The Rescuers

They were both now awake and alive with the powers of a heroquester. Ancient horrors and gods had been shown to them and they knew, as they made their way to the derelict tower where their friend had been taken prisoner, that their lives had a new destiny and new meaning.

Grant McKielson had been taken prisoner by trolls hiding out in a tower. Upon returning to Greydog village, Darkos and Cleombrotus had been told about his disappearance when they returned from their quests and set out straightaway to rescue their friend.

This was not the first time Grant had been taken captive by trolls. Just two years previously he, Darkos and Cleombrotus had been captured when exploring the hell of Snakepipe Hollow. This time, however, had been different. The trolls in question were a mating pair of great trolls with a brood of spiteful and wicked trollkin. Both Cleombrotus and Darkos knew their mission may involve little more than retrieving their friend’s corpse. Just the thought of what state Grant may be in was enough to send shivers down their spines and both knew their newly gained abilities would be tested to the utmost.

"Be careful,’ warned chief Kornos Longbrewer of the Greydog, "If the going is tough, then be wise enough to come back to the village for help."

With those words ringing in their ears, the two friends, adventurers and heroquesters entered the woods where the ruined tower lay.

Tracks and markings were easy to find. Darkos quickly found the trails used by the trolls for hunting, and Cleombrotus identified the gnawed rocks and trees, the piles of refuse and markings that marked the perimeter of the troll’s land. The tower itself stood atop a mound in a clearing among the beech and ash trees – a single round structure no more than thirty feet high, with a square annex that must have been added sometime after the tower was first built. A secret entrance, though, was found along the edge of the trees, and it was obvious from the markings that this was the one used by the trolls.

Looking at each other and smiling about past adventures, the two of them prepared to enter the darkness, but not before they thought of the fate of their friend, which soon took the grins off their faces and replaced them with ones of defiance and determination.

Cleombrotus was at an immediate advantage. This Dara Happan hoplite had just completed a quest among the wastes of the Shadow Plateau; he had been so successful that he had been accepted into the cult of the god of Shadows – Argan Argar – and he had also been gifted with the ability to see in the darkness; so he took the lead as they entered the dark passageway beneath the tower, with Darkos close behind.

They carefully paced their way through the stinking passage, marked with troll dung and urine. The passage carried on for some way before making a tight turn. Cleombrotus knelt down, suspicious about the sudden change, and searched about for traps or secret entrances. Stuck in the gloom, unable to see clearly, Darkos held firm on his bow, ready to fire over Cleombrotus’ head should danger present itself.

"Ah ha," said Cleombrotus.

The floor had been covered over with a thin mat and smeared with mud and small stones to make it look like safe. But beneath there was a pit and within Cleombrotus could see some small pieces of cloth and a pouch and bottle that he fancied may have been those of Grant. Darkos and Cleombrotus looked at each other with some trepidation, aware that they must tread carefully, and one after the other they jumped across the pit.

After turning the corner there would be no more light. For Cleombrotus this would not be a problem, but for Darkos it would make him prone and at risk. In an emergency he would have no option but to cast a light spell. And an emergency was soon in the making. Having taken no more than just a few steps, from out of a small side tunnel, unnoticed by Cleombrotus, a large worm-like head protruded and lunged for Cleombrotus. The creature covered him with a thick slime that made it difficult to move. There were curses and noise as Cleombrotus tried to strike the creature.

"What is it!? What is it!?" queried a frantic Darkos.

Cleombrotus did not have time to answer, he was too occupied in trying to beat the creature back and struggle against the mess he had been covered in. Darkos had no option but to hold back - unable to see the creature, he was unable to help his friend. Should he cast his light spell and charge in, he wondered? He did not know what to do to help. A light spell would alert the trolls, but so may the sound of melee.

Suddenly silence.

"Are you well?" asked a cagey Darkos.

"I’m covered in this damn slime," replied Cleombrotus.

The beast had been defeated.

"What was that noise?" asked Darkos.

They both stood silent, listening intently. Silence.

And then again. A noise. A scrapping. Something moving ahead.

The two friends looked at each other. Had the trolls heard the scuffle? Were they now prepared?

Had the element of surprise been compromised?

The passage came to an end in a curved archway dressed with carved stones. The way had been blocked with a large door – not locked, but merely blocking the way from the other side. Cleombrotus got up close, and looked through the gaps around the edges to see what was on the other side.

"Mmm…looks like troll dwellings – bed pits and the like," said Cleombrotus. "I think I can see another doorway opposite, though. Can’t see too much from here, alas."

With no other option, the two of them got together and pushed aside the door, which fell to the ground with a mighty thump!

Darkos shrugged his shoulders.

"No secret now," said Cleombrotus.

The room had clearly once been part of the catacombs of the tower but was now reduced to a stinking mess as the troll’s sleeping quarters.

The next doorway was the same as the previous – a large piece of wood had been put as an obstruction from the other side. Again, Cleombrotus took a look through what gaps there were.

"Well, I can see movement," he said. "Not sure exactly what I can see, but there’s something on the other side."

"Hold on then," said Darkos. And before they pushed aside the blockage he said his words and a light spell was lit so that he could see what there was.

And then the melee started! Cleombrotus was the first through, and stood as sentinel to the passage, determined not to give ground. From over his shoulder slew the keen arrows of Darkos Warkannon, each enchanted by the speedart magic taught to him long ago when he left his homeland for the wars in Sartar.

