Prologue
The Matrix pulsed and glowed with electronic life. Streams of consciousness flowed down conduits that stretched across a horizon with no boundaries, no limits. Three glowing orbs of virtual light broke away from one of the pulsing conduits and descended into a region of darkness.
The radiance of the three orbs was devoured eagerly by the deep void as the constructs scanned the area.
*I'm detecting shards of software, a primitive code used ages ago.*
*Yes. I think I can make out its function. It was an entertainment program. Crude VR.*
*Can you revive it? Can it function again?*
*It will be difficult, but I believe I can regenerate the missing coding.*
*Fix it, please! I want to play it!*
*Always looking for a new thrill, eh?*
*Yes, it's so hard to find something original these days. Everything's regurgitated and repackaged.*
*Very well. Link up. All of us need to combine our power in order for the program to reboot.*
The three glowing orbs merged into one ball of blinding white radiance. Strands of code swirled around the throbbing new sun, wrapping tighter and tighter together until a new world was born within the Matrix.
-----
[01]
Jana Moonbeam struggled up the steep slope of the Desertsmouth Mountains. Her boots probed to find purchase, allowing her to reach up until she found a flat surface for her small hands. The slim girl licked her lips before pulling herself onto a short ledge, allowing her the opportunity to enjoy a brief rest. She retrieved her water skin and took a long pull, then gazed out to the east, admiring the great view from her present height. Brushing some loose auburn hair out of her eyes, Jana repacked her water skin, then turned back to face the rough surface of the Desertsmouth. She climbed for two more hours until she crawled over the lip of another, wider ledge. Jana staggered to her feet, then brushed the pebbles and grit from her leather armor.
The young rogue approached the entrance to the outpost warily, her right hand clasped around the leather-wrapped hilt of her dagger. Jana reached the open doorway that led into the mountain, then gasped when the tip of a staff smashed into her left shoulder and pushed her painfully against a rock face. A young man dressed in a black tunic and brown breeches emerged from the dark mouth of the doorway, holding Jana against the rock with his staff.
"I don't recognize her from the town. She must be a free lancer," remarked the stranger while his eyes remained firmly fixed on Jana.
Moving as quickly as a cat, the rogue knocked the man's weapon from her shoulder and kicked him in the stomach. The man grunted as he fell backwards, his eyes widening when Jana sat on his chest and pressed her dagger against his throat.
"Who else is in your party?" hissed Jana with a snarl.
"Just me, miss. Please do not harm my associate, we mean you no harm."
Jana turned her head to watch a lithe half-elf girl appear from the hewn doorway. The female wore dull red leather armor and wielded a sturdy mace. Bright red hair cascaded down the girl's back, held away from her face by a red headband with a blazing sun icon over her forehead.
"You're a cleric of Lathander, aren't you?"
"Yes, my name is Jiri Willowtree, and that young man you're sitting on is Rhant Aelon, a mage."
"Could you get off me, please?" growled Rhant.
Jana rose slowly, keeping her eyes on both strangers as she backed away from them.
"I assume you wish to explore the ruins of Tethyamar as well?" inquired Jiri with an arch of her eyebrow.
"Yes, but I don't know if I want to split my gains with two others."
"There's safety in numbers. I could provide guidance if you would agree to scout and disarm any unpleasant traps the dwarves may have left behind.
"Forget her. We don't need a thief tagging along," frowned Rhant indignantly.
"From the way you fight, I say you could definitely use one," grinned Jana maliciously.
Rhant raised his staff threateningly until Jiri placed a calming hand on his left arm.
"Do we agree to work together then?"
"I suppose, for now," murmured Jana as she eyed Rhant distrustfully.
"Let us begin, then. Monsters lurk everywhere," warned Jiri before she returned to the doorway and walked inside.
Jana kept her dagger ready as she followed the half-elf, trailed by a very unhappy Rhant. The trio entered a square room with rotting furniture and two exit portals. Jiri walked to the portal within the far wall, but stopped briefly to cast Light on Jana's dagger. Jiri led the way down a long, dark passage cut smoothly out of the mountain rock. Jana ran her fingers over the right hand wall, marveling at how proficiently the passage was made. Jiri stopped suddenly, allowing Jana only a moment to halt her own advance.
"I hear movement ahead. Guards may lurk nearby."
"Who would guard an abandoned mining complex?"
"Orcs. They were the ones who overran Tethyamar and slew all the dwarves who lived here."
Sounds of approaching movement interrupted Jiri. The half-elf shifted her attention down the passage just as three stocky, blue-skinned orcs charged out of the blackness. The monsters opened their large, fanged maws and bellowed with rage. Short swords gleamed from the light of Jana's dagger as they raised their blades and slashed at the slim cleric. Jiri blocked one blow with her shield, then smashed her mace into one of the orc's faces. The creature roared with agony until Jiri caved his skull in with another strike. The second orc pushed past his comrade to attack Jana. She dodged under his sword swipe, then she gaped when a staff punched against the orc's flabby chin.
