The fight had taken a lot out of me. I felt drained. My throat hurt.
I use magic to host séances, but it’s simple, scripted, prepared. Moments ago, I’d had to come up with magic to stop someone from killing me. Next, the spirits surrounding me just beyond the veil had pressed in. The spirit of the deceased bugbear Klarg was demanding answers to his plight. Tiring. I was seeing spots of light, an early indicator of a migraine.
Ash’tar did not appear to be doing much better. He moved gingerly and stood stooped over, as though his side or ribs hurt.
“Did we get them all?” he wheezed.
I was too tired for a bit of banter. Pointing out that he hadn’t really contributed anything to the fight felt like a waste of breath.
“Guys. I need a rest!” I called out.
Valandra seemed offended by that. Not sure why. My head hurt, and Klarg was arguing with Elise, a former household servant, over whether the mess in Klarg’s throne room was a mess or not.
The cavern floor was carpeted with bags, sacks, lids, papers, shards, and stuff that didn’t invite closer inspection. There were boxes and crates, which at some point must have held supplies. Quite a few bore a blue emblem of a lion. I felt like I should recognize it, but my tired brain couldn’t connect it to anything.
Nox was spending time inspecting something near a formation of rocks that looked like a seat. Trophies and skulls were nailed to the wall surrounding it. It looked like a madman’s idea of a throne, made to intimidate those who stood before it.
Nox held up two bags of coins and two stoppered vials containing a murky liquid. Ash’tar took one, opened it, and sniffed the contents.
“Hornroot!” he mumbled.
Valandra pressed in as he sniffed some more.
“I’m certain there is a hint of blood ivy… And is that blueglow moss?” he asked no one in particular.
He put a drop on his forefinger, sniffed it once more, then rubbed it between his finger and thumb.
“Hmm.”
He put his finger in his mouth.
Valandra tried to grab his wrist to stop him, but Ash’tar easily stepped aside.
“It’s a potion to restore health,” he proclaimed.
“Both vials seem to be. Here! You should have one, and you.” He casually tossed one to me and the other to Valandra.
Valandra caught it one-handed, but I fumbled mine and almost dropped the vial.
“I really need a rest,” I offered once more.
“Ash’tar looks like he needs to recover as well.”
Accusatory eyes that called me a squealer flashed daggers at me.
“The goblins may come back as we rest,” Ash’tar said, sounding winded.
He tried to hide his stoop, but his side clearly still hurt. Valandra and Nox seemed to consider it. Had it only been the wimp from the city asking, I’m sure they would have continued.
But luckily, they saw the wisdom in my request.
Next to a fire pit was the best spot for a rest. Valandra cleared the area and used crates and boxes to erect defensible positions.
Nox offered to take watch first. Ash’tar claimed the second shift.
The rogue sat down out of sight of the entrance and started counting out the coins he’d found. Valandra, Ash’tar, and I each picked a spot to our liking and lay down.
I fell asleep to the sound of coins clinking and the snores of Valandra.
Wow. That woman can snore.
I was glad for the darkness to consume me.
=================================
My dreams must have been strange or scary. I awoke curled up in a ball. My left arm had gone numb, squashed between my body and the hard stone floor. I had to shake it to get the sensation back into my hand.
Valandra was already awake, eating some hard biscuits. Ash’tar squatted down by the entrance, peering out into the darkness. Nox had positioned himself in the shadows, sitting in a pose that counted as sleep for the elves.
A pile of coins stood stacked next to where I had been sleeping. Must be my take, so I split the pile between two pouches.
The fog and tiredness that had taken me after yesterday’s fight were gone. My stomach demanded sustenance with a loud growl. A hard biscuit and an apple were all I had for now, but honestly, they tasted like a meal fit for a king on this day.
Valandra walked over to Nox, and I noticed his eyes tracking her movements, one hand resting on the blade at his hip. I wasn’t sure what was the bigger danger in this cave: the unseen goblins or this killer in our midst.
“Drow, are you set to lead us on?” Valandra asked.
She did not acknowledge the silent threat of the hand on the dagger, but her voice had a bit of steel to it.
All she got was a nod of his head, and Nox simply got up and walked off towards the bridge we’d passed the day before.
Ash’tar got up and jogged after the rogue. They seemed to get along effortlessly. Silently, as well. Maybe that was the trick with these elves: just don’t talk.
Fun.
Valandra walked behind them, leaving some space. Her creaking and squeaking armour was counterproductive to us sneaking up on unsuspecting enemies.
As usual, I brought up the rear. It seemed as if they didn’t trust me to walk near them.
Well, I’d show them. I could be silent as well. They’d see.
