs away. After about a quarter of an hour, he noticed that the mine passage had increased in size quite a bit. It would be easy to ride a horse two abreast, if he had a horse, also there were many signs of passage and some looked quite recent.
As Samson squeezed past a partial cave-in, he entered into a large room-like structure. There was a huge black stone laying in the center. It looked as if it had been placed there on purpose. Far to the left were a pile of white objects and something that reflected light.
Crossing the room. Samson kicked through the debris. He realized with a start that the white objects were shattered bones. There was something shiny mixed in with them and he was about to dig into the refuse when a noise from behind him snapped his attention to alert.
He reached to his belt and drew his sword. As Libra slid free of its scabbard, it screamed like a banshee. Samson whirled around in time to see the huge massive stone in the room's center come to life. In the half light of the massive chamber, he caught a glimpse of two huge white tusks. Samson snapped his eyes to the ground just in front of the monster. A morhulk, he warned himself. Don't look it in the face.
Samson was now genuinely worried. He really did not want to fight this beast. This was its lair, its turf. The trouble was that it had managed to maneuver itself between him and the passage he had emerged from. Also, the fact that his shield hand was busy holding the light crystal put him at a disadvantage. He could call for help but he was not sure if they would hear it and he needed all his breath right now. Samson could feel his pulse quicken as the adrenaline pumped into his bloodstream by the liter. "Okay, big, dark and ugly," he hissed, "let's do it."
Samson raised his eyes until he could see the chest and arms of the eight foot tall behemoth. He had encountered morhulks before and he knew that to look at it in the eye would be a fatal mistake. There was a hypnotic power there and something about their eyes would cause confusion and disarray to the unwary.
"Come meat creature. Come to your end," it said. Samson ignored it. Morhulks were intelligent, but they were completely untrustworthy. All the thing wanted was to trick him into looking into his face. "Bow your head to me, man," it said. "You are not worthy to face me."
Samson watched the legs muscles of the thing contract as it leaped. At the last possible moment, Samson spun around and ducked out of the creature's reach. He spun again and swung Libra at the unprotected backside, but his momentum threw him off balance and he missed his mark.
Again, Samson and the monster circled slowly. Samson gave it plenty of room. He may be the quicker of the two, but the morhulk had at least a full five foot reach and that was hard to dodge. The morhulk lunged again. Again, Samson dodged, but this time he was not fast enough. He felt the monster's claw rake along his right side. His armor saved him from losing flesh, but there was no doubt as to the bruises that would appear later.
Samson was close to the passage he had come through, but it would take time to squeeze through to the other side, time he could not spare, so Samson resolved to fight it out.
"Come now, puny one. Do not drag this out. I will be quick and merciful if you surrender to me."
Samson brought his sword up to the guard position and slowly waved it back and forth. The whining blade rose in pitch. "Do you hear it, monster? The blade hungers for your blood. You are not the first of your kind it will have slain."
"What care I for others?" it asked charging again. Samson paused again as he had before, then at the last moment, he shifted his weight as if he was about to dodge the rush. As he expected, the morhulk moved to intercept him. But instead of dodging, Samson attacked head on driving Libra deep into the creature's chest.
The monster roared with agony. The blow was critical but not immediately fatal. The morhulk wrapped its arms around Samson in a bear hug and the huge ivory tusks closed on his chest. Samson felt ribs cracking and knew that his armor would only withstand those mandible-like tusks for a short time.
As his right hand was pinned between himself and the sword hilt, Samson dropped the light crystal and reached for his dagger. There was a flash of light as the light crystal shattered and everything went dark.
Samson drew the dagger. An added benefit--the darkness saved him from looking into the morhulk's face. With all his might, Samson drove the dagger through the morhulk's skull. Just as the mandibles pierced his armor, he felt the pressure ease off.
Both combatants fell to the floor. Samson tore himself loose and rolled a distance away. He lay in the dark catching his breath. He was relatively certain none of the undead wights or anything else that knew of the morhulk's existence would venture here. But he was also aware that back home, at least, it was rare to encounter a lone morhulk.
As soon as Samson calmed down, he felt around in the darkness for his sword. Pulling it free, he wiped the blade as best he could. "I need light," he told the blade. Instantly, the blade glittered and shone forth with a dim, but comforting light.
Ignoring the pain in his sides, Samson knelt and inspected his handiwork. Satisfied that the monster was not bluffing its own death, Samson retrieved the dagger. Looking about the room, Samson noted that it was circular and had a huge opening at one side. On closer inspection, he saw stalagmites through the opening.
Turning his attention back to the room, he saw that the shiny object among the bones which had caught his attention before was a large sapphire. He pocketed the object arguing to himself that its former owner no longer needed it and he had earned it. Also, he found an old but still strong sack holding at least a few thousand gold coins and a small wooden box lying on its side not too far away.
Samson reasoned that the money was far too heavy for him to try to carry around with untold injuries, but the small box wasn't. So, leaving the coins to fate, Samson stuffed the box into another sack that he had found among the bones. It was in poor shape, but would serve for the time being. With his treasures collected, Samson made his way painfully back the way he had come.
He squeezed through the tight passage with a great deal of difficulty. The injuries he had received were quite painful, though he did not think them dangerous. With gritted teeth, he worked his way back into the mine tunnel. Each step sent pangs of agony through his upper body. He weathered the pain. He would not let down his guard until his friends were present to watch his back for him.
He was also anxious to tell them of his masterful single-handed defeat of two, no, three morhulks. They would not believe him, he knew, but it was tradition among most of the group to stretch tales.
"You look terrible," Ultrecht said as Samson staggered back towards the small fire they had built. Keeneye looked up from the spit he was using to warm up some dried meat. When he saw Samson's condition, he kicked Norwind's foot and woke the latter up from a snoring sleep.
"It's a good thing I didn't yell for help," Samson wheezed out of breath. "That elf's snoring would have drowned out an earthquake."
"Elves don't snore," Norwind objected, but he knew the argument was futile. They had been complaining about his snoring for years.