"Don't just stand there! Stab him!" shouted Rhant fearfully.
Jana crouched low, extending her right arm until her dagger was buried deep within the orc's belly. Green blood gushed across Jana's arm as the dying orc fell away and collapsed against the wall of the passageway. The third orc jumped onto Jiri, forcing her into the floor. The half-elf pushed vainly on the wide chest of the orc as he raised his sword to cleave her skull open. Jana threw her dagger, which buried itself to the hilt in the orc's throat. The orc choked on its own blood until Rhant dispatched it with a quick jab between the eyes. Jana retrieved her dagger while Rhant helped Jiri back to her feet.
"Thanks," smiled Jiri weakly as she gasped for breath.
"You're welcome," replied Jana before she began rummaging within the dead orcs' clothing. She found a handful of copper pieces, along with some disgusting orc rations and some crude dice. Jiri resumed her trek down the passage until she entered a small guardroom. Some filthy bedding, a table, chairs, and a half-empty jug of ale resided inside. Another hallway began from the far wall.
"Are you ready to continue?" asked Jiri.
"After you," motioned Jana with an expansive wave of her hand.
***
Night fell across the Desertsmouth when a group of riders thundered up the rock face to the outpost doorway. A bone thin man dressed in black robes dismounted from a deathly pale horse whose bones jutted against its thin skin. Two acolytes quickly dismounted as well and followed their master to the yawning portal.
"Stay here. Make sure that no one escapes."
"Yes, master," nodded one of the cowled acolytes.
The robed man snapped the fingers of his right hand while holding a black iron staff in his left. Three zombies dropped from their gaunt mounts and followed their master as he entered the dark interior of the mountain.
***
Rhant hastily chanted the words for Magic Missile, pointing at an orc before a glowing dart of magic flew from his right hand and impaled itself in the orc's bulky chest. The orc groaned with pain, then fell limply onto his face. The mage seized his staff with both hands as yet another orc charged him, screaming as he lunged with his sword. Jana and Jiri stood back to back further within the large room, parrying blows and retaliating when prudent. Four orcs lay dead within this particular room, but five more still lived. Jana slashed open the throat of one careless orc, then gasped when another took the opportunity to stab her in the right thigh. Jiri swung her mace upwards, crushing an orc's face into a pulpy mass.
An orc launched himself into the air, ramming into Jana, thrusting her onto the blood slick floor. Drool escaped from the orc's large mouth, dripping onto Jana's right cheek as he raised his short sword for a stab. Jana thrust her right elbow forward, breaking the orc's wide nose. Using the diversion, Jana slid her dagger between them and sliced up the orc's leather jerkin, ripping his stomach open. Intestines and other steaming organs spilled out over Jana's prone form before the orc fell behind Jana and lay still. Jana made a disgusted face as she wiped ineffectually at the gore that coated her. Jiri smashed her mace into an orc's left shoulder, then grabbed her weapon with both hands to slam the mace into the creature's large belly. The orc spat a stream of green blood from its mouth, then fell onto its back to twitch before death claimed it. The last orc gazed at its dead comrades, then fled out the open portal at the far end of the rectangular room.
"That one was close," panted Rhant from where he rested against one of the walls.
"It'll get worse the deeper we go into the mines," groaned Jiri as she rested with hands over her knees.
"This stuff is disgusting," whined Jana while she cleaned the orc goo from her armor and hair.
"We better keep moving," advised Jiri before she led the way to the far doorway.
***
A zombie collapsed from an orc's sword blow, but another zombie stabbed the orc's side with a rust pitted saber. Alfred Mortis backhanded an orc with his iron staff, then impaled the weapon within the monster's belly. Three more orcs crowded the narrow hallway, hacking and stabbing at his undead minions. Alfred concentrated with his mind, summoning the undead vermin he had animated earlier. A swarm of skeletal rats skittered around the necromancer and his zombies, hurling themselves at the three uncertain orcs. The monsters screamed in agony and terror as the undead rats gnawed at their flesh. The orcs disappeared under the skeletal wave, blood spurting to stain the walls until the three monsters were torn to shreds. Alfred nodded with approval before resuming his exploration of the mine, preceded by an army of clicking vermin.
***
Jana, Jiri, and Rhant stood on a ledge upon the second level of a massive mining chamber. Tracks and a few rusted ore wagons lay upon the lower floor of the mine.
"Where's the storage area?" asked Rhant.
"Over there, far right wall," pointed Jiri.
"Let's let the thief earn her share," smiled Rhant.
"Thanks," growled the rogue girl before she walked across the right hand section of their ledge, then lowered herself over the side to descend down to the lower level.
"You really should be nicer to her, she's fought very well."