We’d dragged last night’s corpses out of sight and dropped them into a dead-end opening that had looked like a tunnel. A quick inspection showed they hadn’t been moved. Maybe we were lucky, and goblins stayed away from Klarg’s domain if they could. We still might be able to surprise them.
I didn’t think we’d be that lucky.
The elves took their time inspecting the bridge before crossing it. It seemed unlikely to me that they were afraid it would collapse under their weight, but I decided to stay silent and be a good soldier.
Ash’tar and Nox each took a big step over something and moved onto the bridge. They waved Valandra over and guided her past the invisible obstacle.
I was next and approached carefully, but saw nothing. Ash’tar pointed towards a spot, apparently willing me to avoid it.
As I was about to set my feet, Klarg’s voice exploded into my ears.
“Bridge not trap. Bridge distraction. Trap before bridge. Smart! Goblins not smart enough. Klarg smart enough.”
Startled, I raised my arm to ward off the voice that had crept up behind me. To keep my balance, I stepped forward, and the world twisted upside down.
My stomach sank into my throat, and I almost lost my breakfast. As I flew through the air, blood rushed to my head.
I dangled upside down.
Sharp pain bit into my left ankle.
Looking up. No. Down. Or was it up?
A noose had snagged my foot.
“Ha! Klarg more smart than Roux!” a dancing spectre pronounced triumphantly.
Ten or fifteen feet below me, my three companions were looking up, exasperated.
“How was my pointing out the trap to you not clear?” Ash’tar demanded.
Nox said nothing, but walked over to where the rope holding my ankle was affixed. A sinister smirk played across his features.
“Please get me down,” I pleaded in a voice that was a little too high-pitched.
“Yes,” was all Nox said, and with a quick slash, he severed the rope holding me up.
The cavern floor rushed up at my face.
Someone screamed like a girl. It may have been me.
A hand grabbed the back of my cloak and pulled me away from the onrushing floor. Another arm caught the back of my legs, and with a shock, the falling stopped.
Disoriented, I looked into Valandra’s regal face. Her strong arms had me in a bridal carry.
“You saved me,” I managed feebly.
“You need to start carrying your own weight.”
And with that, she dropped me on my tailbone.
Pain lanced through my body, and my breath caught. Tears stung my eyes, blurring my vision. I rolled onto my belly, holding my bruised tailbone. Getting up took a moment.
I’m not sure what hurt more: my pride or my arse.
The incorporeal sound of Klarg’s laugh did nothing to quell my shame.
The party crossed the bridge, not waiting for me. I had to limp after them or be left behind.
Bridge was a grandiose title for what this construction really was: a madman’s collection of moldy rope and rotten wood. For the first time in my life, I felt a fear of heights. The constant dripping of water seemed like a promise of me falling down into the black stream below.
I looked down.
Then immediately looked up again.
“Don’t,” whispered one of the spirits.
Glancing sideways, I saw Maribel hovering beside me, pale and translucent, her hands clasped beneath her chin.
“Don’t what?”
“Look down, my love.”
“Excellent advice.”
I stepped onto the bridge. The rope creaked. I stopped. The bridge continued to creak.
“It’s fine,” Valandra whispered from ahead.
“That is precisely what people say immediately before something stops being fine.”
Valandra glanced back at me. Even in the dimness, the paladin somehow managed to look composed and radiate righteousness. Helm would probably approve.
Ash’tar was already halfway across. The elf moved with the casual confidence of someone who apparently believed gravity was a problem other people had to worry about.
Nox followed, bow in hand, eyes constantly moving. It was difficult to tell whether Nox ever actually relaxed. That elf had been born suspicious and had simply become more professional about it with age.
I took another step. The bridge groaned some more.
Something cold brushed my shoulder. I flinched and looked back. There was no one there.
“Not helpful,” I muttered.
The spirits had been restless ever since Klarg had joined them.
In this place, I could feel them pressing against the veil, whispering. The veil was thin here. Too thin.
I didn’t like it. It felt like standing in a crowd of people, shoulder to shoulder. Someone pressing against your back as well. And try to ignore them as you might, you’re still aware of them touching you.
I crossed. One careful step after another. Until my foot found solid stone.
Exhaling, I realized I hadn’t noticed that I had been holding my breath all the way across.
“See?” Valandra whispered.
“Yes. We survived the terrifying bridge. I shall write a song about our courage.”
“Please don’t.”
“That hurts, my lady.”
The passage beyond the bridge narrowed quickly. Stone closed around us on either side, damp and cold. In my imagination, we were being swallowed by a titanic earth elemental.
Ash’tar raised a hand.
Everyone stopped.
The elf crouched. Nox crouched beside him. Those two had formed a partnership of exploration that I was envious of. I still felt like an outsider in this group.
I remained standing for approximately two seconds before deciding that crouching looked safer.
