(plays Mylor Clearspring)
A Funny Thing Happened To Me On The Way to Dundee Inn
The story of Mylor's ordeal in Balthazar's Labyrinth
All I wanted was a mug of ale. After my walk from Milltown to Dundee, water would not satisfy - not tepid water from the boda I carried, not cold water from the river, nor cool water from the well. I wanted flavor. I bypassed Cerbie's. Borsky's Brewsky has plenty of flavor, but I did not need the luxurious concussion it delivers. The Polished Glass Tavern has the finest ale as far as I'm concerned, but if I sat and drank there without friends, I would probably consume Jaymes' time and attention and I did not want to impose. Weslau likes company, but his hospitality required continued walking and thirst, so I settled on Dundee Inn. Convenience, new faces, familiar faces, occasional news, and the ale isn't bad if you wipe the rat hairs out of the mug first. I reminded myself to do just that as I walked past the last guild hall to emerge into Dundee Square.
I saw Harmonia outside the inn. Her popularity had lifted her to the title of Lady, and I took the opportunity to address her with it. Some people covet the titles, some deny their importance, some do both. For all her reputation as boisterous, Harmonia took it in stride, and I credit her for it. We exchanged pleasantries, and I made the acquaintance of a man named Basil, whose name I'd read on the Town Hall's list of new arrivals.I like to keep track of new people when I can, in case I might recognize a potential threat to life and particularly to limb.
Then I heard the small bells ringing in steady rhythm, and their sound rose in volume until I spotted Von Gmyrek. He had been singled out by Balthazar for trial through some maze, and he had emerged victorious. I could not remember if that had occurred before the night on which Richard went to buy him the jingle-jangle boots - which I twisted into an epic, comic quest one day at Milltown, which someone subsequently put to verse, and I heard it sung and recited in the streets. I told Von that I was going into the inn for an ale, hoping that he would follow so that I could ask him if he had worn the boots through the maze, and if so, how did their sound not gather to him every demon from all the hells, just so that they might listen to the music and watch him dance.
And then, I was elsewhere. I blinked my eyes, and again, harder. I knew from experience that imagination can play tricks. Fog, desert heat, fever, fatigue, hunger, and thirst are the usual suspects. As far as I knew, none of the first five held me, and I had talked too easily for thirst to have overcome me. I was elsewhere, and I had an idea of where.
Now, I like to think that I am the center of all attention, even when attention is not for my own good, but that preference of mine has its limits. This went beyond them. If Balthazar had put me in his maze ... I didn't know what. I didn't know why. But I reflected that most people plucked from Valorn to his domain probably suffered similar surprise and consternation and fear in those first few moments.
Or minutes.
Or marcs.
"Get a hold of yourself, what's-your-name." No echo from the passage ahead. Hmm. It must not extend too far.
Or maybe it's a vast cavern filled with demons to absorb the sound of my voice.
I surveyed my surroundings and determined only one way to go. I took it, rapier in one hand, dagger in the other, amulet on my chest, fear in my heart. I crept forward.
A click of a hoof and a scent like burnt feathers. I pressed on the dagger's release for poison to ooze down its blood groove, and lashed out all at once, and almost fumbled it. The lesser demon jumped back, then up and grabbed handholds to scurry out of reach on the ceiling above. I scared it more than it had scared me, impossible as that seemed.
I took a deep breath. I projected in my most doughty voice "Thank the gods that even here, such are not bold enough to challenge me." I usually save that voice for parodies, but I thought it might serve me here. If I could not feel brave, perhaps I could act the part. With a little effort I might fool myself, if not my enemies.
I was at a crossroads.
Not figuratively, literally. There were three other passages. They stretched away in each cardinal direction relative to the passage I had come from. An eerie blue dominated - the stone looked blue, and I felt blue. I wanted to go back to Milltown. I wanted to find Llyewell. Her unforeseen sojourn in Branishor had deprived me of time with her. Time that could not be recovered, but could be compensated for by making the most of time when we were together henceforth. I wanted that. I wanted her. But now, I was stuck in Balthazar's labyrinth, and I had no idea how to escape. If divine Cory and Ben could not defeat Balthazar outright, how could I? And did Cory's blessing of resumed life extend to this place? If it did not, then all my time was gone. Why did Llyewell go to Branishor without me? Why did I have to be in Dundee just then for Balthazar to grab me up? Why me?
And then I remembered that Von Gmyrek had escaped. And others, too. Not all, but some. And of those who had died in such a maze, most still walked Valorn after their doomed visit. Despair retreated. I nodded to the demon above me. A part of my mind still cringed, and stirred up doubts, but not my usual sort of doubts. Too much credence to implausible doubts, and too few contrary opinions in my own mind. I sensed it then. I hate the smell of burnt feathers, and I hated the stink of these chickendrop doubts just as much. They were alien. Something or someone wanted to distract me. First guess: Balthazar. Second guess: Balthazar.
