The entire company of mercenaries and Adventurers milled about the second cavern. Some dropped stones into the chasm and counted the seconds until impact. Others waited silently for instructions from their leaders. In the glow of Sarah’s light spell, they could make out a large square structure on the far side of the gulf.
Bart remained aloof and sullen—he hated the underground. Sarah sorted through the magical paraphernalia in her pannier. Thurmond, Torgul, and Roscoe stood in a group on the edge of the precipice.
The dwarf snorted.
“Then I says to him, I says, it ain’t gonna be me jumpin’ across that hole, boy. It’s gonna be you.”
Torgul guffawed as he told the story, causing Roscoe to smile broadly. He was by nature as gleeful as the dwarf was dour. Assuming this was all a jest, Thurmond grinned along with them.
“All right, all right—I’ll fly over there just as soon as you can tell me how I can sprout a pair of wings.”
At these words, Roscoe grew more serious.
“I don’t think you really fathom what we’re gettin’ at, boyo. You gotta jump over there for real, so you do.”
The young man was nonplussed.
“Just how do you expect me to do that? Torgul calls it a score of feet to the other side.”
“Remember when Malachai named all the charms in Sarah’s basket? One of the potions will let a man jump that far. That’s what he said, ain’t it Torgul?”
The dwarf nodded.
“Aye, leap over a twenty-foot gulf. That’s what he said.”
Thurmond came to the terrifying realization that their jesting was not jesting at all. They really expected him to do this suicidal deed.
“If I did such a thing, I’d likely be killed. Why do you find that so funny?”
Roscoe saw the dismay in his face and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Forgive us, lad, we meant no harm. Sometimes things is so serious that there ain’t nothin’ else for it but to laugh.”
Torgul’s voice was rough, but his words were contrite and sincere.
“God’s balls, Thurmond—sorry. It was just a stupid joke. Didn’t mean no harm. I’d jump over there myself, ’cept, you know, my legs are too short.”
Roscoe spoke again.
“And I’m too old and fat. Sarah could maybe make the jump, but we don’t know who’s over there. It’s gotta be somebody that can swing a sword.”
Thurmond jerked his thumb toward the mercenaries.
“How about sending one of them? Why does it have to be me?”
Roscoe shook his head.
“Which one of them numbnuts do you trust not to muck it up? Crazy Cob maybe? Vainglorious Bart?”
Thurmond knew Roscoe was right. The strengths and weakness of Bart’s mercenaries were still largely unknown to them. Bart himself was little more than a bumbling fool. The Gascar archers had proven themselves to be capable soldiers, but their skill with edged weapons was far less than their expertise with the bow.
“If I do this—and I’m not saying I’m going to—but if I did do it, what in hell am I supposed to do after I get over there?”
Torgul pointed off into the dark.
“See that dark shape that looks kinda like a big wooden tower?”
Thurmond was incredulous.
“A tower? You want me to attack a tower?”
“Let me finish, boy. That ain’t no tower. You’re lookin’ at the timbers that support a drawbridge. All you gotta do is drop it across the gap. Then the rest of us will come over and help you.”
Their conversation was interrupted by Sarah, who drew an item from her pannier and held it up with a flourish.
“Found it! It had sunk all the way to the bottom, but I got it. I knew as soon as I saw that chasm that we’d be needing it.”
She held the small blue vial that Malachai had identified as the leaping potion.
“Drink this, Thurmond, and you should be able to make it to the other side.”
“Should be able? What if I don’t make it?”
She could only shrug.
Thurmond had additional concerns.
“You don’t even really know what you have there. I know what Malachai said it is—but why should we believe him?
Sarah unbuckled the chinstrap of her light, open-faced helmet.
“You’re right. He’s a creature of evil. We have no reason to trust him.”
Thurmond continued.
“How can we be sure the potion would really carry me twenty feet? What if Torgul’s wrong about how far it is to the other side?”
The young witch removed her helmet and unbuckled the heavy belt cinched about her waist.
“Right again—the plan is extremely dangerous.”
“What if there’s more ogres over there, hiding in the dark. I’d be by myself. What could I do except die?”
Sarah bent forward and wiggled out of her mailshirt. This finally caught the young man’s attention.
“What are you doing? Why are you taking off your armor?”
“Because I’m going to make the jump. It might be a stupid plan, but it’s the only way to see what’s on the other side. If there’s any treasure over there, I want my share. I’ve come too far to back out now.”
Thurmond threw up his hands in resignation. He would make the jump. He knew Sarah was not bluffing, that she would make the jump if he refused.
Roscoe put in a reassuring word.
“Don’t be frettin’, boyo. I’m fair certain there ain’t nobody over there. We’re standin’ here in a big bubble of light, more than a dozen of us, talkin’, laughin’, throwin’ rocks, yet there’s been nary a peep from the other side. No horns or drums soundin’ the alarm. No arrows flyin’ across the gap. Nothin’. That’s ‘cause there ain’t nobody there.”