The forward elves listened. Straining to hear something as I might, there was nothing.
Apparently satisfied, Ash’tar moved forward. Nox followed. Shadow twins.
The spirits whispered. Not words. Not quite. Just the sensation of voices behind a closed door.
I hated it when they did that.
It usually meant something unpleasant was nearby. A dark fate not quite realized.
Darkness consumed Ash’tar and Nox. Valandra looked back at me. I shrugged. She sighed and moved forward. I followed.
The tunnel twisted. The elves had stopped a bit further ahead. The air had changed.
There was a smell now: Smoke. Something rotten. Moldy, with a hint of urine.
Goblins.
These creatures possessed a talent for smelling as though they’d spent the previous week bathing in something that had died.
Breathing through my mouth helped. A little.
Ash’tar suddenly held up a fist, peering hard towards the darkness ahead. Nox moved to crouch behind him but kicked a loose rock that bounded down the tunnel with far too much noise.
My spirits gathered closer.
Elise whispered, “Someone is coming.”
I didn’t answer. I froze. Sounds reached me a moment later.
Footsteps. Small ones. Quick. Moving towards us.
From his crouch, Nox moved with a predatory glide, fluid and unbroken. In one seamless motion, he notched, drew, and loosed an arrow into the dark tunnel.
A goblin stumbled into view. An arrow through its eye. It made a wet, surprised sound. Then collapsed with a thud.
Silence returned.
I couldn’t help but stare at the body. Then at Nox.
The elf calmly lowered his bow, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.
“Well,” I whispered. “I’m glad he is on our side.”
Nox glanced at me, then at the arrow sticking from the goblin’s face.
A smile played across his features.
That was the most disconcerting thing I had ever seen. Like a promise of a future yet to come.
I gulped, and the cold fingers of fear momentarily brushed my heart.
Ahead, something moved. Not one thing. Several.
Beyond the tunnel lay another cavern. A faint orange glow flickered across the stone.
Firelight.
The cavern opened before us like a rotten mouth with bad breath.
Voices drifted towards us. Goblin voices. Scratchy, guttural, high-pitched.
More than one.
Ash’tar leaned forward. Nox nocked another arrow. Valandra tightened her grip on her weapon.
I swallowed. The spirits were whispering now. My words came of their own accord.
“Valandra. The spirits and Helm watch our actions. Now show these goblins the fury of the vigilant.”
Power went out with those words. Static buzzed through my teeth. The paladin’s eyebrows betrayed a moment of surprise before setting with determination.
We descended upon the goblins like retribution incarnate.
Six figures moved: four regular goblins and two significantly larger ones. Firelight flickered against the far wall. Smoke crawled along the ceiling, coming from a fire pit. A quick glance showed this cavern to be a split-level hall.
The larger goblins stood among the others like particularly ugly dogs that had somehow learned to carry weapons. One wore enough scraps of armour to suggest he considered himself important. The other held a bow.
This is going to be unpleasant.
Valandra charged. Her hammer came down with a crack that echoed around the cavern. One goblin disappeared beneath the blow and went staggering backwards, skidding across the stone.
Ash’tar followed, flying in, fists and feet flashing, scattering goblins.
Nox raised his bow. The string snapped. The arrow buried itself in the larger goblin. The creature grunted and staggered, but did not go down.
A familiar pressure was gathering around me. The spirits were watching. Sometimes they were useful.
The veil felt like cool silk brushing my mind. I reached into it.
I knew exactly who I wanted.
“Walt.”
The temperature dropped. Walt Reinhard emerged. The Butcher of Neverdeath looked around the cavern with a vacant expression. His face twitched. His eyes darted from goblin to goblin. Then he smiled.
I pointed at Ash’tar.
“Him.”
Walt’s head snapped towards the fighter.
“Go.”
The spirit lunged. Ash’tar tried to speak, but as his mouth opened, Walt went in. The fighter’s entire body jerked as the spirit forced itself down his throat and into him. For one terrible instant, I saw Walt’s face beneath Ash’tar’s skin.
Then it was gone.
Ash’tar straightened. His eyes hardened. His fists tightened. I could feel the magic settle.
Walt was riding him now, lending the fighter the strength of the dead and leaving fear with nowhere to take hold.
A smile touched my face.
“There, much better.”
Then the goblins came screaming.
One rushed Nox and missed him by inches. Another swung wildly at Ash’tar, who twisted aside with the expression of a man who’d been there, seen it all, and was slightly bored with it.
Valandra wasn’t so lucky.
A blade caught her. Then another. She grunted but remained upright.
But I barely had time to notice. The larger goblin was looking at me. Easy prey.
Our eyes met. The goblin charged.
