Escape from Undermountain n-3 Page 11

  Artek screamed in pain. He threw his head back, arching his spine. His heart leapt wildly, straining against the inside of his rib cage, as if at any moment it would burst from his chest and hurtle through the air to the waiting hand of Talastria or Orannon. A moment later, Beckla and Corin echoed his cry, writhing as their own beating hearts were called by the dread wizards.

  The undead horrors continued to hobble forward, until they stood upon the very edge of the dais. The nearer they came, the more the pressure in Artek's chest increased. He gnashed his teeth in agony as a trickle of dark blood oozed from his nose. He could not breathe. So this is how it ends, he thought dimly. Dying at the hands of the dead. He might have laughed at the irony of it, but when he opened his mouth, he could only scream.

  The wizards grinned evilly, empty eye sockets blazing. A little closer, and their dire magic would be strong enough to rip the beating hearts from the chests of their defilers. Together, Talastria and Orannon took one more stiff step forward.

  Numb and dried as they were, their feet did not sense the stone step beneath them. The two undead wizards lurched forward at the unexpected drop. Their brittle feet crumbled upon striking the top step of the dais. Withered arms shot out as the apprentices fought to preserve their precarious balance. The sudden motion caused ancient sinews to snap like old bowstrings. Talastria and Orannon let out a terrible, soul-rending shriek, and then, like grisly puppets with their strings slashed, they pitched forward. Their desiccated bodies struck the sharp stone steps and burst asunder. Disarticulated bones rolled down the steps, crumbling as they went.

  By the time the remains of the two wizards reached the floor before the dais, all that was left were shards and scraps. For a moment, scarlet sparks of magic sizzled around the crumbled remnants of the gruesome mummies, but these, too, were soon extinguished. Yellow dust settled to the floor. After ten centuries, Talastria and Orannon were truly dead.

  Artek slumped forward as the near-fatal magic released his heart. He clutched his chest, drawing in deep, ragged gulps of air. Gradually the wild throbbing of his heart slowed to a more steady pace. Turning his head, he saw Beckla and Corin pull themselves to their knees. The wizard wiped the blood from her lips with the back of her hand. Corin was hunched over, retching, but then he managed to straighten himself, his blue eyes wide in his pale face.

  Muragh had rolled a short distance away. "Well, I guess that will teach you to respect the dead," the skull said in a slightly smug tone.

  Artek did not even bother to reply, having had more than enough of dead things for the moment. Stumbling to his feet, he moved to help Beckla and Corin up. All were rattled by the experience, but no one seemed gravely injured.

  "Now what?" Beckla asked hoarsely after recovering some of her composure.

  Artek straightened his leather jerkin, then ran a hand through his short black hair. He gazed around the ancient tomb. "I can't say that I really care to hang around this place any longer than we have to, but I suppose we should look around. Talastria and Orannon may be dead for good, but there still could be something here that might help us."

  "Very well," Corin agreed weakly. "But if any more corpses pop out of coffins, we're leaving."

  For once the nobleman received no argument.

  Carefully they began to search the tomb, examining the walls and poking through the broken statuary. They had been searching for only a few moments when a sound drifted on the air: a low grunting interspersed with high-pitched squeaks and damp snorts. Artek froze.

  "Do you hear that?" he hissed to the others.

  Beckla nodded. "It sounds like some sort of animal," she whispered back.

  Corin stared at them in alarm. "I really think we ought to be going now," he gulped.

  Artek shook his head grimly. "Not without knowing what's likely to be following us when we do." He cocked his head, listening. There it was again: a grunting, shuddering sound from the far end of the tomb. Steeling his will, Artek pulled the dagger from his boot and stealthily made his way toward the stone dais. The animal sounds grew louder. Whatever the thing was, it was definitely lurking behind the dais.

  Clutching his dagger, Artek soundlessly ascended the steps. He moved carefully between the two stone sarcophagi and cautiously peered over the back edge of the dais. The sniffling sound reached his ears clearly now. Something gray, scaly, and muscular crouched in the shadows behind the dais. Artek's darkvision adjusted to the murk, and his jaw dropped in surprise. He backed away, hurrying down the steps, and returned to the others.

  "It's a gargoyle," he whispered.