Thurmond was unconvinced.
“Maybe they’re just keeping quiet.”
“Could be, but I don’t think so. Ogres ain’t smart enough to lay low. And Torgul would have spotted any of them buggers that was movin’ around over there. He sees real good in the dark, so he does.”
Sarah dug into her pannier and retrieved a strand of large, pointed teeth suspended on a leather thong, presumably the fangs of some ravening monster.
“Malachai called this a necklace of reckless courage. I was going to wear it if I jumped. Do you want it?”
That settled it! There was no way to back out now. He had known from the beginning that this jump was inevitable, but had not wanted to admit it to himself.
He shook his head.
“Nay! I am not wanting for courage—save it for yourself. Help me off with my armor, I’ll carry nothing more than my sword.”
And so it was that Thurmond made the leap across the Cimmerian abyss. A running start and away he flew, bounding like a roebuck in pursuit of a doe. Clad only in breeks and his quilted arming doublet—sans shield, sans helmet, sans mailshirt. Sword strapped tightly to his back.
He was halfway across when, most inconveniently, Sarah’s light spell flickered once and went out. She frantically attempted to re-cast it, but in her haste fumbled and produced but a single bright, blinding flash. Thus it was that Thurmond hit the ground in complete darkness.
The potion enabled Thurmond to cross the gap but did nothing to cushion his landing. He hit hard, pitching forward, his shoulder slamming into the cavern’s hard, rocky floor. His hands and arms were badly skinned as he rolled over and over.
The young Adventurer was bruised and abraded but thankfully unbroken. He lay unmoving, flat on his belly, ears straining in the dark for any indication that he was not alone.
When nothing came, he rose carefully to one knee and struggled to unstrap his sword. The light spell on its blade would allow him to see. He pulled the weapon from its scabbard, discovering, to his immense relief, that the spell was still active. Its dim glow seemed as bright as the sun in that lightless grotto.
Roscoe had been correct—no ogres stormed out of the dark to attack him. On the far side of the gap, Sarah finally managed to rekindle her light spell. Thurmond felt a surge of confidence. His former fears now seemed childish. What had been so frightening, after all, about a leap in the dark?
The drawbridge was small and flimsy, quite unlike those spanning the moats of castles and walled cities. Too narrow for a wagon or even a cart. Too lightly constructed for a horse and rider. It was held upright by an iron chain affixed to a wooden windlass. One pull of a lever would release the windless, dropping the bridge into place. Easy!
Thurmond was just reaching for the lever, when he discovered to his dismay that his optimism had been premature. Not all monstrosities take the form of misshapen ogres—the thing that that crawled from beneath the windlass was far more hideous.
Its round, humped body was the size a large washtub. The head was small, the long snout sported a multitude of jagged teeth. Both head and body were covered in a series of articulated plates resembling those of a common woodlouse. A long, heavy tail whipped to and fro like that of a hunting cat.
It scuttled forward on short, powerful legs, allowing the startled Adventurer no opportunity to retreat. Rearing up, it struck with its taloned forepaws, left and right. Thurmond dodged the first blow and blocked the next with his sword. He immediately slashed at the thing’s head, but the boney plates kept the edge from cutting deep.
The thing snarled and reared as if to attack once again with its paws, but then it lashed out with its tail, striking Thurmond’s shoulder like a blow from a barbed whip, the sharp scales tearing though his doublet and abrading the skin beneath.
The young Adventurer delivered blow after blow, but the creature’s tough armor kept it from suffering injury. The thing was relentless in its attack, continually pushing forward, rearing up, slashing with its talons.
It struck once more with the tail, this time at Thurmond’s face. Luckily, he saw it coming, sidestepped, and severed its tip with a sweep of his sword. The maimed appendage began to thrash wildly, casting gouts of blood in every direction.
The enraged creature yowled, raised itself fully upright, and waddled forward on its hind legs, obviously intending to catch its prey in a bear-hug and rend him with claws and teeth. This was a mistake, for it exposed its vulnerable underside.
Thurmond’s broadsword was not balanced as a thrusting weapon, and was not particularly effective as such. It was specifically designed to deliver cutting blows powerful enough to cleave through mail. But it did possess a tip sufficiently pointy to pierce a soft abdomen, and this is exactly what occurred as the creature came into range. Thurmond rammed it squarely into its belly, then ripped upward.
The thing screamed and toppled onto its armored back, the legs flailing wildly as it sought to right itself. Thurmond never gave it a chance. He stabbed again and again into the pulpy remains of the stomach until the screams stopped and the legs ceased to flail.
He pulled the lever releasing the bridge, and in a few moments his companions stood at his side. Roscoe inspected his wounded shoulder, which felt like it had been set aflame.