Then, from out the stygian dark, came crashing a terrible figure. Standing a full nine feet tall, even though it was crouching, came a great troll armed with a hefty-looking maul which it swung at Cleombrotus. The club thundered against his shield, but such was the brutality of the blow that it sent Cleombrotus rolling across the floor. Still stunned and shocked at the ferocity of the blow Cleombrotus opened his eyes to find himself surrounded by a pack of trollkin who told him, in faltering Darktongue, to drop his weapon or his life would be forfeit.

Darkos at once found himself the next target of the troll’s mace. Quickly and keenly, he took-in the situation: one great troll about to bludgeon his brains in, another great troll behind the first, a pack of excited and vicious-looking trollkin and Cleombrotus down. Not good.

Realising he may be on a back foot, Darkos took the decision to reconsolidate his position and withdrew to the first door. The troll was close behind. For a moment or two Darkos wavered – should he flee the scene and go back to Greydog for more help or…or…

The Power of the Bull!

Remembering the secrets only recently revealed to him as he lay exhausted atop The Block after his pilgrimage, Darkos drew back an arrow, said a blessing to the dread Storm Bull, and let his arrow fly.

The shot hit true. The great troll lumbered toward Darkos, maul raised, and the arrow flew straight and took the troll cleanly between the eyes! The troll fell, and skidded along the ground, ruffling its own bedding as it came to a halt at Darkos’ feet. Notching another arrow, Darkos stepped over the body and advanced once more, the bridge-head be damned!

Cleombrotus was not in an enviable situation. The trollkin had their spears raised, ready to strike. Cleombrotus could see their nervousness – but this would make them more dangerous and unpredictable. He hesitated a while, not sure whether to attack them or not; but then he relented, knowing numbers would be sorely against him. And then, just as he began to relax his grip on his weapon, he too, like Darkos, had an epiphanal moment and remembered the blessings of his protector god, Argan Argar: catching the trollkin unaware he said the words of power for the ancient dark walk spell and barged into the trollkin, knocking them aside and taking solace in the shadows where the spell rendered him invisible and silent in the dark! His mind still reeling, and eyes trying to take in the situation he missed what was happening with Darkos, instead focussing on the trollkin who flapped and panicked at his sudden disappearance. From out the darkness he lunged, taking the trollkin by surprise and instantly the first one fell.

"The dehori! The dehori!" squawked the trollkin, afraid of the demons in the dark. Needing little more prompting, they fled the chamber, making off for another passage far off in the shadows.

It was then that Darkos stepped back into the chamber, across the body of the, now dead, second troll.

"Cleombrotus?" called a worried Darkos.

Cleombrotus stepped out of the shadows where his friend and fellow adventurer, Darkos, could see him. Cleombrotus said nothing, but pointed at the opposite wall. "Look," he finally said.

There, tied to ancient shackles that had been sunk into the wall, was Grant – naked, bloodied, bruised and hanging limply by wicked-looking manacles.

"Tend to him," shouted Cleombrotus, "I will go for the trollkin." Revenge and anger clearly on his mind.

Darkos, afraid to find that Grant was dead, approached the brutalised body of his friend and checked him for signs of life. He carefully wiped his face and was heartened to see Grant lift his head and look worryingly and pityingly at his fellow countryman. Wasting no time, Darkos quickly released Grant’s bonds, and cradling his friend’s head gently, gave him a drink of water.

"There, there, my friend – you live to fight another day," he said, relieved and pleased that Grant was still alive.

Cleombrotus’ quarry made off down a flag-stoned corridor. Ahead he saw them clamber up a short ladder and as he got to it he looked up just in time to see them put in place a trapdoor. He gave them a few seconds to move away from the door and then gingerly prodded at it with his spear so that it opened a bit. He could see no little feet waiting to hit anyone who came through, so he gave a good hard shove and the trapdoor was off. He climbed the ladder, safe in the knowledge that he was still protected and disguised by the darkwalk spell.

Stepping into the room above he found himself in the main hall of the tower, a set of stairs leading up to the battlements and a door heading off into the annex – which was where the trollkin were running to.

The thing that took his breath away most though, was that the entire hall had been covered in the thickest and toughest cobwebs all over and high in the rafters were the silhouettes of large spiders, the body’s of which were the size of a large hound. This had given rise to their name – wolf spiders, Cleombrotus recognised them as. Promptly he gave a small prayer and thanks to Argan Argar and the spell he had that kept him invisible in shadows. Still, nerves were nerves, and finding them hard to shake, was careful as he stepped tip-toe across the room, spear in hand, ready to take his vengeance out on the cowardly trollkin.

He found them in the annex, hastily trying to pull away the barricades that had been used to block the door to the outside and across the windows to keep the light out. With vengeance and fury, cloaked in the shadow, and with his sharp spear in hand, Cleombrotus made terror among the trollkin, who whimpered and cried as Death struck each in turn from out the darkness.

"They are dead," said Cleombrotus when he returned to find Darkos helping Grant to drink. The fury soon subsided when Cleombrotus saw the terrible state of his friend. Darkos looked up to Cleombrotus, a rueful and concerned look on his face.

"We are done here now," said Darkos. "Come, let us find what belongings once belonged to Grant, and let us get him to the White Ladies at the Chalana Arroy temple."

It was a sentiment few could disagree with.