  Beckla glanced at the shattered remains of the bestial stone statues that littered the tomb. "A gargoyle?" she asked in confusion. "Like these?"

  Artek nodded darkly. "Only it's alive."

  Corin clutched a hand to his mouth. "Alive?" he gasped through his fingers. "But what's it doing?"

  Artek frowned in puzzlement. "I'm not entirely sure. But I think that it's… crying."

  Beckla and Corin traded startled looks. "Crying?" they echoed as one.

  "Maybe you'd better come look for yourselves," Artek told the others. "I can't be certain, but I don't think it's too dangerous. If it was, it probably would have attacked us by now."

  Beckla was game to try, but Corin had to be tugged along forcefully.

  "Hey!" Muragh piped up. "Don't forget me!"

  "I should be so lucky," Artek grumbled, picking up the enchanted skull.

  Keeping close together, they ascended the dais and peered over the back edge. Beckla held out her hand. Blue magelight drove away the shadows, revealing the creature below.

  In the light, Artek saw that it was indeed a gargoyle. The creature huddled on the floor with its back turned toward them. Its scaly hide was rough and gray as stone, and rocklike muscles knotted its powerful frame. Stubby bat wings protruded from its broad back, and onyx horns sprang from its knobby head. The gargoyle's gigantic shoulders shook as it grunted and sniffled.

  The poor thing," Beckla sighed.

  Artek and Corin stared at her. "The poor thing?" Artek repeated in disbelief.

  The wizard glared at him. "It's sad," she replied in annoyance.

  At the sound of their voices, the gargoyle let out a snort and looked up. Both Artek and Corin jumped back, but Beckla did not so much as flinch. Somehow the creature's doglike face was more endearing than frightful. Sorrow shone in its glowing green eyes.

  "What's wrong with you?" the gargoyle growled in a gravelly voice. "Why are you just standing there? Aren't you terrified of me?"

  Trembling, Corin opened his mouth to speak, but Beckla elbowed him sharply in the side. The nobleman's mouth promptly snapped shut.

  "No, we're not," the wizard answered seriously.

  The gargoyle let out a dejected sigh, wings drooping. "I was afraid of that. Not that I'm surprised-I never was any good at guarding the tomb. Now I'm the last, and an utter failure." The gargoyle sniffed, wiping the dampness from its scaly cheeks with a clawed hand.

  "Corin," Beckla asked, "do you have a handkerchief?"

  "Of course," the nobleman replied in confusion. He pulled a slime-covered silk cloth from the pocket of his velvet coat. "But what do you-?"

  Beckla snatched the handkerchief from his hand, then hopped down from the dais. She held the cloth out toward the gargoyle. "Here," she said gently.

  The gargoyle stared at her in surprise, then hesitantly accepted the handkerchief. The creature lifted the grubby cloth to its long muzzle, then let out a trumpeting snort. When it was finished, it politely offered the dripping handkerchief back to Corin.

  The nobleman accepted it reluctantly, looking vaguely queasy.

  Artek watched all this with growing fascination. He crouched on the edge of the dais and eyed the gargoyle critically. "Excuse me," he said carefully, "but I was always led to believe that gargoyles were terrible and ferocious creatures-stone statues given magical life for the sole purpose of maiming and killing."

  "They
are," the gargoyle agreed.

  Artek scratched his stubbly chin. "Well, no offense intended, but you don't exactly fit the bill."

  More tears welled up in the creature's glowing green eyes. "I know," it said forlornly.

  "Now look what you've done, Ar'talen," Beckla scolded him. "You've made him cry again."

  Artek shook his head in astonishment. He was having a hard time dealing with this. He gave the gargoyle a questioning look. "All right, then maybe you should tell us exactly what you are doing here, ah…"

  "Terrathiguss," the creature finished. "Terrathiguss the Gargoyle."

  "Well, at least your name is somewhat frightening," Artek acknowledged.

  "Do you really think so?" Terrathiguss asked. "Not much else about me is." Muscled limbs flexing easily, the gargoyle climbed onto the dais and gazed around the tomb at the shattered remnants of the other stone gargoyles. "I don't know what went wrong. We were all created at the same time. Talastria and Orannon made us, you see. They used their dying energy to conjure us into being, and ordered us to keep guard over their tomb. But I was the last one they made." The gargoyle shook its head ruefully. "And somehow I was different."

