“Stealing The Mirror of Stolen Lives”

The party of five adventurers sat around a magnificent feast, laid out across a grassy knoll, about a mile from the dark bulk that the locals nicknamed Castle Nightmare. The sun had set, the Darkmoon had not yet risen, and though the sumptuous meal would have been a joyous occasion to many in the Land, an air of caution lay across the group.

“We have a few minutes until the hour is up,” the Gnome cleric in a gruff manner. “After that, all this vanishes, though the benefits will stay with us until deep into the morrow. So eat up!”

“You say we’ll be protected against poison and fear?” the Avian said, licking the cinnamon mousse from his claw-tipped fingers. “And our minds will gain some benefit against mental attacks?”

The Gnome scratched his trim white beard. “To some extent, yes. The Heroes’ Feast spell does many things, yet nothing replaces a stout heart and good common sense.”

The Half-Giant warrior gnawed on a bone from his third whole chicken as he spoke of himself as if he were an observer. “Rohkud have no cents, only gold coins.”

The Infernal druid chuckled, wondering if the muscular warrior had intended the double meaning. “So, what exactly did Micklebur say about this mission?” She ate less than the others: being a vegetarian, there was less in the Feast that she found palatable.

The Gnome stood and leaned backwards, hands on his hips, stretching his old joints and rolling his neck until it cracked audibly. “He said the castle held a powerful magic mirror. Powerful, but deadly. It’s been known to trap any sentient who even glances inside. The mage who took over this castle left defenses to keep the mirror safe ‘till his return.” The Gnome found the remnant of a piece of gristle in his teeth, and removed it with a dexterous finger. “Micklebur suggested the mage’s return was, shall we say, highly unlikely.”

The fifth member of the group, a golden-scaled Dragonoid, hadn’t spoken for the last hour, though he chose this moment to telepathically add, You mean, unless he returns as a Lich.

A shudder ran through the group. They were expert warriors and skilled spellcasters, but an undead of the power of some legendary Liches was beyond even their combined strength.

“Micklebur assured me that the previous tenant of the castle was deceased,” Kah’terra the Gnome said. “But that was all that he assured me.”

“Hah!” exclaimed Rohkud the Half-Giant. “Rohkud not scared of flimsy-dry skeleton-wizard. Oil and lantern, boom!” He snapped the picked-clean drumstick in his hand. “Human torch!”

“All the same,” said Yumaia, the green-skinned-and-horned Druid, “I’d prefer not to tangle with those from the Shadow Realm.”

The Dragonoid known as Apophis broadcast another telepathic comment. My psychic spells are far less useful against the Undead. I expect you, he indicated the old Gnome, raising a golden-scaled hand towards Kah’terra, could just wave your hand and turn them all to dust, no?

Kah’terra grunted, a noise he used for a sizeable percentage of his audible comments. “Wish it were that easy. I can dismiss the less powerful undead beasts, but the more powerful ones, they’re gonna have to be dealt with through more conventional methods.”

Rohkud’s ears perked up. “Smash and bash?” he asked expectantly.

“Smash and bash,” Dowlin the Avian concurred with a ruffle of his white-feathered wings, “and a good number of well-placed spells.”

“So, what are we waiting for?” Yumaia asked, getting to her feet beside the more diminutive Gnome.

Across the vine-tangled woodland between themselves and the castle, in the tallest of the twelve towers, a just-lighted candle began to burn.

“That,” Kah’terra said, pointing at the light. The other three got to their feet as well.

“That’s Neil’s signal?” Dowlin asked.

Kah’terra nodded. “He said he’d light a single candle if the way was clear. Two, if the way was too dangerous.”

Apophis telepathically asked, What if something happened to him before he could light the second candle?

The Gnome grunted again. “Guess we should have switched those signals around.”

“How long’s he been in there?” Yumaia asked.

“Almost a full day,” Dowlin replied. “He claimed he’d have a better chance of disarming most of the traps if he was on his own.”

“His plan was to voluntarily join the other trapped souls in the mirror,” Kah’terra explained, “and help them prepare to break out when we stole the thing. He expected he’d be able to get to the mirror hall in just a few hours.”

