Down in the Dungeon

II

So when I last left off, I think I was in a tavern, regaling a youthful adventuring party with tales of my own younger days. This was, of course, in exchange for all the ale I could drink, and I'm not sure if they thought it was a good deal or not, given that I was trying with all my might to discourage them from taking off on their hare-brained endeavor.

"And exactly what did you and the elf druidess do while you were lost in the woods all day?" demanded the thief. He seemed to suspect me of holding out some of the juicier details of my experiences. And he was right.

"What do you normally do when you're lost?" I replied. "We tried to find our way out. In any event, we found the camp later that night, and by the next morning..."

***

Morning came way too early, as mornings have a tendency to do, as I was brutally ripped from a sound slumber by the rattle of pots and pans and the excited chatter of my companions. Of them all, only Lilywinter seemed reserved and quiet -- even the taciturn Fennaeos was grinning broadly, and actually discussing what he planned to do with his share of the plunder. The priest, as oblivious as ever, still apparently thought that this was a serious and reverent expedition to recover a holy relic, while the fighters, Tannus and Svignar strapped on their armor and weapons, talking excitedly among themselves and ignoring the rest of us.

They wore the usual fighter rig, with Svig in fluted, gold-chased dwarven armor, and Tannus in a heavy breastplate and metal-reinforced leather for his arms and legs. Svig had his signature weapon, a huge dwarven waraxe that was literally a work of art, inscribed with elaborate dwarven runes and scrollwork, while Tannus relied on what I took to be an enchanted longsword, due to its runic inscriptions and the reverent way that he handled it.

The rest of the party was tricked out in manners appropriate to their roles. Vendra was very sexy in studded leather armor, with what I recognized as a number of protective amulets and rings that enhanced her protection. Her hair was bound up, and she carried a rapier and short bow -- not much against dragons or daemons, but enough for what she normally did. Fennaeos was the worst armored of the bunch, wearing only his robes and some magical protections like Vendra. But then I didn't expect him to get into combat, and he needed to be limber if he was going to be casting a lot of combat spells.

Lilywinter was as radiant and beautiful as I remembered, but she was still aloof and looked troubled. She wore a quilted surcoat that probably provided about as much protection as a piece of parchment, but she seemed comfortable with it. She carried a sickle and a couple of spears, but her role wasn't combat -- it was marshaling the forces of nature to our aid.

Everyone seemed aware of the dangers we faced. Scrad the goblin was unarmored, but he looked as if he could run like a son of a bitch. Even the somewhat timid Beldrin wore a chain shirt and carried a shield, but no weapons were immediately evident.

As for myself, I was as prepared as I would ever be. My short sword bore some enchantments that would help it cleave armor, and my leather armor had likewise been blessed at the Temple of Phaedra. I'd saved my coppers for months in order to afford a pair of magical bracelets that would supposedly increase my protection from harm, but so far I hadn't had a chance to try them out. I carried my throwing daggers in bandoliers across my chest, and I had a nice bag of scrolls with magical spells pre-inscribed on them. I wasn't telling anyone about those, but they would come in handy if needed.

We had the usual assortment of potions and other miscellanea among us, with the expected coils of rope, lanterns, flasks of oil and the like... It's all standard these days, but back then I think there was more of an art to equipping a party. Today, it's all written in books and pre-selected at the shops... Gods, in those days dungeoneering was a real challenge. Today, it's just like some kind of card game...

***

"Can you please get on with the story?" the thief demanded irritably, motioning for a refill of his ale. "You can meander down memory lane some other time."

"Sorry," I said. "Forgive an old man his foibles."

"It's all right, grandfather," the cleric said, kindly. "Continue with your tale."

Grandfather? Gods, what have I come to?

I cleared my throat and continued.

***

I didn't say much myself, accepting meat and scrambled quail eggs from Scrad and wolfing it down as the rest of the party made haste to the dungeon entrance.

It was as I'd seen it the night before -- though in the light of day it was far grander, and in some ways, even more ominous. For a structure that had stood for centuries, it seemed entirely untouched by the passage of time. A semicircular platform extended from the opening in the hillside, atop three shallow steps. It was crafted of polished, white-veined black marble. Six graceful columns were spaced evenly around it, these were of pale porphyry, supporting a dome of grey marble and lapis.

"This has been here all these years and no one's noticed it?" I muttered as I trudged toward the platform alongside Vendra.