"I do like her, that's the problem," replied Rhant.
"Mages," sighed Jiri as she observed Jana's progress.
Jana hopped the last foot to the mine floor, then walked towards the right hand wall, dagger at the ready. As the thief reached the rough-hewn wall, a cacophony of noise emerged from a tunnel on the left side of the mine. A group of four orcs retreated into the mine, pursued by a swarm of teeth gnashing skeleton rats.
"Lathander protect us!" prayed Jiri while two zombies and a black robed mage appeared after the rat horde.
Two orcs went down immediately, ripped apart by tiny rat fangs and claws. The zombies advanced with their ancient swords, hacking and stabbing at the last two orcs. The necromancer stared at Jana, where she stood frozen in shock.
"Get away from there! That treasure is mine!" shouted the dark mage as he hurled a small ball of bat guano at the young woman.
"Aw, hell!" exclaimed Jana while she dived away from the approaching orb.
The guano exploded into an expanding ball of fire, the flames raining down to immolate the entire wall of the mine. Jana coughed as the heated air seared her lungs. She stumbled to her feet just in time to meet the slice of a descending sword. The zombie woman stared blankly at Jana, dried blood staining her chin as she woodenly hacked and thrust at the agile thief. Jana jumped to the left, then stabbed deeply into the zombie's side with her dagger. Rotting flesh parted easily, but the zombie still fought, smashing her sword pommel against Jana's right temple. Jana fell leadenly to the ground, her brain buzzing from the sharp blow. The zombie shambled forward to finish off the girl, but Rhant suddenly appeared and smashed her face with his staff. The zombie dropped her blade, pawed at her ruined face, then fell wetly to the ground.
"Are you okay?" asked Rhant with a fearful frown.
"I didn't know you cared," grinned Jana weakly while she rubbed her bruised temple.
"I don't, but Jiri might ask," chuckled Rhant softly.
"Tell her I'm fine," retorted Jana with a giggle.
Rhant helped Jana to her feet just before Jiri joined them. The three companions turned to face Alfred Mortis, who walked alone towards them. The remaining zombie, orcs, and rats were dead, locked together in a lethal embrace.
"Leave now and I won't kill you," offered Alfred softly.
"I think you're a little outnumbered right now, old man," retorted Jana defiantly.
"You think so?" smiled the necromancer coldly before he began chanting deeply. He raised his right hand, clenching his fingers into a tight fist.
Jana's eyes widened as her air passage constricted in her throat. She grasped at her neck with both hands, sinking to her knees while she gasped desperately for breath. Jiri charged Alfred, screaming an Elvish battle cry with mace held high.
Alfred laughed dryly, throwing a bit of spider web into the air. The web grew and folded out, enveloping Jiri within its sticky strands. The half-elf fell to the ground in a heap, struggling pathetically in her bonds.
"It's just you and me, whelp," smiled Alfred, iron staff held horizontally with both hands.
Rhant readied his own staff, circling the necromancer, searching for an opening. Alfred attacked without warning, lashing out with his weapon, sending shocks down Rhant's arms as the young mage parried each vicious blow. The two mages lunged and blocked for a score of minutes, until Rhant raised his staff just a little too slow, his arms burning with fatigue. Alfred slammed his iron staff into Rhant's left side, then rammed his weapon's tip into the mage's thin chest. Rhant choked from the blow, falling to his knees, then collapsing onto his side.
"Well done, boy. You have potential, perhaps you should seek me out as a mentor someday," chuckled the necromancer. Alfred walked next to Rhant's prone form, then slammed his staff tip against the boy's head.
***
Rhant awoke with a searing headache. He moaned weakly, trying to rise into a sitting position.
"Don't move," soothed Jiri as she gently held him down while she finished her Cure Light Wounds spell upon his chest. Rhant let himself relax, feeling the healing magic steal the pain from his torso and head.
"How's Jana?"
"Her throat's sore, but she'll be alright. She's scouring the hidden storage room for anything Mortis might have left behind. She's recovered three bags of gold ore already."
"At least this quest wasn't a complete waste. Are we resting here before continuing our search?"
"No. I'm taking us back to town to rest. Jana wants to buy some better weapons, and I hope to find some healing potions for us. It could take some time to completely search this place, I want us to be well-supplied."
"Sounds like a good idea. I could use a soft bed," groaned Rhant before he let Jiri pull him to his feet.
***
"You did well, master. I have never seen such wealth," said the acolyte as he helped his brother load the heavy bags of gold ore onto the docile gaunts.
"Yes, now I have the funds to create more undead slaves. My plan proceeds apace."
"Glory to Lord Myrkul!" exclaimed the acolyte reverently.
"Aye. Soon our dark lord will live again," grinned the necromancer.
