Realms of Glomora: A Murderer's Coin

 

            

               Teyla heaved a deep sigh. “And tell me again why we should heed the advice of a murderer?”

            Mirius scowled. “Weren’t you listening? It’s because he’s going to pay us.”

            Veran chewed his lips as he listened to the female wizard and the dark elf bicker back and forth. He poked at ashen logs as small tongues of flame licked at their bark. He didn’t bother to interject his opinion between his two friends just yet—he knew their disagreements could go on for a while.

            “Just because he’s paying us doesn’t mean we should take the job,” Teyla said as she crossed her arms over her chest. She sat on a small boulder, her knapsack at her feet. “If someone paid you to kiss a troll, would you do it?”

            Mirius rolled his eyes. “Oh, here we go again with your wizard logic. I’m telling you, Clo’s coin is as good as his word. We’ll make a lot of money from this.”

            “Once again your love for treasure is ailing your judgement,” Teyla said.

            Mirius pursed his lips. Veran watched the elf as the thoughts ticked in his head. Usually when one of them got into an argument with Teyla, it took them both a fair moment before they could come up with a good enough comeback. Most of the time, neither of them did.

            While Mirius attempted to construe a counterpoint to Teyla’s argument, Veran spoke up. “What do you suggest, Teyla? We’re low on money, and we can’t expect to survive on the bounty of the wild forever.”

            Teyla turned her sky-blue eyes on the vampire hunter. “We’ve had this discussion a thousand times, Veran. You just can’t take the first job that is offered to you.”

            Veran shrugged. “I’m not arguing that point. I just don’t quite see the reason for you not wanting to take this job.”

            The wizard clicked her tongue in frustration. “Again, this gnome Clo is a murderer! Why do neither of you have a problem with this?”

            Perhaps because I once too was a murderer, Veran thought. “From what I have gathered, the murder was an accident. Clo and his assistant were working on enchanting objects in their arcanist shop when one of his spells went wrong and disintegrated his assistant.”

            “And there are others who claim otherwise,” Teyla pointed out.

            “Innocent until proven guilty,” Veran said. “And so far, he has not been convicted by the city.”

            “Dragon blood!” Mirius shouted.

            Veran and Teyla looked at him.

            “What?” they responded in unison.

            “Dragon blood. I can’t help my love for treasure. It’s the dragon blood, both of you know that. Just because I love treasure doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about the current situation.”

            Veran raked a hand through his hair. Mirius had never made a secret that his obsession for gold and other treasure was a result of accidentally purchasing some dragon blood from an alchemist thinking it was a healing potion. The purple liquid had apparently had an irreversible effect on whoever consumed it where they had a horrible compulsion for treasure—a compulsion which sometimes led Mirius to steal against his own will. To make matters worse, the dark elf had yet to find a cure for the condition, since the blood had apparently been from a thousand-year-old dragon. Mirius’s ailment had led to constant troubles in the past.

            “Your judgement is still addled,” Teyla said.

            Veran ignored her. “What does he want us to find?”

            Mirius nodded. “Thank you for at least hearing me out, Veran. Clo wants us to delve into an old ruin. He said there’s a magical artifact there that he wants, and he will give us a thousand Suns to get it.”

            “Does he know what all else is in the ruin?”

            Mirius waved his hands. “Oh, probably the usual. Bandits. Undead. Perhaps traps of lethal caliber and torturous demise.”

            Veran looked at Teyla. “Well, I’m convinced.”

            Teyla rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She laid out her bedroll and settled. Veran could tell that she was still upset. “This just better not come back to haunt us.”

            Mirius winked at Veran, happy for a rare victory against the obstinate wizard. Veran smiled back. For a few moments, all was quiet.

            “It depends on how much he was paying.”

            Teyla craned her neck. “What?”

            “You asked me if I would kiss a troll,” Mirius said, his face drawn in deep thought. “I said it would depend on how much he was paying.”

            Teyla stared at him for a long moment the turned away. “You’re insufferable.”

