Holy Opposites 36

	Some hours later, Toller awoke in a small stone cell.  He was shivering on the floor, covered in his own blood.  He had no idea how long he lay there, slowly starving, shivering from trauma and cold.  It could have been a day, it could have been a thousand.  When at last the door opened, he shied from the light.

	“Cleric Toller, you are hereby forgiven by Cleric Vorthane for your trespass against the Word of Hate,” a silhouette in the door said flatly.  “Bathe and dress.  You have new work.”


	Vorthane was leaning back in his chair, sipping a fine Secomber honey wine, when Toller appeared at the door.  He didn’t look too much the worse for wear, now that he had healed his wounds, but he was clearly shaken to the core.

	“Ah, Bastienne,” Vorthane said.  “Welcome back to the fold, brother.  Are you feeling well enough to travel?”

	“Yes, sir,” Toller said, wincing as phantasmal glass punctured his skin.  “What does the Master wish?”

	Vorthane smiled warmly and rose, spreading his arms.  “Ah, it is good to hear your soul sing in tune with the choir once more, brother,” he said happily.  “Yes, the Master wishes for you to prepare the Grist Cage for many hundreds of new supplicants.”

	“Oh?  So many?” Toller asked dully, feeling surprise work its way past his traumatized stupor.

	“Very much so,” Vorthane said, nodding.  “Your satellite temple in Undermountain has become a liability.  I have sent ten men to it, to retrieve the Grist there, but we must have a place to put them.  You have allowed us to gain much Grist, very much, more than I had thought.  We can proceed with the next step of the ritual within the month, now, with only a mere few more children taken.”

	“Good, sir,” Toller said.  “Shall I go?”

	“Oh, no, no, the Cage is here in the basement,” Vorthane reminded him.  “One of the lesser clerics is going, with nine of the flock.”

	“They know about the traps?” Toller asked.

	“They do,” Vorthane said.  “Don’t worry; I know you don’t remember telling me about it.”

	Toller whimpered involuntarily as memories of his excoriatingly horrible torture returned to him.  Vorthane noticed and let sympathy color his voice.  “There, there, brother, it’s over now.  Will you serve the Master?”

	“Yes.”

	“That’s all he asks,” the old psychic said kindly.  “Now sit and eat, for you have much to do.”


	I finished attaching my armor and buckled my javelin to my side.  I had had to clean it the previous night after using it on the neck of a skeletal goblin that had gotten entirely too close.  “Welp, I think we’re good to go,” I said.  The protection from evil in my glyph tattoo had recharged, so I wouldn’t have to beg one off the rest of the party tonight.  “Which way, Axio?”

	He withdrew the compass and examined it.  “South, from here, almost directly south.”

	“South it is.”  Luanea pointed down the nearest hall.  “This way.”

	We fell into the marching order that had established itself on the journey previously.  Doshellas took the lead, looking for traps with his hunters’ eyes.  I followed, covering him with my glaive, while Luanea took the middle as our default healer, and Axio followed up in the rearguard, protecting us with his shield.  Doshellas led us through an empty chamber that opened up into a long hall, turning slightly to the right, and we followed in silence.  There was a single door at the end, and he knelt to check it for traps.

	“Got a springpoint trap on the tumblers,” he said.

	Axio cleared his throat.  “Should I take the door down?”

	“There’s something on the other side.  Let’s see if I can disarm it,” Doshellas said.  Then he paused.  “Smell something.”

	“We’re near the Slime Pit,” Luanea said disgustedly.  “I had hoped to avoid it… but like Axio said in his office, we may not be able to.”

	Doshellas shook his head.  “One problem at a time,” he said.  He gingerly stuck a thin metal probe into the lock and lifted with exquisite care.  We heard something shift on the other side of the door, and Doshellas threw himself backward just in time.

	The door exploded in splinters.  Something flowed out of the door and engulfed the hapless ranger.

	“Doshellas!” Luanea cried.  Axio and I charged in, stabbing furiously.  We both knew what was happening.

	The gelatinous cube that had devoured our friend wriggled as we stabbed it, and Doshellas twitched feebly as he started being digested.  Luanea rammed her sword into the cube and wrenched it free.

