Down in the Dungeon

III

"So, you've had your ale," grumbled the thief. "Now, what happened after you opened the door?"

I yawned and stretched. "Darkness, son. Just darkness. Rolling out like a wave..."

***

The darkness rolled out like a wave, engulfing me before I could even turn to flee -- though where I could have fled to at that point wasn't entirely certain.

I felt my knees hit the iron floor, and I felt myself face-planting with an unpleasant clang. Then, to my horror, the floor itself seemed to give way, opening like a trapdoor, and I fell into space. I remembered the molten slag beneath the bridge, and prepared myself for its burning embrace.

Dearest Phaedra, I'm really sorry for all the crap I've pulled and all the times I ignored you and your dicta, but you're the goddess of thieves after all, and I would imagine that you're willing to overlook the occasional lapse among your followers... After all, I'm basically a faithful worshipper, and hell, no other gods seem terribly interested in helping me; for the most part they seem to actively dislike me. Well, that's the gods for you, always butting in where they're least welcome and ignoring you when you need them...

Wait a moment... I wasn't dead yet. I was still suspended in darkness, but I didn't seem to be falling anymore.

"Wulf." A voice echoed out of the darkness. "Are you there? Can you hear me?"

I grunted. "Yes. Who are you? Do you work for Phaedra? Are you taking me to paradise or hell? Because if it's hell, you know where you can stick -- "

"Peace, Wulf." The voice was soft and comforting. "Let yourself go. Hear my words. Listen with your soul and you will see me."

I relaxed. Slowly the darkness around me coalesced into a warm glow of yellow light. And in the center of it, peacefully sitting cross-legged and regarding me with a deep, wise gaze...

"Scrad??" I barked in sudden surprise. "Scrad the goblin henchman?"

"The same," Scrad replied. He was dressed differently -- in my vision (perhaps, I reminded myself, these were the last delusions of my mortal mind as I sank into molten slag) he wore simple gray robes, tied with a brown rope, looking for all the world like a penniless Kyborist monk passing wisdom on to a disciple.

"I am the one you call Scrad," the goblin continued. "I have only a few moments to speak with you, so I must be brief."

My mind still whirled in confusion. "But you... you're the cook... the porter..."

Scrad smiled. "There is great honor and wisdom to be found in the service of others. And there is no shame when there is no pride. I have spent many years in service, struggling against my own pride and against my own baser nature... Indeed, I do not know whether I have truly succeeded or not... Only the universe and eternity can judge me. For now, we can only do our best."

"You don't talk like a goblin," I noted.

"You don't know many goblins," Scrad replied. "I have wandered long and long, seen much, heard much. I came to this place because I felt a great evil stirring, and saw that Tannus and his people would set it free unless I helped them."

"So far it looks as if those idiots are right on schedule. Is there still a chance?"

"There is always a chance. All things are mutable, because nothing truly exists."

"You're sounding more and more like some kind of Idrian mystic," I said. "Where did you go to school?"

"I hoped that I could find someone within the party who could aid me," Scrad continued, ignoring my feeble jest. "At first I thought Beldrin was the one. Now, unfortunately, he has moved on to his next existence."

"And I'm all you have left?"

"No, you are the one whom the universe has called upon. The others still retain some goodness, deep down inside, but more and more they are corrupted by the daemonic powers that dwell in this place. Tannus is driven by ambition, Svignar by pride and greed, Vendra by lust and Lilywinter by rage. Soon, all these things will burst forth, and all will be lost. You are different, Wulf. There is darkness in you, but it lives in harmony with the light, and together they make you resistant to the lure of the daemons. You were offered something, yes?"

I nodded. "Yes, I was."

"You were offered the pleasures of the flesh. No, do not protest. They are no different than the other worldly pleasures that all must face and accept. All have desires. We desire love, safety, acceptance, peace. But we do not truly understand what we want."

"What do you mean?" Heavy philosophizing from a diminutive, bald green imp was only the most recent of many weird things that had happened over the past few days, so I was growing slightly jaded.

"When we say we want peace, we mean that we want wars to cease, violence to end, and our lives to be safe." Scrad looked away, his face oddly contemplative. "Peace is so much more and less complex than we imagine. Peace can never be, not the peace that we so desire, unless that peace begins inside us. We must be at peace with ourselves before we can be at peace with others."

