Victim of Fate (31 page)

He pulled himself forward and nearly followed
the shield over the lip of a ledge. A dozen feet below, his shield
rested on the rocks beside a small pond of bubbling mud. The lip he
rested on was a little more than a foot wide, making it nearly
impossible for him to pull himself free of the tiny cave without
falling into the boiling mud himself.

Alto looked for an easier way down but saw
that the ledge ended in a wall to his left and faded away as it
rose to his right until it merged with the ceiling. He scowled and
leaned over the edge. Twelve feet wasn’t so far, he supposed. The
light from his shield began to dim, reminding him that he’d spent a
lot of time crawling already. Twelve feet suddenly felt like it
would be a lot farther in the dark.

Alto sat on the edge and scooted forward
until he slipped off and plummeted to the ground below. His feet
hit the mud and it sucked his boots in nearly to his ankles. He
windmilled his arms and threw himself back until he felt the rock
wall holding him up. The heat from the mud started to seep through
his boots, warming his feet and alarming him.

He leaned over and grabbed his shield just as
the light finally died away. He summoned it back with a touch and
looked more closely at his new surroundings. If water could be
boiled down into mud, that meant there was heat nearby. His feet
were growing hot and even the air around him felt warmer. Was there
lava nearby? He pulled one boot and then the other out, making sure
he hadn’t doomed himself to be sucked into the mud like
quicksand.

He moved along the thick material to his
right, climbing up and out of the mud pit and finding the ground
turned firmer. He held the shield up to light his way and search
for where to go next when he heard a squelching sound behind
him.

Alto spun and saw the mud was bubbling up
farther out in the middle of the pit. He was about to turn away
when he realized that rather than bursting, the mound of mud kept
growing until it resembled a column or pillar more than a bubble.
Appendages grew out to the sides, looking like arms, and a darker
opening appeared near the top of it. Alto stared, at a loss to
explain what he saw. It moved across the surface of the mud,
absorbing the earthy material into its body and leaving behind the
steaming mud it had once possessed.

"What are you?" Alto gasped. He grabbed his
sword and drew it, and then managed to stagger back a step.

The mud creature swung one of its arm-like
appendages around and forward. A ball of mud the size of a large
melon flew through the air at Alto. Stunned as he was, his
instincts kicked in and he lifted his new shield to block the
strange missile. The mud ball slammed into his shield and knocked
his shield into his chest. Alto fell back, amazed at the force of
the creature. He scrambled to his feet and risked a glance over his
shoulder, hoping he could see a way to escape.

When Alto looked back at his adversary, he
found it was nearly upon him. The arms were swinging again and
reaching for him. He dodged away, knowing that another block would
send him flying. He had no idea how to fight the mud man but his
battle-tested reflexes took over. He hacked at the arm, his blade
doing little more than striking wetly into the mud.

The creature recoiled from him, pulling its
arm back even as Alto yanked hard to retrieve his sword from where
it had mired in the mud. The blade came loose but he had to throw
his shield up to deflect the other arm from slapping him in the
head. Rather than knock the elemental’s arm away, his shield pushed
him down and under the ponderous assault.

Alto jammed his blade into the central mass
of the mud man and then yanked it back before it was sucked in. It
was more work retrieving his weapon than it was striking with it.
He danced away before the creature could try to crush him
again.

Alto struck again and again but he found he
was tiring. The mud creature seemed no worse for the battle, even
though it acted as if Alto’s strikes were hurting it. He learned to
dodge the slow attacks but narrow misses or forced blocks reminded
him that a single mistake could spell the end for him.

"This is impossible," Alto despaired aloud
after he staggered away from a glancing blow to his shoulder. "I
can’t kill you, so let’s see if you run as fast as you fight."

Alto turned away and ran, leaving the massive
mud puddle behind. He ran down the hall as it narrowed until it
resembled a room less and a tunnel more. He had to duck as the
ceiling sloped down, improving his hopes that the blob of mud
behind him wouldn’t be able to follow him. His smile faded when he
realized that if the tunnel was a dead end it wouldn’t matter how
slow the mud man behind him was.