  "Different?" Artek asked.

  The gargoyle nodded solemnly. "Do you mind if I sit?" Startled by the creature's manners, Artek could only nod. With a clawed hand, Terrathiguss fastidiously dusted off a corner of one of the sarcophagi. Then the creature perched neatly on the stone coffin.

  "For a thousand years, my brethren and I stood guard over this tomb," Terrathiguss went on in his gruff yet oddly warm voice. "Oh, it wasn't as boring as you might imagine, for we spent most of that time in stone form. Time passes very quickly for us when we stand as statues. I suppose it's rather like sleeping for a living creature, though I can only guess." The gargoyle shrugged its massive shoulders. "Anyway, we became flesh only when interlopers entered the tomb. And then we promptly tore the defilers to shreds."

  Terrathiguss shook his head sadly. "At least, my brethren tore the defilers to shreds. At first I joined them, but before long I realized that it wasn't the same for me as for the other gargoyles. They seemed to truly enjoy rending hapless adventurers limb from limb. They would laugh loudly, and always fought over who got to eviscerate the last screaming victim. During the first century or two, I tried killing a few adventurers myself But I only felt sorry for them, and I dispatched them as quickly and painlessly as I could." The gargoyle rested its knobby chin on a clawed hand. "As time went on, I took to just hiding behind the dais and letting the others do all the work. My brethren never seemed to notice. They were always too busy having fun."

  "But what happened to the others?" Beckla asked, glancing at the broken statues.

  "I'm not sure exactly," Terrathiguss replied. "None of us were. One day we woke up from our stony sleep to find that one of our brethren had cracked and crumbled during our slumber. After that, every time we awoke, we saw that another one or two had fallen to ruin while we were sleeping. I suppose it was simply age. Even enchanted stone can crack with time, and even magical creatures can die."

  "So you're the last?" Corin asked breathlessly. Caught up in the creature's tale, he had forgotten his fear.

  "I'm afraid so," the gargoyle said glumly. "I woke when you first entered the tomb, and I hid behind the dais. Now I see that I was the only one to wake.

  There were three others besides me when last we became stone. All must have crumbled since then." The gargoyle's voice turned into a sob. "What a cruel joke that I am the last! I should have attacked you when you entered the tomb. I should have protected my creators. Instead I hid like a coward, and now Talastria and Orannon are no more. I suppose I will crumble, too, now that they are destroyed."

  Beckla tapped her cheek thoughtfully. "I'm not so certain. It seems to me that if you were still under their power, you would have turned back to stone with their destruction. But you're still flesh. I think that perhaps you are free of them."

  The gargoyle glanced up at Beckla in surprise. "Free?" A look of wonder crossed his doglike face. The green light in his eyes flashed. "Free." He murmured the word again in amazement.

  As the gargoyle contemplated the wizard's words, Artek drew the others aside.

  "So what are we going to do with it?" he asked quietly.

  "It's not an it? Beckla replied testily. "It's a him. I'm going to call him Guss."

  "Whatever for?" Artek asked.

  Terrathiguss is too long," Beckla explained. "And it really doesn't suit him. He's much too nice to have that kind of a name."

  Artek shook his head, trying to follow her reasoning. "But why call it-I mean him-anything at all?"

  “Because we're adopting him," Beckla said crisply.

  "Oh, how delightful!" Corin exclaimed happily.

  "Are you insane, wizard?" Artek hissed. "In case you hadn't noticed, he's a. gargoyle. We are not adopting him!"

  "Quiet, Ar’talen!" Весklа said crossly. "You'll hurt his feelings."

  Sputtering, Artek tried to come up with a sensible reply to this madness. Beckla breezed by him, approaching the gargoyle.

  "It's decided, Terrathiguss," she said cheerfully. "We're trying to get out of Undermountain, and you're welcome to come with us. I would like to call you Guss, too-it's a much nicer name for you. But it's all up to you, of course."

  The gargoyle leapt to his feet in surprise. "Well, I like Guss just fine," he gasped, "but do you really mean the rest? You want me to come with you?"