I touched the ring at my finger, and calmed. I accepted the weight of the load, and figured I might need help. A prayer is as good as a wish, and I figured I would make three wishes. I bowed my head. "Ben, give clarity to my thoughts and actions. Selene, see me through safely to the home I love. Cory, fill me with life that I might not be overwhelmed by death." I hoped at least one of them took notice and liked my words enough to respond if they could. And if not, I had lost nothing but a few seconds.
I raised my head and looked down three twisted passages. "And I wouldn't mind a divine sign of which way to go to get out of here." Not a prayer or wish, just a hint in case anyone needed it. I waited.
Nothing. Oh well, worth a try. "I guess my own decision will need to serve as the divine sign." If nothing else, my prattle might amuse or annoy Balthazar if he listened. I know I can evoke both responses in people, sometimes simultaneously. If Balthazar wanted to work on my mind and put me in a maze, maybe I could annoy him as punishment and twist him around with my words. If I amused him, maybe I could work an angle.
I picked left. Another lesser demon made way. This might be easier than I thought. I turned again and came to three walls.
"Dead-end ... err, let me re-phrase. The end of this passage." No sense in giving hints to Balthazar if I could help it.
I backtracked and noted with pleasure the same demon still on the ceiling, not just because it gave me confidence, but because it proved to me that the maze was not changing as I went along. The eerie feelings I got from the place had spawned a few plausible doubts and fears, beside those planted there by Balthazar.
I returned to the intersection and picked the new left, formerly straight. Burnt feathers, click, but no rapid retreat. Uh-oh.
Another lesser demon, but this one had scalps at its belt. I side-stepped its spear thrust, dove in and nicked its right arm with the dagger. I jumped over the low sweep by the spear and backed away to let the poison work. I fought without tricks or flourish, like it was routine practice. I cut, I feinted, I parried. From my own experience using the demon's type of spear, I knew its strengths and vulnerabilities. The demon had no chance, and I put the blade through its chest with a stop-thrust.
I realized that I had been holding my breath. I released all that pent up hot air. "That at least took away some of the nervous energy. Just the nervousness left now." I wiped clean the rapier and moved forward.
Another officer of the lesser demon type. I dispatched it more quickly, breathing the whole time.
A turn. A snort from up ahead. I moved with caution. He waited for me. A centurion, a leader among lesser demons. It would take me some work, but he offered no real test. I took his heart, which sounds romantic though it is not.
I continued. Another lesser centurion. Another heart. Another dead-end. I looked up. "If not a sign, how about a drink? I was after all, thirsty enough to be headed into the Dundee Inn before I was plucked here."
"And if you're listening, Balthazar, at least you could fulfill your duties as host ... Or is it hostess?"
"Just kidding."
I sighed in disgust and backtracked to the intersection and took the remaining passage. A lesser footsoldier allowed me to pass, untouched. Another lesser demon officer allowed me to pass after I touched the back of his neck with the point of the dagger.
I heard laughter, not mine. Or maybe it was just in my head. Echoing, sadistic laughter. The demon lord could laugh at least.
"I hope that was because of my joke earlier." No reply. Under my breath I said, "And not because I'm going the way you want me to." I knew otherwise, though. Balthazar's labyrinth, Balthazar's way. The only way.
Well, not the only way, I suppose.
Why did I go to Dundee in the first place? Put down those second-guesses. Balthazar must watch Dundee Square. Or for me in Dundee Square. It was Sir Christopher's fault. Why did he name me the Righteous Adventurer? Righteous. That's what you call someone who doesn't know the joys of corruption. Certainly not me. Sir Christopher gave me 500 platinum coins as a prize. Certainly an enticement to decadence and depravity. He gave me that prize in Dundee Square. Coincidence: it was in Dundee Square that Five-Fingered Jack gave me that platinum, saying that it was from Balthazar, who looked favorably on me. Coin has no provenance, as the saying goes, so I kept it despite the disturbing implications. Maybe I could test the truth of it.
"You know, a guy who claimed to be in your service gave me money once. He said it was from you. So, if this is because you want it back. I can pay it back." Hells, I'd pay a usurer's fee if I had to. But nothing. "The offer stands." I moved forward.
The way twisted and turned because that's what made it a labyrinth. Some of the turns should have crossed passages I had already walked in ways that would be impossible without climbs and drops in elevation, but I expected no less from something made by someone as twisted as Balthazar must be. Lesser demons. No troubles. I had enough of White Beard's medicine to heal myself fifty times over. I had a pack full of heavy hearts, tokens of sad ends to demons I cut down in the prime of their existence. Did this sound like confidence?