I didn't reply, but stared in astonishment.

"The daemons know this," Scrad continued. "They prey upon the turmoil in our hearts and souls, and they know that if that turmoil can be perpetuated, then there will never be peace. The wars, the hatred, the jealousy, the sadness, the chaos will continue unabated. They derive their sustenance from this chaos, and the more terrible it is, the more they derive. They feed on fear, on rage, on violence. That is why the daemoness seeks to tear us apart, set us at each other. She gives us glimpses of what we desire, and creeps into our very souls."

"What did she show you?" I asked.

Scrad smiled faintly. "Nothing. She showed me nothing. For that is what I desire."

I swallowed hard. "Have you considered getting a teaching position somewhere?"

"I am not worthy to teach others. I am still but a student myself." Scrad paused. "Time is short. We must act quickly."

"What can I do? It looks as if the big dark has already swallowed us."

"Not yet, it has not. It has you in its clutches, true. But I have spoken to you, and now you know what it intends. You have the power to fight it. I have some skills to hold the darkness at bay for a time and prevent it from fully consuming you all, transforming you into creatures of rage and passion. But you are the warrior, Wulf -- "

"Well, I'm not really a warrior, strictly speaking. My training is primarily in stealth and speed, with a smattering of spellcasting -- "

Scrad waved a hand. "It is no matter. The daemoness fears you, for now you know her for what she truly is. The others are lost in their dreams and slaves to their fears. You must find them and rescue them before it is too late. If the darkness takes them, then all will be lost... The powers locked in this place will break free and another daemon war will begin. This time, there may be nothing to stop them."

"Great," I muttered. "Fine job of encouraging me you're doing, goblin."

"Sorry. I am running out of time now, Wulf. Remember what I said. Find the peace in yourself. Find the others. Save whoever you can. It is not too late."

Then the light faded, and the darkness closed in again. At last my fall resumed and I felt myself tumble painfully onto a floor of solid rock. A single guttering torch provided flickering yellow illumination.

I lay there panting and groaning for a time, making sure nothing was broken. Then at last, painfully, I rose to my feet. I was all alone in a small stone chamber with a single wooden door. My next move seemed pretty obvious.

I walked toward the door, checking to make sure my various weapons and implements of destruction were still intact. Though the door now...

But after the door, then what?

Unfortunately for all of us, I had absolutely no idea.

***

Tannus shook his head, trying to drive away the darkness that fogged his vision and his thoughts. He was no longer falling, that was certain, and there was solid stone beneath him, where he crouched on hands and knees.

"By the gods, I'll have your head, daemon!" he roared, feeling the floor around him for some trace of his sword. His fingers closed around a familiar hilt and in an instant the human was on his feet, slashing randomly at the shadows around him.

"Come out and fight, daemon! See how you fare 'gainst enchanted steel!"

His voice echoed hollowly, and as Tannus listened for some sign of his foes, his vision began to clear, as if the light around him was growing brighter.

He was in a vast round stone chamber, whose far side vanished into shadow. In the center of the chamber was a wide round pit. Rising from the center of the pit was a cylinder of solid rock, rising at least fifty paces above Tannus' head. Four stone bridges spiraled down from the top of the cylinder, spanning the pit and connecting it to the room.

From this distance, Tannus could see a bright illumination coming from the top of the tall cylinder; this is what seemed to light the room, though he could not see its source. It was easily a hundred paces to the nearest of the bridges, but with barely a thought, Tannus sheathed his sword and began to jog toward the cylinder.

Perhaps,

he thought, this is the end.

Perhaps the object of my quest lies atop that platform...

As he jogged closer, Tannus grew more and more convinced that the mysterious glaive did indeed lie atop the cylinder at the junction of the four bridges. He began to pant heavily -- the exertions of the last few days had taken much out of him, but still he bore onward, the great stone span growing closer and closer.

"Tannus!" shouted a familiar voice, bringing the human up short. Nearby, also making for one of the stone bridges was the dwarf Svignar, looking tired but none the worse for wear, his axe clutched eagerly in his steel-gauntleted hands.

"Gods!" Tannus barked in surprise. "You're alive! I'd thought the daemon had had its way with you!"

"I'd thought the same of you," said the dwarf, with a surprising edge of wariness in his tone. "How did you manage to avoid them?"

