23. Wormy Thoughts

Séa exhaled in relief as the point of Tash's saber protruded through the drider's chest. And she beamed in pride as the point disappeared, only to reappear through the drider's neck. "Oh, how I love you," she proclaimed.

The drider thrashed. Its legs kicked and spasmed. Tash rode the heaving carcass until it settled into a twitching heap. And then she stabbed it a few more places.

The paladin tried to shake the blood-covered cork-punch from her hand, but spider silk still glued it there. She stalked over to Oxter, who tottered like a zombie. With clumsy hands the demon rubbed his own blood into his own eyes and felt of the crumpled cavity in his skull. Séa brightly demanded, "You have a dagger on you somewhere, demon?"

What was left of the demon opened its mouth and moaned. A trail of spittle joined the flow of gore dripping down its face.

The paladin spotted the hilt of Oxter's saber on the floor nearby. A few inches of blade protruded from it still, and she set to work slicing the spider silk that wrapped her hand shut.

Tash appeared at Séa's elbow and thrust her chin toward the demon. "Is it persistent?"

The paladin glanced up from her work. "Yes. A non-persisted demon would have dissolved by now."

"Well, you know what to do." The rogue plucked Oxter's ring of keys from his belt and strode off to free Ophelle, Royal Steward of Omnius. The cage opened readily, but the steward needed support to walk. By the time Tash helped her back to Séa, the paladin had freed her hand of its bloodstained cudgel.

The paladin steepled her fingers and prayed in Oxter's direction. "By the grace of Torugg One Eye, you are banished." A glow briefly surrounded her, and the demon's scream ended almost before it began. The incubus fizzed to a cloud noxious black smoke.

Ophelle gasped. "By the gods, what—? What was that?"

Chunks of Oxter's leather armor rained to the ground.

"Oo! The armor wasn't from the Abyss? Glory and trumpets!" Tash glanced at Ophelle. "You mean Séa? That's a banishment. Séa's a paladin of Torugg. He grants her certain specific trash cleanup abilities, regarding demons."

The steward wagged her head from side to side. "Amazing. I can't believe my eyes. You defeated all of them and somehow you're both still alive."

The rogue pulled on Oxter's pants. "Feck me, I never thought I'd be so glad to wear clothes worn by a demon."

"Hey, what about me?" Séa said.

"Get your own."

The paladin frowned at the wreckage that was once Fazzet the incubus. "I dunno. He's kind of skinny." But she knelt by the twitching, scrabbling body anyway. Persistent demons were prevented from dying by a powerful, expensive spell. If injured, they healed. If maimed, they slowly reassembled. Only a sufficiently pious cleric, one unshakably blessed with the favor of her god, could shatter the enchantment.

"By the grace of Torugg One Eye, you are banished."

Fazzet evaporated.

Shortly, the paladin found she could not jam her thighs through Fazzet's pants legs. With the broken saber she hacked spiral incisions in the tough leather to provide more room.

In the meantime, Tash eyed the massive wormlike monster across the room. "What is that thing?"

The steward answered, "It's called a purple worm. Its stinger is deadly, as are its teeth. It must have an exit to the river. Fisherman have sighted it. They complain that it is depleting the fish."

"Interesting." The rogue's index finger stole up the side of her face to caress her own ear lobe as her eyelids drooped in contemplation.

Séa shot her a suspicious glance. "Tash ..."

Tash raised half-elven eyebrows. "What? I'm just problem-solving. Don't you see that portal, there?"

Séa's forehead wrinkled. "The runes in a circle on the floor? Yes." The paladin tried again to cover her lower half. This time, amid much creaking of strained leather, she enjoyed success.

"Yes, that. Well, how about we set the worm free? It'll be mad, like you said, so it will eat anything that pops out of the portal. It will watch our backs. Nice li'l wormy."

The steward's face blanched. "Don't set it free!"

The rogue's face turned rueful. "I want to, but I don't think I can. I've a footwear problem. The incubus's boots are too big. I can't run in them. Running is a rather crucial part of this plan." She winked.

Relief spread over the steward's careworn face.

Séa squeezed into Fazzet's jacket. "Ugh. I guess it fits, as long as I don't have to move or breathe."

