Return of the Damned (Dungeons & Dragons Novel) by T. H. Lain

Author:T. H. Lain [Lain, T. H.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780786965076
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast Publishing
Published: 2013-07-02T00:00:00+00:00

Tasca stowed his rapier, uncorked a silvery flask, and handed it to Whitman.

“If you hadn’t been so ugly, she probably wouldn’t have wanted to leave so quickly.”

The dwarf downed the potion in one long gulp. The wound on his forehead immediately stopped bleeding, and the blood dried into a scaly scab. He dropped the empty flask and slapped Tasca on the arm.

“Who says I wanted her around anyway.” The dwarf smiled. Hefting his hammer over his shoulder, he stepped over a dead soldier and headed for the other side of the room.

He looked back over his shoulder. Regdar and Clemf were downing potions of their own.

“Well,” said Whitman in a rather gruff voice, “are you two going to stand there and drink all day, or are we going after the bitch?”

Clemf tossed away his empty flask. “That’s not a very nice thing to say about Regdar’s woman.”

Whitman stopped altogether and turned around. He leaned forward, toward the tattooed human, and narrowed his eyes.

“Not Regdar’s woman, you oaf. The blackguard.” He shook his head and continued climbing over the dead. “If you weren’t so enormous, I’d have no use for you.” He flung his head back. “You know that?”

Tasca grabbed Clemf’s arm as he passed. “Welcome to my own personal plane of Hell,” he said.

Regdar, Clemf, and Tasca followed the dwarf to the shadowy end of the room. There they discovered that the black bricks and the darkness had concealed from them a narrow passageway that led deeper into the fortress. Whitman proceeded into the pitch-black hallway, but slowly as if looking for something.

“Hold up there, you sewer rat,” chided Tasca. “The humans can’t see in the dark.”

“You can’t see in the dark,” replied the dwarf, and he continued searching in the darkness.

Tasca turned toward Regdar and Clemf. “Hold on,” he said, nodding.

The elf walked a short distance back into the room, along the wall. Above him, suspended about twice his height in a black iron sconce, hung one of the lit torches that lined much of the chamber. Squatting down on his haunches, he leaped into the air. Easily passing the torch on his way up, Tasca shoved on its shaft to knock it free. Pushing off the wall at the height of his jump, the elf grabbed the tumbling torch on his way down before landing softly on both feet.

He handed it to Clemf with a bow.

The tattooed human accepted the torch. “How do you do that?” Tasca winked. “I’m part frog.”

Regdar grabbed the elf’s right hand and lifted it up. “He has a ring of jumping,” indicating the plain-looking band on Tasca’s finger. He let go of the elf’s hand and grabbed the torch from Clemf. “Come on.”

Regdar headed into the dark corridor, following after Whitman.

The hallway continued in a straight line deeper into the mountain. The passage was much smaller than the grand entrance hall, and any resemblance this building had to other, more regal palaces stopped at the end of that enormous chamber. Water seeped through cracks between bricks to run in rivulets across the floor.

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