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Back to Empire on the HPe3000
... and ...
"Ahhhh!!!" the halfling screamed.
The southern gate rattled up into the wall, the bodies of the
manticores lay beneath, one fell almost at the halfings feet.
"Calm down Harold." Gytha told the thief. "This manticore is
dead."
Harold peered out between the fingers of his hand. "Are you sure?"
he asked.
Gytha nudged it with her foot. "I'm sure." she said.
"What happened here?" Telenstil looked toward Gytha. "Did your
spell somehow activate this door?"
"I don't believe so." said Gytha. "I have asked the Saint for this
boon before and he merely points the way, not opens doors."
"It was that cursed treasure." said Harold. "Hey there!" he yelled
to the scouts. "You touched that treasure didn't you!"
Edouard gave his brother a glare and Derue scowled at the halfing
thief.
"It does not matter." Telenstil said. "Gytha's Saint points to this
room as our way out."
"It pointed to that wall as well." said Ivo.
"Yes." said Telenstil. "That is worth a look, but though
unappealing, this cage it rings a bell." The elven mage pulled a map
scroll from his pack. He unrolled it and examined the map with care.
"Yes." he said again. "Yes. I know where we are."
"Really." said Ivo. "Telenstil I think you put too much trust in
that map."
"Ah yes, I know, the trophy room." the elf said whimsically. "I
am sure this time. That trash on the floor, I believe we will find that
its source is a passage back upstairs."
Telenstil and Ivo walked into the manticores pen with Gytha and
the reluctant thief following close behind.
"Gracious!" said Gytha. "This place smells worse than a village
midden."
"It is," said Telenstil turning to the cleric, "the steadings
garbage room."
The floor was layered with bones, rotting vegetables and dung.
It smelled with a power that took the breath away and brought tears to
their eyes. Harold kept Ivo's cloth in front of his mouth and nose but
the others had no such protection from the stench.
"You elves are made of sterner stuff than I." the cleric gasped.
"I'm going back for a torch."
"A fire would be a good idea, it would take some of this smell
away." Ivo agreed.
"If I am right the smell of fire might bring unwanted attention
from above." said Telenstil
Harold laughed, muffled by the cloth he held. "The stairs are
blocked by a burning room and you're worried that a torch or small fire
will bring the giants notice down here?"
"If it wasn't for this stink it would be smoke we'd be smelling
right now." Ivo agreed.
"You are right." Telenstil shook his head. "The fire had slipped
my mind."
Gytha came running back with a small torch, its oil soaked head
wrapped in thick burlap. She pulled the wrap away and set some twigs
of lilac among the cloth, then with a spark from flint and steel she set
the torch ablaze. The lilac scent fought a losing fight against the
rotting stench.
"Here." the cleric said, she'd waved the torch back and forth
through the air, but it merely gave the stench a burning scent. "Take this
torch for a moment." she said to Telenstil. Gytha took some small green
leaves from her pouch and crushed them in her hand. She ran the sap
beneath her nose and did the same for Ivo and the elven mage.
"Oh!" said Ivo. "Mint! What a good idea."
* * *
(To Be Continued)