	The cube – a juvenile, thank Ryaire – expired, and Doshellas flopped to the floor as the stinging acid melted out of its dissolving body.  Axio and I leaped back as the acid sloshed over our boots, but Luanea charged in, heedless of danger.  She slapped her hands on Doshellas’ melting skin and started healing, and at once, he coughed and stirred.

	“Fucking ow,” he grunted, raising one arm.  Axio stepped forward and hoisted the drow up.  “I hit the wrong tumbler.”

	Luanea hugged him tight.  “Oh, don’t ever scare me like that again!” she almost shouted.  “I thought you were done for!”

	“I’ll be fine,” he mumbled, pulling free of her embrace.  The acid on his shirt kept eating, however, and he scrambled to keep his clothing intact as several pieces of leather stayed stuck to Luanea’s breastplate.  “Oh, crap.”

	Axio dug into his pack, which he had the presence of mind to keep above the acid-washed floor.  “Hang on, I have a spare shirt.”

	Doshellas threw his ruined torso armor in the corner, shaking his head in anger.  “A hundred gold in armor, down the fucking drain,” he said bitterly.  It was the most talkative I had ever heard him.

	“I’m sorry,” I said, unsure of what else to say.

	He grunted and accepted the shirt Axio gave him.  “Bright white?  Really?” he asked, struggling into it.  Indeed, Axio’s shirt was white as snow.  “Ugh.  Thanks, though,” he said.  “It’ll do.”


	We pressed on, now bereft of stealth and Doshellas’ tools, which had been wrecked by the cube.  He was fuming, I could tell, but he kept his calm.  We worked our way deeper into the Undermountain, passing chambers full of monsters and traps by.  I have to admit, the occasional gleam of gold or treasure in the rooms we passed temped me, but I had to hurry.  Maybe we could come back someday.

	We were well off the map, by now.  There was nothing in the next half a mile of map, just an empty space.  More than once, we had to stop and solve some absurd riddle or puzzle to proceed.  Halaster continued to be an annoyance a century after his death.

	Eventually, though, we came to a vast room.  It was nearly a hundred meters in every direction, and it ramped down slightly to the bottom.  Our door was twenty feet in the air, with the ground sloping gently towards a drain at the bottom.  Doors ringed the room, and after a moment’s listening in silence, Doshellas nodded towards one.  “That’s the way down.”

	Axio pulled out his compass.  “This says… our target is back that way?” he asked in puzzlement.  “We just came from there.”

	“It’s below us, then, or above,” Luanea said.  She gingerly rested a hand on Doshellas’ shoulder.  His white shirt was ragged with sweat, cuts, and more than a little blood.  This had been a dangerous venture.  We had cut our way through a pack of skeletons just two rooms back.  I was out of healing spells, and I suspected Axio was running low.  “We can stop for another night.”

	“We’ve only been going four hours,” Doshellas pointed out.  “I’ll be fine.”

	Luanea held his shoulder a moment longer before letting go.  “Alright.”

	We started along the room, staying far from the drain.  I stopped the group with a word as a sudden jolt of adrenaline flooded my system.  “Stop!”

	The other froze.  “What?” Axio asked tersely.  “What is it?”

	I slowly turned on my heel.  I couldn’t see anything different, but…

	“I can sense something,” I said, squinting.  “Something magic.  Something close.”

	The others drew their weapons and we stood in a circle.  I looked over the nearest doors.  They were all bolted shut, from this side.

	Except one.  I refocused on the second closest door.  It had no lock.  No, it had one, and it was lying on the ground below the door, broken off.

	“I think it’s that door,” I said, pointing at the damaged one.

	Luanea glanced over my shoulder.  “Hmm.  I think I sense something in there, too…”

	Axio gasped.  “Demon!  Move!” he bellowed, leaping free of our circle.  We all scattered and righted ourselves.

	I screamed as I saw what was coming out of another door on the far side.  I felt a wave of horrifyingly powerful magic roll over us from somewhere above, but that didn’t matter.  A Balor, a primordial fire demon the size of a house, emerged from an impossibly small door and sprang at us, waving a fire whip high and brandishing a sword.

	“DIE!” it screamed with a hideous laugh, and battle was joined.