The Early Chronicles of the Oddlot I: 10. Skull Cave

The swamp gave way to solid ground that led up an incline. We could see the destination looming ahead, the bone white dome of the skull cave gleamed even in the clouded sun. I crept up to have a look. Annoyingly, Tyrael tagged along.

The cave did indeed look like the skull of some ancient and massive humanoid. It sat two stories tall, with the eye sockets forming balconies.

“Something’s inside the one socket,” I whispered to Tyrael. “I can’t quite make it out.”

The tiefling looked, but his eyes could be no sharper than those my ancestors had gifted me. His gaze shifted to take in the entire space.

“Look,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder and pointing. The nightmare grazed about four hundred yards from the cave. I waved the others to join us.

“Do we take out that nightmare first, so it won’t charge in?” Dalvin asked.

“I’d prefer to sneak by it, try to get the drop on the hags in the cave,” I said. “We have to hit them fast before they can muster their magic against us.”

“Nay, friends,” Tyrael said. “Let us use what providence has provided.”

“What you mean?” Enolo asked.

“The nightmare, of course. I’ll talk to it, get it on our side.”

“Those horns growing into your brain?” I said, perhaps a bit louder than I should have.

“Trust me, I know how to speak with this beast. If Mordo comes with me, the evil within him will cloak my true nature. He’ll be receptive, I promise.”

Before I could open my mouth in protest, Mordo nodded.

“Mordo ride nightmare into battle. Be truly epic.”

“Now wait a minute, Mordo,” I said.

“I better go with them,” Dalvin said, cutting me off. “I have a way with animals, you know.”

“I’m not sure a druid’s touch extends to a beast of evil,” I said, though I could tell they’d made up their minds.

Tyrael shook his head. “It wasn’t always evil, and it surely resents its indentured servitude to the hags.”

“Perhaps if bard play tune, help sooth savage beast,” Mordo said.

“Eh, fine,” I said. “You coming along, Enolo?”

“Not me. I won’t truck with evil. That bitty horsey couldn’t carry me no way, no how anyway.”

I nodded. “That’s fine. I’m not getting on it either. Wait for me, and we’ll approach the cave together.”

I played and hummed softly a tune I’d used before on skittish animals, though the nightmare was no nervous foal in a corral. The corrupted beast looked up, but remained relaxed. Dalvin approached first, speaking words to it in a language that only a druid would know. Tyrael with Mordo trailing moved in next. I held my ground, using the music’s range to my advantage.

I couldn’t make out everything Tyrael said to the nightmare because of my playing, but caught the gist of it. He appealed to the forced nature of the nightmare’s service to the hags, sympathizing and reasoning, showing it a way to break free of its fetters. Against all odds and reason, the nightmare bowed down a bit and let Tyrael and Mordo mount. I almost missed a chord.

Dalvin approached next and the nightmare seemed receptive—right up to the point where Dalvin, hand outstretch in a calming manner, tripped. He stumbled forward and his hand went right into the nostril of the beast. The nightmare flipped its head violently, and Dalvin went flying.

Amazingly, Tyrael maintained his control of the nightmare, despite Dalvin’s dazzling ineptitude.

“Up, my friend,” he called to it, and the nightmare leapt twenty feet into the air with ease.

“This…be…epic!” Mordo called as the nightmare ascended, then darted toward the skull.

“Tyr’s other hand!” I cursed. I hoped Tyrael had enough sense to circle a couple of times to allow the rest of us to catch up. I broke in a sprint for the skull, giving Dalvin a hand up as I went. Enolo saw his cue and crested the hill. The goliath’s long strides took him ahead of us quickly. I gauged the nightmare’s distance. Tyrael, whether he had meant to or not, was circling the cave.

The most surprising thing as we got closer was that fighting already resounded from in the cave. There was a lot of metal clattering, a high voice, and the cackling of a hag. Enolo didn’t pause to ponder it and dashed right through the mouth of the skull, the only ground level entrance way I could see. I charged in, too, but skidded to a stop.

A solid wall blocked the entrance to the cave. How had Enolo gotten around it? I touched it all over, searching for some trigger to a secret door, but could find nothing. As I stood back scratching my head, Dalvin finally caught up. Before I could say a word, the gnome ran right through the wall like it wasn’t even there.

“How in the nine hells…?” I touched the wall all over again, but could not figure it out. My thoughts turned to the only other entrances I’d seen, the eyes sockets of the skull.

As I stepped back out, I saw the nightmare dip down. Mordo shot himself off its back and through the cave’s left eye socket. Another tremendous clatter resounded from within. The hellish horse didn’t look content anymore. It flew straight up, and I could see that Tyrael barely held fast. I readied the spell I’d been thinking about since the fool had hatched his horn-brained scheme. Sure enough, I had a chance to use it. Tyrael fell of the nightmare as it soared away, and the tiefling tumbled through the sky.

I’ll give him credit. He didn’t scream. I probably would have. Still, he was in no position to save himself, panicked and flailing. I had to wait until he was in range, then releases my song-spell on him. His plummet halted immediately and he gently floated down, like a leaf fallen from an autumn branch.

Satisfied that the tiefling wouldn’t splatter himself all over the ground, I pulled rope and grappling hook from my pack, holdovers from our assault on the basilisk. I swung it and got a good hold the second throw, and started my ascent to the right eye socket. The sounds of the battle inside reverberated from the socket, forcing me to climb faster to get myself in the fight and help my friends. Another need stopped me as I pulled myself into the socket at the top of the rope.