Keeneye was on his feet helping Samson over to the fire. "What happened to you?" "There were five morhulks in a large room several hundred meters down the mine tunnel," Samson informed them with a wince.
"'Were'?" Ultrecht laughed. "And I suppose you killed them all."
"Ouch!" Samson exclaimed as Keeneye poked and prodded his ribs. "Of course, I killed them all. You don't think I would leave any alive. They might have followed me back to camp and hurt my friends."
"You took some nasty blows," Keeneye informed him.
"No kidding," Samson growled. "And if you don't be a little more careful, you are going to take some blows as well. Ouch!"
Keeneye grinned at the empty threat. How ironic that all the healers had gotten separated during the cave-in. "I'm not a healer, large one," he reminded Samson. "The best I can do is set the bones and mix up a pain killer."
"Well, make with the mixing," Samson cringed. "and soon. I am not in ecstasy."
"Here," Ultrecht said, "inhale the smoke from this weed." He reached into his stash and brought over a large pouch. From this, he produced a handful of dried leaflets. "Tyson discovered it. It seems to be a tranquilizer with some numbing side effects."
As Samson partook of the medicinal herb, Keeneye dressed a wound in his back. "You have six cracked ribs and a shallow gore wound in your back. Keep it clean and it should heal properly."
Feeling much better, Samson told his story of the ten morhulks. He mentioned the loss of the light crystal and thousand gold coins. He revealed the small box and the large gem. Keeneye expertly disarmed the simple trap on the box and opened it. Inside were five coins made of crystalline nature. Keeneye identified four of them as cut rubies and the last was a diamond.
"I wonder what kind of economy is so powerful that it can make coins from precious stones," Ultrecht said in awe.
"Whooee!" Keeneye said looking at the stone. "Now that is a pretty rock. It is probably worth fifty thousand itself."
"Well, I guess that means it is a keeper then," Samson said tossing the rock to Ultrecht.
Ultrecht caught it and eyed it critically. "I'll deposit these in the community fund under your name. We will look at them again when we get outside in the sun," he said as he fumbled with a small pouch at his waist. Opening it, he withdrew a small book. He made some entries into the book describing the coins and stone and its estimated value as well as its owner. He then placed the gem and the book in the small pouch.
Keeneye could not help but watch the gem go into Ultrecht's illusionary pouch. The community fund purse was actually quite large, but to prevent every thief from trying to pick his pockets, Ultrecht had put an illusion of smallness on the valuable item. Also, the magical wards Ultrecht had placed on the purse as well made it a formidable challenge to any footpad. He should know, Keeneye thought. He had tried to take it often enough out of fun.
"Speaking of outside," Samson said, "did you figure out how to get out?"
"Yep," Keeneye answered and pointed directly above them. Samson raised his eyes and followed the fire's smoke upward through a small hole in the ceiling. "An air shaft. That is where the wind was coming from. I climbed up to check. Unfortunately, the hole is too small for a human to crawl through."
Samson explained about the large room where he had fought the morhulks, all twelve of them, and how there had been an opening into some type of cavern.
"Now that would be a stroke of luck," Keeneye said. "I think we could follow a cavern out with very little effort."
"Then, after Samson has some sleep, we will go check it out. If we are wrong, we can always return here and think of something else to do."
The elven archer quickly called a halt to the march and instructed his followers to aid him in locating an opening which lacked the tell-tale signs of still air. The task was easily described, but in practice was more difficult. The mine had many branches. They had passed at least three or four dozen since the mine cave-in.
They had an idea as to where the sought-for passage would be, because Keeneye could reasonably determine where the signs of stillness began. That cut their possible choices down to about three branches. But upon close inspection, none of them showed the characteristics of a wind cleaned tunnel.
"So, that is it?" Norwind flopped down on a fallen timber raising a cloud of dust in the process.
"I must admit it is weird," Keeneye offered apologetically. "It's not easy to track the wind."
"I agree," Ultrecht said after a while. "It doesn't make sense that our trail would just end right here. One would almost be compelled to believe that the wind just came out of nowhere."
"Well then," Samson said, "if we can't find a way out naturally, I suggest using magic to teleport us out."
"I don't think that is a good idea," Ultrecht said. "Teleporting the four of us is easy enough, but I have no reference to focus on except the places we've been to and that would only take us in the wrong direction, and Armegon has the scrything bowl."
"Maybe we should pause for some sleep," Norwind offered. "I could think better after some shut-eye."
"I tend to agree," Keeneye yawned.
"Sleeping is not going to get us back on track," Samson warned irritably. "We should keep going!"
"Then pick a direction and check it out," Keeneye said as he fluffed his backpack into a pillow.
Ultrecht meanwhile was unpacking a book. "Don't get lost. And don't go too far."
Samson kicked at some dust which became a cloud and drifted into Norwind's face. The monk coughed a couple of times then gave Samson a dirty look.
"And watch where you step," the elf said.
Samson picked up one of the two light crystals and started down the nearest side passage.
Keeneye watched him go. "A little on the hyper side, isn't he?"
"You would be too if your wife didn't remember you, was about to have a baby that was not yours and was lost in a mine in an alien world," Ultrecht reminded him. "You have antagonized him enough, both of you. Now, go to sleep."
Samson walked along the mine passage shuffling his feet as he went. He did so to make a plain trail that he could backtrack and that the others could follow should they desire to. It was evident that the passage he had chosen was not the direction out. There were cobwebs hanging from every outcropping and the settled dust was several inches thick. There was also some evidence that the passage had been used recently, whether by the enemy's troops, the undead wights that seemed to infest the place or perhaps some occasional explorer he did not know. He was not worried. The only thing other than the few fighters he had seen so far were a few undead and they would not approach the light crystal.
Samson moved ahead. With the light crystal in his left hand, he had drawn a long dagger to use for clearing the cobwebs away. After about a quarter of an hour, he noticed that the mine passage had increased in size quite a bit. It would be easy to ride a horse two abreast, if he had a horse, also there were many signs of passage and some looked quite recent.
