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Back to Empire on the HPe3000
... and ...
There seemed to be an endless supply of pockets in Telenstil's
dark wizards robe. He had no sooner put away the now shrunken orb in
one pocket than he reached into another and pulled out a flat glass
flask. Soundlessly he unscrewed the cap and with great care poured out a
viscous green jell across a square of roof. From yet another pocket he
removed a small leather case, inside was a crystal rod, flat on one
end and with a scalloped spoon on the other. He spread the jell till it was
even, a single layer in a four foot square. The rod he set aside, then
drew out a tinder box, set flint to steel and set a twig aflame. This
he touched to the jell, it hissed and smoked and turned to grey and spread
out. Suddenly the square of roof was gone, a grey powdered ash rained down
onto the floor below.
Edouard and Derue stepped up, they had come prepared. A coiled
length of rope, they tied one end round a jutting beam at the roofs
eastern edge, then dangled it down the gaping hole. They played it out,
cautious not to make a sound below, the holy Saint of Gytha's faith had
silenced the roof above. Edouard saw it reach the ground, and looked
below, a huge and furnished hall, he shook his head and tapped on the
elven wizards arm.
Telenstil nodded then looked down himself and grimaced at what he
saw. He drew a out an ivory tube and pulled from it a small rolled map,
then glanced down into the room again. His shoulders shrugged and he
motioned for Edouard to descend, but with both hands he gestured for
the scout to take great care.
* * *
Several torches burned along the walls and in a fireplace big
enough to roast a horse, a bed of glowing embers cast a hazy light.
The rope lay across a giant table, wide and round and tall, like
some stage that actors could use to give a play. Edouard moved the rope
aside so that it would reach the floor, seven or eight feet more below the
tables edge. Before he dropped further down he gave the rope a tug, and
held it still so that his brother Derue could make a quick and safe
descent.
* * *
Telenstil touched down, he'd followed close behind his two scouts,
unwilling to let them face alone what might appear. He looked around
the hall and silently cursed the one time merchant, lately slave to
giants, who'd drawn this useless map.
The light was dim, but this was no kitchens larder as he'd been
told, instead they stood within the chiefs own trophy hall, the gruesome
heads upon the eastern wall said as much. Monstrous chairs and tables
were scattered about, across the western wall were a row of giant shields,
each painted in great detail and crafted as a wedding gift, the giant
maids would take their betrothal year and paint them with what love and
care they felt for their future mates, Telenstil knew well his foes.
* * *
Henri descended last. He heard his heart beat once again halfway
down. It had been an effort to restrain his desire to dispel the pagans
spell, but the true God blessed this work so he set his distaste aside
and accepted the harlots magic tricks. The Holy end justified the use of
such godless blind creatures as these.
* * *
(To Be Continued)