Night Arrant (21 page)

The dagger turned lazily in the air. Biff saw it coming in the light given off by the glowing mineral and snared its pommel easily, ducking quickly thereafter to avoid another bolt from the twisted staff of Maegus Yeo, this time meant for the hafling!

"Use the dagger, man, before it's too late!" Gord shouted in desperation.

"This had better work as the young fellow claims," Biff muttered to himself, "or Poztif and I. too. are fodder for that. . . ." The snaky form of a violet-colored dragon was sinuously turning and twisting, growing larger as if approaching through mists of stuff that palely reflected its own coloration. Although to Biffs eyes the dragon was no larger than a smallish lizard, the halfling somehow knew it was actually of monstrous proportion. Without thinking further. Biff thrust the dagger at the threatening form coming through the now-transparent stone.

"Graauuugh!"

The roar of pain seemed to come from a vast distance, yet it nearly ruptured the halfling's eardrums. The sound reverberated through the underground room, and Yeo howled mournfully when he heard the strange sound of pain. It was as if he, too, suffered.

"The bloody dag sunk in to its hilt!" Biff cried in excitement and delight. When the blade pierced the rock, the tongue of metal seemed to elongate and grow small at the same time. It had barely pricked the oncoming dragon, and in proportion to the monster it had seemed only needle-sized, but its touch had sorely troubled the creature. Biff pulled out and thrust the poinard into the lilac-hued block again and again, watching the results. The roars and screams of the dragon redoubled, and the thunderous noise grew louder as the monster slowly increased in size and moved toward the exit from its transparent prison.

"It's coming out!" the halfling yelled as he jerked away from the stone, fear scribed in etched lines across his little face.

While all this was going on, Gord and Chert had continued their combat against the undead ancestors of the evil Maegus Yeo. Staying on the move and using the skeletal monsters as shields against Yeo's staff, they each attacked as they could. Of the ten that had appeared. Gord had felled one almost immediately, then continued hacking mightily on another, having to bound and weave with all his skill to avoid the touch of the grasping bones of their clawed hands. The exercise was tiring for Gord and not especially devastating to the undead creatures. Eight of the things still came toward them, only one of them bearing damage from Gord's sword.

"Yeow! Watch out!" Chert cried, dodging a missile that whizzed by and was heading straight for Gord. "Gord!" Chert screamed as his friend was hit by one of the evil bolts.

Gord felt like his entire body was alive with static energy. But the effect quickly wore off. and the momentarily triumphant Yeo quickly shot another bolt in the young thiefs direction. Again, the same thing happened, with Gord recovering a little more rapidly this time. "Your staffs getting short on energy, eh?" Gord taunted, this time successfully ducking his evil host's attempted attack.

Gord and Chert were slowly being forced by the undead monsters back to where the huge stone was, with Poztif immobile and light-enwrapped a short distance from it Chert was out of things to hurl at the undead ancestors of the shrieking Yeo, Gord's sword was doing little good, and as the two of them were pushed back, they saw that Biff was standing stock-still, horror-stricken, staring at the stone.

Chert ran to help the halfling. Taking the dagger from Biff's limp grasp, the barbarian wrapped it in his mighty palm and struck. A leglike extremity tipped by a claw larger than the halfling was reaching outward from the transparent stone, heading for the immobile cleric. Before the claw managed to grab Poztif, the magically keen blade sliced the relatively thin leg attached to the taloned forefoot cleanly off. This time the roar of agony from the dragon deafened all in the room, stunning and dizzying even the rotting corpses.

Yeo reeled, his cry of agony as high and piercing as the dragon's had been basso and ear-splitting. The strange man fell in a heap, holding his arm and keening. The spurt of ichor from the dragon within the stone had started a reversal of the mineral. It was now growing cloudy and translucent again, the reptilian form within it receding and growing ever more obscured. As the blood soaked deeper into the stone, tiny cracks appeared in its surface, and then the block split into several fragments with a sharp, booming sound.

"What's happening?" Poztif asked in a shaky voice. "I felt as if I was suffocating, and I thought I saw a mighty dragon about to devour met Where are we?"

"Good cleric, we are right where we were but moments before," Chert told him. "But foul things of undead form are attacking! You must do something immediately!"

