The Gate

 

The hall continued straight as far as they could see. Every twenty feet a new pair of torch sconces were mounted on the wall, and each flared to life as the adventurers approached. Four pairs of torches lit when they stepped into the hall, and there seemed to be no end of them as they walked down the silent passage.

"Magic," Krusk said. He still held the key in his open hand and its flames flickered brightly.

"You think?" Naull observed dryly, but her nervous sarcasm was lost on the half-orc.

As the party continued on, they noticed the torches behind them didn't dim after they passed. The portcullis, it seemed, remained open as well.

"Do you think we should go back and close it?" Naull asked Regdar. The opening seemed small and far away, but it was clear in the light.

He shook his head. "No. If we need to get out of here in a hurry, I don't want to try to figure out how to open it from this side. Besides, do you know how to shut it?"

Naull shook her head.

"Then let's keep moving."

The passage continued for several hundred feet. It stayed straight and level, and the width never varied. Reddish flagstones covered the floor, large enough that only two and a half were needed from wall to wall. The walls appeared to be made of burnished sandstone, but they were smooth to the touch and not porous at all. The ceiling, which was rounded and stood at its highest point nearly thirty feet from the floor, was darkly colored but had shades of red as well. They saw no dust or dirt anywhere.

"This is just creepy," Naull said at last. Regdar nodded. "I mean, we've been in some pretty nasty goblin tunnels, and that passage down here was nowhere I'd like to stay for any length of time, but this is so, so regular. I've never seen anything like it."

"Dwarf-make," Krusk said, but he didn't sound certain.

"I don't know, Krusk," Regdar answered. "I mean, dwarves are pretty good with stone and all, but even their work fades after centuries. I don't want you to bite my head off—" the fighter turned to Naull—"but do you want to check for magic?"

The wizard shook her head. "I don't," she said. "I mean, I'm sure the torches are magical, but they could really just be a triggered version of a continual flame spell. That's no big deal. Whatever magic keeps these passages intact and completely clean after all these years..." She shook her head. "I've heard stories of powerful magic blowing the backs of wizards' heads off when they try detecting it. I'll be perfectly happy if nothing like that ever happens to me. Let's just say I cast my spell and determined that, yes, this whole place is magic, all right?"

Regdar smiled at Naull's speech, and she grinned back, feeling a little better. Another pair of torches flared to life.

Alhandra, who was walking a little ahead of the party pointed with her sword and called out softly, "Did you say 'clean,' Naull?"

The others hurried up. About eighty feet ahead, just at the farthest edge of the torchlight, the party saw that the passage opened up. It looked like it might be a room, hut they couldn't see beyond the reach of the torches. Just where the hall widened lay what looked for all the world like bundles of ripped or discarded cloth. Clothing, perhaps, and other bits of gear.

Regdar drew his sword from its back sheath. Krusk, like Alhandra, already had his weapon in his hands.

"A trap?" Naull asked.

"Maybe," the fighter answered. "Could be what's left of the last people who came down here."

Naull looked over at Krusk, who tucked the key into his chain shirt.

"But nobody's been down here for centuries," she said. "They couldn't get here without the key."

"Maybe there are other keys," Regdar answered uncertainly.

"Whatever it is, we aren't going to find out much from here," the wizard stated finally. She started walking forward.

With a sharp exclamation of alarm, Regdar jumped forward.

"No—wait here," he said. "I'll check it out."

"I've seen how you find traps, Regdar," she said, mimicking him striding forward and looking oblivious. She jerked up short, flailing her arms and overbalancing as if her foot was caught in a noose. "Look! A trap!"

"Very funny, but that bit of cloth isn't going to protect you if something shoots out of the wall," he said, jabbing Naull high in her sternum.

"Well... let Krusk come with me. He's good at spotting things, and I can try to find any magic."

"What about getting your head blown off by arcane forces?"

"I'll chance it," she said. She crooked a finger at the barbarian, who shuffled forward. "C'mon. Let's see what there is to see."

Despite her jaunty attitude, Naull felt her stomach churning as she and Krusk moved toward the open area. Regdar and Alhandra followed them until the torches in the room—four of them, spaced evenly around the walls—flared to life. The room looked to be about thirty feet in diameter, and a door stood at the far end.

On the floor they saw several piles of ragged clothes, bits of old adventuring gear, and even a few glittering gems. Naull easily resisted the urge to jump forward and examine them. It wasn't the time to be greedy. In fact, their presence made Regdar's guess about the trap seem even more likely.

Although, she wondered, if people died here, where are the bodies?

"Anything about a door in that memory of yours, Krusk?" she asked in a low voice.

