B2 – Chapter 51: Of course it’s a trap!

The first few Butchers approached the door and pushed against it. The door ground its way inward, revealing a torch-lit passage. “Someone brought torches and lit the sconces,” One of them loudly whispered back to those behind them.

Tristan’s vision was unimpeded, regardless, and he barked out an order. “Halt! Not a step further.” He approached the doors and pointed down the hall, “There are tripwires set up, with crossbows aimed toward us on pedestals. In between the torches, where illumination fades.”

“Good eye,” Tisha said. “Want to take the lead?”

“Not really,” Tristan replied. “I’m paying for your help – but I don’t want to die.”

“Fair enough. Perry! Time to earn your keep!”

The half-breed Springthaw Elf came up and sighed, “Always sending me into trap laden barrows.”

“You got them eyes,” she replied back. “Plus you’re skinny and light weight.”

“Don’t remind me,” he grumbled as he made his way into the tunnel, stepping over the trip wires and reaching into his pocket as he did so, sprinkling some fluorescent powder onto the lines. It shimmered and reflected the light of the torches.

Tisha tapped Tristan’s shoulder and he glanced at her, “Do you want to wait out here while we get your friends?”

Tristan shook his head, “No. I need to help save them.”

“Fair enough. Stick towards the middle of the column.” She waved her Butchers forward, and the group began their plunge into the dim passages. Perry stayed a good twenty feet ahead, marking out various traps, tripwires and the like.

He’s skilled, Tristan thought as he tried to pay attention to the way the half-breed Elf moved. How he seemed to anticipate the tripwires, and then his rapid disabling of the ones that could be disabled. I need to consider picking up some Ledgermain skills of my own. Or, maybe I could task Felicity with that.

She had recovered from her hot desert tracking and was alert, sitting upright on his head and making small paw-claw biscuits on his skull. She was once more invisible, as was her fatter companion. “I want to offer to scout further ahead, but this is scary,” she whispered into his long ear.

Tristan nodded, “We are definitely falling for the bait.”

“Of course it’s a trap,” Tisha replied. “If you are as rich as you seem, then I would wager they got your friends and then took them to ransom them back to you. This is just their hideout away from Plinth proper. Lots of ruins buried in the desert sands. Never seen this one before.”

The tunnels abruptly ended, and they reached stairs going down. “This is abnormal,” Perry stated. He looked around the chamber, and Tristan glanced around as well. “It’s all shaped stone – a construction. But the buildings up here on the plateau pre-desert were all on the surface…at least every other ruin I’ve been inside of.”

Tisha pushed past and looked down the stairs, “Pitch black. What do you see?”

Tristan peered over and saw the stairs going down, “Just stairs.” He still felt his essence draining, and he was at about half capacity as he fueled his spells that needed to have a constant upkeep. “They go left about twenty feet down.”

“Okay Perry, take the lead,” Tisha ordered.

Perry grumbled and began descending the steps. While he did so, Tisha produced a torch, and one of her companions walked over, striking flint and steel to light it. She handed the torch to a Butcher who followed Perry down the stairs. Tristan waited until about half had begun their descent, and then he, too, descended.

They emerged in an enormous rectangle chamber. Tristan saw Obadai and Shandra – both chained to a pillar in the center of the room. Perry had stopped just before the threshold, and was glancing to both sides of the room. “Something is off,” he stated. “I can’t see the walls.”

Tristan followed his gaze and saw nothing but blackness in all directions. The entire chamber was a rectangle with black walls, the pillar in the center of the room, the floor and the ceiling. It must be some spell at play, he thought.

The stairs behind them turned to smooth stone, and the last few Butchers slid down into the room with shouts of surprise. Tisha glanced back and sighed, “Should have expected that, given the events on the market edges.” She looked up at Tristan, “Definitely a trap.”

Tristan pointed at the pillar, “Those are my friends.”

Perry kept glancing around, “Something feels…very…very wrong here.”

Tisha nodded, “I agree. This place gives me the creeps. And leaving the prisoners out in the open? I’d expect an ambush.” She brought a shield to bear – a shell of some type of enormous insectoid monster. “Everyone, bulwark formation.”

Perry pulled back and all of the Butchers formed a tight circle. Some had shields, some presented their heavier armored plates towards the outside, and some pointed bristling tips of weapons to the exterior. The whole circle had formed up around Tristan. “And move,” Tisha stated.

The circle began moving to the center of the chamber. They reached the pillar without issue, enveloped it, and Tristan chopped at the chains, dropping his two allies to the ground. Shandra groaned, but Obadai stayed still.

Tristan reached out to feel for a pulse, and pulled back. “Barely there,” he whispered. He reached for a panacea elixir from his bandolier, gently turned Obadai face-up, and saw his jaw had been broken – it hung limply to a side. To prevent essence-weaving, probably. He poured the panacea elixir down Obadai’s throat, safe in the knowledge that Felicity should have two more in her extradimensional storage.

Obadai coughed slightly and his eyes fluttered open. Tristan contemplated using a healing elixir, but his thoughts were interrupted when he heard a cackling voice that seemed to echo and resonate all around the room. A booming, maniacal voice. Speaking in Demon’s Tongue.

“Alors, tu es enfin arrivé. Nous t’avons traqué.” (So, you finally arrive. We have been hunting you).

Tristan gently put Obadai down and stood up, gripping his sword once more. “Who is there?” he shouted out.

“Celui qui cherche votre disparition.” (One who seeks your demise).

“Incoming!” Tisha shouted. From all sides of the room, black cloaked figures carrying the familiar-to-Tristan gold-hilted daggers ran forward. They were silent wraiths who made no sound as they advanced. “Engage!” Tisha yelled.

The Butchers split off in pairs – two to an assassin. Twenty-four of them, twelve assassins. Tristan stayed on guard next to Shandra and Obadai, eyes scanning for any trace of a threat.

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“Above!” Shandra screamed. A shriek of terror. Primal fear. She began scrabbling backward toward the tunnel.

Tristan looked up and felt his heart sink to his gut. A creature from nightmare, wreathed in smoke and blistering flame crackled to life. It clung to the pillar – a cat-like figure that pounced down on him. Tendrils of black flame flashed outward as it flung its mass atop Tristan.

He got out of the way as Felicity flew off of his head. He brought his sword across and chopped through two of the tendrils, sending burning, black bursts of flame out across the stone floor. “Get him out of here!” Tristan shouted.

Felicity grabbed Obadai’s collar and began dragging him toward the tunnel.

The creature snarled as it leapt backwards and circled Tristan, its smug voice coming out as a mix of a purr and sneering elitism. “Comme un chien attiré par un os, nous t’avons attiré. Maintenant tu meurs.” (Like a dog to a bone, we lured you in. Now you die). Its tendrils regrew and the creature lashed out at Tristan.

He parried the flaming lashes and countered with sweeping, lopping strikes that cut off the tendrils, spraying yet more flame about. It even got onto him – but he did not feel it. The Armor of Ice took the brunt of the heat, but he knew his consumption of fire dragon blood would have kept him safe. He made an unexpected forward step and stabbed straight ahead, catching the thing in the shoulder as the blade sank down into the chest cavity.

The thing snarled and bit down on the blade. The sword snapped in two where it bit, and then its tendril grabbed the broken part lodged in its body and extricated it, dropping the weapon. The wound sealed over. “De l’acier avec des artifices ? Un matériau tellement pathétique.” (Steel with artifice? Such pathetic material).