A phasing buzz and a slight change of air pressure stiffened the party. Their eyes flicked to a shimmering patch of air next to Tash. A moment later, it faded, and a pair of comfy-looking leather boots appeared on the rock floor. Tooled leather trim added style without making them ostentatious.

All three women blinked, nonplussed.

"The feck?" Tash said.

"Oh!" Séa said. "The boots of booty. I saw a drawing of them, once."

Tash's eyebrows climbed skyward. "The feck?"

A grin spread over the paladin's face. "The message is clear; don't you think? Ghomarck sends his regards."

The rogue extended a finger and poked at the leather boots. "Feck me blind," she whispered.

"Not right now, lover." Séa swiveled to the steward. "Lady Ophelle, may I have permission to lay hands upon you? You are weak and doubtless malnourished. Although I am but a humble servant of the one-eyed god, I suspect he is willing to impart some token of grace upon you."

"I give up," Ophelle said. "I mean, sure, why not? Go ahead."

"You sure?" Tash said. "You can only lay-on-hands once. Do it twice and your mind gets zapped. You turn into a brainless dope. And we might need some healing before the end of the day."

The paladin eased the woman from Tash's embrace into her own arms. "She's half dead, Tash." Without further words spoken, and only the faintest of pink glows, Séa splayed a hand on Ophelle's chest and closed her eyes.

"Ohhh!" breathed the steward. "Gracious."

Séa released her to observe her steady stance. "Be well, milady. Also, you need food and water, but we won't find any in this place. Let's head back to the cellar." The paladin squinted at Tash, then down at the boots and back up again. "Well? Put them on. What are you waiting for?"

The rogue nibbled at her own lower lip. "Is it safe?"

"Tash," Séa said. "They were the former king's for years. Decades maybe. They're lucky boots, or so it is said. Stop being a ninny and wear them. And you can free the worm, as long as the steward here is safely tucked away in the cellar first."

Vertical creases formed between Tash's eyebrows. "It seems too good to be true. It feels like a trap. Why did they show up just as I was complaining about footwear?"

"Blame Giasleppi."

Tash blinked. A sunny expression cleared the clouds on her face and she laughed. "Séa, you always know what to say. I'm sold."

24. Boots of Booty

The boots fit Tash, despite having belonged to a dead king. They had soft soles, and the pliant leather flexed as silently as any rogue could desire. Once Ophelle had been escorted to the wine cellar, Tash returned to survey the purple worm. She picked her way through the strewn bones at the bottom of the lenticular cavern. With each step the beast loomed larger and larger. Layers of triangular teeth ringed its circular mouth. The other end of the vast worm tapered to a sinuous, muscular tail that ended in a scorpionesque stinger. The monster appeared billowy and soft from a distance, but up close it scintillated as if it were plated with crystal surfaces.

A round darkness loomed in the rock wall behind the monster. "Feck. A second entrance." A few steps closer and she smelled fishy water and heard gentle lapping of ripples. She scanned the floor. Most of the bones did seem to be fish parts. Others might be oxen or cattle. A few seemed humanoid. "An underwater entrance. I wonder if Séa knows how to swim?"

The worm itself smelled of rotting meat and fish mucous. Sinusoidal contractions pulsed along its length like slow ocean rollers. Tash's target was a glowing ember that adorned its encircling chain about two thirds of the way up its flank. "That gem's paralyzing the worm, whatever it is."

She skirted circuitously to approach the chain that she would shortly shimmy up. Her next footfall tugged to one side, and she dislodged a femur-sized bone that in turn upset a skull. A human skull, for once. "The feck?" she griped. "Since when do I trip on stuff? It's like my boots ... pulled ... me."

A glint caught her eye from the spot formerly underneath the skull.

Gold. Several coins.

And the royal blue of a Lirian storm-ruby the size of a fat grape.

"No way." She snatched up the valuables. Whether by the grace of Giasleppi or the magic of the boots, considerable booty rolled in her palm.

She stowed the treasure under her waistband, then spat in the palms of her hands. With a brief run at it, she leapt at the chain to clamber up the side of the purple monstrosity.

25. Wine and a Chaser

The three women lounged among the shelves of the wine cellar and drank. Through the hidden tunnel echoed the fury of the purple worm as it rampaged around its den, wreaking especial havoc upon the iron cages.