As Samson squeezed past a partial cave-in, he entered into a large room-like structure. There was a huge black stone laying in the center. It looked as if it had been placed there on purpose. Far to the left were a pile of white objects and something that reflected light.
Crossing the room. Samson kicked through the debris. He realized with a start that the white objects were shattered bones. There was something shiny mixed in with them and he was about to dig into the refuse when a noise from behind him snapped his attention to alert.
He reached to his belt and drew his sword. As Libra slid free of its scabbard, it screamed like a banshee. Samson whirled around in time to see the huge massive stone in the room's center come to life. In the half light of the massive chamber, he caught a glimpse of two huge white tusks. Samson snapped his eyes to the ground just in front of the monster. A morhulk, he warned himself. Don't look it in the face.
Samson was now genuinely worried. He really did not want to fight this beast. This was its lair, its turf. The trouble was that it had managed to maneuver itself between him and the passage he had emerged from. Also, the fact that his shield hand was busy holding the light crystal put him at a disadvantage. He could call for help but he was not sure if they would hear it and he needed all his breath right now. Samson could feel his pulse quicken as the adrenaline pumped into his bloodstream by the liter. "Okay, big, dark and ugly," he hissed, "let's do it."
Samson raised his eyes until he could see the chest and arms of the eight foot tall behemoth. He had encountered morhulks before and he knew that to look at it in the eye would be a fatal mistake. There was a hypnotic power there and something about their eyes would cause confusion and disarray to the unwary.
"Come meat creature. Come to your end," it said. Samson ignored it. Morhulks were intelligent, but they were completely untrustworthy. All the thing wanted was to trick him into looking into his face. "Bow your head to me, man," it said. "You are not worthy to face me."
Samson watched the legs muscles of the thing contract as it leaped. At the last possible moment, Samson spun around and ducked out of the creature's reach. He spun again and swung Libra at the unprotected backside, but his momentum threw him off balance and he missed his mark.
Again, Samson and the monster circled slowly. Samson gave it plenty of room. He may be the quicker of the two, but the morhulk had at least a full five foot reach and that was hard to dodge. The morhulk lunged again. Again, Samson dodged, but this time he was not fast enough. He felt the monster's claw rake along his right side. His armor saved him from losing flesh, but there was no doubt as to the bruises that would appear later.
Samson was close to the passage he had come through, but it would take time to squeeze through to the other side, time he could not spare, so Samson resolved to fight it out.
"Come now, puny one. Do not drag this out. I will be quick and merciful if you surrender to me."
Samson brought his sword up to the guard position and slowly waved it back and forth. The whining blade rose in pitch. "Do you hear it, monster? The blade hungers for your blood. You are not the first of your kind it will have slain."
"What care I for others?" it asked charging again. Samson paused again as he had before, then at the last moment, he shifted his weight as if he was about to dodge the rush. As he expected, the morhulk moved to intercept him. But instead of dodging, Samson attacked head on driving Libra deep into the creature's chest.
The monster roared with agony. The blow was critical but not immediately fatal. The morhulk wrapped its arms around Samson in a bear hug and the huge ivory tusks closed on his chest. Samson felt ribs cracking and knew that his armor would only withstand those mandible-like tusks for a short time.
As his right hand was pinned between himself and the sword hilt, Samson dropped the light crystal and reached for his dagger. There was a flash of light as the light crystal shattered and everything went dark.
Samson drew the dagger. An added benefit--the darkness saved him from looking into the morhulk's face. With all his might, Samson drove the dagger through the morhulk's skull. Just as the mandibles pierced his armor, he felt the pressure ease off.
Both combatants fell to the floor. Samson tore himself loose and rolled a distance away. He lay in the dark catching his breath. He was relatively certain none of the undead wights or anything else that knew of the morhulk's existence would venture here. But he was also aware that back home, at least, it was rare to encounter a lone morhulk.
As soon as Samson calmed down, he felt around in the darkness for his sword. Pulling it free, he wiped the blade as best he could. "I need light," he told the blade. Instantly, the blade glittered and shone forth with a dim, but comforting light.
Ignoring the pain in his sides, Samson knelt and inspected his handiwork. Satisfied that the monster was not bluffing its own death, Samson retrieved the dagger. Looking about the room, Samson noted that it was circular and had a huge opening at one side. On closer inspection, he saw stalagmites through the opening.
Turning his attention back to the room, he saw that the shiny object among the bones which had caught his attention before was a large sapphire. He pocketed the object arguing to himself that its former owner no longer needed it and he had earned it. Also, he found an old but still strong sack holding at least a few thousand gold coins and a small wooden box lying on its side not too far away.
Samson reasoned that the money was far too heavy for him to try to carry around with untold injuries, but the small box wasn't. So, leaving the coins to fate, Samson stuffed the box into another sack that he had found among the bones. It was in poor shape, but would serve for the time being. With his treasures collected, Samson made his way painfully back the way he had come.
He squeezed through the tight passage with a great deal of difficulty. The injuries he had received were quite painful, though he did not think them dangerous. With gritted teeth, he worked his way back into the mine tunnel. Each step sent pangs of agony through his upper body. He weathered the pain. He would not let down his guard until his friends were present to watch his back for him.
He was also anxious to tell them of his masterful single-handed defeat of two, no, three morhulks. They would not believe him, he knew, but it was tradition among most of the group to stretch tales.
"You look terrible," Ultrecht said as Samson staggered back towards the small fire they had built. Keeneye looked up from the spit he was using to warm up some dried meat. When he saw Samson's condition, he kicked Norwind's foot and woke the latter up from a snoring sleep.
"It's a good thing I didn't yell for help," Samson wheezed out of breath. "That elf's snoring would have drowned out an earthquake."
"Elves don't snore," Norwind objected, but he knew the argument was futile. They had been complaining about his snoring for years.