  Beckla nodded solemnly. "We do." "All of you?" Guss asked. He looked hopefully at Artek.

  Artek opened his mouth, but a sharp glance from Beckla made him rethink his reply. "Yes," he grumbled darkly. "All of us."

  "You might be sorry, you know," Guss said gravely. "I was created by dark wizards as a creature of destruction. I am evil by nature."

  Beckla smiled. "I rather doubt that."

  The gargoyle grinned back at her, displaying row upon row of sharp teeth. Somehow the expression was more charming than terrible. Artek was forced to admit to himself that Guss did seem friendly. And it couldn't hurt to have a gargoyle on their side.

  "Look at this!" Corin said suddenly.

  The nobleman had been rummaging inside one of the stone coffins, and his eager face was covered with dust. He gripped a tattered book in his hand.

  The others gathered around Corin as he opened the tome. The brittle yellow pages were covered with the same spidery writing as the messages the two apprentices had scratched on the walls.

  "I think it's their diary!" Corin exclaimed excitedly, thumbing through the book.

  Artek peered more closely at the tome, but he could not make out the ancient writing. "Can you read it?"

  Corin frowned, squinting at the murky text, then shook his head. "It's written in Thorass, all right. But I'm afraid the ink is too faded to make out more than a word or two. Perhaps I could-wait a minute! What's this?"

  The nobleman flipped back to the page that had caught his eye. It displayed a map showing twisting halls joining myriad chambers. "I think this is the great avenue of Underhall we were in before," Corin said, pointing to a broad passage.

  "What's this?" Beckla asked, pointing to a chamber with an X marked inside it and a line of text scrawled beneath it.

  Corin studied the words for a moment. "I think I can make this out," he murmured, then nodded. "Yes. To the lair of our sister Arcturia.'"

  Artek looked up in interest. "Their sister? What does that mean?"

  Muragh bounced up and down in his hands. "Are you an idiot?" the skull piped up urgently. "Who else could be the sister of Talastria and Orannon besides-"

  "Another apprentice," Artek finished in amazement. He rubbed the top of the skull with his knuckles. "Good thinking, Muragh. Especially for someone who doesn't have a brain."

  "Thanks," the skull huffed in annoyance, squirming but unable to escape Artek's grip.

  "Well, what are we waiting for?" Beckla demanded, hopping off the dais. "
Let's go find this Arcturia."

  At first, Guss was reluctant to step outside the door of the ancient tomb, fearing he would turn to stone. But Beckla gripped his clawed hand and coaxed him through the portal. Finally he crossed the threshold, then cringed, eyes clenched shut, waiting for doom to fall upon him. Nothing happened. When he opened his glowing green eyes and looked down at his hands, they were still scaly flesh. He looked up at Beckla in wonder, then gave her a toothy grin.

  Following the map, they made their way back up the five sets of stairs and down the broad, dusty boulevard hewn by the Melairkyn dwarves. Turning down a side passage, they wended their way through a maze of corridors until at last they came to the chamber marked on the map. There was nothing inside the small stone room but a round pool of dark water.

  "Don’t tell me this was a wild goblin chase," Artek said glumly.

  Beckla cautiously approached the pool, held out her hands, and spoke several words of magic. The dark water suddenly shone with a radiant blue light. Beckla nodded in satisfaction, then withdrew her hands, and the light faded.

  "The pool is enchanted," she said, turning to the others. "While I can't be entirely certain, I think it's a gate."

  "Either that or it will transform us into two-headed slime worms," Artek said. "We probably ought to do a few tests before we jump in."

  "For once I agree with you, Ar'talen." The wizard started back toward the others. As she did, her boot heel skidded on the damp stones beside the pool. She reached out to balance herself, but it was too late. With a cry, Beckla fell backward into the dark surface of the pool.

  The others rushed to the edge of the pool. Artek peered into the murky depths. "I can't see her!" he said frantically.

  "And you won't, no matter how hard you look," Muragh replied, his reedy voice grim. "Not if this really is a gate."

  "But where has it taken her?" Corin asked, wringing his hands.

  Artek made a decision. "There's only one way to find out."

  The nobleman's eyes went wide. He started to back away from the pool. "Oh, no. You don't intend to-"

  "Grab him, Guss!" Artek shouted.