"Here's to you, Tash," Séa raised her goblet.

Tash wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "For what?"

"For expertise in worm mentality. The wee beastie is, evidently, more than mildly chuffed."

All three snickered.

They clinked their clay goblets and quaffed more wine.

"I thought I knew every secret of Jagged Keep," Ophelle said, "but I had no idea about the purple worm. I wonder how we'll deal with it." She snorted. "But one problem at a time, please."

The rogue tapped the side of her nose. "Right. We need to rescue the king and send darling Sarophax back to the Abyss."

The paladin glanced at the steward. "Master Ghomarck said he would try to find some members of the wizard circle, or whatever it's called. That was, I guess, yesterday."

Tash's mouth compressed to a thin line. "Time flies when you're being mind-controlled by a demon."

The steward said, "If some of the wizard circle could be assembled, and convinced, then that would be the ideal way to go. Fight magic with magic."

The rogue leaned toward Ophelle and narrowed her eyes. "Is there a back passage into the Great Hall?"

"Yes," the steward replied cautiously.

A grin briefly split the rogue's face. "Rest at ease, milady. We shan't go that way. The smartest thing would be to exit the keep and return to the city. We'll find Ghomarck and whoever he's rounded up, get weapons, and get food. This wine helps, but it's going straight to my head. We can storm the castle tomorrow." She poked a finger under her chin to simulate a dimple and batted her eyes. "I'm just curious, that's all."

The steward snorted. "It's secret, yet not. Most castles have an escape route from the throne room. It's standard engineering practice."

"Nice," said Tash. "Where is—"

"Evil approaches." Séa's gray eyes focused past infinity and roved among ethereal cloudscapes.

"Shit," said Tash. "We need bows and arrows."

The steward's forehead wrinkled and her teeth clenched. They all set their cups down. The paladin whispered, "Try to surprise them. At the door." She gripped her trusty cork-stamping machine.

The rogue drew her saber. Together, rogue and paladin scampered toward the exit that led to the keep. Ophelle ducked behind a rack of wine kegs to fearfully observe.

Footsteps crunched outside, approaching. The pair flanked the door, weapons ready, and tried to quiet their breathing.

Their senses strained, including their nascent ability to zero in on demon locations. They trembled in eager anticipation. The footsteps neared. A wisp of moving air caressed their cheeks.

Séa snapped her club through an overhead arc and Tash cut the air with her saber. Both connected with something invisible. Little bones snapped and tough hide parted. A screech tore the atmosphere with a scream of fear and pain. The scrawny body of a winged quasit materialized and tumbled to the floor, flinging acidic blood from a great rent in one of its wings.

Triumphant grins broke out on the women's faces.

"Suck me!" a male voice blurted from a pace away. "Holy men!" The footsteps pounded away, even as the quasit thrashed and wordlessly keened at their feet.

"Feck," Tash said.

With a grunt of effort, Séa ended the quasit with a blow that shattered its head. "We gotta chase him."

"Agreed." Fleet of foot as a deer, the rogue tore off after the owner of the receding footsteps with the paladin in earnest pursuit.

Ophelle owlishly blinked. It had begun and ended so quickly there had hardly been time to think. And now her rescuers had run off. She puffed air into her cheeks. "Well, I'm no hero. And there's no telling where they've gone. Or, rather, where they're being led to. My course of action is clear."

Briskly, she made for the exit. To avoid the demon corpse, she hiked her skirts up and prepared to hop over it. By the time she arrived at the spot, the creature's body had sublimated into noxious black smoke that stung her nostrils. She winced, shuddered, and accelerated.

A/N: A purple worm is also a DnD original monster. With its giant size, its bite, and long-range poison sting, it's quite fearsome. Low level characters should definitely run away from a purple worm.

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ONC Recommendation: try this sci fi fantasy (yes, I said that correctly) by BrianMullin0 :

Join the search for MetaAppleSoft's Zack Murkerberg, who is wandering somewhere out in the countless worlds of the Virtual Universe, untethered from his recently vaporized earthbound body, before time runs out and Zack's brain waves become digital junk files - and stop Murkerberg's 'killer,' who wants to delete Zack and the Virtuaverse for good...or evil.