There was a long pause before Yumaia broke the silence. “Then who just lit the candle?”

Dowlin used his beak to preen his feathers. “Maybe he left a Contingency spell?”

Kah’terra shook his head. “Sure, if he was as experienced as Micklebur, he could manage that spell. And if he were a mage, instead of a bard.”

Rohkud crossed his arms and thought hard. “Maybe Neil used Delayed Blast Fireball?”

The four stared at him. The Half-Giant added with pinched fingers, “Really small Delayed Blast Fireball?”

It took more than an hour to traverse the mile of tangled, interwoven vines that filled the dark woods surrounding the castle. Yumaia used all her druidic skill, cajoling the live ones, moving aside the dead ones, disarming the dangerous ones, sometimes resorting to the arcane dominance of her staff, to get the group safely to the edge of the clearing that surrounded the castle. That area within twenty paces beyond the castle’s walls was clear of all living things.

“Feels like this area is a killing ground,” Dowlin said looking up at the looming stone walls.

Apophis spread his golden-scaled hands before him. I feel no sentience observing us.

“All the same,” Kah’terra grumbled. He touched a sigil on the boss of his iron shield, and a slight ripple spread out from him to a distance of around ten paces, enough to encompass much of the wall before them, the massive ornamental upper-floor window, and part of the wooden drawbridge. “I detect no magical defenses on the wall. The battlements...” He took a deep breath and pushed the ripple further, doubling its range. The effect encompassed the entirety of the wall facing them, and the surmounting battlements above. “Still clear,” he grunted with a little effort. But when his attention turned to the drawbridge, he paused.

The wooden-slatted drawbridge glowed a bright color, a cloud of blue and black.

“Not good,” Rohkud said, shaking his head. He glanced down at the old Gnome, almost half his height. “Not good, right?”

“Here, let me take a crack at this,” Yumaia said. She pointed the metal-shod foot of her magical staff at the drawbridge. The blue and black cloud was replaced by a series of green and red slats, shining like illuminated tavern windows. “Just as I thought. The green ones are safe. The red ones are trapped.”

Her staff also revealed thin yellow wires, as undetectable as spider silk, running from the drawbridge up to the walls. She reached a hand out to Dowlin, who was preparing to simply fly across. “I wouldn’t do that. I believe those yellow wires are designed to spring out and cut through anyone flying across.”

Dowlin fluttered his wings at the painful possibility. “That’s damnably unsporting!”

With Yumaia leading the way, the five carefully navigated the trapped drawbridge. When the last of them had gained the other side, she waved one hand and grew a long X-shaped patch of purple and red Eldershrooms across its length.

“What are pretty mushrooms for?” Rohkud asked.

The Infernal smiled. “That’s to warn anyone with half a brain that the drawbridge is dangerous.”

As the other four walked past him, the half-Giant clucked his teeth. “Wish Rohkud had half a brain.”

With Kah’terra’s magic detection spell still operating, the group easily found and disarmed the needle-trap connected to the main gate’s lock, then entered through the deeply carved wooden double-doors. Facing them was an entrance hall that must have been magnificent in its time, but was now almost sad in its lost spender.

A glorious carpet of deep reds and golds ran from the doorway across a marbled floor, but the colors of the carpet were dirty with decades of soil and dust, and sections of the marble displayed cracks and missing sections. The once-polished walls, adorned with floor-to-ceiling tapestries and inlaid with semi-precious stones, now were covered in grime and a healthy infestation of spider webs. A collection of once-expensive furniture lay tossed and scattered here about, as if bulls had run amok, or perhaps a vicious fight had taken place long ago.

Kah’terra guided his rippling field across the room. The castle was in complete darkness, though that was no hindrance to the five, all of whom could see in the deepest gloom as well as a meercat. “Nothing dangerous yet.”

“Which way should we proceed?” Yumaia asked.

Dowlin pointed with one wing towards a staircase at the end of the room. “It has been my experience that up is always beneficial.”

