Escape from Undermountain n-3 Read online

  This is why." Beckla pulled a short bow and a quiver of arrows from the chest and thrust them toward a surprised Corin. The weapon was old, but the bowstring had been wrapped in oiled leather and was still sound. The arrows were rusted at the tip, and their shafts were warped, but they would do.

  Beckla grabbed a handful of greasy rags and handed them to the nobleman. Tear these into strips and tie them around the tips of the arrows."

  While the lord did as she instructed, Beckla pulled a small wooden cask out of the chest. Liquid sloshed within, and she hoped the brand on the side meant what she thought it did. With her knife, she pried the cork out of the top of the cask, then bent down to take a sniff. Her head reeled as a sharp, spicy warmth filled her lungs. It was rum, all right- potent stuff, by the smell of it. Taking a deep breath to clear her head, she recalled the words of a spell.

  Whispering in the arcane language of magic, Beckla weaved her hands over the cask of pirate rum. A blue aura shimmered around the cask as it slowly levitated off the deck. Guided by the motions of her hands, the cask drifted through the air. A sheen of sweat broke out on Beckla's brow. This was the most difficult spell she knew, and if it failed, she could not try it again. She moved her fingers in intricate patterns, weaving invisible threads of magic. It was all she could do to keep the enchantment from unraveling.

  As she concentrated, the cask floated over the head of a zombie swabbing the deck. Beckla twitched her fingers, and the cask tipped, dousing the zombie with a cupful of rum. Heedless of the liquid, the mindless creature continued to lurch about its task. Beckla weaved her hands, and the cask floated toward another zombie. Once again it tipped, pouring dark rum onto the undead pirate, soaking its rotten clothes. As she continued, Beckla tightened her control over the spell, and the cask flew more swiftly through the air, dousing zombie after zombie with the reeking spirits. Finally, the cask was empty. With a groan, Beckla released the spell. Her head throbbed with the effort, but there had been enough rum to douse only half of the zombies. She hoped it would be enough.

  "Now what?" Corin asked in puzzlement. He gripped the bow and a rag-wrapped arrow.

  Beckla pointed a finger at the arrow and said, "Urshak!" Instantly the tip of the arrow burst into flame. Corin almost dropped the bow in shock, but a stern look from Beckla made him tighten his grip. "Start shooting," she ordered sharply.

  Corin raised the bow, pulled back on the string, aimed at a zombie perched in the rigging above, and released. The flaming arrow traced a crimson arc through the air, then plunged directly into the center of the zombie's chest. For a second the pirate stared stupidly at the burning arrow embedded in its body. Then, all at once, the zombie burst into crimson flame. Limbs waving spastically, the undead pirate fell from its perch and plunged to the deck below, exploding in a spray of charred flesh.

  Beckla allowed herself a smile of dark satisfaction. The pirate rum was highly flammable, and made an excellent fuel.

  "Keep shooting, Corin!" she shouted.

  The startled lord lifted another arrow, and Beckla set it afire with a magical command. Corin released the arrow, and another writhing zombie was engulfed in a pillar of searing flame. The bow twanged again and again as Corin released a barrage of flaming arrows. The nobleman had not exaggerated his skill. His aim was perfect, and not a single arrow missed its mark. In moments more than a dozen zombies were ablaze, stumbling around the ship, sending up pillars of black smoke like foul torches.

  Many of the burning zombies tumbled overboard, just as Beckla had hoped. However, some of them ran into heaps of old crates or rotten sailcloth and set the materials alight. Other zombies moved haltingly to stamp out the new fires. However, even without being doused with rum, their dry, tattered clothes were flammable enough, and they only succeeded in setting themselves ablaze and stumbling off to start still more fires. Several burning zombies became entangled in the ship's rigging, and in moments flame licked up both of the schooner's masts.

  Corin shot Beckla a look of sudden fear. "I think your plan worked better than you thought it would."

  "So it seems," Beckla replied dryly. She looked at the rapidly growing fires, wondering if she had just succeeded in getting herself killed after all.

