Bladesinger - Keith Francis Strohm [70]
"That was well done," remarked Roberc, "though I do wish that you could have left one or two for the rest of us."
Taen smiled at the halfling's words, though in truth he wasn't sure the fighter had been entirely joking. "Come," he said, ushering Roberc and Borovazk back to the chimney in the rear of the tunnel, "we probably don't have too much time before another patrol stumbles upon us."
He tried to ignore the wide-eyed stare Yurz threw his way as they waited beneath the dark hole, but the goblin remained at the periphery of his vision. "Friend of Pretty Lady great wizard," he said finally, after Taen had spent considerable time pretending the goblin wasn't there and wishing that Marissa would soon emerge from the chimney. "Maybe greater than tribal shaman," he finished.
The half-elf was spared having to respond, as Marissa's rope spilled out of the chimney's darkness, landing with a muted thump on the cold gray stone of the tunnel floor. He turned and urged Yurz up the rope. The goblin stared a moment longer then leaped on to the rope, scurrying up its knotted length with the grace and skill of a seasoned seaman climbing the rigging of a tall-masted ship. Borovazk followed soon after, though the ranger needed some help sliding through the initial hole in the ceiling.
Taen and Roberc conferred for a moment regarding Cavan. The war-dog gazed up at the hole then offered Roberc a crooked stare, as if measuring the probability of a successful ascent. Taen thought for a moment. They had been in a few spots like this in previous underground explorations, but none quite so physically daunting. He did know a spell that would help reduce the war-dog's size, which might make the dog more manageable as they hauled him up the chimney. Their success depended upon Cavan's patience and cooperation, however.
A few moments later, with the help of Roberc's firm-voiced commands, a much smaller Cavan stood still and, if an animal could experience such a thing, bewildered as several lengths of rope were coiled and tied around its front- and hindquarters. Taen watched as their companions above lifted the war-dog, now the size of a large puppy, up through the chimney. When that was accomplished, the half-elf followed the always-grumbling halfling up the rope and into the caverns above.
* * * * *
The ogres stood like ancient trees rooted to the rough stone of the cavern floor. In the dancing light of his arcane illumination, Taen could see their dull yellow skin cracked and pitted like old bark. Both of the creatures' mouths hung open, frozen in mid roar. Teeth as thick and long as his fingers glimmered in the shifting illumination.
Roberc whistled softly when he drew near the half-elf. "You did this?" he asked, turning to Marissa. The druid had long since shed her arachnoid form and sat quiet and still in the center of the cavern.
She nodded. "They were arguing over something just a few yards from the chimney hole," the druid said. "I didn't want their argument to draw any unwanted attention, so I crept up on them and changed form. I was going to try and use a different spell, when this"-she lifted the Staff of the Red Tree-"began to whisper to me again. I heard the words and repeated them. In moments, the ogres were petrified."
Taen shook his head. He'd seen his way around enough items and artifacts of power to know that the gift of the Rashemi telthor was unusual to say the least. In point of fact, Taen felt a great sense of unease around the staff-an experience that worsened any time Marissa described the staff's somewhat conscious actions. He had never been comfortable with the untamed power of natural magic; it refused to follow established laws and yield to the mastery brought on by rigorous study. Though he did not feel even remotely suspicious of the telthor and their gift of the staff, such power answered to its own laws.
At this moment, however, Taen said nothing. There were times to engage the enemy