As Rohkud tightened his grip on his ash-gray spear, and Dowlin absently twirled the two daggers in his talons, Apophis and Yumaia approached the staircase with the caution they’d give a Beholder with all eleven eyes trained on them. Kah’terra grunted out, “I can only maintain this spell a little longer, but for now, I’d say that stairway is trapped.”

Sure enough, as was the case with the drawbridge, a pulsing cloud of blue and black roiled about the staircase. In this instance, the deepest colors concentrated not on the steps nor the risers, but on the thick wooden balustrade and the sweeping railing it supported.

The five paused at the foot of the stairs. Apophis telecommunicated the word, Grappling?

“I was thinking that very same thing,” Dowlin replied. He was reluctant to resheath his daggers, though he knew they’d be little use against any animated wood.

Kah’terra motioned with his chin towards Yumaia. “D’ya think you could…?” He motioned again at the wooden stairs.

The Infernal sighed and raised her staff. “I only have so much power in the Staff until next Dawn,” she said reluctantly. As she made a compact twirling motion with the staff’s end, the wood of the stairs began to quiver and pulse. Suddenly, it burst into white-hot flames, searing the wall opposite the railing, and causing the group to back up a step or two.

After a few moments, the roaring flames quieted down, then shrunk down to nothing. In their place was the ornate wooden balustrade, just as before. Only this time, Kah’terra’s detection spell showed no signs of activity.

“Well,” said Dowlin. “I would’ve sworn that was going to be a grappling trap.”

Rohkud patted him on the shoulder and said sympathetically, “That’s okay,” as he headed for the second floor. “We all make mistakes.”

Before Kah’terra’s spell finally dissipated, they maneuvered through a second floor landing with two trapped stone statues, a circular arboretum with a poisoned water fountain, and a library with dozens of books and tomes filled with exploding runes. As they left the library, the spell finally dwindled to nothingness.

That’s a right handy aid, Apophis commented telepathically. How many times can you employ that?

Kah’terra grunted. Whether that meant “All day, every day” or “Not often enough” was hard to discern.

After checking out the more mundane rooms on the second floor, they came to a stout wooden door covered in what appeared to be dark green leather. Across its face was the primitive form of the number three, made with three parallel vertical lines drawn in yellow chalk.

“He’s been here,” Kah’terra said.

“Who? Neil?” asked Apophis.

“Indeed,” Yumaia replied. “That’s the last part of his name.” She looked wistfully down the empty hall. “Neil Jeremiah Constantine Thaddeus Bowie Josiah Quentin Charles Patrick Harris.” She glanced over at the Avian. “The Third.”

Dowlin’s head snap-turned sideways. “Quite the mouthful!”

“Yep,” agreed Kah’terra. “And his mark here means this room is the direction he went.” After carefully inspecting the brass doorknob, he cautiously turned it and pulled the door open.

The room inside was possibly the strangest room any of the five had ever come across. The space measured thirty paces across to the opposite side and equally as far top to bottom, and its walls curved like the inside of a giant balloon from floor to ceiling—except, the “floor” was where the ceiling should have been, and the “ceiling” was where the floor should have been. Only a small section of either was flat: about fifteen paces below the door, the flat space was covered in a layer of sand with a faint line perpendicular across its middle, while the flat space far above hosted a cozy arrangement of chairs and a small table in front of a dormant fireplace, all upside down and seemingly defying gravity. The only exit appeared to be on the opposite wall, half way between “floor” and “ceiling,” positioned equidistant from both, just as the entrance was.

The only other items of interest were the three long-dead humanoid bodies on the “floor” above, transfixed to the stained carpet by a selection of rusty metal spikes.

“Nice,” Rohkud commented. When the four stared at him for an explanation, he pointed with the blade of his spear upward. “It’s got a fireplace.”

The old Gnome stroked his beard. “My guess is, this is a gravity-trapped room. We try to cross, the room rotates until we’re upside down, and we drop thirty feet.” He indicated the sand. “And we’re probably followed by a number of sharp pointed objects that launch from concealed tubes beneath the sand.”

Apophis nodded his head, almost mimicking the Gnome as he too stroked his chin. And then after a time, the room revolves back to its original position, the sand settles back down to cover the tubes in the floor, and the trap resets. He nodded again. Quite ingenious.

