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Authors: J. Robert King
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form. “Your evil betrays you, shadow man.”
Raising his sword overhead, Piergeiron advanced on the figure. Halcyon swept downward in a deadly arc, and the shadow warrior jumped back.
“Not so blind, after all, eh Thickskull?” taunted the voice.
“There is blindness, and there is blindness,” replied Piergeiron, swinging the blade again. It rushed in and rang off of a metal breastplate. At last, something to fight against. He followed with a third stroke, and this time the image seemed to wince.
“First blood to me,” Piergeiron noted calmly.
“Last blood to me,” responded the voice.
Piergeiron was surprised by a stinging blow to his side. He drew back, considering. This man was evil, but his sword was not; of course it did not appear in his mind’s eye. That mistake would not be made twice.
Piergeiron darted in, quick for a man his size. He hurled a heavy blow down on his opponent. Sword rang on sword, then grated away to one side. Piergeiron followed the weight of his blade, turning its tip to drive in ward. The shadow warrior was too fast, though, batting Halcyon away and sending out his own blow.
The Open Lord ducked back, then lunged, landing a second attack.
“I thought I would regret having to kill you,” the warrior hissed in pain, “But I will not regret it at all.”
The cell door proved rotten around its barred window. A repeated series of kicks to the bars at last tore them free of the spongy wood. The iron dropped to the ground and rattled loudly.
Now, Noph needed merely to wriggle through…. After a lot of shimmying, a few select curses, and one moment of panic when he was stuck halfway in and halfway out, Noph won free of the door and rolled out onto his shoulders. He let out a blast of air as he landed.
“Better my shoulders than my head,” he muttered.
The reborn hero stood and brushed himself off. He took a deep breath. “Time for some true valor.”
With that thought, Noph strode to the dim, winding stairs and climbed upward, toward the screaming above.
This dungeon is deep, he thought, breathless. The steps seem to wind forever. It didn’t take half as long to be dragged down here… of course, other legs did that work.
After his fourth circuit of the stairs. Noph saw a light above. The roar of battle had redoubled. By his sixth circuit, he reached a round doorway. Noph darted through it into a hallway. He halted, panting.
Which way to the sanctuary?
After a moment of indecision, he followed the echoing cries down the hall. In no time, he had reached the narthex.
Ahead of him, a shimmering curtain of darkness stretched across the doorway. A few nobles staggered out, their hands groping blindly forward. When they entered the light, the folk blinked in astonishment before gathering their wits and darting away from the sanctuary as quickly as they could.
Bring them out. That’s what a hero would do here. Lead the people from the darkness into the light.
One more deep breath, and into the crowded chaos he plunged.
Khelben writhed beneath an agonizing weight. It had fallen upon him just when the shadow warriors appeared. It had fallen with the very weight of the palace itself.
He had seen only the flare of candles, figures taking shape out of flames. Then, as the warriors became flesh and leapt to the floor, the terrific crushing blackness had fallen atop the Lord Mage of Waterdeep.
He gasped, air seeping damnably slowly into and out of his lungs. He struggled to hold to consciousness, all his spells lost beneath numb fingers. Whatever magic had brought these warriors here, it was ancienta sorcery that could shatter worlds.
Noph had made numerous forays into the wheeling black chaos of the sanctuary. Because of his efforts, hundreds of guests had fled to safety. Their battered rescuer did not even waste time watching them flee but rushed back for more souls.
It was dangerous work in that unnatural darkness. Each time Noph grappled a given guest, he
Raising his sword overhead, Piergeiron advanced on the figure. Halcyon swept downward in a deadly arc, and the shadow warrior jumped back.
“Not so blind, after all, eh Thickskull?” taunted the voice.
“There is blindness, and there is blindness,” replied Piergeiron, swinging the blade again. It rushed in and rang off of a metal breastplate. At last, something to fight against. He followed with a third stroke, and this time the image seemed to wince.
“First blood to me,” Piergeiron noted calmly.
“Last blood to me,” responded the voice.
Piergeiron was surprised by a stinging blow to his side. He drew back, considering. This man was evil, but his sword was not; of course it did not appear in his mind’s eye. That mistake would not be made twice.
Piergeiron darted in, quick for a man his size. He hurled a heavy blow down on his opponent. Sword rang on sword, then grated away to one side. Piergeiron followed the weight of his blade, turning its tip to drive in ward. The shadow warrior was too fast, though, batting Halcyon away and sending out his own blow.
The Open Lord ducked back, then lunged, landing a second attack.
“I thought I would regret having to kill you,” the warrior hissed in pain, “But I will not regret it at all.”
The cell door proved rotten around its barred window. A repeated series of kicks to the bars at last tore them free of the spongy wood. The iron dropped to the ground and rattled loudly.
Now, Noph needed merely to wriggle through…. After a lot of shimmying, a few select curses, and one moment of panic when he was stuck halfway in and halfway out, Noph won free of the door and rolled out onto his shoulders. He let out a blast of air as he landed.
“Better my shoulders than my head,” he muttered.
The reborn hero stood and brushed himself off. He took a deep breath. “Time for some true valor.”
With that thought, Noph strode to the dim, winding stairs and climbed upward, toward the screaming above.
This dungeon is deep, he thought, breathless. The steps seem to wind forever. It didn’t take half as long to be dragged down here… of course, other legs did that work.
After his fourth circuit of the stairs. Noph saw a light above. The roar of battle had redoubled. By his sixth circuit, he reached a round doorway. Noph darted through it into a hallway. He halted, panting.
Which way to the sanctuary?
After a moment of indecision, he followed the echoing cries down the hall. In no time, he had reached the narthex.
Ahead of him, a shimmering curtain of darkness stretched across the doorway. A few nobles staggered out, their hands groping blindly forward. When they entered the light, the folk blinked in astonishment before gathering their wits and darting away from the sanctuary as quickly as they could.
Bring them out. That’s what a hero would do here. Lead the people from the darkness into the light.
One more deep breath, and into the crowded chaos he plunged.
Khelben writhed beneath an agonizing weight. It had fallen upon him just when the shadow warriors appeared. It had fallen with the very weight of the palace itself.
He had seen only the flare of candles, figures taking shape out of flames. Then, as the warriors became flesh and leapt to the floor, the terrific crushing blackness had fallen atop the Lord Mage of Waterdeep.
He gasped, air seeping damnably slowly into and out of his lungs. He struggled to hold to consciousness, all his spells lost beneath numb fingers. Whatever magic had brought these warriors here, it was ancienta sorcery that could shatter worlds.
Noph had made numerous forays into the wheeling black chaos of the sanctuary. Because of his efforts, hundreds of guests had fled to safety. Their battered rescuer did not even waste time watching them flee but rushed back for more souls.
It was dangerous work in that unnatural darkness. Each time Noph grappled a given guest, he
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