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Back to Empire on the HPe3000
... and ...
"Very impressive." said Ivo. He reached out and gave the metal
wall a rap with his knuckles, it gave out a solid sounding gong. "Makes
me wish my own craft was a bit more substantial at times."
"Speaking of time, I think we have a little more." said
Telenstil. "But that fire may get out of control and I don't want either
the map or us burnt up."
"Hear, Hear!" said Ivo.
* * *
"I could fit between." said Harold.
"No, its too dangerous." Gytha declared. She looked at the huge
bars set so close that a youth could not squeeze through. Not so a
halfling pared down by hard travel and poor fare. Harold showed her what
he meant, with a sideways step he fit between and only had to hold his
breath and pull his stomach in.
"See." he said. The halfing stood on the other side and held out
both hands. "No problem."
"Harold," Gytha warned. "Come back here, this is no time to play
a foolish game."
"I'm hurt." he said. "You doubt my skill. " Harold approached the
bars and whispered to both Gytha and the ranger. "What have we come here
for? I will be quick and who else can find out what lies ahead?"
"We should go back." Gytha said half-heartedly.
"I may be smaller than your young brothers Gytha but I am older
than I look, older than your father no doubt, you humans live so short a
span." The halfling sadly smiled. "I have thieved for longer than you
have lived, in Greyhawk, greatest city on the Oerth, I learned my craft
and paid my dues in many ways. I have faced a wizards wrath and merchants
guards and wards and traps a dozen times a dozen. These clumsy backwards
giants would not cause a raw apprentice a moments worry. I will be right
back."
Gytha did not say a word, she hadn't had the chance, before Harold
turned away and slowly crept across the floor. As he had checked the hall,
he checked this room. Sliding careful hands along each square of stone
he made a slow advance. This would never do, he thought. He pulled a pouch
from inside his vest and poured a handful of silver dust out upon the
floor. "Lat." he said and a magic wind that he could not feel blew the
dust out across the room. He saw no sign that the dust had worked, perhaps
that nomad shaman had traded him a bag of silver ash, but Harold doubted
that. Those idolaters of cats were cruel but seldom lied, and when they
did they lied like children in an artless way.
Far out against the western wall a sparkling point of light had
caught his eye, he'd seen it from the open door, now blocked by the fallen
iron bars. From where he stood the light caught a dozen sparkling things
apparently fallen and lying on the ground. Now they shown with a silver
nimbus dancing back and forth from point to point. A trap, the magic bag
of dust just told him what he had known since he first saw the glimmer
from the open door.
"What children these giants are" Harold tsk'd and began to jog
across the empty floor. "No one but another giant would fall for a trap
like..." something skimmed past his head, then another object sparked
against the stone and made him jump aside. To the south a set of iron
bars, like those that he had released and now blocked the eastern door,
kept a pack of howling manticores at bay. They shrieked an almost human
tongue and spat with anger then barked as they threw themselves against
the bars that kept them from the halfling whose flesh they craved. Their
barbed tails swung back and forth and like an expert with sling and stone
they sent long needle spikes flying through the air.
* * *
(To Be Continued)