Yumaia strained to see the details of the three corpses. “Is one of them…” she asked, then halted, unsure if she wanted the answer.

Kah’terra focused his magically-aided eyesight. “Nay, young one. None o’ them is Neil.”

Dowlin’s Avian eyesight was almost as sharp. “If I’m not mistaken, those three have been dead for quite some time.” He indicated them with the tip of one wing. “Parts of their clothing appears rotted away, and there are sections of bone and gristle showing where their skin was.”

“Oh! Oh!” Rohkud exclaimed. “Rohkud has an idea!”

Without explanation, he reached into a wine-colored velvet bag across his left shoulder, one of the group’s favorite magic items, called a Bag of Holding. He rummaged around inside until he’d located a trio of empty potion bottles made of colored glass, mostly round except for a short, corked neck. He put down the Bag, and kneeled in front of the door.

Divining what he had in mind, Dowlin tugged at the warrior’s shoulder. “Steady on! I was planning to use those bottles to collect potions and—”

Before he could finish, Rohkud rolled one of the bottles through the doorway. It rolled for a bit, then tumbled down the curved wall until it reached the sand, then halted from the friction. Rohkud tried again, gently tossing the second bottle about half-way down the wall. This one rolled further into the sand, but came up short before it could cross the faint line across the middle of the sand.

“Look here!” Dowlin said, indignant. “That’s two of my three potion bottles. I’ll not have you—”

Rohkud heaved the third bottle deep into the room, putting a slight spin on it to make it roll when it hit the wall. Surprisingly, it didn’t break, but rolled smartly down to the middle of the sand-covered area, stopping just as it reached the faint line in the sand.

Which caused three things to happen at once:

The room began to rotate, just as Kah’terra and Apophis had expected.

What they hadn’t expected was that the three “bodies” on the “floor” came to life, groggy at first, then with more vigor and what appeared to be hunger. They began crawling towards the open door.

And the third thing involved the door, which began to close with surprising strength, with Rohkud still in the doorway!

“Blast!” Kah’terra roared. “Zombies!”

Apophis and Dowlin tried to pull the door open as Rohkud pushed from his side, but the room was rotating so fast that the three zombies were being tumbled right to Rohkud, whose feat dangled dangerously close to the snarling undead. Kah’terra touched the sigil on his shield and bellowed a one-word epithet to his Goddess Ioun, which pushed against but did not turn away the zombies, now almost at Rohkud’s boots.

Yumaia made an arcane gesture with her hands, and instantly, a compact rainstorm appeared in the room, close inside the doorway.

“What good will that do?” Dowlin yelled, struggling with the door.

But Yumaia kept the rain flowing, and soon, the zombies began to slip on the curved wall, losing two feet of height for every one they gained.

The room had almost completed its revolution. The “floor” was now where all floors should be, below the doorway, and the “ceiling” was comfortably above. Realizing these undead were too strong to banish outright, Kah’terra switched to more direct methods. He punched the air between them with his closed fist, launching a spell called Toll the Dead, which worked better on wounded targets than healthy ones. He struck one, then another, both of which reeled in pain from his attacks.

Dowlin paused his struggle with the door to toss one of his daggers at the third zombie. The dagger flew through the air and struck the zombie square in the chest, then magically returned to Dowlin’s waiting hand. He threw the same dagger a second and a third time. Each time, the dagger dove deep into the zombie’s chest, then magically reappeared in Dowlin’s outstretched hand.

Just before the door slammed shut, Apophis let go and made a motion with his two hands as if he was compressing something between them. Instantly, Rohkud appeared on this side of the door, back on his hands and knees in the same position he was in when he launched the third potion bottle.

The door slammed shut with a mighty boom! Another series of booms, only slightly less powerful, came from inside the room. Rohkud, dazed from being pulled back by Apophis’ strange control of Time, got unsteadily to his feet.

It took a few minutes of concerted effort before the door allowed itself to be opened, no doubt, Kah’terra and Apophis agreed, all part of the trap. When it did finally deign to open, it revealed the room as it should have been, floor below, ceiling above, with three zombies once again transfixed to the floor with sharp steel rods pinning them to the carpet.

