One of the beasts had a hold of Draga’s leg and was pulling him slowly along the ground. Draga, sitting on his rear facing the frog, had his bow out and was firing arrows straight into the creature’s head. Three or four shafts already protruded from the thing, and it was jerking and spasming in pain. Melias and Shirral worked together to kill another one with their blades, while Elmo dealt with a third by splitting it almost in half with his axe. Two more hopped out of the marsh even as the huge man dealt the killing blow, and one quickly had a hold of Elmo’s leg with its tongue.
Shanhaevel longed to draw upon his magic, but he couldn’t concentrate to cast the spell correctly. The frog pulled again and dragged him closer to its mouth. One more good tug, and he would be lunch. Desperately, he spun his staff around and sat down, feet facing the frog. When the creature tugged him a third time, he lined the staff up and tossed it into the slavering maw, crosswise, like a horse’s bit. Then he quickly brought his feet up and braced them against either end of the staff, pushing with all his might against the frog itself.
The frog did not like this and began to thrash and shake its head. Shanhaevel found it tricky to keep himself balanced, but the brace held, although his arm felt as if it were being ripped from its socket, and his legs strained with effort. Quickly, before he lost strength, Shanhaevel reached inside his tunic with his free hand and pulled a long dagger from within. Laying the edge of the blade along the taut tongue of the frog, he sawed back and forth, slicing into the flesh.
Instantly, the frog loosened its grip on Shanhaevel’s arm and jerked its tongue away. The elf kicked backward as hard as he could and rolled away from the frog, coming to his knees at the far edge of the embanked path. The frog tossed its head and pitched the staff to one side. Dagger still in hand, Shanhaevel rose to his feet. The frog leaped, its mouth open wide, and Shanhaevel took a half-step back, stumbling as he stepped beyond the edge of the path and onto the steep slope beyond. Slipping to one knee, he brought the dagger up to defend himself, treacherously balanced on the side of the embankment. The frog landed right in front of him, its cold, round eyes staring at its potential meal.
Shanhaevel raised his dagger to plunge it between those eyes, and suddenly Ahleage was there, seemingly appearing out of thin air and bringing his sword down across the neck of the frog and severing its head. Shanhaevel flinched away from the shock of the sudden attack, and the frog’s head bounced and rolled past him down the hill into the murky marsh at the bottom. Shanhaevel sighed wearily and slumped down, breathing heavily.
Ahleage grinned at Shanhaevel as the sounds of battle died away around them. Laying his head back against the ground, the elf stared up at the cloud-flecked sky and caught his breath. His legs were shaking from the strain, and his shoulder was tender. He moved his arm in a swimming motion experimentally and was satisfied that it was not seriously injured.
Shortly, Melias announced that the group should move out, so they rolled the bodies of the frogs down the side of the path, letting the carcasses splash into the marshy water. When they were done, they prepared to enter the ruins once more.
Just as Ahleage started forward, there was a shout from farther down the abandoned road. Shanhaevel turned to look as everyone else unsheathed weapons a second time. It was one of the three men from last night, the one with the scar on the back of his hand, either Kobort or Zert; the elf wasn’t certain which. He was running toward the group, waving for their attention as he did so.
As the man caught up to them, Melias brandished his sword and warned, “That’s close enough.”
The man stopped in his tracks, chest heaving, eyeing the weapon somewhat fearfully.
“Please,” he panted. “Zert’s hurt. He’s… trapped, and I can’t… get him out. We need… your help.” The man pointed back the way he had come, breathing heavily.
Melias’ eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What are you doing here?”
“We hiked out at… at first light this morning,” the man explained. “Turuko, Zert, and I. We were going to dig… for treasure, like we told you.”
“But you came from a different direction, just now,” Ahleage said, a pair of daggers in his hands. “The moathouse is over there.” He gestured with one of his weapons at the ruined structure.
Kobort nodded, still trying to catch his breath. “We went inside and found a way down into the cellars. There’s a second way out, back over there,” he pointed down the road, from where he had come. “One of the walls collapsed while we were exploring. It completely buried Turuko, and Zert’s leg is pinned. I can’t lift the stone by myself. Please, he’s bleeding pretty bad.”
Melias frowned, considering. “Have you noticed any signs that others have been here recently?”
Kobort looked surprised. “No one else is here. It looks like some bandits might have been camping in there.” He pointed again, this time at the visible ground level of the moathouse. “They must have cleared out, ’cause no one’s there now. Please, Zert’s dying!”
Shirral strode back to her horse, mounted, and started forward. “Come on!” she called over her shoulder, sounding exasperated. “We can’t just let him die.”
Melias grunted in exasperation, but he remounted and spurred his own horse to follow, and the rest of the group fell in with him.
Kobort ran along beside them, saying, “Thank you!” over and over again.
“Just show us,” Melias said.
Kobort nodded and pointed as they reached the bottom of the rise, pushing through some brush off the side of the road. Shanhaevel dismounted and tied the reins of his horse to the brush, then followed Melias and the others into the undergrowth.
Several paces off the trail, Kobort showed the group a partially concealed tunnel mouth, covered over with bushes. “In here,” he said and moved inside.
“Wait!” Melias said, grasping Kobort’s shoulder to stop him. “Unpack the gear,” the soldier said to everyone. “If it’s unstable in there, I want to be prepared.” Turning back to Kobort, Melias asked, “How far back is your friend?”
Kobort scrunched up his face, apparently trying to think. “Maybe a hundred paces,” he said at last, not sounding too sure.
“Didn’t you have a torch or something?” Melias asked. “How did you find your way out?”
“Oh, I left the torch with Zert, so he wouldn’t get scared,” Kobort replied. “I could see the light here at the end of the tunnel, so I just felt along the wall with my hand and walked out.”
Melias nodded, his lips pursed in a frown. “All right, let’s get some lanterns lit and see what’s what.”
When the group was ready, Kobort led them inside the tunnel. It was long and straight, descending slightly as it ran. Kobort went first, followed by Melias. Ahleage and Draga followed the soldier, and Shanhaevel walked along beside Shirral. Elmo brought up the rear.
As the companions proceeded into the blackness of the passage, Shanhaevel frowned, thinking, Something isn’t right. What is it?
After perhaps a hundred paces or so, just as Kobort had said, the group reached a point where the tunnel leveled out and ended. There were two doors, one directly ahead, and another to their right. The one to the right was standing open, and a second passage led off from it.
“He’s in there,” Kobort said, his voice echoing oddly in the passage. By the light of the group’s lanterns, Shanhaevel could see that the man was pointing through the open door to the right. “Zert! I found help! We’re coming for ya! Just hang on!”
In response to Kobort’s calls, there was a weak groan from down the second passage.
“Shh!” Melias admonished. “Your shouting could bring down more of the place. Whispers only, from now on.”