The barbarian paused again, and his lips started to move. He had to run through the litany front to back.

"... a door at the edge of magic," he began aloud finally, "the key will come to life. Open the door to see the light and reveal the gate."

Quickly, Naull shuffled through the papers in the packet. She looked into the room—they still stood twenty or so feet from the entrance—and at the door. She saw an image of flame graven into the stone door. It looked similar to the image of the key, but not exactly the same. However, to the right of the door, at about waist height, she saw what looked very much like a keyhole.

"Yes!" the wizard cried out. "This is it!"

She stuffed the papers into her pouch and stepped forward into the room. As she stepped past the first pile of debris, the rags on the floor sprang to life. Krusk cried out in warning, but he was too late.

 

 

The gnolls wrinkled their noses as they picked their way down the passage. As trackers, they welcomed the advantage a strong scent afforded, but these smells from below ground were unfamiliar and unsettling to the scouts.

"Keep moving!" Grawltack ordered, cuffing the nearest scout. "Follow the trail."

The younger gnolls jogged ahead of him, but Kark held back. The two older gnolls followed, keeping out of earshot of the rest.

"What did she say, Grawltak?" Kark asked in a low voice.

The pack-master cursed and clutched the magic amulet, as if by doing so he could keep his mistress from hearing.

"She was not pleased. I do not think she expected the half-orc to lead them to the caves so quickly."

"How could she think otherwise?" Kark snuffled disrespectfully. "She didn't know where the passage was. She didn't even tell us we were looking for a passage!"

Grawltak thought of reprimanding the old gnoll for his candid comment, but sighed tiredly. "She has not told us other things, either. She insists that we follow and that she will find us before we must enter ..." he hesitated.

The mistress had been very clear in her instructions. "Do not tell your followers this, Grawltak," she had said. "Follow the half-orc to a city—a magic city, with great treasure in it. Stop the half-orc from entering, or you enter yourself and slay him and all with him."

She said other things, too, things he needed to consider carefully before going much farther, but he continued, "We must enter a passage. The passage leads to a gate, which leads to a city." He shot a look of warning at Kark, and the older gnoll understood and nodded. "I cannot tell you more, but if we do not catch the half-orc and his friends, we'll have to go into the city and... and that's something I do not wish to do."

He growled, deep in his throat. Gnolls seldom admitted to fear, and never to their subordinates, but Grawltak was tired and Kark was his friend.

The old gnoll nodded and asked, "And she will find us?"

"She will, curse—curse the half-orc," he amended. He nearly tore the amulet off his chest. "I'm not sure I want a reward anymore, Kark. The mistress drives us, and I do not think we will gain a reward anyway. I would rather go back to the north and raid."

Kark chuckled and let out a soft howl of laughter. Despite himself, Grawltak found himself chuckling, too.

"Would that we could!" Kark said. "But we must hunt our quarry and kill it. Only when the half-orc's blood stains our fangs and we tear out the throats of his friends will we be free again!" He clapped his leader on the back. "Come, my captain, let us join the hunt before the young ones run into trouble."

Grawltak grinned and the two set off down the passage.

 

 

A strip of dirty cloth leaped up at Naull from the floor. She started in surprise and moved her fingers, but the band wrapped around her hands and arms tightly. She tried to cry out, but another strip whipped at her face and drew blood. When she opened her mouth, rough leather gagged her. Eyes widening in panic, she tried to pull away.

Krusk hacked at the cloth, yelling his war cry. He narrowly missed hitting Naull as she felt herself jerked back and forth by the animated cloth. As the tatters and bands of leather and fabric wrapped around her, she felt herself spun this way and that.

From the corner of one eye she saw the other bits of ripped clothing fly up off the floor. They formed roughly humanoid shapes. Bits of gems and metal peeked out from behind the tatters, and the shapes jerked as if manipulated by a puppeteer's strings.

One of the shapes leaped, or flew, or in some other way moved toward Krusk. He still tried to find a way to strike the fabric grappling Naull and the shape caught him from behind. The half-orc cried out as strips of cloth and leather bound his mighty legs. Dropping his axe, the half-orc wrestled with the tattered form.

Then something struck Naull—from inside. Something that felt like a ragged but powerful consciousness tried to envelope her mind even as it covered her body. She tried to scream again, forgetting the leather bonds around her mouth, then she fell back on her training.

Concentrate ... concentrate, she thought.

In an instant, she felt the consciousness repelled. It could not control her as long as she maintained her focus.

So the fabric started squeezing her.