The group was somewhat speechless, until Rohkud indicated the space with both outstretched hands and a big, wide smile. “See?” was all he said.

The door opposite had the same three parallel lines, no doubt also made by Neil. They scrambled up that side and entered the hallway opposite.

They found rooms for sleeping with tattered bedsheets, thankfully not occupied by more undead. They found an odd observatory with a telescope that no one was willing to put their eye to. And they looked into, but did not enter, what seemed to be a bathing area. The exposed shower heads, they all agreed, were too convenient for a release of gas or other nasty effects.

The final door in the hallway bore Neil’s three yellow marks. This door was made of some strange alloy, neither iron nor gold, and the design upon it, that of a powerfully built knight in full armor, seemed to shift and move as they gazed upon it.

Apophis telepathed what they were all thinking. I don’t like the looks of this.

“I think it’s time to rely on magic again,” Kah’terra said.

He stretched his arms apart, and the rippling spell enveloped the door. Surprisingly, the door itself glowed only a faint amount, that of a dim golden hue. “Hmmm,” the old Gnome grunted. “Not dangerous at all. Probably just the shifting image effect.” While keeping his shield hand out to maintain the spell, he tugged on the levered handle with his right hand. The door easily swung open.

The room inside began as a narrow alcove that stretched into a vast circular rotunda. In the very middle, perched on a dais of pure alabaster, stood a magnificent, oversized statue of a proud armored knight in full armor and shield, the same one that was emblazoned on the outside of the door and fashioned from the same golden-iron alloy.

Where Kah’terra’s rippling spell neared the statue, it grew into a dark, roiling cloud, shot through with streaks of blue and black. While the rotunda did encircle the alloyed knight, there wasn’t enough room to pass safely to either side. Past the statue on the opposite side was another alcove. Both Kah’terra and Dowlin spotted Neil’s trimark on its door.

“Looks like our path takes us around that charming fellow,” Yumaia said. Her voice betrayed no fear. In fact, none of the five held even a trace of fear. The Heroes’ Feast had taken care of that.

They stood there in the alcove for a moment, neither advancing nor retreating, while they made their preparations. Dowlin determined there was enough room for him to take flight around the dome of the rotunda. He’d be joined in flight by Kah’terra, whose Goddess had blessed him with a spell that granted him fleeting bursts of flight. Apophis would cast his spells from near the alcove, while Yumaia would transform into a beast far more ferocious than her normal self.

No one bothered to ask Rohkud what he planned. As he prepared a magic shield and his trusty spear, he simply muttered over and over, “Smash and bash. Smash and bash.”

Finally, when they were all prepared, Kah’terra called out in a hushed tone, “Ready?”

Let’s do this, Apophis telepathically replied.

The old Gnome waved his hands and spoke a single word. Instantly, a hemisphere of dim twilight sprung out from around him, encapsulating the five. He leaped into the air and surged toward the statue, while the magical twilight supported him just as well as Dowlin’s Avian wings supported him. As the old Gnome flew, he cast a second spell of a set of swirling scrolls and tomes, magical constructs that orbited the alloyed knight’s head, crashing into it repeatedly as if Ioun Herself were trying to knock some sense into him.

Yumaia quickly transformed into a massive bear with white fur, easily thrice her normal size. She bounded towards the statue, as a heartbeat later, Rohkud roared into action beside her. They both struck the alloyed knight, and their attacks sank home as if the metal were real flesh, and the armor merely ornamental. Apophis made a series of arcane gestures, and a web of greenish tentacles erupted from the dais and wrapped themselves around the statue’s legs. Dowlin flew up last and launched his dagger, which struck three times into the area around the statue’s head.

Then, it was the statue’s turn to spring into action. With a single massive arm, it swept Yumaia in her bear form aside, tossing her across the rotunda like a toy. The statue’s legs struggled briefly against Apophis’ entrapment, then broke free like a hound snapping its leash. It unsheathed a massive blade and swung at Rohkud, whose shield magically floated beside him and tried to deflect the attack. But the alloyed knight was far more powerful, and the bade crashed past the shield to strike the half-Giant’s shoulder, where it bit hard, releasing a torrent of crimson blood.