Not really. I suspected worse lay ahead. And I soon confirmed it.
A demon of full stature with heavy gear barred my way. I had fought its kind outside Caernivale. I gave silent thanks to Eldrin for selling me the dagger with the poison mechanism as I cut its exposed arm after it grazed me with a full, wide swing of its axe. I had a difficult time of backing away. Only the slowing action of the poison made it possible for me to escape his heavy blows. I got enough distance so that I was able to drink down a healthy dose of healing brew. The demon could expect me to return, so I had little chance of surprising it, and the demon knew that. Thus, I figured the chance was worth the attempt. I pulled my amulet's chain forward and put the amulet in my mouth, leaving me in darkness, then I crept forward again.
Using the demon's labored breathing to guide me and to cover the sound of my approach, I got on its right flank. I opened my mouth to let forth both light and a "Surprise!" and rolled forward and to my right as the demon whirled. I came up on its left flank behind its shield and jabbed back with the dagger into its thigh, leaving poison in and pulling out the blade covered in demon's blood. It bashed me with the shield, which helped me to propel away from its next axe swing.
After that, I made it a battle of attrition. I took advantage of the footsoldier's thigh injury by forcing it to move often so that it tired. The demon became desperate, and tried to force me to its right where it could swing the axe. I feinted that way so it raised its weapon high to chop wide. Then I feinted back to its left, but stood my ground. It reacted with an awkward shift of weight to its left, and it wobbled so that the shield arm lowered toward its hip. I stepped up, crossed my blades, and drew back both under its chin. Black blood sprayed down into my face as the demon staggered back. It fell. For good.
I wiped myself off and drank more of White Beard's sour stuff, and was grateful for it. The first real challenge was past.
I wish I could remember more details about what happened next. I went forward. A demon officer, a type I have killed outside Caernivale, offered challenge. I caught him with a dagger slash and a rapier thrust without suffering great harm from his hammer. I saw a dim sword mounted on a wall, one of a quality that reminded me of Sir Ferno's dark blade. I made a grab for it, and red light exploded from the firey cannon burst at the back of my head where the hammer had hit my helm with a ringing sound. I saw ...
To describe Balthazar might be pointless. I suspect he has different forms, and for all I know they form from the stuff of the beholder's imagination. What I saw was a tall, pale man with dead eyes and dark gray hair and beard that curled like storm clouds in sickly light. He had horns, or maybe it was a helm. I cannot tell from my memory. I tried to fend off the demon, but was unsuccessful with both the rapier and sword in my hand. I stowed the sword and tried to get away up the passage. The demon buckled my left knee inward with his hammer, and I fell. I tried to rise. I retched. I heard laughter. I tasted bile. The hammer fell.
I felt the cool slate against my cheek, and heard a momentary pause in the bustle of noises around me. I opened one eye to see blue light shining down on me. But other colors of light shone around the common room of the Polished Glass Tavern. I heaved a sigh of relief. I tested my body. I flexed my knee. I felt no pains, just terrible fatigue. I had failed to escape on my own two feet, but Cory's blessing held fast.
I shuffled up the road toward Dundee, only to make sure that Von Gmyrek and Harmonia would know that I still lived. I did not want word to reach Llyewell that I might be dead or gone. Before I had gone far, laughter shook me. Not my laughter. Balthazar's. He announced my failure, and applied it to the efforts of all those who oppose him. I should not have been in any mind to challenge his logic, but I did, at least in my own mind. I pressed on.
I met Harmonia in Dundee Square. I wondered how much time had passed, if any. It appeared later in the day from the moment of my unplanned exit from Dundee, assuming I had not been gone for more than a full day. Harmonia spotted me.
"Mylor! Are you alright?"
I waved with as much energy as I thought I could spare, and nodded. "Yes. I failed, but I live again. Still thirsty, though." I grinned.
"I will buy," she said, which might be my third favorite combination of three words.
So I survive still, and only several marcs had passed. If Balthazar wants to extrapolate from the event, he should take that into account. I thinned his legion of demons, if only by a small number. I died, but live again. I gained a sword. Balthazar gained a paltry boast. I lost an opportunity to boast, and might have enjoyed an opportunity to cross words with the demon lord. After all, no sword is as sharp or magical as my tongue, and if Balthazar's ego is as inflated as I suspect, all it might take to bring him down is a prick.
But then again, he has armies of demons to maintain his ego, so I doubt it would be that easy. While I held my long-awaited ale in my hand at Dundee Inn, and Balthazar's words still hung in the air, someone said that Balthazar would surely fall one day because too many of us stood against him. I countered that argument. We do not know the future. Valorn's past, distant and near, is full of defeat. I prefer to think that the fight is undecided and nothing is predestined. All the more reason to make the most of our time.