“You’ve taken a hard shot, boyo. You lost a bit of hide, so you have, and you’ll be getting’ a dandy bruise. But ain’t much. Nothin’ a wee drop of honest uisge won’t set to right. Here—we brought your armor.”
Thurmond’s breath came in hard gasps. He was still winded from the extreme exertion of the fight.
“What was that thing, Roscoe? I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
The old Adventurer bent over the mangled remains.
“Whatever it was, it weren’t no natural creature, kinda like them ogres. There’s somethin’ about it that just ain’t right. It’s like somebody sewed up the worst parts from a whole parcel of unlikely beasts. Powerful ugly it was.”
Thurmond began pulling on his armor.
“It was mean, too. It came at me right off and didn’t stop until I killed it.”
“Probably hungry, laddie. I don’t see no signs of it bein’ well fed—no gnawed bones, no piles of shite, nothin’. You probably looked like a proper snack.”
Bart approached and poked at the dead monster with the toe of his boot. Something inside it burst, releasing a most vile stench. He turned to Roscoe.
“This is as far as we go, old man. And don’t be thinking to turn my men against me. We’re all agreed—not one step further.”
Roscoe smiled and boomed out loud enough to be heard by all.
“It’s amazin’, so it is, how two intelligent gentlemen so often arrive at the same thought at the same moment. I was just now tellin’ Thurmond here that we dare not proceed without leavin’ somebody here to guard this bridge, and now here you are volunteerin’ for that very duty. I salute you, sir knight. Rest assured that you and your men will receive half of any treasure we may find.”
Bart was, as always, angered by Roscoe’s words. The old Adventurer had a way of making him feel cheated even when he gave in to Bart’s demands. Before he could respond, Roscoe grinned and walked on, leaving him standing by the bridge.
Searching along the cavern’s wall, Torgul discovered another tunnel, and again the Adventurers set off into the darkness. This time, however, the Gascar archers followed close behind the dwarf. Thurmond and Roscoe brought up the rear.
The tunnel was another long one, running—like its counterpart on the far side of the chasm—straight through the heart of the hill with neither side passages nor diversions. The air grew chill and damp. The floor and walls began to tremble at regular intervals as if seized by an ague.
The passage ended abruptly at an iron door set into the rock. Roscoe rapped his knuckles on its rusty surface, producing a dull thunk. The door was solid and heavy. It boasted neither keyhole nor latch.
Sarah turned to the old Adventurer.
“You know, of course, where we are?”
“Aye, that I do. We’re inside that needle of rock leadin’ out to Malachai’s mansion. The waves are beatin’ it from both sides, givin’ it the shakes, so they are.”
“And you know where this door leads?”
“I’d have to say to the magician’s cellars.”
“What do you think is really going on here?”
“Well now, that’s somethin’ of a mystery. Here we are, deep underground, and what do we find but a drawbridge and an iron door. Somebody, it seems, is determined to keep somebody else out, and it’s my guess that the party bein’ excluded is them ogres we slew.”
“And what of that thing Thurmond slew?”
“Hard to say. Maybe a watchdog. Maybe somethin’ else.”
“Where do you suppose the ogres and the watchdog first came from?”
“That’s a mite easier to answer, Sarah darlin’. Such twisted horrors can only be the progeny of Malachai, our gracious host. First, he created ‘em, then for reasons of his own drove ‘em forth to blight the world.”
Sarah gave the door a hard look.
“I may be able to open this with my knock spell, but I imagine it’s heavily barred on the inside. Opening it will take all my psychic energy, might even put me in a swoon. I’ll be useless until I can rest and renew my strength.”
“That won’t be necessary, we’ll not be passin’ through that portal.”
Hearing this, Thurmond ceased buckling his chinstrap and confronted his old mentor.
“We’re not going on? You’ve always told me that a true Adventurer never stops ‘til he finds treasure. We can’t stop now!”
Roscoe shook his head.
“Nay, lad, this situation is too delicate. We’ve still got to take Malachai back to Gorgonholm, so we can’t afford to anger him. Anyway, he scares the shite out of me.”
“What do we do, then?”
“We report back to him, maybe bring him the ogres’ heads to prove we took care of things. He oughta like that—he can put ‘em in jars. Then he and us all ride to Gorgonholm to knock down a black rock.”
“We aren’t going to loot his cellar?”
“Doesn’t seem like a good idea.”
“Why did we come down here then?”
“I had to be sure. Sarah and me both figured them ogres were Malachai’s creations, and it wasn’t hard to figure that the tunnel we found would lead us back to his mansion. We’ve gotta long ride with him, and there’s a lot at stake—our own lives, the life of our city. I needed to know what kind of a man I was dealin’ with.”
“Did you find out?”
“Indeed, I did, boyo. Indeed I did.”