Kah’terra cast another powerful cleric spell, striking the statue with holy fire, and breaking off a piece of its shoulder armor. Yumaia gained her feet and sprung at the knight again, only this time, her claws and teeth found the armor much stronger than before. Rohkud also found the alloyed knight much harder to damage: though he stabbed it square in the chest, his Shadow Spear refused to penetrate, as if the statue had gained some level of protection since his previous attack. Dowlin’s dagger attacks, always reliable, also found their penetrating power greatly lessened.

Apophis, struggling with entangling the statue’s legs once more, observed all of this from a safe distance. He called out telepathically, The statue is gaining resistance from the attacks we’ve already made! Switch to a different weapon, if you can!

The old Gnome nodded, flying just out of reach of a wild swing from the statue. He called up an ancient incantation that he rarely used, and a blinding flash of light appeared directly in front of the knight’s eyes. Whatever the statue used for sensing, the flash had the immediate effect of blinding it. The knight swung wildly at the Gnome and the Avian that flew about his head like angry hornets, but he missed both of them.

Yumaia quickly transformed from her bear shape back to her normal self, and struck the alloyed knight with her magic staff. The statue’s arm cracked and buckled from the staff’s effect, but it kept on attacking, launching another futile swing. Rohkud switched from his staff to a wicked-looking morning star, whose spiked heads dug deep into the knight’s torso, eliciting an inhuman howl from the thing.

Dowlin dove down at the knight’s armored head. He used his open palm to strike it repeatedly, momentarily stunning the massive foe. While it wobbled there, blinded and paralyzed, Apophis managed to envelope its legs with the green tentacles, and with an intricate motion of his hands, used them to pull the statue towards him.

Unbalanced from its wild attacks, blinded and unable to respond, the statue teetered towards the alcove, then toppled off the dais, cracking its head on the edge of the rotunda just above the alcove, and crashing headless to the floor with a room-shaking boom.

With Rohkud’s and Yumaia’s wounds attended to, the group cautiously made their way into the alcove opposite the entrance. The door there was ajar, with Neil’s trimark sigil clearly visible. Taking a deep breath, Kah’terra pushed the door open.

There couldn’t have been a better message that they had arrived than the long dark hallway that stretched in front of them. Both sides were lined with mirrors of all types: ornate full-sized ones with decorative frames, plain steel ones faded from centuries of use, and everything in between.

At the end of the hall were three yellow marks on the flagstone floor.

Dowlin spoke what they all felt. “I don’t care if that’ Neil’s mark. This looks like trouble.”

“I have but one casting of the Detection spell left,” Kah’terra grumbled. “Want me to use it now?”

Dowlin glanced at the others. “Any of these could be the Mirror of Life Stealing. It would be unwise to pass by them without some form of protection, even if that’s your last spell.”

“But if these are dangerous,” Yumaia asked, “how did Neil get by them?”

“Oh!” Rohkud exclaimed. “Rohkud has another idea!”

Dowlin shook an angry wingtip at the fighter. “It’d better not involve throwing more of my precious potion bottles down the hall!”

Without a word of explanation, the mighty warrior took out a simple cloth sack from his Bag of Holding, and tied a long length of climbing rope to the cinch around its neck. Then, he placed the bag over his own head, and got down on his hands and knees. He began blindly crawling down the length of the hallway, his weapons clattering on the stone as he dragged them, occasionally reaching out to touch the walls so that he could continue, unseeing, down the rest of the hallway, trailing the other end of the rope as he did.

The old Gnome chuckled to himself. “I’d have never thought of that.”

Apophis shook his head. What if it’s not a matter of us looking into the Mirror, he said telepathically, but that the Mirror is activated if it simply reflects our image?

“Then we’ll have two comrades to rescue from inside it,” Yumaia replied.

In due time, Rohkud made it successfully to the far end of the hallway. Dowlin pulled the rope-tied sack back, then did the same blind-crawling down to the far end. Yumaia went next, leaving only the old Gnome and the Dragonoid.

“You wanna try just strolling through?” Kah’terra asked Apophis.