Keeneye was on his feet helping Samson over to the fire. "What happened to you?" "There were five morhulks in a large room several hundred meters down the mine tunnel," Samson informed them with a wince.
"'Were'?" Ultrecht laughed. "And I suppose you killed them all."
"Ouch!" Samson exclaimed as Keeneye poked and prodded his ribs. "Of course, I killed them all. You don't think I would leave any alive. They might have followed me back to camp and hurt my friends."
"You took some nasty blows," Keeneye informed him.
"No kidding," Samson growled. "And if you don't be a little more careful, you are going to take some blows as well. Ouch!"
Keeneye grinned at the empty threat. How ironic that all the healers had gotten separated during the cave-in. "I'm not a healer, large one," he reminded Samson. "The best I can do is set the bones and mix up a pain killer."
"Well, make with the mixing," Samson cringed. "and soon. I am not in ecstasy."
"Here," Ultrecht said, "inhale the smoke from this weed." He reached into his stash and brought over a large pouch. From this, he produced a handful of dried leaflets. "Tyson discovered it. It seems to be a tranquilizer with some numbing side effects."
As Samson partook of the medicinal herb, Keeneye dressed a wound in his back. "You have six cracked ribs and a shallow gore wound in your back. Keep it clean and it should heal properly."
Feeling much better, Samson told his story of the ten morhulks. He mentioned the loss of the light crystal and thousand gold coins. He revealed the small box and the large gem. Keeneye expertly disarmed the simple trap on the box and opened it. Inside were five coins made of crystalline nature. Keeneye identified four of them as cut rubies and the last was a diamond.
"I wonder what kind of economy is so powerful that it can make coins from precious stones," Ultrecht said in awe.
"Whooee!" Keeneye said looking at the stone. "Now that is a pretty rock. It is probably worth fifty thousand itself."
"Well, I guess that means it is a keeper then," Samson said tossing the rock to Ultrecht.
Ultrecht caught it and eyed it critically. "I'll deposit these in the community fund under your name. We will look at them again when we get outside in the sun," he said as he fumbled with a small pouch at his waist. Opening it, he withdrew a small book. He made some entries into the book describing the coins and stone and its estimated value as well as its owner. He then placed the gem and the book in the small pouch.
Keeneye could not help but watch the gem go into Ultrecht's illusionary pouch. The community fund purse was actually quite large, but to prevent every thief from trying to pick his pockets, Ultrecht had put an illusion of smallness on the valuable item. Also, the magical wards Ultrecht had placed on the purse as well made it a formidable challenge to any footpad. He should know, Keeneye thought. He had tried to take it often enough out of fun.
"Speaking of outside," Samson said, "did you figure out how to get out?"
"Yep," Keeneye answered and pointed directly above them. Samson raised his eyes and followed the fire's smoke upward through a small hole in the ceiling. "An air shaft. That is where the wind was coming from. I climbed up to check. Unfortunately, the hole is too small for a human to crawl through."
Samson explained about the large room where he had fought the morhulks, all twelve of them, and how there had been an opening into some type of cavern.
"Now that would be a stroke of luck," Keeneye said. "I think we could follow a cavern out with very little effort."
"Then, after Samson has some sleep, we will go check it out. If we are wrong, we can always return here and think of something else to do."
Chapter 4 Part 23
Morteous and Tyson emerged from the cavern late at night. Fortunately, the larger moon was high in the sky and nearing a full phase so there was plenty of light.
"Allentown, eh?" Morteous thought for a moment. Tyson had informed him of the enemies' plan to travel to the University. "I wish I could do something about your friend in Tycho, but our influence there is very small. Our influence in Allentown is just as small. But the University is on neutral ground. I could speak face to face with your friends there." He faced Tyson. "Do any other of your friends share your views?"
Tyson shook his head. "I seriously doubt it."
"A pity," Morteous said lightly. "Traveling by the desert is an excellent strategy. It complicates things greatly, but I think we can adjust to their plan." He looked up into the moonlit sky. "I think I will even arrange their transportation myself. They have been good at dodging direct attacks. Let us see how good they are at deceptive ones."
Tyson glanced at Morteous with genuine horror. "You're toying with them?"
Morteous laughed. "My brother is not quite ready to act. Until he is I must amuse myself. No?"
Tyson grew stern. "My lord, do not underestimate them."
Morteous stared at Tyson for a long moment. Was Tyson commanding him? "Your concern touches me," Morteous said at last. "Which of your comrades do you advise me beware of most?"
"The halfelf called Armegon, my lord," Tyson answered. "He is a powerful archmage."
"And the others?"
"Ultrecht's spells are the most powerful, but they take time to cast. Avery could withstand your onslaught better than any other. He was a master healer with some magic ability of his own geared toward defense, but as of late he seemed to be getting weaker instead of stronger. The druid Marlena could be a problem as well, but she is heavy with child."
"Any others?"
"An archer with a deadly accurate bow, another monk and a fighter with an enchanted blade."
Morteous smiled at the mention of the fighter. Apparently, Tyson did not think enough of the sword to deem it a major threat. That was good.
Tyson, on the other hand, was enjoying the play thoroughly. He was expertly mixing truths and half-truths just enough to let Morteous infer the wrong conclusions. Also by warning him of Armegon, Tyson was playing to Morteous' ego. The warlock would now welcome a chance to face Armegon. Tyson hoped to be able to watch this fight from a front row seat.
"Allentown, eh?" Morteous thought for a moment. Tyson had informed him of the enemies' plan to travel to the University. "I wish I could do something about your friend in Tycho, but our influence there is very small. Our influence in Allentown is just as small. But the University is on neutral ground. I could speak face to face with your friends there." He faced Tyson. "Do any other of your friends share your views?"
Tyson shook his head. "I seriously doubt it."
"A pity," Morteous said lightly. "Traveling by the desert is an excellent strategy. It complicates things greatly, but I think we can adjust to their plan." He looked up into the moonlit sky. "I think I will even arrange their transportation myself. They have been good at dodging direct attacks. Let us see how good they are at deceptive ones."