-----
[02]
The sun slowly rose above the horizon, making the waters of the River Tesh sparkle with life. Jiri sat on the ground with her legs crossed and her arms over her breasts. She held her eyes shut as she felt the sun’s warm rays wash over her lovely half-elven face. Jiri did not react when another individual sat to her right, whispering a brief prayer of thanksgiving to Lathander, Lord of the Morning.
"Right on time," observed Jiri, her eyes still closed.
"Of course," replied the stranger.
"Thank you for divining for me, the information about Tethyamar was very accurate."
"I am pleased that your quest yielded fruit. Do you have an offering for our Lord?"
Jiri untied a small leather bag from her belt, placing it down between herself and her fellow cleric.
"The forces of the Zhentarim are on the move."
"We ran into a dark mage during our explorations. We barely survived the encounter."
"Was he a Zhent?"
"I don’t know for certain."
"Keep your eyes open, there are many Zhent agents in Dagger Falls."
"Yes, Dawnlord."
"We will speak again at the appointed time, Jiri. Walk in the Light."
"I will," promised Jiri.
***
Jana strode down the street, her right hand resting covetously on her new silver short sword. She fairly swaggered as she walked to the inn she shared with Jiri. Residents of Dagger Falls went about their business, glancing at the rogue girl warily as they passed by. Jana ignored the suspicious looks of the townspeople, it was the way everybody acted in Daggerdale. Jana passed a narrow alley that disgorged two tall, burly men in filthy leather armor.
"Hey! Look at the little girlie with a fancy sword. Can I fondle your blade, missy?"
Both toughs laughed gruffly as Jana stopped to glare at them.
"You can taste its edge if you like, oaf!" growled Jana.
"Let’s dance then, missy!" chuckled the right hand tough, his own long sword sliding free.
Jana drew her silver blade, kicking the one of the toughs at the same time. The man grunted as he jerked back. The other thug roared, raising his sword to hack Jana in half. Jana dived to the side of the descending sword, swinging her own blade up to slice into his torso. He coughed blood when Jana’s sword cut easily through his leather jerkin, biting deep into his chest. Hot blood gushed out in a fine spray while Jana slid her sword free to face the second tough.
The rough-featured man crouched warily, searching for an opening. A small crowd stood a good distance away from the duelists, watching with detached interest as Jana and the tough traded blows. The tough punched Jana in the face quickly, aiming his sword point at her heart as she fell to the ground. Jana watched the sword tip descend, reaching with her left hand to draw the dagger from her left boot, then throwing the knife at her foe. The thug gurgled when the dagger embedded itself in his throat, blood spurting from a severed artery. As the ruffian fell, Jana rose to her feet, sheathing her short sword, then bending down to retrieve her dagger from the dead man’s neck.
The crowd melted away after the fight was over. Jana went through the dead men’s clothing, finding some pouches with small sums of silver and little else. Cleaning her dagger on one of the dead men’s tunics, Jana re-sheathed the weapon before resuming her walk to the inn.
***
"How goes your inscribing?" asked the wizard.
"I can’t copy the spell correctly, the words make no sense," replied Rhant impatiently.
"Hmm. You are not ready to learn it. You have to keep practicing with Magic Missile."
"But I want to learn more!"
"You will, young one, but it will take time. A wizard must learn patience."
"Yes, master," sighed Rhant.
***
Rhant entered the inn at sundown, just in time for eveningfeast. He spotted Jiri and Jana seated at a corner table near the fireplace, already enjoying a meal of roast chicken, vegetables, and fresh bread.
"How’s the chicken tonight?" inquired Rhant as he took his place with the young women.
"Very good. The cook is quite talented," replied Jiri between bites of meat.
"How did your studying go today?" asked Jana, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
"Horrible, as usual," scowled Rhant, irritated at Jana’s intentional reminder of his failure.
"You’ll gain the experience you need soon enough," soothed Jiri with a warm smile. "Ah, here comes a serving maid with your meal. I took the liberty of ordering for you again."
"Thank you, Jiri. You’re a good friend," smiled the mage before he dug into his own hot food.
"Has your master heard any news of Zhentarim activity lately?" asked Jiri.
"No, but Master Argul doesn’t get out much."
"Why the interest in the Zhents?" inquired Jana.
"My order believes that they may be plotting something."
"Zhents are always plotting. The thieves’ guild here hasn’t heard anything beyond the usual mischief."
"Do you think that Necromancer was a Zhent mage?" asked Rhant.
"Perhaps," nodded Jiri.
***
"You have done well, Mortis," smiled the beautiful sorceress as she offered the necromancer a vial of wine.
"Thank you, Ravena. I work for the glory of Myrkul," replied Alfred, shaking his head to refuse the drink.
Ravena sipped from her own glass, walking to glance out the tall glass window of the study.
"Myrkul is dead, along with Bane and Bhaal. We must accept these things and move on."
"Cyric is a weak god. We need a true dark lord to lead us in conquest of Faerun," responded Alfred.