Poztif needed no further prompting. He wiped his forehead as if to clear away cobwebs, turned to quickly apprize what was happening, then grasped his silvery, sun-shaped holy symbol, "Back to your graves, monstrous unrealities!" he chanted forcefully. "Your unclean spirits to the nether planes, your evil intentions withering in the Light of Burning Truth."

As if struck by a hammer, the recovering things were spun and turned about simultaneously. Reeling and tottering, they retreated from the cleric, heading toward the recess that Yeo had called them from, as bright swirls of silvery-gold light danced and played upon their rotted flesh and decaying bones.

By this time Maegus Yeo had apparently recovered. The pain seemed gone from his right arm, for in it he now held the twisted staff.

"You still lose, bastards of Goodness!" He thrust forth the staff, but only a feeble, dark purple glow came from it jumping up and down in rage, Yeo tried the attack again and again. At the last attempt the staff simply turned into dry splinters and fell to the richly carpeted floor. With a shriek of hatred, the man darted and interposed himself between the retreating undead and the recess toward which they were heading. Turn back and attack!" he exhorted them. "You must obey me. Am I not the Supreme One?"

Before Yeo could say more, two of the rotted corpses had him. He was dragged along in their retreat, howling and shrieking unintelligible things in his sing-song speech.

"Shall we pursue?" Chert asked the cleric when Yeo and his cohorts had vanished.

"No, I believe that Yeo has gone to join his ancestors and will trouble us, and others, no more."

"Hey! Where's Gord and the halfling?" the barbarian suddenly asked.

Poztif looked around and spotted the two near the long table, each trying to tug the bowl away from the grasp of the other without making a disturbance. "Such behavior is shameful!" the cleric admonished the squabbling pair.

"But pretty typical, Poztif." Chert advised the man. "Perhaps you might find it worthwhile to instruct both on the path they should be following."

Gord and Biff were ignoring the cleric and the barbarian, alternately reaching into the deep dish and moving their hands rapidly. Chert moved closer to see what was going on. "Cut it out, you pair of thieves," he said in a low, threatening tone. "That bowl goes out of here intact with Poztif — that's the vow we agreed to!"

Biff held the bowl as Gord made one last searching motion within it. "Sure thing, Chert," said the young thief. "We're just examining it."

"That's true, see?" And with that Biff held the thing up for all to observe. It appeared quite normal.

"What about those gems the dragons clutched?" Poztif asked sternly.

"Sound and whole — see for yourself," Gord replied sweetly. Biff, too, looked absolutely cherubic at that. Chert and Poztif hastened to them, snatched the dish away in a joint effort, and minutely scanned the jeweled inlays.

"Something's funny," Chert said as he peered into the huge bowl. "Didn't the green dragon have a pearl? And the gold dragon a sapphire?"

Poztif looked intently at the object for a moment, then replied, "No matter — there are pearl, amethyst, sapphire, topaz, and emerald there now. The work is intact and we must depart!"

The other three drew together at that and had a few seconds of private conversation. Then Chert spoke up. "There is another matter to handle, Your Faithfulness, ere we bid the abode of Maegus Yeo farewell forever."

"Yes, there certainly is." Biff piped up.

"A firm part of the bargain," Gord said solemnly.

Poztif looked dark and disapproving. Frown as he would, though, the three were unmoved, and he could not avoid the matter. "Well, I suppose that the former owner of this place will no longer need such worldly goods, so let us select a few items in payment for our righteous work in thwarting evil and sending its minions to their deserved fates."

There was little of real value that was portable in the ruined cellar temple. But, thinking ahead. Chert selected a medium-sized rug, Gord a smaller version, and Biff one of near mat-size, and then they hurried upstairs into the shop. There, each of the three tossed objects haphazardly into the makeshift carrying devices they had taken from the cellar. Poztif actually stopped to garner a few small objects from a rack that he thought could be "a great help to the poor." The trio ignored him, and soon they had picked over the contents to mutual satisfaction.

"Poztif?" called Gord when he had grabbed all he could carry.

There was no reply.

"Good cleric, where are you?" Chert demanded.

No answer still.

"Dancing devas!" Biff exclaimed, "Do you think he returned to the place below to finish Yeo?"

"We'd better find out quick!" Gord replied.

As they started toward the rear of the place, however, the sound of footfalls on the stairs leading up caught their attention. Down the steps came the cleric, bearing a bundle of cloth in his arms.