Tyson glanced at Morteous with genuine horror. "You're toying with them?"
Morteous laughed. "My brother is not quite ready to act. Until he is I must amuse myself. No?"
Tyson grew stern. "My lord, do not underestimate them."
Morteous stared at Tyson for a long moment. Was Tyson commanding him? "Your concern touches me," Morteous said at last. "Which of your comrades do you advise me beware of most?"
"The halfelf called Armegon, my lord," Tyson answered. "He is a powerful archmage."
"And the others?"
"Ultrecht's spells are the most powerful, but they take time to cast. Avery could withstand your onslaught better than any other. He was a master healer with some magic ability of his own geared toward defense, but as of late he seemed to be getting weaker instead of stronger. The druid Marlena could be a problem as well, but she is heavy with child."
"Any others?"
"An archer with a deadly accurate bow, another monk and a fighter with an enchanted blade."
Morteous smiled at the mention of the fighter. Apparently, Tyson did not think enough of the sword to deem it a major threat. That was good.
Tyson, on the other hand, was enjoying the play thoroughly. He was expertly mixing truths and half-truths just enough to let Morteous infer the wrong conclusions. Also by warning him of Armegon, Tyson was playing to Morteous' ego. The warlock would now welcome a chance to face Armegon. Tyson hoped to be able to watch this fight from a front row seat.
Chapter 4 Part 22
"We're in trouble," Norwind said after Keeneye had informed them of the loss of their guiding breeze.
"Are you trying to tell me that we are lost?" Samson was not in a good mood.
"Now, I didn't say that exactly," Keeneye said defensively.
"Say what you mean then," Ultrecht urged.
"Well, we know where we are, but we no longer have a guide as to where we are going."
"What do you suggest then?" Ultrecht asked as he sat on a fallen timber.
"Our best chance is to keep going in the same direction unless we see signs that indicate no airflow."
"Such as?" Norwind inquired.
"Undisturbed dust, huge cobwebs that should not be able to withstand a good breeze and anything like that."
"And the others?" Samson was understandably worried. His wife was with the other group.
"Don't worry about them," Keeneye laughed. "I pity anyone who attacks Armegon, especially if the others are there to help him."
"They are probably safer than we are and I'm sure Avery can find his way out of these caverns," Ultrecht assured them.
"Well then, lets get going," Keeneye said at last. "I would like to be sitting at the exit of this cursed mine waiting on them when they get there."
"Are you trying to tell me that we are lost?" Samson was not in a good mood.
"Now, I didn't say that exactly," Keeneye said defensively.
"Say what you mean then," Ultrecht urged.
"Well, we know where we are, but we no longer have a guide as to where we are going."
"What do you suggest then?" Ultrecht asked as he sat on a fallen timber.
"Our best chance is to keep going in the same direction unless we see signs that indicate no airflow."
"Such as?" Norwind inquired.
"Undisturbed dust, huge cobwebs that should not be able to withstand a good breeze and anything like that."
"And the others?" Samson was understandably worried. His wife was with the other group.
"Don't worry about them," Keeneye laughed. "I pity anyone who attacks Armegon, especially if the others are there to help him."
"They are probably safer than we are and I'm sure Avery can find his way out of these caverns," Ultrecht assured them.
"Well then, lets get going," Keeneye said at last. "I would like to be sitting at the exit of this cursed mine waiting on them when they get there."
Chapter 4 Part 21
Though Avery and Armegon worked furiously they made very slow progress against the loose earth. As soon as they removed two handsfull of dirt, one more would fall from the ceiling to replace them.
"Why don't you just phase through the wall and get Tyson and Seymore that way." Marlena had not been able to help physically due to the fact that the passage they were in did not offer enough room for three to stand abreast and move about at the same time. So she had tried to think of alternatives to the digging.
"Tyson is quite capable of doing that himself," Armegon said between scoops of dirt. "The fact that he didn't means that he got trapped underneath or was ambushed. If he was ambushed and subdued in the few seconds it would have taken to phase through the rock on his own, the chances are that we would not be able to help him anyhow."
"Any enemy responsible for this cave-in would assume we kept running," Avery added. "If we cast a spell now, we three would have to face whatever the enemy threw at us with our backs against this wall. Not good."
"Then we hope he is trapped under this pile of dirt," Marlena concluded. "Seymore will not be harmed in his spelled state and monks have the ability to place themselves in hibernation for extended periods of time."
"Correct," Armegon confirmed.
"It's not fair that the mages of this world can sense the use of magic while we can't," Marlena complained.
"You can say that again," Armegon remarked.
"It's not fair that the mages of this world can sense the use of magic while we can't," Marlena reiterated.
"You asked for that," Avery said as Armegon growled playfully.
A few moments later, a glowing boot appeared. "Well, we have Seymore at least," Marlena said at last. But even after completely breaking through to the other side a few hours later, there was no Tyson.
"Okay, so he was captured or he phased through the wall and followed the others," Avery said.
"Tyson wouldn't leave Seymore," Marlena protested.
"I agree with Marlena," Armegon said. "He must have been captured."
"Well, what do you want to do about it?" Avery said after a moment.
"There is nothing we can do now." Armegon looked at the other two. "We have to get Seymore home. We are his only chance."
"What of Tyson?" Avery asked. "His life could be in danger as well."
"It could be," Armegon agreed, "but we can't be sure."
"But we can be sure that Seymore's life is in danger," Marlena reminded them. "That we do know."
"We could split up. Some could follow Tyson and some continue on," Avery suggested.
"There are only three of us here," Marlena pointed out. "It would be folly to travel in this world alone. That’s how Tyson got in the predicament he’s in now. No one was there to cover his back."
"Okay, then, for Seymore's sake, we stay together and continue onward." Armegon glanced back toward the mine entrance. "I hope Tyson will forgive us."
"Which way do we go?" Armegon asked. "We could phase through and try to catch the others."