Tannus shrugged and his armor clanked. "I've no idea, dwarf." He felt a note of indignation creep into his own voice and wondered idly where it had come from. "The darkness swept over us, then I was here, looking up at that thing." He gestured at the great stone cylinder, now towering ominously over their heads.

"Didn't bother to look for the others?" Svignar asked. "Made straight for the treasure, didn't you?"

"As did you, dwarf," Tannus snapped. "As did you. But I suppose that's to be expected of your kind."

Svignar glared blackly. "I looked for the others. They're gone; I thought I could see farther from the top of that tower."

Tannus nodded, though he remained skeptical. "Let's get up there, then," he said. "Gods know, that's probably the glaive's resting place, and we may need each other yet."

The dwarf grunted and began to stride purposefully toward the nearest ramped bridge.

Tannus followed, though for some reason he felt his hand straying toward his sword hilt.

Damned greedy dwarf,

he thought.

The little money-grubber's bound to try to take it from me.

***

Vendra's knees ached and her hands were skinned -- she'd landed hard, but hoped that her possessions were intact, though she could not feel her precious lute. The room was dimly lit, but she could see the vague outlines of furnishings. She reached for her backpack, hoping to find a torch or a mage light...

Her hand stubbornly refused to move. As consciousness returned fully, Vendra's heart began to race, as she realized that her wrists, ankles and neck were all solidly secured. She could not even turn her head, but was able to see from the corner of her eye that she was manacled to a heavy X-shaped hardwood cross, arms raised above her head, legs spread apart...

The light suddenly grew slightly brighter, from a pair of small mage globes nearby, and she gasped suddenly. The body that she beheld, bound to the cross, was not hers... It was smaller, slenderer, finer-boned, and... Gods... The flesh was paler, and a wisp of blonde hair trailed down one shoulder, curling around the white swelling of her naked breast...

I'm... I'm not Vendra... I'm...

"Welcome back to the world of the living, Lady Lilywinter," said a voice, riveting Vendra's attention.

Before her, now distinct in the growing light, was a bed, strewn with pillows, silks and furs. And there, legs drawn up, bare skin glowing gently in the mage light...

No. Gods, no.

Vendra's mind rebelled.

It was as if she was gazing into a mirror -- Vendra herself sat there, naked and all too real, her shoulders round and soft, her large breasts held tantalizingly between her upper arms, nipples swelling and growing hard before her own eyes. Her fingers were interlaced, clutching her knees, which were pulled up in a strange and unconvincing show of modesty, while two vivid green eyes smoldered with an expression midway between amusement and hatred.

"Behold the druid Lilywinter," she whispered, and Vendra's mind whirled. "But wait. She's not Lilywinter, is she? She thinks she's Vendra, the bard, and is baffled to see her own body, speaking to her in her own voice." She paused and giggled, making her breasts quiver. She stroked at one nipple with long fingers. "Someone has taken Vendra's body, it seems. And who could it be?" She paused again. "Of course, you know it's Lilywinter herself, and now at last you will see things as Lilywinter saw them."

Vendra forced herself to speak, ignoring the high musical sound of her elven voice. "What are you talking about, Lilywinter?" she demanded. "What's happened to us?"

"It's as the daemons promised," replied Lilywinter-in-Vendra's-body. "They said that they would give me justice, and now they have. Now you will see."

"See what?" Vendra shouted. "Justice for what? What offense have I perpetrated that requires justice, Lilywinter? Gods, listen to yourself!"

"That is the very problem." Lilywinter smiled, a sick parody of Vendra's own favorite expression. "I have not listened to myself. Now I can hear myself very clearly, thank you." The face grew harsh and hateful. "As for your offenses, the fact that you are so blissfully unaware is condemnation enough. You have taken from me, Vendra, taken men, taken pride, taken happiness. That night that you took my bed for your senseless human rutting, those who would have seen me as beautiful, given me what I desire -- you took them away without a thought or qualm. You didn't see what pain it caused me."

"Lilywinter, I'm sorry," Vendra protested. "I'm not the kind of person who thinks that way! I don't... I didn't mean to hurt you. I act on impulse, Lilywinter. I don't think things through like your people do..."