The Dragonoid didn’t respond, but wordlessly put the sack over his head and got down on his hands and knees to the flagstone floor. Kah’terra was certain he heard a whisper of a thought that sounded very much like, I can’t believe I’m following instructions from a barbarian!

The mirror-lined hallway opened up into a fabulous Great Hall, one of the few rooms the adventurers had seen in the abandoned castle that appeared somewhat livable. Comfortable chairs and couches filled the room, arranged in cozy conversation arrangements. Ornate carpets separated each grouping, and high overhead, once-proud banners hung from the rafters. On the opposite side of the room from the hallway was the massive ornate window that overlooked the wooden drawbridge dozens of feet below.

In the middle of the room stood a round platform about a foot high. On it stood an ornate golden-framed mirror almost as tall as Rohkud’s half-Giant frame.

“Is that…?” began Dowlin.

“I believe it is,” Yumaia replied softly, as if the Mirror could hear them.

Fortunately, it wasn’t facing them directly, but was aimed to their right. And on the side of its frame closest to them was Neil’s familiar three-line marking.

“Careful, now,” Kah’terra cautioned them. “Don’t look into it, or you may be stuck like Neil, ‘till we get the cursed thing back to Micklebur’s tower.”

The group made their way cautiously through the knots of furniture towards the central dais. They were less than twenty feet away when something under the carpet Dowlin stepped on went click. At that moment, the dais began to swivel, causing the Mirror to rotate in their direction!

But there was just enough of a delay for Yumaia to cast an innate spell known to all Infernals: Magical Darkness. The area surrounding the five went as black as the darkest night. Thankfully, none of them could see through it, and so were protected from the Mirror’s entrapping power.

“Great work, Yumaia!” Dowlin called out. He fumbled for the edge of the chairs nearest him. “Now, how do we cover that blamed thing up?”

The half-Giant spoke up. “Rohkud has something that might work!” He rummaged around in his backpack and pulled out an extra-large foul-weather cloak, one big enough to fit his oversized frame. “Rohkud could wrap nasty mirror in his overcoat. Keep us from seeing into it.”

“Good idea,” Kah’terra replied. “And I have some rope in here,” he said, rummaging around in his own backpack, “that we can use to tie your cloak into place.”

Using just their hands to find their way around, Rohkud and Kah’terra approached the dais, then felt their way up either side of the Mirror’s frame. Rohkud actually touched the Mirror’s surface, which felt under his gloved fingers like a resilient yet soft surface, definitely not the hard surface he had expected. Still, he knew he had to cover the full surface before Yumaia’s spell ran out, so he hurried to throw his cloak over the top of the frame, then pulled it tight down to the lower edge of the frame. Kah’terra handed him the fine silken rope from his own pack, and together they managed to tie the cloak around the frame.

“Can you manage to carry this beast?” the old Gnome asked.

“No worries,” Rohkud replied. “Rohkud carried more than this, many times.”

“Is the Mirror covered?” Yumaia asked. “Can I drop the Darkness spell?”

Kah’terra gave a rather satisfied grunt of approval.

Dowlin sighed. “Well, that went easier than I expected.”

But before the group could celebrate, from somewhere else in the room came a deep chuckle of evil laughter. Yumaia immediately dropped the Darkness. Almost as one, the group turned around to see a tall thin figure dressed in red and purple robes, standing near the mirror-lined hallway. Around his elderly white-haired head rested an electrum circlet studded with rubies and other gems, and in his wrinkled right hand, he carried a wand made of bleached-white bone.

“Well,” the figure said, “I must confess, you five made it through my challenge better than I expected. I had hoped that my traps would have whittled your numbers down before reaching this room.” He twirled the bone wand absently. “I so wanted to add a few more bodies to my devoted army.”

“I do not like the sound of that,” whispered Yumaia.

“I needed to have my castle’s defenses tested,” the robed fellow continued, “so I thought it’d be interesting to let your other friend in, who then got trapped inside my wonderful little storage device. Too bad he won’t be leaving it any time soon.”