"Since we would be moving and would have friends in the same passage, we might chance the magic," Marlena theorized.
"No, we take the other direction," Avery insisted.
"Why?" Armegon asked.
"We have been following the breeze flowing through the mine," Avery explained. "With the tunnel closed, there would be no breeze to guide us." He lit a torch and held it out in the tunnel they had dug through. The torch wavered emphatically. "Since the air flow through this passage has increased following the closing of the other tunnel, I strongly suspect that they share the same exit."
"Brilliant deduction, old boy," Marlena clapped her hands. "But won't the others get lost?"
"Probably," Avery agreed, "but when we reach the exit of the mine, if they have not passed by, we can backtrack their tunnel and find them."
"Well, lets get going." Armegon stood and pushed Seymore's body through the air in the chosen direction. Avery and Marlena followed.
"Old boy?" Avery asked Marlena as they walked. "You should talk."
Armegon was in the lead so he didn't see the act, but he heard the distinct sound of an open hand landing sharply against the back of a half-elven head. He smiled.
"Why don't you just phase through the wall and get Tyson and Seymore that way." Marlena had not been able to help physically due to the fact that the passage they were in did not offer enough room for three to stand abreast and move about at the same time. So she had tried to think of alternatives to the digging.
"Tyson is quite capable of doing that himself," Armegon said between scoops of dirt. "The fact that he didn't means that he got trapped underneath or was ambushed. If he was ambushed and subdued in the few seconds it would have taken to phase through the rock on his own, the chances are that we would not be able to help him anyhow."
"Any enemy responsible for this cave-in would assume we kept running," Avery added. "If we cast a spell now, we three would have to face whatever the enemy threw at us with our backs against this wall. Not good."
"Then we hope he is trapped under this pile of dirt," Marlena concluded. "Seymore will not be harmed in his spelled state and monks have the ability to place themselves in hibernation for extended periods of time."
"Correct," Armegon confirmed.
"It's not fair that the mages of this world can sense the use of magic while we can't," Marlena complained.
"You can say that again," Armegon remarked.
"It's not fair that the mages of this world can sense the use of magic while we can't," Marlena reiterated.
"You asked for that," Avery said as Armegon growled playfully.
A few moments later, a glowing boot appeared. "Well, we have Seymore at least," Marlena said at last. But even after completely breaking through to the other side a few hours later, there was no Tyson.
"Okay, so he was captured or he phased through the wall and followed the others," Avery said.
"Tyson wouldn't leave Seymore," Marlena protested.
"I agree with Marlena," Armegon said. "He must have been captured."
"Well, what do you want to do about it?" Avery said after a moment.
"There is nothing we can do now." Armegon looked at the other two. "We have to get Seymore home. We are his only chance."
"What of Tyson?" Avery asked. "His life could be in danger as well."
"It could be," Armegon agreed, "but we can't be sure."
"But we can be sure that Seymore's life is in danger," Marlena reminded them. "That we do know."
"We could split up. Some could follow Tyson and some continue on," Avery suggested.
"There are only three of us here," Marlena pointed out. "It would be folly to travel in this world alone. That’s how Tyson got in the predicament he’s in now. No one was there to cover his back."
"Okay, then, for Seymore's sake, we stay together and continue onward." Armegon glanced back toward the mine entrance. "I hope Tyson will forgive us."
"Which way do we go?" Armegon asked. "We could phase through and try to catch the others."
"Since we would be moving and would have friends in the same passage, we might chance the magic," Marlena theorized.
"No, we take the other direction," Avery insisted.
"Why?" Armegon asked.
"We have been following the breeze flowing through the mine," Avery explained. "With the tunnel closed, there would be no breeze to guide us." He lit a torch and held it out in the tunnel they had dug through. The torch wavered emphatically. "Since the air flow through this passage has increased following the closing of the other tunnel, I strongly suspect that they share the same exit."
"Brilliant deduction, old boy," Marlena clapped her hands. "But won't the others get lost?"
"Probably," Avery agreed, "but when we reach the exit of the mine, if they have not passed by, we can backtrack their tunnel and find them."
"Well, lets get going." Armegon stood and pushed Seymore's body through the air in the chosen direction. Avery and Marlena followed.
"Old boy?" Avery asked Marlena as they walked. "You should talk."
Armegon was in the lead so he didn't see the act, but he heard the distinct sound of an open hand landing sharply against the back of a half-elven head. He smiled.
Chapter 4 Part 20
Serpent Blackheart stepped into the dueling ring and stretched his legs with a standing high jump. He drew his sword and the midnight colored blade seemed to suck the light in from around it. The room's light dimmed though the torches burned just as hotly.
Across the way from the huge tyrant an elven slave was thrust into the dueling ring. He was armed with a long sword and a set of well worn and oversized chain mail. Fear was in his eyes. He had had a family and friends. He had had a name and freedom. He had had a future. Not any more.
Even though he knew his chances of successfully defending himself against the warrior and magical sword confronting him was nonexistent, he still made and effort to block the blow when it came. It was a last act of defiance, but his limbs were too paralyzed with terror to obey his commands.
Like watching a dream he just stood there and observed detached as the dark blade jumped forward dragging the warrior along behind it. There was madness in the man's eyes. The victim felt his body jerk and a coldness spread throughout his being. For a brief moment he saw his own body through the eyes of his enemy, then all was black.
Blackheart pulled the sword free of the elf's body. That was the problem with Reaper. All but a very, very few of its victims were mesmerized by its presence. This elf's mind had shut down the moment he had seen the blade. The last opponent he had fought that had actually resisted the blade's power had been a gold dragon.
Serpent Blackheart remembered well the dying scream of agony as the blade had driven the ancient gold insane on the first blow and had consumed its soul on the second. Blackheart still wore the scar the dragon had left when it ripped his leg open with a dying claw. He treasured it as a battle trophy and refused to let his physician heal it. Just like the scar in his side where a unicorn had gored him just seconds before he had relieved the beast of its head. All these were fond memories.
