The Paladins - James M. Ward [21]
Shaakat and Rejik cackled at their own ingenuity. The power required to beckon and command so many denizens of their cruel, chaotic native plane would have required weeks of exhausting work, but in Undermountain thanks to the power of a magical mirror they had found, they only needed to perform a summoning once for each type, lowly mane and sturdy bar-lgura. The floor-length glass lay embedded within the stone wall of a rough cavern, not far from the gate to the Utter East. Unadorned by any frame and unremarkable until the vrocks wandered within its radius of reflection, the device conjured perfect copies of the fiendish beings summoned by the vrocks. Now, instead of expending energy to muster troops, they labored magically to keep them from attacking everything in sight, especially each other.
"If the bloodforge can create obedient soldiers like the mirror creates berserk fiends, nothing can stop us," thought Rejik.
"Now you think like a true tanar'ri," returned Shaakat. "Now General Raachaak'll have to deal with us! Come! Let us lead these miserable troops to glory and power."
The vrocks flexed their telepathic powers. The manes squealed in protest, like a host of butchered pigs, but they turned and crowded after the vulturelike master tanar'ri, pushing and shoving. The bar-lgura frowned at the irresistible orders and grouchily complied, blending in with the screaming horde. In a river of shrill chaos, the fiends rushed toward the gate to the Utter East. They flowed into the terminal cavern and pooled around the two evil leaders, who ascended the platform and stood before the gleaming aperture. For a moment, the masses fell silent, instinctively bracing for a surprise attack.
"Victory!" cried the vrocks together as they strode through the archway… and to the other side of the platform, without teleporting anywhere.
"Passworded!" snarled Shaakat in sudden fury. "The gate is passworded!"
His rage swept over the troops, who promptly dissolved into anarchy. They turned and charged out of the chamber, surging into the corridors of Undermountain, shrieking madly as they fled. A party of wandering drow, who had been approaching stealthily to investigate the disturbance, suddenly found itself overrun by the rampaging manes. The dark elves desperately tried to escape, then to defend themselves from the murderous throng, but died screaming. And the stampede continued.
Chapter 5
When things go wrong, try not to go with them.
"We've been going east for hours, now," groaned Noph. "We've got to be close!"
The party stripped off their backpacks and sat in a cavern with just enough floor and head space to accommodate the seven of them. Its smooth limestone surfaces, streaked with strands of burgundy and brown blended like pools of color, spilling and swirling together. The rock gracefully bent and turned at right angles, creating natural seats for the weary heroes. Irregular rifts in the walls and ceiling led in every direction, but three large passageways branched off from the chamber-one to the southwest, from which they'd come, one to the southeast, and the third due east. A distant cacophony rumbled in from the passage to the east, perhaps a crowd of creatures or the rush of the sea.
"Still no sign of any room that appears on this map of Khelben's," said Miltiades, studying the parchment under the light of an enchanted jewel. "This mazework of caves and corridors required the work of a twisted genius!"