"Your words are dangerous. If our beloved clerics could hear your blasphemy, you would be dead in a moment."
"The Zhentarim do not need Cyric or his simpering lapdogs, the Black Network can do quite well with the magi in charge."
"I agree, Lord Mortis, but we must walk carefully. Cyric’s minions can be useful from time to time."
Alfred snorted with disagreement, falling heavily into a plush chair facing the sorceress.
"Your report says that the adventurers you encountered still live. Will they be a problem to our operations here?"
"No," smiled Alfred, "they are neophytes, mere gnats."
"Good. I have a task for you. I want you to travel to Zhentil Keep. Since you have an affinity for dark gods, I think you will enjoy your visit there."
"What do you want me to do there?" replied Alfred distastefully.
"It is futile for you to serve a dead god, but a living one wants a mage to meet with him. Are you interested?"
"Is he strong?"
"He is cunning. His power grows, but he requires loyal servants to act in his name. Those who aid him now will be well rewarded. Do you wish to serve?"
"If he will grant me the power I seek, I will hear his words," nodded Alfred reservedly.
"Excellent," smiled Ravena, turning to face the necromancer. "I have a boat ready to take you on the morrow."
***
Jiri tossed in her thin bed sheets, her body glistening with sweat.
A deathly thin man with silver hair and burning blue eyes laughs maniacally, his hands dripping with black fire while the sky burns the color of fresh blood.
Rhant cradles a dead Jana in his arms, the front of her body blasted and scorched.
Five naked women with silver hair kneel before a darkly handsome man. He holds his arms wide as streams of pure magic pour from the women into his body, making him glow with divine power.
Jiri shot up from the bed, her chest pumping heavily. She wiped her dripping brow, then closed her eyes, inhaling deeply to calm her pounding heart.
"I will stop them, my Lord," whispered Jiri, her hands clasped before her breasts in prayer.
***
Alfred waited on the dockside until the barge master gave permission to board. Mortis placed the strap of his satchel bag over his left shoulder then hefted his black iron staff before he carefully walked on board the large river craft. Ravena and a male guard stood close to one of the dock buildings, watching the thin mage depart. A small boy in dirty clothing also observed the necromancer’s leaving. He rushed back into town as soon as the barge slid out into the river’s current.
***
"Mistress Jana! Mistress Jana!" exclaimed the young boy while Jana lounged on the porch of the inn, a mug of ale in hand.
"What is it, boy?"
"You told me to look out for white-haired mages! I saw one leaving on a barge heading east!"
"Good work," replied Jana before she dropped four silver pieces into the boy’s outstretched hand. The boy smiled happily as he ran back into the crowded street.
Jana drained her mug, returning to the cool, nearly empty common room of the inn. Jiri sat at a table, reading a small book with Lathander’s sigil on the cover.
"Jiri, one of my contacts spotted that mage who attacked us."
"Where was he going?"
"East, probably to Zhentil Keep."
"So, he is Zhentarim."
"Most likely," replied Jana as she sat opposite Jiri. "What do you want to do?"
"We’re not ready to fight him or the Black Network. We’ll continue to explore Tethyamar."
"You’re the boss," shrugged Jana.
-----
[03]
Alfred Mortis debarked from the riverboat just after sunset. The thin necromancer turned briefly to regard the northern bank of the Tesh River, where the ruins of Zhentil Keep still burned and smoldered. Moving south, Alfred walked into the busy dock area of the former foreign quarter of Zhentil Keep, which now held all of the Razing’s survivors. The docks were busy tonight, evidently a much needed supply shipment had arrived from Moonsea trade vessels. Alfred passed sailors and dockworkers, as well as a few eager female escorts looking for clients. The necromancer passed quickly through customs, paid his entry fees, then entered the city proper.
A female mercenary dressed in a chainmail vest and tight black leggings left the shadows of a building near the gates, walking swiftly up to Alfred’s side.
"Glad you could make it. The Godson awaits you."
"Then take me to him," ordered Alfred tersely.
The blonde woman took Alfred’s right arm, leading him through several alleyways until they reached a darkened manor. The door opened at the duo’s approach. The mercenary led Mortis to the cellar that housed a descending spiral staircase. They passed through a small complex of meditation rooms and bed cells, walked along a roughly hewn tunnel and emerged into a massive cavern. Jade flames danced from sconces dug into the cavern’s walls. The immense room was empty except for four purple-robed acolytes and a single woman with long black hair, sharp green eyes, and flowing black and green robes.
Alfred’s attention shifted from the staring woman to the dark cloud that hovered over the obsidian altar. Two orbs of flaming green focused on Mortis, making the necromancer freeze with unreasoning terror. Here was a true dark deity; here was a god to be worshiped.
*Alfred Mortis, mage and servant of the Black Network, welcome,* purred the entity inside Alfred’s mind.