Alhandra and Regdar rushed forward as they saw the cloth snake out and grab Naull. They reached the room as it completely covered her and as Krusk dropped his weapon. Regdar shifted his bastard sword to his left hand and drew a knife. He tried cutting at Naull's bonds but succeeded at slicing both the fabric and the wizard underneath. With a cry of dismay he hardened himself and hacked again. The fabric shuddered and Naull's blood flowed, but the creature was shifting to avoid the blade and that meant it was releasing the wizard. Naull gasped as air came back into her body.

Alhandra paused at Krusk's side to help him, but a third tattered shape leaped toward Regdar. Alhandra rushed between the fighter and the magical horror and swung her sword down. It cut through the humanoid shape easily, shattering one of the gem-stones in the process. The floating rags uttered no cry, but did recoiled as if in pain. Stepping forward, Alhandra raised her arm to strike again.

Before she could slash through the jumping fabric, something smashed against the paladin's unprotected back. If it hadn't been for her fine steel armor, the blow from Krusk's axe would have severed her spine. As it was, Alhandra stumbled forward in agony, her own blade slicing wide. The tatter-creature retreated before her, though, and she turned to see Krusk raise his axe again.

It was Krusk, and it wasn't. He was wrapped up the same as Naull, but his eyes were open and staring blankly, not even focused on Alhandra. His axe came down and she dodged aside easily.

"Krusk!" she cried out. "Fight it off!"

But the barbarian didn't seem to hear. He swung his axe again, this time less clumsily. The leather and fabric wrappings gave him the appearance of an unraveling mummy, but whatever force was at work had him completely under its control.

With Regdar's help, Naull finally jumped clear of the grasping creature. The moment she was free, two bolts of force jetted from her palms and struck the rags in what should have been their chest. Fabric shuddered, then fluttered harmlessly to the ground.

Alhandra continued blocking and evading Krusk's powerful blows, but another of the rag monsters was moving up on her other side, trying to get behind her. Either it would get her or Krusk's axe would, that seemed certain.

Picking up his sword again, Regdar jumped behind the half-orc. Turning the blade to the flat, he didn't hesitate. In a mighty, two-handed blow he brought it down on the half-orc's skull.

Krusk turned toward him and swung his axe.

Regdar cursed and deflected the blow. Alhandra, seeing Regdar in danger, moved forward and swung her own blade, one-handed but flat side out, at the back of Krusk's head. The second blow was too much even for the half-orc's thick skull, and the fabric-covered barbarian went down. The cloth and leather strips unwrapped from his still form and jigged above him, but two more magic missiles struck them and the rags disintegrated.

Glittering sparks erupted from the sole remaining creature, blinding the adventurers. When their eyes cleared moments later, it was gone.

"Krusk—is he all right?" Naull asked as she bent to the barbarian's still form. Alhandra was there as well, while Regdar stood over them, watching for any attack. Nothing came, however, and Alhandra drew off her gauntlets.

"He's only unconscious," she assured Naull. "He'll be all right." Still, she placed her hands on the half-orc's face and they glowed faintly.

"What were those things?" Alhandra asked.

"I'm not sure," Naull said. "I've heard of creatures that live at the borders between worlds, but..." She slapped her forehead lightly. "I should have known there'd be something like this. The City of Fire is on another plane. There's bound to be strange things in between."

Krusk blinked his mismatched eyes and groaned, forestalling any more of Naull's self-recrimination.

The wizard smiled, then winced. "I think it broke one of my ribs," she gasped painfully.

"Here, let me see," Alhandra said.

She helped the wizard down onto her back as Krusk shook himself off and stood guard with Regdar. A warm feeling moved through Naull's body and she felt the slicing pain in her side ease. It was still there, but reduced to a dull ache. She noticed that the cuts on her arms were closed up as well.

"Thanks," she said, allowing Alhandra to pull her up. The paladin winced in pain, though. "Oh, I'm sorry," Naull said contritely. She remembered the massive blow Krusk had struck her in the back. "Get that breastplate off. Let me look at it."

Alhandra shook her head and rubbed her back. "No ... I'll be all right. Let's look at the door."

Frowning, Naull let the matter drop. She wasn't a healer, anyway, but she wanted to do something. Still, her spells killed two of them. How could she tell the rest of the group she had nearly exhausted her store of spells again? She was still thinking of what to say when Krusk drew out the key.

The disk blazed to light immediately, as brightly as they'd seen it yet. A sigil inscribed just above the lock answered by turning fiery red.

"Well, go ahead," Naull said.

Krusk stuck the key in the lock. It went in about three-quarters of the way, so he could still hold it in his big fingers.

The outline of the emblem on the door glowed brightly and a long, straight crack appeared in the opening. The door split in two and swung open.