Leffe had been hung suspended spread-eagle in the socket by his limbs. A rope pulled each arm up and out, and two more wrapped around the stumps of his legs.

“Tyr bless it!” I scrambled to the dwarf, cutting the ropes and lowering him gently to the ground. “Tyr bless it!” I repeated, searching the dwarf for a pulse. He had one, but it was faint. In addition to the amputations, he’d been baking in the sun for an unknown amount of time. Perhaps only the heavy overcast of the day had prevented his death. His lips were peeling and wrinkled with dehydration. I had my minor healing spell, but thought it weak against the damage done to the dwarf.

I had some of the potions we’d taken from the kobold shaman’s satchel after the second battle of Ellry. I grabbed one out of my pack and popped the cork. I opened the dwarf’s mouth and poured it in slowly, allowing him time to swallow. A moment later and his eyes flickered open.

“Water,” he croaked. I found my waterskin and carefully dripped some into his mouth until I was sure he wouldn’t throw it up. Then I let him drink more deeply, as his hands came up to take the skin.

“You’re going to make it, my friend,” I said. “I’m getting you out of here.”

“You’ll have to. I can’t exactly run away.”

I used the ropes that he had been bound with to form a harness for the dwarf, tying him to myself. Slowly, I lowered us down my climbing rope to the ground.

The fight had shifted outside. I peeked into the mouth of the skull, and that strange wall had disappeared. I followed a trail of blood and the sounds of battle to the backside of the skull. In a pond, my companions, plus a female halfling and, well, I didn’t know what in the world it was, had pursued a hag into it. The hag didn’t last long under the barrage of blows.

“That all of them?” I asked as I caught up.

“Nah. The third one wasn’t there,” Enolo said. “They always come in threes, hags do.”

“Leffe!” Dalvin shouted, chugging out of the water. I knelt down so that he could hug his dwarven friend.

“All right, all right. Take it easy. I’ve been near death most of the day,” the dwarf said, but he seemed a little choked up.

The female halfling waved to the group. “Hi! I’m Nedwyn, but lots of people call me Ned! You can too! Say, why does your friend not have any feet? Can you believe it, we killed two hags! Wow, I wonder if they have any cool stuff on them. I’ll go look.” She nearly got by me. I was so dazzled that she’d got all that out in one breath that it took me a second to understand.

“Hang on a second Nedwyn,” I said. “Just who are you and exactly what is that?” I said, pointing to the other newcomer. The most familiar things about him was the wizard robes and hate he wore. His face, if you could call it that, was something I hadn’t ever encountered. It was all metal and not merely a mask. It had a mouth slit and lower jaw, and some shape of cheek bones forged into it. The eyes were two glowing lights. The hand that held a staff had only two fingers and a thumb; it was the same metal as the face.

“Oh, that’s robot. I mean, he’s not a real robot. And he has a name. But you can just call him robot.”

“What in the name of Tyr’s justice is a robot?” I asked.

“It’s the strangest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,” called Tyrael from atop the skull cave. He’d finally landed.

“You’re one to talk,” I yelled back.

“Permit me to introduce myself. My name is 2zard,” 2zard said in a metallic voice. “I am a creation known as a warforged.”

I searched my considerable memory of odd lore. The term warforged did not exist. I looked to my companions, but they shrugged.

“Nedwyn and I come from a different place, world I believe, altogether,” 2zard continued. “I think it had something to do with a ritual the hags botched, but I’m not sure.”

“You said you’re a creation. Like a golem or construct?” Tyrael said. He’d produced his own rope and slid down to join us.

“No, not like those things. They are simple, not able to think or cast spells like I can. I am a fully cognizant being of a race now recognized in our home land, or world perhaps I should say.”

I looked at Enolo and nodded toward 2zard. Enolo nodded back. I glared at him. He smiled. I was getting the impression that while Mordo played at being dumb, Enolo might be the real deal.

“Check him for evil,” I said.

“Oh, right!” the huge paladin said. He looked 2zard over. “Nope, he’s good.”

“You can tell just like that?”

“Usually.”

“Usually?”

“Hey, 2zard’s not evil! Neither am I. Well, I like shiny things. Maybe a bit too much. I sometimes pick them up to look at them better, and forget to put them back. But I don’t mean to! I mean, I don’t really make an effort to return them, but they probably weren’t important to anyone anyway. Like this one time—”

“God’s bodkin, girl! Enough!”

“What were you doing in the hags’ cave?” Dalvin asked more gently than I could have managed at the time.

“Dunno. One minute we were bopping along, doing our thing, when SHMOOM! A portal opens up out of nowhere! Sucks us right in and spits us out in the cave. The hags looked as surprised to see us as we were to see them. Didn’t stop them from tying us up, though. We got free right before that giant fellow charged in, and the dark-eyed one fell from the ceiling.”

Dark-eyed one!

I turned to regard Mordo, who to this point had seemed his normal self. Though he didn’t levitate or swell with muscle this time, his eyes were mostly black again.

“Ander, that’s the key!” Dalvin said. “The first hag, before she died, laughed and said it was too late, that their master had returned. I think she meant Mordo.”

“Mordo, you in there, big fellow?”

“Mordo. Here,” the warrior managed with some effort.

“You alone in there?”

“No. But in control.”

“Oy, look at the nightmare,” Enolo interrupted, pointing up into the sky. I’d forgotten about the foul beast. It circled us once, then flew off to the east. Diving steeply toward the ground, I thought that it had crashed. I realized that the land gave way to a cliff at that point.

“Where’d it go?” Dalvin asked.

“My guess,” Enolo said, “is to the third hag.”


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