"Getting your morning exercise in, father?" Serpent Blackheart turned and found his son approaching.
"Miguel, my son. It is good to have you home."
"It is good to be home, father." Miguel kicked at the bleeding corpse. "What will you do with this one?" he asked.
"He was no fun at all," the master of Aspberg replied with an air of disappointment. "I think he will serve me better as a skeleton or a zombie, but nothing greater."
"A fantastic weapon," Miguel said admiring Reaper. "Anything it kills will become an undead creature under your command."
"It has pleased me to no end," Serpent said sheathing the object of discussion. "How was your mission?"
"We have the support of both Freon and the Ice Kingdom," Miguel reported. "We may have some trouble if Freon troops start summoning demons around our allies from Hell," he added, "but I think we can prevent that from occurring if we deploy our forces carefully among those of our allies."
"Well done, my son. We are almost prepared." The Firstborn of the Godking smiled for the first time in months.
He motioned for his son to draw nearer. "Watch this," he said reaching out his hand over a wooden pillar supporting the ropes around the dueling ring. For a few seconds, there was nothing. Then suddenly from a dead post sprang a bud. Rapidly before his eyes, Miguel watched the bud grow and sprout leaves.
"Fantastic, father. A druid?" he asked excitedly.
"A druid and a warrior," the father confirmed. "Morteous confirmed it himself." He smiled again. "Dead by the hand of Tyson with the help of a wight."
"How much control of the druidic magic have you gained?"
"Very little at the moment," Serpent admitted. "My experts are arranging for me to gain some of the necessary spells to hide my true self from the nature of the forests in time for the next full moon. If I can perform the bonding ceremony, I will become a druid of medium power."
"I didn't think it was possible to fool nature," Miguel said with interest. "How do you plan to pull this one off?"
"Normally you would be right. It is impossible for a non-druid to fool nature into yielding her powers to me. But I will be going as a druid already. If I can disguise my true being long enough to take the bond, I will irrevocably gain druidic power."
"How do you know what the bonding ceremony is? That is one of the greatest secrets in the multi-universe. No non-druid knows it."
Serpent looked at his son and smiled. Then he laughed.
Across the way from the huge tyrant an elven slave was thrust into the dueling ring. He was armed with a long sword and a set of well worn and oversized chain mail. Fear was in his eyes. He had had a family and friends. He had had a name and freedom. He had had a future. Not any more.
Even though he knew his chances of successfully defending himself against the warrior and magical sword confronting him was nonexistent, he still made and effort to block the blow when it came. It was a last act of defiance, but his limbs were too paralyzed with terror to obey his commands.
Like watching a dream he just stood there and observed detached as the dark blade jumped forward dragging the warrior along behind it. There was madness in the man's eyes. The victim felt his body jerk and a coldness spread throughout his being. For a brief moment he saw his own body through the eyes of his enemy, then all was black.
Blackheart pulled the sword free of the elf's body. That was the problem with Reaper. All but a very, very few of its victims were mesmerized by its presence. This elf's mind had shut down the moment he had seen the blade. The last opponent he had fought that had actually resisted the blade's power had been a gold dragon.
Serpent Blackheart remembered well the dying scream of agony as the blade had driven the ancient gold insane on the first blow and had consumed its soul on the second. Blackheart still wore the scar the dragon had left when it ripped his leg open with a dying claw. He treasured it as a battle trophy and refused to let his physician heal it. Just like the scar in his side where a unicorn had gored him just seconds before he had relieved the beast of its head. All these were fond memories.
"Getting your morning exercise in, father?" Serpent Blackheart turned and found his son approaching.
"Miguel, my son. It is good to have you home."
"It is good to be home, father." Miguel kicked at the bleeding corpse. "What will you do with this one?" he asked.
"He was no fun at all," the master of Aspberg replied with an air of disappointment. "I think he will serve me better as a skeleton or a zombie, but nothing greater."
"A fantastic weapon," Miguel said admiring Reaper. "Anything it kills will become an undead creature under your command."
"It has pleased me to no end," Serpent said sheathing the object of discussion. "How was your mission?"
"We have the support of both Freon and the Ice Kingdom," Miguel reported. "We may have some trouble if Freon troops start summoning demons around our allies from Hell," he added, "but I think we can prevent that from occurring if we deploy our forces carefully among those of our allies."
"Well done, my son. We are almost prepared." The Firstborn of the Godking smiled for the first time in months.
He motioned for his son to draw nearer. "Watch this," he said reaching out his hand over a wooden pillar supporting the ropes around the dueling ring. For a few seconds, there was nothing. Then suddenly from a dead post sprang a bud. Rapidly before his eyes, Miguel watched the bud grow and sprout leaves.
"Fantastic, father. A druid?" he asked excitedly.
"A druid and a warrior," the father confirmed. "Morteous confirmed it himself." He smiled again. "Dead by the hand of Tyson with the help of a wight."
"How much control of the druidic magic have you gained?"
"Very little at the moment," Serpent admitted. "My experts are arranging for me to gain some of the necessary spells to hide my true self from the nature of the forests in time for the next full moon. If I can perform the bonding ceremony, I will become a druid of medium power."
"I didn't think it was possible to fool nature," Miguel said with interest. "How do you plan to pull this one off?"
"Normally you would be right. It is impossible for a non-druid to fool nature into yielding her powers to me. But I will be going as a druid already. If I can disguise my true being long enough to take the bond, I will irrevocably gain druidic power."
"How do you know what the bonding ceremony is? That is one of the greatest secrets in the multi-universe. No non-druid knows it."
Serpent looked at his son and smiled. Then he laughed.
Chapter 4 Part 19
Tyson pulled out his own light crystal. He knew that there had been no way he could make it into the tunnel before it collapsed. That damned Avery had blocked his way when he had stopped to get the packs. All Tyson had time to do was shove Seymore's body into the falling rocks.
