Escape from Undermountain - Mark Anthony [41]
"Absolutely amazing," Muragh exclaimed.
"Our story?" Artek asked.
"No. Your plan. It's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
Artek's eyes narrowed at this insult. "And I suppose you could come up with a better idea?"
"Of course," Muragh replied smartly. "A Thayan rock slug could come up with a better plan than that."
Artek crossed his arms, fixing the skull with a dubious look. "I'm waiting."
Muragh did not need to be asked twice to talk. "Finding a gate out of here on your own is about as likely as growing wings and flying." Muragh cackled with laughter at this, teeth clacking. "Not that there aren't gates that lead out of Undermountain-there are. But you could hardly expect Halaster to simply leave them sitting around in plain sight. He was mad, not stupid. The only ones who might be able to tell you where you could find a gate out are the old wizard's apprentices. And that means you have to find one of the Seven first."
The three gathered closer, listening as Muragh told of Halaster's seven apprentices. Nearly a thousand years ago, the wizard forsook his tower on the slopes of Mount Waterdeep and descended into the vast labyrinth he had created below. When he did not return from Undermountain, the Seven-powerful mages in their own right-boldly ventured into the dark depths in search of him. There they found magical tricks and deadly obstacles, and the deeper they went, the more difficult grew the riddles, the more perilous became the traps. The Seven soon realized that this was a test set for them by their master. Believing that whoever reached Halaster first would become his most favored-and thus heir to his most powerful magic-the Seven strove against each other. Each tried to go deeper than the rest and be the first to find their mysterious master.
Whether or not the apprentices ever succeeded in finding Halaster, no one knew. Only one of the Seven ever returned from Undermountain: Jhesiyra Kestellharp, who became the Magister of Myth Drannor, an ancient kingdom whose ruins lay far to the East, near the realm of Cormyr. The other six apprentices remained in Undermountain, and whether they still searched, granted unnaturally long life by their magic, the histories did not tell.
"It sounds as if these apprentices have the power to help us, all right," Beckla said when Muragh had finished his tale.
"If any of them are still alive," Artek added.
"Muragh, old boy," Corin said, addressing the skull as one might a servant. "You seem to know a great deal about this place. Can you take us to one of the Seven?"
"As a matter of fact, I can," the skull replied glibly. "But I won't."
Only by great force of will did Artek restrain himself from grabbing the insolent skull and heaving it against one of the stone walls. "Are you playing games with us, Muragh?" he said.
"No, no!" the skull said hastily. "Believe me, you really don't want to meet Muiral."
Muiral? Wasn't that the person who had locked Muragh in this room? Artek picked up the skull and glared into its empty eye sockets. "Let me get this straight," he said angrily. "You managed to annoy this Muiral with your chattering, and now you're afraid to take us to him because you think he will do something to hurt you. Am I right?"
Muragh worked his mandible vigorously, but Artek held the skull tight. "You don't understand," Muragh whined fearfully. "Muiral won't just hurt me. He'll hurt you, too. Don't you see? He's the one who created the wraith spiders. And I guarantee you that there are more of them than you encountered in that chamber. Muiral loves spiders. He's part spider himself. I don't know how he did it, but he fused himself onto the body of a giant spider. He won't help you." Muragh shook pitifully in Artek's hands. "Please don't take me to Muiral. Please!"
Beckla bit her lower lip. "I think he's telling the truth, Artek."
"Have pity on the poor chap, Ar'talen," Corin added worriedly. "He's been through a great deal."
Artek glowered at the skull. At last he sighed in exasperation. "All right, I believe you, Muragh. We