"I think it's been noticed on numerous occasions," she replied. "It's just that those who noticed it never made it back to their homes to talk about it."

There was a certain tightness to her voice and a distance to her expression, as if she was talking to a casual acquaintance, rather than someone she had delightedly fellated to orgasm just a few days previously, but I put it down to tension and ignored it.

The Platform led to a craggy opening in the mountain, a mere five paces deep, ending at a brass-bound portal. Beldrin and Fennaeos were inspecting it closely, though I noted that they were careful not to actually touch it. I winced inwardly -- for all their caution, they apparently hadn't checked for pressure plates on the floor outside the door, a trap that I'd seen several times already.

"How's it looking, gentlemen?" Tannus asked, looking vaguely impatient. I had to admit that he cut a fine figure in his gleaming steel armor, while beside him Svignar was every bit the grim dwarfish warrior.

"Many magical wards," Fennaeos said. "It will take some time to neutralize them, but I think I can do it. These ware moderate-level spells intended to discourage casual intruders. I suspect that the real challenge lies inside."

Beldrin gestured at a series of runes scribed into the door's brass bindings.

"These are letters in the infernal alphabet," he said. "Proof that this structure was built by the powers of darkness."

As if we need any,

I thought to myself.

"There are likely to be mechanical defenses as well," Fennaeos said. "Once I've dispelled the wards, we might have the rogue inspect the portal as well."

He said "rogue" as if he was saying "bloated, scabrous tick," but I let it go. I got that sort of thing all the time.

I went back to the main platform to let the wizard do whatever it was that wizards do, and found Lilywinter seated on the polished marble steps. Her gaze was fixed on the green hills and forests beyond the portico, and resolutely away from the ominous entrance behind us.

I wasn't entirely certain that approaching her was the best thing, but since Vendra had seemed distant, and I wasn't sure whether I even liked my other companions, I tentatively sat down a safe distance from the druidess and looked over at her.

"How are you?" I asked, quietly.

"As well as might be expected," she said, also quiet. "I'm glad I was able to experience those moments with you yesterday."

I was dumbstruck for a moment, but managed to find my voice.

"I am too," I told her. "It meant something to me too. I mean, don't think I'm taking you for granted or anything..."

She cut me off with a raised hand. "Don't worry about that. I just wanted to tell you that I enjoyed sharing passions with you. At least now I have experienced it and won't feel regret." She looked away from the green hills and back toward the entrance, where Fennaeos was making mystic passes and mumbling. "We're going to die in there. All of us."

I gulped and said nothing -- that's one of those portentous lines that mystical types are always saying, and to my experience they're usually right.

"There's life out there," Lilywinter went on, looking back at the greenery. "I felt it with you yesterday. I feel it there now. But what's behind that door -- I feel nothing. No. Worse. I feel less than nothing. I feel not only the absence of life, I feel its opposite. Undeath I feel. Undeath and the lifeless evil of daemons. That is where those fools are taking us, and we will all die there."

I considered this for a moment. "So, do you think we should light out now? Head for the trees and hope for the best?"

She shook her head. "No. Our destiny lies elsewhere. Yours and mine. I felt that yesterday, too. While you were sleeping. If we leave now, our fate will be no different. We must enter, and we must face the death that awaits us."

Maybe you must, sister,

I thought, quickly standing,

but as for me I'm taking my chances with the Swamp Lords or the bandit kingdoms.

Lilywinter looked up as if reading my intentions (not a terribly difficult task, actually, since I was probably white as a sheet) and seemed about to speak when I heard Tannus' voice bellowing from the door.

"Rogue! Wulf! Get over here. Time to earn your keep! The wizard's gotten rid of the wards!"

Damn. Running now would bring the rest down on me, and besides I half-believed Lilywinter's assertion that I was doomed either way. Reluctantly, each step an agony, I turned and strode back toward the doorway.

The door turned out to have a couple of run-of-the-mill arrow traps on it, and the usual poisoned needle on the latch. I disabled them all without too much difficulty, then set to work on the lock. After about ten minutes I had managed to persuade the last tumbler to cooperate, and the door slid open, revealing a long corridor, vanishing into the massif interior and darkness.

"Fine work, rogue," Svignar declared, hefting his axe and stepping through the portal. "Now, let's get to -- "

I unceremoniously grabbed the bandy-legged idiot by one shoulder and hauled him back, nearly tipping him onto his back.

"Wait!" I said, urgently. "At least let me check the fucking corridor before you go charging through like the Knights of Saint Orlan."