Ultrecht's spell would protect Seymore from harm and would last forever if need be. Tyson himself would return and free Seymore once his place in this world was secured. He would free his friend and cure him fully of his injuries and then he would have an ally here.
"Well met, Tyson," Morteous said.
Tyson turned around surprised. "Well met," he replied.
"I am pleased by your performance so far," Morteous clasped his hands behind his back. Three soldiers joined him. "The light is unnecessary," he said. "The wights are under my control."
"I suspected as much, but if you don't mind, I would like to see where I am walking."
"Suit yourself," the warlock said. "I was impressed by the way you handled yourself. You deceived your comrades into thinking the wights had killed the fighter that you buried under the falling rocks." Tyson smiled. He had not been sure if he had been caught trying to hide Seymore's body.
His mind raced. "An excellent situation," he said quickly. "He is dead so his power is added to Lord Blackheart's. Yet, he is caught between death and undeath. Therefore, he is still revivable. When all this is over, he will make an excellent servant as well."
"We have fighters enough," Morteous said. "Why would we need another, regardless of his experience?"
"Ah, but m'lord, he is also a druid of no minor abilities," Tyson beamed as he bowed. "Such combinations are rare where I come from and I suspect they are not in abundance here either."
"That is of course a different matter," Morteous said. "But why did you bury the body?"
"Why not," Tyson explained. "What better hiding place for a suspended body than that of a collapsed mine roof. Who would look for it there save his friends and they know that he is with me. They think I will follow them and meet with them at their destination, so they will go ahead. By the time they find out different, it will be too late."
"You don't think they may try to rescue you?" Morteous inquired suspiciously. Tyson's story sounded too well thought out.
"They won't think of looking underneath the rubble at first. They know how quick I am and they know I would probably not be trapped. If they were going to return, they would magically pass through the wall." He looked around cautiously and his voice lowered to a whisper. "If they did return, I would suggest that we not be here. One on one, I am sure of my lord's ability to defeat them. But if they do make it through, it would be three of them to the two of us. The outcome may not be as favorable as we would wish."
Morteous frowned. Either Tyson was trying to insult him or the enemy was far more powerful than he had given credit. Morteous decided to heed Tyson's warning for safety's sake. "Let us leave then," he said finally.
Tyson breathed deeply then he followed the warlock as the latter headed back the way he had come. Inside, he was relieved. He had to get Morteous out of the tunnel before Armegon and Avery dug back through. He knew that they would. That was in their nature.
He just did not want them to burst through and see him collaborating with the enemy. If a fight had been started, his carefully laid plans would be ruined for whichever side he fought against.
The outcome of the battle was really in question. Tyson knew that Armegon would normally annihilate the egotistical creampuff of a warlock in a matter of seconds, but with Armegon in a weakened state, he could not be so sure. He hoped that he would be able to see the battle when it came, but knew it would not be wise for any live being to be between Armegon and Morteous when they went at it.
Tyson glanced back into the darkness where he and his associates had been. He wondered if he would see any of them again. He hoped they made it home, even if he didn't.
Ultrecht's spell would protect Seymore from harm and would last forever if need be. Tyson himself would return and free Seymore once his place in this world was secured. He would free his friend and cure him fully of his injuries and then he would have an ally here.
"Well met, Tyson," Morteous said.
Tyson turned around surprised. "Well met," he replied.
"I am pleased by your performance so far," Morteous clasped his hands behind his back. Three soldiers joined him. "The light is unnecessary," he said. "The wights are under my control."
"I suspected as much, but if you don't mind, I would like to see where I am walking."
"Suit yourself," the warlock said. "I was impressed by the way you handled yourself. You deceived your comrades into thinking the wights had killed the fighter that you buried under the falling rocks." Tyson smiled. He had not been sure if he had been caught trying to hide Seymore's body.
His mind raced. "An excellent situation," he said quickly. "He is dead so his power is added to Lord Blackheart's. Yet, he is caught between death and undeath. Therefore, he is still revivable. When all this is over, he will make an excellent servant as well."
"We have fighters enough," Morteous said. "Why would we need another, regardless of his experience?"
"Ah, but m'lord, he is also a druid of no minor abilities," Tyson beamed as he bowed. "Such combinations are rare where I come from and I suspect they are not in abundance here either."
"That is of course a different matter," Morteous said. "But why did you bury the body?"
"Why not," Tyson explained. "What better hiding place for a suspended body than that of a collapsed mine roof. Who would look for it there save his friends and they know that he is with me. They think I will follow them and meet with them at their destination, so they will go ahead. By the time they find out different, it will be too late."
"You don't think they may try to rescue you?" Morteous inquired suspiciously. Tyson's story sounded too well thought out.
"They won't think of looking underneath the rubble at first. They know how quick I am and they know I would probably not be trapped. If they were going to return, they would magically pass through the wall." He looked around cautiously and his voice lowered to a whisper. "If they did return, I would suggest that we not be here. One on one, I am sure of my lord's ability to defeat them. But if they do make it through, it would be three of them to the two of us. The outcome may not be as favorable as we would wish."
Morteous frowned. Either Tyson was trying to insult him or the enemy was far more powerful than he had given credit. Morteous decided to heed Tyson's warning for safety's sake. "Let us leave then," he said finally.
Tyson breathed deeply then he followed the warlock as the latter headed back the way he had come. Inside, he was relieved. He had to get Morteous out of the tunnel before Armegon and Avery dug back through. He knew that they would. That was in their nature.
He just did not want them to burst through and see him collaborating with the enemy. If a fight had been started, his carefully laid plans would be ruined for whichever side he fought against.
The outcome of the battle was really in question. Tyson knew that Armegon would normally annihilate the egotistical creampuff of a warlock in a matter of seconds, but with Armegon in a weakened state, he could not be so sure. He hoped that he would be able to see the battle when it came, but knew it would not be wise for any live being to be between Armegon and Morteous when they went at it.
Tyson glanced back into the darkness where he and his associates had been. He wondered if he would see any of them again. He hoped they made it home, even if he didn't.
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