"Lord," breathed Mortis, falling to his knees in awe, head downcast.
*Yes, you will serve me well, and I will grant you the power you seek.*
"Thank you, lord."
*You no longer serve Manshoon of the Zhentarim, I require your complete devotion.*
"You shall have it, lord."
*Though I am the son of Bane, I do not yet have access to all of my sire’s spheres of influence, I wish to correct that. You will aid me by becoming my eyes and ears in the Realms. You have traveled much, more than any of the other mages that serve my cause. You will use your greater experience to enforce my will.*
"What is your wish, lord?" asked Alfred, daring to look up at the visage of his new god.
*The goddess known as Mystra has invested a portion of her power into seven mortal women. I want you to capture the five known Silver Sisters and bring them to me. I will take the magic that flows in their veins, elevating myself to greater godhood. If you do this task for me, I will share the magic with you, you will be the most powerful mage in Faerun. Do you accept my quest?*
"Gladly, lord" smiled Alfred greedily.
*Excellent,* hissed Xvim. *Your first target will be Dove Falconhand. She is currently patrolling the area around Myth Drannor. Find her and bring her to me.*
"How will I find her? The forest is wide and difficult to traverse."
*I will grant you a small portion of my power,* replied Xvim before his glowing green eyes flashed brilliantly.
Alfred squeezed his eyelids shut as his iron staff, which he had laid down before him, burned with searing jade fire. In a moment the light was gone, but the runes etched along the shaft of the weapon glimmered with green radiance.
*Now your staff will guide you to each of Mystra’s Chosen. It also has other abilities that you may find useful on your quest. Go now, retrieve the Sisters so that I may take my rightful place among the greater gods.*
"Glory to you, dread lord," bowed Mortis before he reverently retrieved his staff, stood up, and made his way out of the underground temple, confident in his new faith and purpose.
***
Jana stabbed her silver short sword into the throat of the orc she was fighting, then she kicked out with her right leg, catching another orc in the belly. She glanced briefly towards her companions, Jiri and Rhant, as they fended off more orc attackers within the roughly hewn underground chamber. Jana withdrew her dripping sword, then jabbed down with both hands around the hilt, impaling the belly-kicked orc’s back just below his neck. The orc fell limply to the floor, allowing Jana to rush towards her beleaguered comrades. Jiri smashed an orc’s snouted face with her mace, then slammed another orc in the chest, crushing several of his ribs. Rhant dodged a crude sword swing, then jabbed his assailant with his quarterstaff, knocking the creature off his feet. Jana slashed the fallen orc’s throat open, then back-stabbed Jiri’s opponent, making the monster squeal in agony before dying.
"The orcs are thick in this section of the mines," panted Rhant while he leaned heavily on his staff.
"Of course, the gold deposits are heavier here," replied Jana, resting her hands on her knees.
"I believe we have enough funds to support ourselves for awhile. We should start heading back to the surface," suggested Jiri.
The green slime dropped down without warning, coating Jana’s back. The rogue girl screamed as the corrosive ichor burned through her leather armor.
"Jana!" shouted Rhant, reaching forward to help.
"Stop! Don’t touch it!" ordered Jiri before she took her lit torch and thrust it upon the glistening green slime. The goo shriveled and fell away from Jana’s body in ugly black chunks, falling wetly to the floor. Jiri burned all of the corrosive slime off of Jana, then pulled the limp girl away from the smoking remains. Jana shivered from shock as Jiri sat her down and examined her back for injuries or patches of slime. The green slime had been destroyed, but Jana’s body had several nasty burns from the torch. Jiri closed her eyes, praying to Lathander while running her fingers over Jana’s wounds. Jiri’s wooden holy symbol glowed briefly with a cool blue light just before Jana’s burns slowly faded away. Jana stopped shivering, she slowly opened her hazel eyes and took a tentative breath.
"You’re okay now," smiled Jiri.
"Thanks," said Jana with a weak grin in return. Jiri stood up, helping the rogue to her feet. Jana rummaged in her pack, removing a spare tunic, then draping it over her lithe torso while Rhant looked hastily away. She discarded her ruined leather torso piece before brushing her auburn hair back over her shoulders.
"Is it alright to continue?" asked Rhant.
"Yes, let’s go," nodded Jiri.
The trio ascended several levels, encountering no monsters along the way. Jana failed to spot the floor pit until it snapped open, leaving empty space under her booted feet. Jana shouted in surprise, reaching out with both hands towards the disappearing pit edge. The rogue girl’s long-nailed hands barely caught the far edge, her body slamming painfully against the shaft wall of the pit. Rhant teetered on the brink, then fell after Jana, his staff spinning end over end into the darkness ahead of the falling mage. Rhant tried to grasp Jana’s ankles, missed, then screamed as the blackness consumed him. Jiri knelt at the pit’s edge, yelling Rhant’s name desperately, no one replied.