The dwarf looked sheepish and nodded.

"Of course. Of course. Don't know what came over me. Off you go, then."

I rolled my eyes and began to inspect the corridor.

It had a curved ceiling and a floor covered in alternating black and white marble tiles. As I had expected, there was a nice selection of pressure plates that set off another predictable series of traps, from hidden crossbow bolts to acid sprays and clouds of poison gas. As before, I either disabled or identified the traps, and we made our way down the corridor in relative safety, albeit with maddening slowness, lit by the party's hooded lanterns.

"By the gods," muttered Svignar, hefting his axe, "I'd give anything for a good scrap right now."

And then, right on schedule, a cold wind rushed across us -- from further down the corridor -- extinguishing our lanterns and plunging us into darkness. Behind us, the square of light that was the doorway to the outside vanished with a deep, resonant boom.

Instantly, Tannus bellowed in the darkness.

"Wizard! Light!"

I'll give them credit -- they had the drill down. A moment later a globe of blue magelight appeared over Fennaeos's staff, illuminating the corridor with an eerie pale glow...

...Revealing that a series of panels on either side of the corridor had slid open, revealing shallow niches, from which shambled...

Zombies. Dammit. Why did it always have to be zombies?

They were zombies, all right -- undead, partially-fleshed things clad in tatters of armor and clothing, stepping into the corridor, intent on enfolding us in their rotted arms and dragging us down before we could react.

Fortunately, the Companions of the Blade were made of sterner stuff. Tannus barked orders and they leaped into action. With a shout, Svignar waded in, his axe whirling, cleaving two zombies apart in a twinkling. Tannus himself followed, taking out any who got past the dwarf's deadly axe.

Meanwhile, Vendra unslung her bow and provided missile cover while Lilywinter and Fennaeos hung back behind the fighters, prepping spells.

As I tumbled past a zombie and hamstrung it with my shortsword, I was once more forced to admit that the Companions were competent -- I'd heard of parties wiped out by their own lack of coordination as wizards launched panic fire, archers misfired and fighters charged off in the wrong direction, leaving the spellcasters unprotected. The Companions were doing well, and so far no zombie had even landed a blow, despite their repeated clumsy efforts to do so.

Meanwhile, Beldrin the priest bowed his head in prayer and held his Sign of Kybor reverently.

"Mighty Kybor," he intoned, "aid your servants and smite the fell undead with your divine hand!"

A pale golden glow suffused the young priest for a moment, and suddenly half the zombies collapsed into dust and ruin, and the remainder hesitated, falling back and trying to flee.

It was all over in a moment. The fighters took down the last few zombies, I hacked my victim to wriggling bits with my shortsword, and Vendra sent the last one tumbling with a single black arrow through the hip.

"Gods damn you, rogue!" Tannus snapped as he dispatched the struggling creature with a couple of swordblows. "Why didn't you see those hidden panels? What the hell are we paying you for?"

I felt instantly defensive. "I was focusing on the floor. I can't see everything, no matter how much I'd like to -- those things were threatening me, too, remember."

"The entrance is blocked," Svignar reported, trundling up the corridor. "A stone block the size of Mount Grabnor fell when the lights went out."

Tannus glared at me again.

"Care to tell us how to get out, now that you missed the most obvious trap in the fucking corridor, rogue?"

I glared back. "You know, Tannus, it's been a real pleasure knowing you. You're the first perfect person I've ever met."

Svignar broke us up.

"Don't," he rumbled. "We've plenty of provisions, and there's fresh air coming from somewhere. We'll either be able to clamber out through the vents, or given time I can tunnel out through the rock. I am a dwarf, after all."

"I imagine I can get us out eventually as well," said Fennaeos. "I've a few spells that might work."

I sighed. The idea of spending a week or two in this labyrinth while Svignar gouged away at the door with his dwarf-spoon didn't appeal to me, but it might end up being the only way out.

"All right," Tannus growled. "What's done is done. Let's get a move on."

The rest of this section of the labyrinth proved free of guardians and traps. The long corridor ended in a semicircular chamber, also floored in checkered marble, with four doors leading out.

We set up a base camp here under the glow of the wizard's mage light. Svignar inspected the map, squinting and looking perplexed.

"It shows the corridor all right," he said, "but this room is shown as square, not semicircular, and the doors are in the wrong place." He looked closer. "I need more light, dammit."