  Gripping the tingling hilt of the cursed saber, Artek stealthily approached the undead pirate captain. The zombie stood before the wheel of the ship, steering wildly, his back to Artek. As the wheel spun, The Black Dart tilted alarmingly to starboard. Just when it seemed the ship would capsize, the captain spun the wheel in the opposite direction, and the ship lurched back to port, running dangerously close to the left side of the subterranean cavern. A deep, throbbing roar now mingled with the frothy voice of the river. It could be only one thing: the waterfall.

  Artek continued to creep silently toward the captain. He needed just one uncontested swing to lop off the zombie's moldy head, and the ship's wheel would be free. Just a few more paces. Artek raised the cursed saber. Scarlet light flickered down its edge.

  Without warning, the decomposed parrot on the captain's shoulder turned its head. Its dead black eyes saw Artek, and the parrot opened its beakless mouth in a muffled squawk of alarm. Artek swore under his breath. The blasted, worm-eaten bird! He sprang forward, hoping to make his swing, but it was too late.

  The zombie captain turned with surprising speed and raised its rusted cutlass, blocking Artek's blow. Artek grunted as a jolt of pain ran up his arm. He stumbled backward, then caught himself. The captain was stronger than the other zombies, and seemed somewhat less decomposed. Perhaps it had been the last to die, hoarding the ship's dwindling food supplies while the rest of the crew perished one by one. Regardless, Artek now stood before a foe who would not be as easily defeated as the others.

  Artek crouched warily, looking for an opening. He feinted left, trying to draw the captain's attack in that direction. However, such subtle moves were quite lost upon the rotten-brained zombie. Utterly ignoring the feint, the captain charged forward. Artek barely managed to spin aside, avoiding the zombie's lumbering blow. Before Artek could fully recover, the undead captain charged again, cutlass raised. The move caught Artek completely off guard-no sensible opponent would move so madly, leaving himself completely open. Of course, the dead captain had no need to follow the rules of the living.

  Exploiting the opening created by the captain's upraised sword arm, Artek lashed out with his saber, slicing through the zombie's grimy coat and carving a deep gash across its chest. Once again he realized his mistake. Any living opponent would have stumbled back in response to this grievous wound, but the zombie, oblivious to pain, did not hesitate to charge. It swung its cutlass in a wild arc. Caught by surprise, Artek tried to lunge out of the path of the blade, but he was too slow. The dirty tip of the cutlass traced a stinging line across his left side. Artek gasped, his head reeling with sudden pain. He clutched at his side with his free hand, and his fingers came away wet with blood.

  Again he was forced to react as the zombie charged heedlessly at him. He parried a series of bludgeoning blows that left no chance for a counter-stroke. Artek tried to reach for the wheel, but he nearly got his hand cut off. Steadily, the captain's mindless advances pushed Artek backward, away from the ship's wheel. The throbbing roar grew louder, echoing deafemngly off the rough stone walls of the cavern.

  "Artek!" came Guss's voice from above, his shout barely audible over the watery din. The ship is almost to the fork in the river. You've got to steer it to starboard or it'll head down the left-hand passage, toward the waterfall!"

  "Thanks for the reminder," Artek grunted as he dodged the captain's whistling cutlass.

  Movement caught the corner of his eye, and Artek risked a hurried glance over his shoulder. New fear spilled into his stomach-a dozen bloated forms shambled toward him. With the attack on their captain, the zombie pirates finally took notice of Artek. With scurvy grins, they drew their cutlasses.

  Artek had to turn his head back to the captain, or lose it. With renewe
d urgency, he fended off the zombie's attacks and even gained some ground. However, he knew it was only a matter of moments until the other undead pirates reached him, at which time he would join the crew of The Black Dart in death.

  Without warning, crimson light flared behind him. Artek risked a second glance over his shoulder, and what he saw almost made him drop his sword in surprise. One of the approaching zombies had burst into flame. Writhing and burning, it stumbled away. Even as he watched, scarlet fire engulfed another zombie. All over the ship, pirates were being transformed into undead torches. The remaining zombies hesitated, then turned to try to stamp out the resultant fires with their clammy feet. Despite his predicament, Artek could not suppress a sharp-toothed smile- Beckla and Corin had done their work.

  Once again Guss's voice called from above. "Artek, you're almost out of time! The fork in the river is just ahead!"