            “And you’re a wet blanket,” the elf replied.

            Veran bit back a smile.

***

            Teyla used a spell to summon a small floating orb. It casted the staircase in silver light. The stairs descended downwards into complete darkness. Every few steps rested the remains of an adventurer, their bones coated in time-rusted armor and cobwebs. The faces of the dead warriors grinned sardonically at the companions, as if daring them to delve deeper into the dungeon.

            For now, they stayed on the top step.

            “Awful lot of dead down these steps,” Mirius commented. He knelt, shouldering his bow, as his nimble fingers examined the walls. His yellow eyes flickered in the arcane light, taking in the grooves and cracks of the wall.

            “Aha,” he said. His fingers trailed down the wall onto the step in front of him and there was a loud click. Sharp spikes jutted out of the walls, knocking aside the bones of its former victims, scattering remains in a cacophony of rattling metal and bones.

            “Do you think you could be any louder?” Veran snapped. He gritted his teeth as the clattering continued, echoing down the stairway.

            Mirius bowed his head. “Sorry,” he muttered.

            Teyla let out a held breath and shook her head. “At least he disabled the trap. Are there anymore that we need to worry about?”

            Mirius shook his head. “I don’t think so. The contraption should have made the other switches react, so all the panels on the steps should be disabled. There were probably several, but they’re disabled now. We just need to navigate around the spikes. And be careful, even in this light I can see that they’re poisoned. One nick may be lethal.”

            The party crept, Mirius taking lead, Teyla behind him, Veran at the rear. Veran and Teyla had to berate Mirius only once for trying to loot the pockets of the dead for any remaining gold they may have had possessed, but the dark elf seemed to be able to control his goldlust. Once they had navigated their way down the steps they found themselves in an open hallway. Lined on the walls were statues. Despite them depicting dwarves, the statues towered over the three of them, bearing noble expressions, leaning on axes as if awaiting orders from their king. Veran saw more dead littering the hallway, bones cracked in half, skulls shattered to fragments within dented helms.

            “What do you suppose did all this?” Mirius asked.

            Veran looked at Teyla who nodded. She raised a hand as she began to chant. “Tunae ulien vina empuara.”

            One of the statues glowed with a light blue luminescence. Beneath it were what appeared to be goblin bones, broken into such an array that Veran guessed that it had been completely crushed.

            “That one is enchanted,” Teyla said. She looked farther down the hallway where a gate with a dwarven rune was inscribed. “It’s blocking our passage. I guarantee you if we try to pass it, then it will attack.”

            “Can we sneak past?” Veran asked. “What might trigger it?”

            Teyla shrugged. “Dwarven magicians are known to be fickle and capricious with their spells and enchantments. It could honesty be set off by anything.”

            “I don’t much feel like fighting such a huge behemoth,” Mirius said.

            Veran looked at the elf. “Do you have any enchanted arrows left?”

            Mirius looked at him suspiciously. “Perhaps…”

            “What do you have?”

            Mirius sighed and unshouldered his quiver. He shuffled through the shafts. “I have a flame arrow and a moonlight arrow. That’s it.”

            Veran nodded. “Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll strike it with my sword and get its attention, then lead it into the middle of the hallway. Then Teyla, you’ll freeze it with an ice spell. As soon as she does that, Mirius, I want you to strike it with your moonlight arrow.”

            Mirius groaned. “Are you serious? Do you know how much those things cost? How rare they are?”

            “Shut up and do it,” Veran said. “You brought us here for the job, you’re going to do your part.”

            Mirius shouldered his quiver and readied the moonlight arrow. “This is a bunch of troll scad,” he muttered under his breath.

            Veran checked that Teyla was ready and he drew ShadowWeep from his back. He crept towards the dwarven statue. Now that he was closer, he could see how it was different from the others. In its eyes were set two rubies that gleamed with a sanguine light.

            As soon as Veran noticed them, the statue began to move.

            “Blast.” Veran leapt back as the statue’s stone axe hammered down on the spot where he had just been. “Teyla!”