Svignar tried to take a closer look with a candle, but succeeded only in setting a corner of the map on fire. He hastily snuffed it out, the cast an exasperated glance at Tannus.

"I don't know if we can rely on this damned thing," he grumbled. "It might have been taken from someone's sketches or description and there may be discrepancies..."

"Or," I suggested, "the whole thing could be a fake and we'll have to explore the place on our own."

Svignar sighed. "Ah well. We've been in tighter spots before."

"We have?" Vendra asked. "When?"

The dwarf grumbled to himself.

***

We bedded down in the chamber, assigning watches and hoping to get some rest before continuing the exploration the next day. Scrad ran around cleaning up, accepting an occasional insult or command from Tannus or Svignar without complaint. I drew the last watch and curled up in a corner wrapped in a blanket, wondering desperately how I'd gotten myself into this situation.

I dreamed vividly that night -- so vividly in fact that I found myself wondering if it was real. In the end, of course, it turned out to be far more than a dream, but that's getting ahead of the story.

I was alone in the chamber, but the place was markedly different. It was brightly lit by torches, giving it a warm, flickering yellow-orange light. The chamber seemed freshly-made, its tiles polished, its walls of purest white. I stood in the center, facing the four doors.

"Choose, mortal," echoed a voice in my head. "Choose your pleasure and see your fate..."

I felt a deep sense of dread as I inspected the doors, each carved with a different leering daemon-face, but then (in the kind of realization that one always has in dreams) knew that if I refused to choose, it would be worse for me.

What the hell...

I stepped toward the door on the far left, and as I did so it swept open of its own accord, revealing shadows beyond. As I watched, heart hammering, the shadows began to move and coalesce, and what came out of the door was either a vision from my dreams or my nightmares, and most likely both.

She seemed indeed to be a creature of shadow, with rich purple-black skin and lustrous black hair cascading down her back. Her face was beautiful yet at the same time cruel and alarming, like some sexy vampire-princess who wants to fuck you before she drinks your vital fluids (and believe me, after all these years I know that look all too well). Her eyes were feral, slitted gold, more like a hunting cat's than a human's, and when her black lips slid open in to a smile, I saw the razor-sharp teeth of a predator.

The rest of her body bespoke predatory grace and elegance, as well, gliding forward with feline sensuality and silence. She was clad in a dark blue-black silken garment, but I could see the faintest hints of a voluptuous, naked body beneath it, with flaring hips and prominent breasts, nipples swollen and pressed against fabric, as if she was a fearful yet irresistible combination of death goddess and earth mother. The two smallish bat-wings that rose, neatly folded from her back pretty much convinced me that I wasn't dealing with a human.

"You choose well, mortal," she whispered, her voice gentle and sibilant, yet filling the chamber with its echoes, resounding in my chest like the cries of a tormented prisoner. "You desire pleasure and the touch of another's flesh, do you not? Yet, you also love the caress of darkness, as if those women you take as yours must be somehow tainted by shadow, graced by a tiny touch of wickedness, balanced on the edge of morning and evening. Is that true, mortal?"

I gulped and stared. I was still young, but in my heart I knew what she said was right, even though I lacked the stomach to admit it.

She moved toward me like a gentle ocean swell, her animal-eyes burning into mine.

"You do not speak, yet you know that what I say is the truth. I am Lady Malifa, and I see into the hearts and souls of men and women. I see their desires, and I give them glimpses of their destiny as I take them in my arms."

"You..." I said, hesitantly. "You're a daemon?"

She nodded, a long snakelike tongue flicked across her lips, and her small wings unfurled slightly. "I am what you call daemon. Not those red-skinned upstarts that have named themselves 'demons' -- no. They are nothing. We are of another time and another place, and we brought the glorious rites of chaos and hell to this place, this world of yours. We have fought long, but you have fought as well, and that is well, for in blood and conflict we find beauty and contentment. Your champion slew many of us, yet in the end he fell, as all do before chaos. And we took his weapon, and placed it here, hoping that more mortals would come seeking it, so that we could see their souls and touch them and change them. And here I have waited, long and long, and touched many and changed many, and now you come before me, mortal. Pretty mortal. Pretty man with a pretty face." Her hand snaked out and she touched my thigh. "And a pretty prick that is growing even as I speak to him. Oh, man. You are young and strong, and you can take many women before you leave this world, this I see." Malifa drew back and the beast's eyes flashed. "If you leave this place alive, of course."