"Where’ve you been?" Chert demanded.

"What'd you get?" Biff asked hopefully.

Poztif gave a beatific smile and managed to raise an encumbered hand sufficiently to wave them into silence. "Peace, dear brothers. I ventured above to find some old cloak or garment in which to wrap the scant quantity I took for the poor. While in the chambers of the deceased Yeo, I happened to find a goodly quantity of used clothing to supply to poor folk for their needs, and I also found" — he smiled and produced a fat sack full of clinking things — "this small fortune hidden among Yeo's things. I thought it would be a shame to leave it to future looters."

"Attaboy, Poztif!" Biff exclaimed happily.

The others crowded around the cleric, patting him on the back and congratulating him on his fortuitous find.

"We shall divide the money in equal shares, of course, after withdrawing a tithe for my temple. Agreed?"

The others, although appreciative of Poztif’s offer to share the money, tried nonetheless to talk him out of the large amount he intended to extract for the tithe. The cleric, however, would not bend and threatened to give the entire amount to the poor if there was any more argument. At that his three companions quickly turned mute and let Poztif handle the splitting of Yeo's former stash. After a few additional matters were attended to, the four were ready to depart.

"By the by," Biff said. "I am so chagrined at my display of cowardice when the dragon thrust its claws forth that I am unable to face the shame."

The others reassured him, stating bluntly that he had performed most heroically.

"Nonetheless," the somewhat sheepish halfling said, "I am not proud. Do I have your oaths that this whole adventure will never be related to my master?" When the others readily accepted Biffs proposed vow, the little fellow's face was adorned with a smile. "Now I feel happy," he told them.

The party went quickly away, avoiding the area around the inn where they had met a few hours earlier. In a dim lane they split up, each taking his own path. Poztif, clothing enwrapping the Five Dragon Bowl, bid the errant halfling adieu and left immediately. Obviously Biffs conversion would have to wait. Gord and Biff chatted for a moment, then Chert grew too weary of dawdling and went off alone.

"I want my share of that fifth gem!" Biff said as the barbarian disappeared into the black mouth of an alley.

"Come to my place tomorrow night. I'll have that much in coin ready for you then," Gord replied in a casual tone.

Biff set his lips firmly. "In an afanc's ass!"

"You may arrive via any mode of transportation you like!" Gord responded sarcastically.

"I’ve got a good idea!" Biff said urgently. "Ill give you my two stones, and you give me that dagger of yours!"

"Up your hairy nose, shorty!"

"Okay, how about if I kick in all the rest of the ju— er, stuff I got tonight?"

"No way!" Gord said with haughty disdain. "Not even with your blade tossed in!"

"If it comes to it, I'm telling you I'm ready to fight for my due," Biff told the young man defiantly.

"Okay then, how about a contest — or, better yet, a bet?" Gord suggested.

"Like what?"

"How's this? I'll bet you your half of the emerald against my half that I can jump higher than that building across the lane!"

"With or without the load of loot in your arms?" Biff asked thoughtfully.

"Okay. . . . Even with all this loot weighing me down, I can jump higher than that building."

"That's a crock of cockatrice crap! I'll be happy to take the bet." the halfling said in a gloating tone. The building is forty feet tall or I’m a goblin!"

"I'm willing to try. Is it a deal?"

"Sure! Let's shake on it."

Each took the hand of the other and shook it vigorously, after which Gord hopped a few inches off the ground and landed in the same spot where he had been standing moments earlier.

"Okay, pay up! I won!" Gord said.

"Whaaaat? Are you trying to tell me, after that unimpressive little display, that you just jumped higher than that building?"

"Of course — and it wasn't hard, considering that buildings don't jump at all," Gord cried happily, laughing and hopping around like a crazy man. Then he gave his opponent a hearty clap on the back and began to walk away. "The stone's mine, Biffo-buddy. See you around."

After a while, when Biff finally managed to close his mouth, he busied himself by kicking at everything small in sight as he wended his way back to Silverthorn's place through the back streets and dark byways of Greyhawk. He'd been had by that miserable human, but he wasn't actually too bad off. What he'd taken from the shop was worth a fair sum, and the pair of huge gems in his belt's secret pouch would supply him with all the cash he could spend for some time.