"Let us see how-" she started.
"Enough of this," Davoren snapped. With a flicker of will, he shot a pair of fiery bolts up at the ceiling. The power burst and sent a web of cracks through the stone.
"Ah," said Slip. "What-?" Twilight shoved the halfling down the tunnel and pulled Liet behind her as she ran. Gargan shot the warlock a glare but followed.
Not a heartbeat later, the ceiling cracked and collapsed, sealing off the tunnel with a shattering crash of stone.
Tlork skidded short of crushing his body against the tons of stone piled up around the tunnel mouth.
Then a chunk of stone tumbled down from the top of the pile and smashed into the troll's face with enough force to snap his head back and shatter his spindly nose.
Tlork merely blinked, confused, as the carrot-shaped member straightened of its own accord and sucked in the blood dripping down his patchwork face. The troll's regeneration left very little that went uncured.
"Dumb them!" Tlork growled. "Dumb dims!" He hoped some of the dims had survived, so he could squish them.
The troll turned to see the floating blades coming again.
Those things wouldn't give up, even after Tlork made sure they were good and dead. Or had he just run past them? He couldn't remember.
Tlork hammered at the first one, but his weapon went through the blade like so much air. It wavered a bit, but kept slashing at his chest. Funny, it didn't make any noise-not even a good whistle through the air-and Tlork didn't feel the sting.
Any creature possessed of reason higher than that of an overripe turnip would have seen through the shadowy illusion, but Tlork had never been all that high in the garden hierarchy. Sun-baked green squash, slightly moldy, was about his level.
Tlork kept fighting the shadow swords until they faded from view-only a few breaths. Then, unnerved at how they disappeared, the troll set to work dispensing with the rocky barrier.
As the dust settled, the adventurers found themselves breathless and in silence. Gargan lowered Taslin to the ground and stood ready with his blade, just in case the troll burst through the rubble. Slip moved stiffly to the sun elf's side and murmured healing prayers. Liet put a hand on Twilight's shoulder, though whether it was to comfort her or himself, she did not know.
She shook him off. Why would she want to feel, right now, rather than think?
Twilight scanned the dark corridor. It was not a worm's corridor but one carved by hand and pick. Nor was it of the shabby, rough craftsmanship of the grimlock city. She ran her fingers along the walls, feeling the subtle symmetries and imperfections.
Not dwarf work, either. Nor was it rounded and curved like the sewers. Rather, the tunnel was straight and smooth, traveling perhaps twenty paces before it branched right and left.
A new section of the depths? The concept made her uneasy.
"Liet," she said.
His eyes glazed and he did not respond for a second, seemingly lost. Twilight clenched her hands and bit her lip, uncomfortable at being patient.
"Liet!" Twilight snapped.
The youth started and looked over at her.
"Did you come through these tunnels to rescue us, or another set?"
"Can-can you not give us but a moment?" His voice was plaintive and weak. "I mean, Taslin, and Asson-he's-well, he's-"
"Dead," Twilight finished. Liet recoiled as from a slap. "As we shall be, unless we make sure no grimlocks can come after us. Sentiment comes only when we're safe."
Twilight could feel them staring at her-hard. Good. It distracted her, and them.
She continued. "Now, do those tunnels lead back to where you came from, or-?"
The youth scratched his head. "These… are the same tunnels, I think… but they seem different." He shrugged, and his eyes were damp. "We only got through guided by Gargan, and… and…" He trailed off.
So that's how it would be. Well, she could play this game. Twilight was adept at eliciting attention. "A maze?" She scowled.
As though shaken, Liet looked at her. "What's wrong?"
"Bad experiences," she said, drawing his attention. "What do you find in mazes?"
"Ah," said Liet. "Twists and turns? Lots of dead ends?"
Twilight shook her head.
"Treasure at the center?"
"Minotaurs. And depending on the local wildlife, often ravenous ones."
"Oh. That." Liet's eyes were far away. It hadn't worked. "Just staying optimistic."
Twilight growled. "What?" she asked. "Are you all so stunned that you can't even hide to stay alive? Come on!"
No effect.
As though he heard and understood, Gargan thrust the sword through his belt and stepped to her side. The weapon shimmered in the torchlight. A row of emeralds met carvings of wind and flame along the back of the blade. The golden hilt depicted a coiled serpentine creature-its profile resembled a black dragon. Too lovely for a grimlock anvil, Twilight thought distantly. It must have been stolen.
The goliath rummaged through his rucksack and pulled forth a skull with two broken horns.
"That's a good sign-I guess others must have gotten here first." She ran her fingers across the skull. "Unless, of course, minotaurs eat their mates after season."
Liet gaped at her. "Th-that was a jest, aye?" he asked, trembling.
Twilight grinned at him.
"Ah." Liet's face scrunched. " 'Tisn't a matter I'd thought of-ah-overmuch."
Slip cast a final healing spell upon Taslin. The priestess coughed and awoke. Acid had eaten holes in her mail, ruined her boots, and burned red marks across her cheeks. The sizzling fluid had not ruined her fine features, but the scars remained apparent. Her sword had incurred the most damage-its blade broken and the crescent moon symbol pitted and scorched. Twilight hoped it was still usable.
"There, lass," the halfling said to the moaning priestess. "You're safe now."
If any of us are safe, Twilight thought.
The priestess said nothing, but looked at Slip in confusion, anguish, and thanks. Then her eyes fell on the warlock, and her face turned to anger. Slowly, she climbed to her knees, then with the aid of the halfling, to her feet.
An awkward silence fell.
"Now then," Davoren said to her, out of his dark hood. The wounds on his face had faded entirely, it seemed, his skin once again sallow and smooth. "Feel free to thank me for saving your life. I might even look upon you with favor-assuming, of course, sufficient groveling transpires."
Taslin's lips narrowed.
"Yes?" the warlock asked. "Did you want to say something?" He did not give her a chance to speak. "It was rather foolish of you to take such a risk. Your wounds were unnecessary and your weapon was destroyed. We could have easily escaped without either loss, and now we must waste healing. I hope your idiocy is a source of pride."
Silence hung. Twilight almost drew her rapier and ran the warlock through. The only thing stopping her was doubt; she was fairly certain that they would need the warlock's magic to survive, let alone escape.
Taslin had no such considerations to stop her.
Ruined sword gripped in both hands, the priestess lunged at Davoren, angry tears streaking her cheeks. "Monster!" she screamed. "You will pay for what you've done!"
Twilight stepped between the cleric and the warlock, but it was Taslin she restrained, twisting an arm back and wrenching the blade free. Davoren assumed his wicked smile, but the intrusion of Gargan's massive form kept him from saying anything else. The goliath made no move, but his thick hand was not far from his sword hilt.
"Now is not the time," Twilight hissed in Elvish.
"Away, child," growled Taslin. Then, outside the tongue of the People, she rounded on the warlock. "He murdered my Asson! He'll murder us all!"
"Perhaps I will, perhaps I won't," Davoren sneered. "Who's to stop me? You? Without your pet cripple?"