"Can you make it?" asked Jiri, watching Jana with concern.
"I…think…so," grimaced Jana as she pulled herself slowly out of the gaping pit. She rolled over the edge, laying on her back to gasp for air.
"Rhant!" screamed Jiri over and over, her elven eyes scanning the pit’s depths with her infravision.
"I can’t see him!"
"What should we do?"
"Toss me an end of your rope, then climb down as far as you can."
"Alright," nodded Jana before she reached into her leather backpack. Tossing Jiri one end of her hemp rope, the rogue girl tied the other end around her slim waist, then she slowly descended into the pit, grasping the wall of the shaft as she progressed. Jana reached the bottom after thirty feet, but Rhant was nowhere to be found. Frowning, Jana lit a torch after untying her rope, entering an opening along the pit wall that led into a crudely hewn passage. The smell of mold and decay assaulted Jana’s nose as she carefully advanced, torch held forward in her left hand, silver short sword grasped in her right.
After walking a hundred feet, Jana heard chanting echoing from ahead. Biting her lower lip, Jana entered a large room cluttered with bookshelves and tables covered with laboratory equipment. One table had Rhant upon it, unmoving while a shriveled, bone-thin man hissed dark words of magic, his skeletal hands glowing with energy stolen from Rhant’s helpless body.
Jana withdrew her new dagger from her boot, hurling it at the chanting corpse. The dagger plunged into the lich’s chest, interrupting his evil spellcasting. The undead monster growled with hate, pointing a rotting finger at the beautiful rogue girl. Jana ducked towards the floor in vain as a stream of glowing darts shot away from the lich’s hand, flying unerringly towards the agile thief. Jana screamed when the magic missiles smashed into her, searing her belly and left side. The lich chuckled dryly, walking away from his first victim to approach his second. Jana writhed on the floor, trying to raise herself up with her right arm. She reached out with her left hand, silently summoning her dagger. The knife in the lich’s chest slid out, spinning back into Jana’s grasp.
Jana threw the dagger as soon as it returned, lodging the weapon in the undead’s forehead. The lich staggered back, his claw-like hands reaching up to tear the knife away. Jana drew her sword, diving forward to plunge it deep in the lich’s stomach. The blade punched easily through his dry skin and out his back. The lich roared in anger, slapping Jana away with his right arm. The undead removed the dagger protruding from his head, then raised his left hand, rasping an invocation.
The white blue lightning bolt cracked loudly, making Jana’s ears ring as the bolt smashed into the lich’s back. The undead staggered forward, his torso smoking from the assault. The lich’s left hand burned with black fire when he turned to face his new foe, just in time to see the second lightning bolt that blasted his chest apart. Bits of lich rained down on Jana’s prone form. She stumbled to her feet, walking forward to meet Rhant, who held a wand in his right hand while his left hand supported him against a nearby table.
"Thanks for the save, it was well timed," complimented Jana.
"Your arrival was a welcome distraction, the lich’s draining almost plunged me into unconsciousness."
Jana supported the mage with her right shoulder, her arm around his waist as he staggered towards the room’s exit, wand still in hand.
-----
[04]
The flames in the fireplace glimmered hotly, illuminating the room where Rhant and Master Argul sat facing each other. Rhant drank cinnamon tea while the old man questioned him about his latest adventure.
"You say you found a lich entombed in the mines?" asked the elderly wizard.
"Yes, he tried to drain my lifeforce. Luckily Jana arrived in time to distract him."
"You destroyed him with lightning bolts?"
"The bolts blasted a hole in his chest, then he collapsed," replied Rhant before taking another long sip of warm tea.
"Lightning shouldn’t have affected him, you must have surprised him," murmured the wizard, his eyes glazed in thought.
"I’m just glad to get out of there alive. Now I can cast the spell you tried to teach me earlier."
"Yes, you’ve grown in ability, but you still have a long road to travel, an odyssey that will last the rest of your life. Are you almost ready to leave with your lovely companions?"
"Aye. Jiri and Jana went shopping to gather travel supplies. We don’t have enough money for horses, so we’ll have to travel by foot. Jiri wants to go south, but she won’t say why."
"The south would be a good place to look for Zhentarim activity if that is your friend’s goal. I wish you luck."
"Thank you, Master Argul," smiled Rhant as he rose, bowing at the waist in farewell. "You’ve been a very good teacher, I’ve learned much about the Art from you."
"You have much potential, lad. I hope you achieve it," replied Argul warmly before shaking Rhant’s hand. "Take this scroll, the spells inscribed upon it may help you in your quest."
"Thank you, Master," nodded Rhant.
The old mage watched his former apprentice leave through the front door, then he turned to make his way back to the warm fire.
"Azimer is free. I must do something."
