Escape from Undermountain - Mark Anthony [33]
"That was dangerous, Beckla," he said, his voice low and grim. "I could have killed you. I almost did. You took a foolish gamble."
"But it worked, didn't it?" she rasped smugly. "Corin and I need you, Ar'talen. We have to stick together if we're to have any hope of getting out of here. I guessed that only a little orcish anger would burn through your stupid self-pity, and I was right."
Artek scowled at her. "Well, you don't have to act so pleased about it."
"Oh? And why not?"
He had no answer to that, and settled for a sullen grunt instead. Risky as it had been, the wizard's plan had worked as intended. Despair and hopelessness had been burned away by his rage. Artek wanted nothing more now than to have his revenge on Lord Darien Thal, and the only way he could achieve that was to escape from Undermountain. He found himself returning Beckla's grin. As violent as his orcish side was, it had its uses.
Corin gasped as he realized what the wizard had done. "Oh, bravo, Beckla!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together, tattered lace cuffs fluttering. "That was simply brilliant. A virtuoso performance." He snapped his fingers as an idea occurred to him.
"Why, perhaps it would hearten Artek further if I uttered the same epitaph. Now, what were the words?" He braced his shoulders and lowered his voice, speaking the words with exaggerated bravado. "Malth al nothilk, Artek Ar'talen!"
For a moment Artek and Beckla stared at the puffed-up lord. Then both burst into laughter. Corin frowned in confusion.
"I don't understand," he sputtered. "Why are you laughing? Aren't you supposed to be absolutely furious with me? I just said your heart was a goblin's!"
"No, you didn't," Artek replied.
"Well, what did I say?" the nobleman asked indignantly.
Beckla let out a snort. "You said, 'Your ears are made of cheese, Artek Ar'talen.'"
The two broke into renewed peals of mirth. Corin stared at them with a hurt expression until Artek took pity on the lord.
"Don't worry, Corin," he said. "We'll make an orc of you yet." He gave the young man a friendly slap on the back, and Corin stumbled forward, eyes bulging at the force of the blow.
"Er, thank you," he murmured. "I think."
His black leather creaking, Artek prowled back and forth. He knew what they needed to do-get out of Undermountain. Now, how by the Shadows of Shar were they going to do it? The obvious thing was to attempt to work their way upward through Halaster's mad labyrinth. However, according to Beckla's spell, they were terribly deep-deeper than anyone had gone and managed to return in nearly a thousand years. Artek didn't like those odds, and instinct told him that there was little hope in heading upward. But what other alternative was there?
His black eyes glittered sharply. The inkling of an idea crept into his cunning mind. He turned toward the wizard. "Beckla, you said that Halaster enchanted the walls of Undermountain so that no one could magically teleport in or out."
"That's right."
"So how was it that the gate Melthis gave me was able to transport us so much deeper? Doesn't that mean that it is possible to teleport here?"
The wizard shook her head. "No, it doesn't. Like I said earlier, gates are different. A spell of teleportation instantly moves a person or object from one place to another. And Halaster's magic blocks such spells. But when you pass through a gate, you don't really move at all. Instead, the gate magically brings two different places close together. It's space that moves, not you."
Artek frowned at this explanation. "I don't exactly follow you."
"I suppose that's why I'm the wizard," she replied dryly. "Here, I'll show you." She reached out and grabbed the pebble that still hovered in midair from her earlier spell. She held her hands flat and apart, the pebble resting on her left palm. "Say I'm the pebble, and I