  Ignoring the searing pain in his side, Artek attacked the captain with redoubled vigor, driving the zombie back toward the wheel. The schooner's keel grated against a submerged rock, and the ship gave a jarring shudder. Somewhere timbers cracked like old bones. Decayed limbs unable to keep their balance, the zombie captain stumbled backward against the ship's wheel. It was now or never.

  Artek sprang forward, letting the cursed saber have free rein. The blade struck once, hewing off the captain's sword arm. Then it swung again, severing the zombie's other arm. Finally, the magical saber pulled Artek forward in a mighty thrust. The blade pierced the pirate captain's heart, pinning the zombie to the center of the ship's wheel.

  "Artek, now!" Guss cried out from above.

  With all his strength, Artek grabbed the ship's wheel and spun it-along with the feebly flopping zombie captain-to the right. At the same moment a sharp angle of stone loomed in the darkness before the schooner. The dark waters of the Sargauth broke and divided upon the rocky wedge, half going right, and half going left.

  With a shout, Artek turned the wheel farther. For a terrified moment he thought the schooner was going to run directly into the sharp wedge of stone before them. Then, at the last moment, the rushing waters swept the schooner into the right-hand passage. There was a horrible splintering sound as the port side of the hull grated against the rough stone wall. Artek was tossed to his knees as the ship convulsed violently. Then the grating noise ceased and the shaking ended as The Black Dart sailed down calmer waters. Artek climbed to his feet, gazing in amazement at the placid river ahead. They had done it.

  "Ar'talen!" Corin cried behind him. "I think that we're in a spot of trouble."

  Artek turned to see Corin and Beckla hurrying toward him. Behind them, the entire aft section of the ship was in flames, thick smoke drifting in the air.

  Beckla's face was smudged with soot. "All the zombies are destroyed," she said breathlessly. "But we couldn't put out the fires. The ship is going to burn up!"

  "Not if it sinks first," Guss countered, landing on the deck before them. "The hull has been taking on water the whole time from the small hole in the starboard side. And when we struck the cavern wall, a large rip was torn along the port side of the prow. In a few minutes, this ship is going to be on the bottom of the river."

  Artek ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. Death by fire and drowning? They had fought too hard for this victory to give up now. With an angry motion, he jammed the cursed saber into its sheath. The blade did not resist the action, confirming that, indeed, the zombies were no more.

  As Artek madly considered their options, the walls of the cavern suddenly fell away. There was a queer, green-gold cast to the air, and Artek had the sense that they had just passed into some far vaster space. However, he could not see through the hazy curtain of smoke that hung above the schooner.

  "We'll have to abandon ship!" he shouted. "The river is calmer here, so we should have a chance. Make for the right bank." He grinned fiercely. "I sure hope everyone knows how to swim."

  "Hey, don't forget me!" a dry voice called out. As4 the deck listed, an off-white shape rolled toward them. It was Muragh. Guss snatched up the skull. There was a sound like thunder as the schooner's foremast cracked and fell flaming toward the deck.

  "Now!" Artek shouted.

  Guss flew into the air, and the others dove off the side of the flaming ship, into the frigid waters of the river below.

  The Hunt

  Artek was the first to the shore.

  Dripping, he pulled himself out of the chill river and onto the sandy bank. He grimaced as he stood, immediately hunching over to clutch his injured side. The cutlass wound was not deep, but the gash burned as if someone had poured molten lead into it. Behind him, Beckla stumbled onto the shore, followed by a bedraggled Conn.

  "In the name of Mystra, what is this place?" the wizard gasped in an awed voice.

  "Are we dreaming?" the nobleman wondered, gazing around them.

  Artek frowned at their curious words. What were they talking about? Clenching his jaw against the searing pain, he lifted his head, and his oath of astonishment was added to theirs.

  They stood on the edge of an enormous cavern. At least, it seemed like a cavern-high walls of rough stone rose all around them. Yet there was no rocky ceiling arching overhead, no dim cavern roof dripping with stalactites. Instead, there was a smooth azure dome, tinged by a faint yellowish haze. In the center of the dome hung a blazing orb of fire that filled the cavern with a warm golden light.

  "Why, if s the sun," Corin breathed in astonishment.