***
An indeterminate amount of time passed after Rhant and Jana left the prone lich to disintegrate on the floor of his underground prison. A rotted finger on the lich’s left hand twitched, followed by the undead’s shriveled arm.
The lich once known as Azimer shambled to his feet, straightening his scorched purple and black robes. He walked to one of his worktables, noticing that his Wand of Lightning was missing. The lich hissed in anger, moving to another table in order to slip on two magic rings he had just enchanted before the young male wizard had fallen on his doorstep. Walking a little steadier as Rhant’s stolen life energy coursed through his decayed body, Azimer grasped his Staff of Power where it lay next to the doorway before traveling down the dark passage that led to the bottom of a pit shaft. Azimer craned his neck to look at the open mouth of the pit, then uttered a command word to activate his staff. A rune etched on the weapon flared briefly as the lich rose up into the air. Azimer stepped lightly onto the floor of the hallway leading away from the pit, his staff clicking loudly upon the stone with his every advancing step.
The fresh mountain air was wasted on the lich after he emerged from the stygian depths of the mines. Azimer scanned the dark horizon with his empty eye sockets, the flames that replaced his eyes burning with hatred and an eternal hunger. Retrieving a dried raven feather from one of his belt pouches, Azimer chanted mystic words, ascending swiftly into the clear starlit night. The lich flew across the countryside towards the east, remembering that once a small trading village had existed near the Border Forest.
Suddenly, Magic Missiles smashed into Azimer’s belly from below, making him spin out of control in the air. Azimer shouted with fury, quickly regaining control of his erratic flight. An old man flew up from the ground, his blue robes flapping around his thin frame.
"You dance with death, old fool," snarled Azimer as he snatched a small ball of bat guano from a pouch and flung it at the ascending wizard. Azimer growled the lines of the spell before a ball of raging flame appeared around the old man. The roaring fireball licked against a glowing blue sphere that materialized around Thaun Argul’s body.
Thaun halted his flight to hover across from the scowling lich. He withdrew a small golden tube from his blue robes, dropping several small beads into the cylinder. Thaun aimed the open end of the tube at Azimer, chanting deeply as he held out the device. Small spheres of fiery light spewed from golden tube, speeding swiftly towards the levitating lich. Azimer held his bony arms over his face and chest as the spheres exploded against his body. Smoking from the assault, Azimer shouted a command word, pointing the tip of his staff at Thaun. A bolt of eye-blinding light snapped from the staff towards Thaun. The elder mage attempted to evade the lightning bolt, but the spear of electricity found its mark. Thaun screamed as the bolt seared the flesh of his chest, digging deeply towards his heart. The old man fell limply towards the ground, followed closely by Azimer.
Thaun fell with a meaty crunch, his limbs out flung like a broken doll’s. Azimer landed lightly on his slippered feet, approaching the dead mage. He stood over the corpse, taking a piece of yellow bone from another belt pouch. Azimer pricked one of his fingers with a filth-covered nail, waiting until a single drop of thick black blood escaped from his digit and fell onto the bone. The fragment absorbed the blood, then crumbled to dust after Azimer completed his spell. Thaun’s body shivered before rising drunkenly to its feet.
"Guide me to your home," ordered Azimer.
The zombie that had once been Thaun Argul shambled obediently back his small cottage in Dagger Falls, followed closely by a starving lich.
Dawn was almost upon Dagger Falls when the undead appeared. Azimer used his staff to cloak himself and his guide in darkness. The duo walked silently through the town’s streets until they found a lone street girl standing at the mouth of an alley searching listlessly for a potential customer. The whore was young, with dirty red hair and over-painted red lips. Her open blouse offered a generous view of smooth, white flesh as the lich reached out with his left claw. The girl gasped when she felt the dried hand clasp over her left arm, right before numbness spread out to engulf her thin body. Azimer watched the girl collapse at his feet, then motioned for his zombie slave to pick her up. The vacant-eyed cadaver of Argul held the whore close to his blackened chest while he guided Azimer the rest of the way to his cottage.
Azimer closed the door after himself before following Argul into the cold, dark living area. The fireplace was black and empty as Argul halted in the middle of the room. Azimer took in the simple furnishings scornfully, then moved next to the waiting zombie.
"Drop her."
Argul let the unconscious whore fall limply to the carpeted floor.
Azimer knelt down next to the helpless girl, placing his gnarled right hand over the skin of her left breast. The girl shuddered at the same time that Azimer gasped with pleasure. The lich smiled as warm life-giving energy slid from the girl’s body into his own. The burning orbs that served as Azimer’s eyes grew brighter with power, his dry parchment skin blushing with invigoration. The whore’s body shriveled up, appearing like a drained husk before collapsing into a pile of gray ash. Azimer rose smoothly to his feet, his body suffused with new life.
"Now my time has come. I will complete my grand destiny once and for all," swore Azimer as he clenched his right hand into a tight fist.
THE END
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