"My people, human?" Lilywinter laughed, then shifted position, cradling and squeezing her breasts in her hands. "Your people now. You're the gentle, caring elf now and I am the beautiful, desirable human. Watch, Lilywinter. See what I saw..."

Vendra's vision shifted, as if a wave of water has passed over her eyes. Now the naked form of her own body was splayed out on the bed, gloriously and joyfully naked, thighs apart, fingers busy at the moist pink flesh between them. Her breasts heaved and shook, nipples swollen. Her lips parted slightly, pink tongue darting between them.

"See it now, elf. Watch, for you have no choice."

From the shadows around the bed emerged three figures -- their features were indistinct, as if they were drawn from the darkness itself, but all were exaggeratedly male -- tall, strongly muscled, with oversized genitals, growing erect as they advanced on the bed, each looking almost dangerous in its thickness and menace.

"Oh, see what they have for Vendra," Lilywinter whispered hotly, gliding to hands and knees, large breasts hanging down to rest on the silken coverlet beneath her. The nearest of the shadow-men approached, and she reached out a hand to touch the thick organ that projected from between its thighs. Its upper torso and face were indistinct and unreadable...

...Like so many of the men that Vendra had been with, she realized. Faceless, nameless... Gods, now she began to understand...

"It's warm," Lilywinter exclaimed in surprise, fingers encircling the organ, stroking and petting. Her other hand tickled at the massive scrotum that hung beneath it. "So warm... Mmm..." She turned to look at Vendra, the green eyes burning brighter still. "I'm going to put it in my mouth now," she whispered. "I want to see how much of it I can swallow. And you have to watch -- watch this huge cock slide down my throat... Mmmm..."

With that, Lilywinter began to explore the surface of the thing's cock with the tip of her -- no, Vendra's -- tongue, flicking it along its glans, then down its long shaft, tracing the throbbing contours of its veins.

"It tastes go good, doesn't it?" she asked. "You know how good a man's cock tastes, don't you?" She encircled the cock's broad head with her lips. "Mmmm... mmmph..." Her groans of ecstasy faded into muffled grunts as the cock slid into her mouth.

The full horror of the situation began to dawn on her, even as the pace of Lilywinter-in-Vendra's-body increased, and the cock slid in and out, glistening with her saliva. Meanwhile, the other two shadow-men were exploring the rest of the stolen body, hands and cocks probing at her heaving breasts, pinching nipples, and stroking at the outer lips of her cunt.

"Lilywinter!" Vendra cried. "It's not real! We've been trapped here! It's some kind of nightmare that the daemons are sending us. They want us to be like this! Letting our hatred and fear destroy us! You've got to stop and think!"

Even as she shouted, Vendra felt the old tug of lust and desire plaguing her. There was an edge of excitement in her belly, spreading to her thighs and chest, even in this cast-off body, this elvish form that seemed so strange to her...

You are helpless, little one,

whispered a seductive voice in her head.

Enjoy it. There is more to come for you. Much, much more...

***

At this point, I was busy wandering the corridors like the last survivor of a disaster, which in a sense I was. My companions were out there somewhere -- this much I knew, and that bizarre little goblin had gifted me with enough self-awareness to at least have a fighting chance at overcoming the daemons' temptations. But as you probably know by now, I've never been one to resist temptation. And as I have said several times, I was younger back then, too.

In retrospect, it was as if I was wandering in a dream, and indeed I probably was -- certainly, I was under the influence of the monstrosities that controlled this realm, and, in case you haven't guessed already, they were manipulating the hell out of me.

The place was a mindless maze of featureless stone corridors, intersections, zigzags, right-angle turns, dead ends and nary a door in sight. If I was going to save my companions -- as much as they didn't deserve it -- like the philosophical goblin had suggested, I would at least have to reach a door some time...

And as if I'd willed it -- possibly because I had willed it -- I finally reached the end of the corridor and was confronted by a grim, iron-bound door. And, by the gods, it was locked.

Well, by the gods, it was about time that the rogue started showing his worth. I fumbled with my lockpicks for a few minutes before finally overcoming the damned thing. That would show that idiot Tannus, I thought as I pushed the door open. I was a good rogue, dammit.

The chamber was small, dimly lit like the rest of the dungeon by some kind of indirect magical means. It was almost as featureless as the corridors, but its single feature was certainly striking.