  Artek took a staggering step away from the river, toward the edge of a dense forest that filled the cavern. Tall trees danced under the touch of a soft zephyr. Of course, he realized. The blue dome was the sky, and the white puffs were clouds. Familiar as it was, the sight was so unexpected that he had not even recognized it.

  "But this can't be," he murmured, shaking his head in confusion. The River Sargauth keeps flowing from here. We haven't made it to the ocean yet. And that means we're still underground, beneath Mount Waterdeep." He shot an uncertain look at Beckla. "Aren't we?»

  The wizard nodded slowly. "I think so. There's no ocean in sight. And I would have noticed if we had passed through another gate." She gazed thoughtfully at the verdant forest. "Besides, this doesn't look like any place near Waterdeep that I know."

  There was a whirring of wings as a dark form swooped down from the sky. Guss landed on the pebbly bank of the river, Muragh in hand. The gargoyle staggered dizzily and dropped the skull.

  "Hey!" Muragh cried indignantly. "Try to be a little more gentle next time. These old bones are very delicate, you know."

  Guss paid no heed to the skull's complaints. He lifted a clawed hand, rubbing his skull.

  "What's going on, Guss?" Artek asked. Pain made him limp as he approached the gargoyle, and Artek was frustrated. The cutlass wound in his side was shallow. It shouldn't be hurting so much.

  "I bumped my head," Guss said in a groggy voice.

  "You did what?" Artek demanded incredulously.

  Guss swayed on his sharp-taloned feet. "When I saw all that space, I became terribly excited," the gargoyle explained. "I wanted to fly up into it, but when I got as high as the cavern's walls, I cracked my skull on something. I couldn't see it, but believe me, it was hard as stone." The gargoyle groaned, and still gripping his head, sat down hard on his tail.

  Curiosity flashed in Beckla's brown eyes. She opened her mouth to ask a question but was interrupted by a loud cracking sound. They all turned around. On the river, the hull of The Black Dart had broken in twain. The burning halves of the ship sank swiftly into the water, hissing as they submerged. In moments the old pirate schooner vanished from sight beneath the dark surface of the river, sunk at last to its watery grave.

  Artek wanted to ask Guss more about the sky, but a wave of nausea suddenly crashed over him, and he too sat hard on the ground. Both he and Guss moaned in pain. The gargoyle let go of his head and clutched the oozing wound on his arm. Concerned, Beckla knelt beside them.

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bsp; "Both of you are burning up," the wizard gasped as she felt their foreheads.

  Muragh rolled toward them, coming to a halt on a small heap of gravel. "It's the zombie wounds," the skull said grimly. "It's begun."

  "What's begun?" Corin asked.

  "The transformation," Muragh replied, his mandible working. "A wound tainted with the filth of a zombie will fester. Gradually, the victim's body will start to die. But he won't stop moving. Instead, the victim will become a zombie himself."

  The others stared at Muragh in horror. Artek shook his head weakly. All his life, he had been part monster. He had resigned himself to that fact. But to become a zombie was a fate he could not bear. "Kill me," he begged hoarsely. "Kill me before it's too late."

  At last Beckla regained her senses. "Not so fast, Ar'talen," she said crisply. "I'm not going to give you two up for dead… er, undead just yet. Where's that vial of healing potion-the one you used to cure me of the wraith spider venom?"

  Artek tried to move, but he was too weak. His skin was burning as if on fire. Sweat poured down his face, but he felt terribly cold. "It's… it's in my pocket."

  "I don't usually do this sort of thing until I've known a gent for a while, but…" The wizard reached into the pocket of Artek's black leather breeches, and pulled out the glass vial. It was empty except for a few purple drops at the bottom. "Corin, do you have another one of these?" she asked the nobleman.

  He shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid that was the only one I had."

  Beckla tilted the vial, eyeing the residue critically. "I guess well just have to hope this is enough."

  The wizard unstopped the vial and poured a drop of the precious fluid on the angry scratch on Guss's arm. She spread the potion over the wound with a finger, then turned to Artek. With Corin’s help, she managed to pull off Artek's leather jerkin.

  "Are you wearing a fur undershirt, or does all that belong to you?" she asked dryly.

  "Very funny," Artek growled. "You'd be hirsute yourself if you had ore blood in you. And let me say that I think it looks a lot better on me than it would on you."