“Oh, come now—”
He hit me. A dull blow to my abdomen. I felt the impact but didn’t understand what had happened.
Pain arrived all at once.
For a moment, there was no cavern. No goblins. No companions.
Only white light and the unpleasant realisation that something inside had moved. No, not moved: snapped — like a rope.
The spirits screamed. Not aloud. They screamed behind my eyes.
Something was wrong.
Walt was gone. That was the connection I had felt snap.
The cavern returned.
The goblin boss loomed over me, raising its weapon.
I rolled away.
The blow smashed into the stone where my head had been moments before.
I scrambled backwards, one hand pressed against my hurting stomach.
Around me, the battle had become chaos. Ash’tar was trading blows with one of the goblins. Valandra was surrounded. Nox had moved to a better position and was firing almost without pause.
No one saw my plight.
The goblin boss did.
That was the problem. I tried to move.
Too slow.
I stumbled sideways as the weapon swept towards me. I felt the edge connect and was sent sprawling.
The cavern spun.
Stone.
Fire.
Faces.
The spirits gathered around. They seemed too real. Maribel was there. Brother Searlus. Elise. Asta. Walt. Klarg crowded close. Their pale forms overlapped the living world.
Not yet, was my last thought, as the world narrowed to a thin tunnel.
The cavern disappeared.
For one strange instant, there was only silence.
Darkness took me.
Valandra’s voice came. She was shouting something. I couldn’t make it out.
Why was she interrupting my moment of peace?
Annoyed, I opened my eyes.
The red light from the fires seemed too bright.
I was on a stone floor.
Had I been in a fight?
Goblins!
Memory returned. The goblin that had attacked me lay crumpled on the floor. Not five feet from where I sat, blood was seeping out of its carcass.
Ash’tar and Nox had surrounded a goblin that had realized the odds were no longer in its favour. At the far side of the cavern, the goblin had Sildar. Steel pressed against the human’s throat.
The goblin bared its teeth.
“Back!”
Nobody moved.
The world was still somewhat unreliable around the edges. I must have died only moments ago.
Technically, the current situation was someone else’s problem.
But I owed Gundren.
I pushed myself upright.
The goblin pressed the blade harder against Sildar’s neck.
“Drop weapons!”
Nox lowered his bow by perhaps half an inch.
Subtle.
Ash’tar stood bloodied among the bodies of the fallen goblins. He was a weapon.
Valandra was breathing heavily, her armour battered, hammer dripping with the evidence of several very dead goblins.
And Sildar had a knife at his throat.
The situation wasn’t great.
Just at the edge of my vision, a particular spirit hovered close.
Klarg.
The bugbear’s ghost looked as unpleasant in death as he had in life. Blood still seemed to cling to him.
I couldn’t help but smile.
“Klarg.”
“What?”
I just pointed towards the goblin.
“I need you to say something.”
Reaching once again into the veil, the words came easily. The spell carried Klarg’s voice with it.
A dead bugbear’s voice filled the cavern.
“More meat.”
The goblin’s eyes widened. It looked around wildly.
Klarg’s voice rolled through the chamber, deep and furious.
The goblin flinched.
For a moment, the little creature seemed less concerned with the four living adventurers surrounding him than with the voice of the dead bugbear who had commanded this place.
The knife left Sildar’s throat.
The goblin never got the chance to change his mind, as an arrow took him in the throat. Stumbling backwards, a spinning kick swept away his legs before a heel crushed his skull.
Just like that, the cavern fell quiet.
Only the crackle of fire.
Bodies everywhere.
The smell of goblins had gotten worse.
Sildar got up, battered but alive. He looked at us. Then at the carnage.
“I suppose Gundren is not here.”
I laughed.
It hurt.
Ash’tar started questioning Sildar while Valandra healed his wounds.
The human veteran explained what he knew. Gundren had been taken. Klarg had been given the task of capturing him. The reason was simple enough: Gundren had something the goblins wanted.
A map.
That was the important part.
The map led to Wave Echo Cave. A legendary place of magic.
The goblins had been working for someone else.
Someone called the Spider.
According to Sildar, we needed to return to Phandalin. He had business of his own. The Lords’ Alliance would want to know what had happened.
I listened, but my attention kept drifting.
I could still feel the spirits.
We had entered the Cragmaw Hideout looking for Gundren and Sildar. We had found Sildar. We had killed Klarg and almost every goblin in the place.
I had died, before Valandra had dragged me back.
I looked down at the blood covering my clothes.
My mentor Thorga had taught me a simple magic trick so you’d always look your best on stage. Muttering some words in an old dwarven melody, I removed the dirt and blood—my blood—from my clothes.
Phandalin was waiting.
Gundren was still missing.
I sighed.
I’m drinking every pint of ale I can get my hands on tonight.