Kah’terra had a feeling he knew what this fellow was. He cast a mental thought to Apophis: Communicate telepathically to the group to back up to the big window behind us. The Dragonoid did as the old Gnome instructed, and the five began retreating to the window.

To cover their movement, Kah’terra yelled out, “Your traps wouldn’t stop a halfling’s birthday party!”

The robed fellow took the bait. “You wouldn’t have made it this far if I had released my troops!” With a more determined wave of his wand, every mirror in the hallway shattered into a thousand shards. From inside each one crawled out an undead figure: skeletons, zombies and ghouls staggered forth, then turned in the direction of the robed figure and began a steady advance.

“A necromancer,” Kah’terra grumbled, nodding his head. “The zombies in the round room should have tipped me off.”

“And now if you’d be so kind as to gently put down my mirror, Mister Lummox,” the Necromancer said with a wave of his bone wand at Rohkud, “I may let one or two of you leave in relatively good health.”

Kah’terra sent a thought to Apophis again: You have a scroll that duplicates what you did for Rohkud when we fought those zombies?

Without a word, the Dragonoid slipped a scaly hand into a pouch on his belt, and retrieved a rolled tube of parchment, which he slid into the old Gnome’s hand. Without missing a beat, Kah’terra challenged the Necromancer again. “Couldn’t hack it in Evocation school, eh? Took to raising bodies from cemeteries instead?”

The Necromancer twittered a high-pitched laugh. “Most of these boys didn’t make it to the graveyard. I sort of picked them up along the way. You should feel right at home with them: some of them were religious, too, before I got to them.”

As the undead troops closed in, Kah’terra touched the embossed sigil on his shield, and an area of faint twilight filled a sphere around him. He made another motion with his empty right hand, and a circle of glowing runes appeared on the floor, occupying about the same area. While the undead troops fought to get through the magic protection, he sent another silent thought to Apophis: You need to get yourself and the others out of here! You should be able to teleport to the other side of the drawbridge!

Apophis objected immediately. But I can’t leave you here! Kah’terra’s clerical magic was holding, though the undead tried mightily to thrust their weapons and even their bony arms through the invisible wall.

Just do it! The old Gnome replied, as the nearest skeleton fought to get to him with a wicked looking axe. Just make sure you’re not too far past the drawbridge. And when you land, raise a wall of protection between yourself and the castle!

With a grim look, Apophis made an arcane gesture with a bit of old twine, and with a soft poof, he and Rohkud, Dowlin and Yumaia vanished from sight.

The Necromancer looked startled for a second, then laughed again. “So they sacrificed you to protect their retreat, did they? I’ll admit, I’m a little surprised.”

The old Gnome made that same grunting sound, this time with a sly smile. “Not as surprised as you’re gonna be!”

With that, he unrolled Apophis’ scroll and read aloud the short phrase inscribed there. The arcane magic reached out to the Necromancer and grabbed hold as tight as an ogre’s grip. The spell pulled him through the air right towards Kah’terra’s glowing rune circle—

Which the old Gnome dropped as soon as the Necromancer neared it!

The mage came bowling into Kah’terra, along with the undead who weren’t expecting the defenses to fall so quickly. The Gnome caught the thin mage’s body and leaped backwards into the window, his shield held in front of him to protect his face.

Kah’terra, the Necromancer, and the undead troops crashed through the window and plummeted down towards the drawbridge below. But just before they struck, Kah’terra sprung his last trick, a spell that allowed him to magically jump thirty feet away, which landed him just past the wall of protection Apophis had raised beside the drawbridge.

The Necromancer and his troops hurtled down onto the drawbridge, and their impact set off every defensive trap that had been so carefully prepared. Gouts of flame from intense fireballs, powerful bolts of lightning, eruptions of cold and waves of psychic energy tore into their bodies, blasting them into smithereens and showering bits of bone and decayed flesh against Apophis’ force field, along with splintered beams and shards of broken glass.

After the smoke and debris had settled and the team had a chance to catch their collective breath, Rohkud, still holding the covered Mirror, let out a low whistle.

“What?!” Yumaia asked in exasperation.

The half Giant shook his head. “They’re gonna have a heckuva time getting their mail delivered.”