Alto turned enough to shine his shield behind
him and saw the mud man still pursued him, though he’d gotten far
enough away it was in the shadows at the edge of his light. Alto
spun back and pushed ahead until he found a fissure in the rocks
ahead of him. It rose up, reminding him of a narrow ravine in the
wilderness except this one had a ceiling that wouldn’t allow him to
stand to his full height.

Alto climbed up the juncture between the
walls of the ravine, scrambling over the occasional loose rock that
he kicked down. He wiped sweat out of his eyes when he reached the
top and found a small room with smooth black walls that glinted
with shiny facets and trapped minerals in them. A few arches in the
wall to his left let him see a reddish glow on a rock wall several
feet away over what looked like a chasm. The smell of sulfur was
much stronger here, enough to make him wrinkle his nose as though
he’d just stumbled across a wolf foolish enough to attack a
skunk.

He turned and glanced back down the rock
ladder and saw the mud creature had caught up to him. It was
finding it far easier to climb than he did and the limited height
wasn’t a problem for the monster.

Alto turned back and hurried across the room
so he could stick his head through the arch in the wall. He had to
pull back due to the heat that washed over him. It dried his eyes
out and sucked the air from his lungs. Alto was reminded of the
merchant’s house that had caught fire.

Peering through slits, he looked through the
arch and pushed himself as close as he dared. He reached out to
touch the rock and hissed as he heard and felt his fingers sizzle.
Was the red glow from the rock itself?

He could make out a shelf extending out to a
small promontory of rock that towered far over a narrow chasm. It
had once been a rock bridge but the center span had collapsed long
before Alto had arrived. Waves of heat distorted the air, making it
hard for him to see across the chasm. It looked like there was
another ledge on the far side, but with the distortion he couldn’t
tell if it was a leap of three feet or twenty.

Alto turned back and saw the upper edge of
the elemental climbing out of the passage. He clenched his teeth
and turned back. It was hot. Too hot. But something that hot had to
be hot enough to melt rock. Hot enough to be lava. Alto reached
down and untied the sack tied at his belt. All he had to do was
toss the box in the lava and he’d be finished. He’d like to escape,
but it was more important that he stopped Sarya’s forces.

Alto grabbed the box and felt his hand brush
against something else in the sack. He felt the other object and
remembered the first potion Thork had made for him. He said Alto
needed to drink it when he was at the lava flows.

Alto uncorked the potion and poured it down
his throat, swallowing rapidly to keep from tasting it. He turned
and watched as the mud man swelled into the room and resumed its
amorphous humanoid shape.

A chill swept through Alto, racing up his
spine and spreading out to encompass his entire body. The heat was
gone but in its place he wondered if he’d ever feel warmth again.
He turned and reached out, brushing his fingers against the stone
to see what happened. He touched it again, feeling the rock but not
feeling the heat it had absorbed.

Alto opened his mouth to cry out in triumph
when the elemental’s arm slammed into him. He flew out of the arch
and across the chasm. He felt the air rising around him, but there
was no heat. He reached out and managed to grab onto the ledge at
the far side as his body smashed into the wall. He gasped for
breath and looked around, desperate for something else to hold on
to. His shield took up most of his hand, giving him little purchase
with the fingers of his left hand. His right hand was fine but he
knew it wouldn’t last forever.

A fresh aroma joined the mix, alerting him to
something burning. He looked around and saw smoke rising from his
boots and pants. Below them, he spotted the source of the infernal
red glow. A stream of lava moved slowly beneath him. It was close,
less than ten feet.

Alto twisted and looked back to see the mud
man in the archway. It tried to retreat but seemed stuck. After a
second attempt, it broke away and left behind a dried lip of dirt
and rock that crumbled and fell over the edge and into the lava.
The mud monster retreated, disappearing from Alto’s view as it
returned to its puddle.