            “Jahala!” Blue-white frost shot from Teyla’s hands with the fury of a cold blizzard. It encased the behemoth, freezing it in its violent onslaught.

            Veran shot forward, his blade glowing with a red light as he sliced the middle of the giant’s form. He spun around, rolling under the deluge of Teyla’s icy spell. “Mirius!”

            The twang of Mirius’s bowstring sounded through the dungeon’s hall as a bolt of silver light pierced the statue in its face. Silver light erupted from the wound on its face, splintering in a hundred beams. Then there was an explosion of argent light and the statue laid on the ground, headless and defeated.

            Veran sheathed his sword, looking down at the ruins of their enemy. “Good work. Mirius.” He tossed two small objects at the elf. Mirius caught them and looked at the rubies in his hand “Hopefully that compensates you for the arrow,” Veran said.

            Mirius’s eyes shined at the sight of the rubies. “It’s a start,” he muttered.

            They moved down the rest of the hallway when they came upon the gate with the dwarven rune.

            “What does it mean?” Mirius asked.

            “Treasure,” Veran said. “Check for more traps.”

            After Mirius was satisfied that the door was safe, Teyla whispered a spell to unlock the hinges. The gate creaked open.

            The only thing inside the room was a small stone chest resting on a pedestal. Veran checked it cautiously for traps then opened it. He scowled.

            “What is it?”

            Mirius and Teyla looked inside the chest. “No idea,” they said in unison.

            Veran pocketed the object and looked at his friends. “Well, let’s get it to Clo. Maybe he can explain.”

***

            Clo ran the arcanist shop in the city. Unlike other gnomes, he had three fingers on his left hand, as opposed to the usual seven. He peered at Veran and the others over his glasses, his hands examining the object that they had brought him from the dwarven ruin.

            “This is exactly what I was looking for,” he whispered with a smile. “You three have outdone yourself,” he said with a grin of yellow, cracked teeth.

            “Glad you like it,” Mirius said, shuffling his hands together. “Now, there’s the small matter of our payment.”

            “Ah, yes, a thousand Suns, was it? Mundarni! Bring the gold!”

            A black-purple drake, the size of a small dog, wiggled into the room, a small chest resting on its back. Mirius pried it open with eagerness to look at the shining coins within.

            “If you don’t mind me asking,” Teyla said, “as one spellcaster to another, what is that object that we procured for you.”

            “Ah, I don’t mind you asking at all, deary,” Clo said with a smile. He held up the object they had brought back to him. It was a small silver tube, engraved with dwarven runes. “This is what the ancient dwarves called a reformer.”

            “A reformer?” the wizard asked with a quirked eyebrow.

            “Watch.” The gnome took a vial of back dust and poured into the tube. The tube glowed with a bright light that blinded all in the room. When the light faded, a young gnomish woman was standing next to Clo, blinking in confusion.

            “Master Clo,” the girl said. “What happened?”

            “Ella!” Clo cried taking her in his arms. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean the experiment to go the way it did. I thought I’d lost you!”

            The companions looked on in awe as the two gnomes embraced each other. When Clo pulled away, he was wiping away tears.

            “You see,” he said. “People say I murdered Ella. What actually happened was a spell turned her to dust. She was never even dead, funnily enough, just in a different form. That’s why I needed this device, to bring her back to her normal shape.”

            Teyla smiled. “That’s wonderful. I’m glad we could help.”

            Mirius and Veran gave each other a look. Mirius rolled his eyes.

***

            “Well, Teyla, what did we learn today?” Mirius asked.

            “What do you mean?” Teyla asked as the three of them walked through the forest onto the next town.

            “I think,” Veran began, “he means we shouldn’t make assumptions based on rumors that we’ve heard.”

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think it’s very sweet that Clo and Ella were reunited.”

            Mirius threw up his hands, tossing Veran an incredulous look. Veran shook his head and signaled for the two of them to keep moving.

            He knew that there was no point in trying to argue with a wizard.

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