Gasping for breath now and fearing that he’d
be burned alive even if he couldn’t feel it, Alto struggled to
climb up. He tried to find purchase for his feet on the wall but
the wall had been smoothed by the molten rock. He hung there, the
strength in his fingers waning, and grasped desperately for
anything that might help him.

At a loss and admitting defeat, Alto let go
with his right hand and hung from the edge by his fingertips. He
yanked on the sack at his side until it finished coming free from
his belt, and then he let it drop into the lava. At least he’d help
stop Sarya. It was more than he’d expected to accomplish when he’d
taken Beck into the underground river with him.

The sack burst into flames before it hit the
surface of the lava. Within seconds, the dwarven chest was exposed
and it caused a small but violent reaction in the liquefied rock.
The blast splattered lava against the walls and sent Alto flying
into the air and landed him on the ledge he’d been clinging to.

Alto rolled and gasped for breath, astounded
at the change of events. He sat up and saw his boots were
splattered with lava and on fire, even though he couldn’t feel
them. He scrambled to untie them and kick them off, launching one
over the edge in his haste and sending it into the river of lava.
He swatted out the remaining flames on his pants and then stood and
peered over the edge.

He could feel the hot air rising as soon as
he cleared the edge. It dried his eyes and made him blink in order
to see the dwarven chest sink beneath the fiery surface of the lava
downstream from him. Alto fell back and let himself succumb to his
exhaustion. His toes warmed and he could breathe in the warm air,
even if it still reeked of sulfur.

"Hot!" Alto gasped. He sat up and then jumped
to his feet. He could feel the heat under his feet now. It wasn’t
uncomfortable, yet, but he knew it would be soon. Thork’s potion
was wearing off.

He turned and rushed along the ledge until he
found a crack in the wall that promised escape. He ducked into it
and followed it up and away from the river of lava. His feet
complained of sharp rocks and being jammed and stubbed into
crevices but he ignored them. He had to get away from the lava.
Thork had told him he had a few hours or more, but the troll didn’t
act like he was certain.

Alto kept going, randomly choosing passages
that looked like they’d climb up towards the surface. He had to go
back twice when he encountered dead ends, but the heat had long
since faded and he found himself chilled again, though this time
from natural causes. Exhaustion continued to dull his senses but he
forced himself on. Hours passed but how many or in what quantity he
couldn’t begin to guess. All that mattered was trying to find a way
out.

The only constants in the tunnels were the
light that he had to summon forth in his shield every fifteen
minutes and the pain in his feet. Without his boots, his feet were
cut, aching, and frozen from the occasional puddle he had to
stumble through. He was grateful that they still hurt, now that he
had a better understanding of what frozen hands and feet was
like.

He stopped when the cave he was in emptied
into a cross tunnel that was wider and seemed less natural. He
looked down into the new passage and studied it, wondering whether
it was dwarven or something else. The walls and floor were far from
uniform, but at times a few rocks showed signs of having been
broken and worked to widen the passage. He was about to drop down
into it when he heard noises to his right.

Alto waited, crouching in the shadows of the
side tunnel until he recognized the harsh language of goblins.
Another moment passed and then he saw six goblins pass underneath
him. He waited a count of three and, after seeing no one else, he
dropped down behind them as quietly as he could.

He landed with a dull thud and a grunt, but
the goblins continued on. He drew his blade and leapt at them,
cutting two down with a single swipe before the others turned and
shrieked. He finished a third as it drew a club and a fourth after
smashing its crude sword aside. The final two goblins provided no
more challenge to him; they were shaken by his sudden appearance
and had no real skill with their swords to begin with.

Alto stood tall and looked at the butchered
bodies surrounding him. He looked up the passage in the direction
they’d been headed and then turned to look back down the tunnel.
His eyes widened as he saw an ogre swinging its club at him.

Alto bounced off the wall of the passage,
spinning with the impact and wondering if he’d ever be able to find
air enough to fill his lungs again. He was pretty sure he’d heard
ribs crack or break from the strike, but he knew he’d have to worry
about that later. He tripped on a goblin’s corpse and fell, his
head cushioned by the soggy mass of another dead goblin.