"Yes, lord," the wizard replied, already holding the components he needed to cast his spell. Gord had a scant few seconds to form and execute a plan. He dared not to try leaping down hastily, for an uncontrolled drop from this height might injure him or at least hinder his mobility. The safer course was to remain hanging from the chain, at least for the time being, where he would have distance on his side. He tried to start his body swinging on the end of the chain so as to present a tougher target, but he did not have time to build up much momentum before a bolt of crackling energy shot from the spell-caster's fingertips.

Obmi watched with glee as the force of the spell crossed the distance between Bolt and the suspended figure faster than the eye could follow, a purplish-blue flash of electricity that hit the thick metal chain and made an eerie, fiery light play up and down its length. Was the man who had grasped the chain dropping off just as the lightning hit? No matter, it was too late. An aura of light surrounded the falling form, and the fellow fell like a stone, hitting the floor feet first and then collapsing with a dull plop. The victim lay burned and unmoving.

That one will not trouble me now," Obmi said with a cruel smile. "I congratulate you, Bolt. It is fortunate for you that you succeeded." The ugly dwarf was suddenly in an exceptionally good mood, since he had vanquished his opposition and the object of his quest lay literally at his feet.

"My thanks, great dwarf. I am here to serve capably, not misperform," the wizard responded ingratiatingly.

"Very well," said Obmi in a magnanimous tone. "In light of what you have accomplished since, I will overlook the fact that you misperformed when you supposedly killed Eclavdra and her party those many weeks ago. I know not who you victimized that time, but I do know that it was the drow bitch herself who disappeared down that hallway a minute ago." The dwarf turned to a pair of the Yoli warriors who stood behind him. "Go find her – but do not kill her. Bring her to me, and I will reward you well!"

The two nomads bowed hurriedly and sped away.

Chapter 18

THE VOICES CAME FROM FAR, far away. By listening intently, he could just make out what they were saying.

"Are you sure that is the right container?"

"Yes… Be careful there!"

"I think this is a waste of our precious- "

"Do your work and keep silent. Our lives might depend on this…"

Then there was a tingling all over the universe. The night sky changed. It had been lightless – no moons, no stars. A glow appeared, and then the whole canopy of darkness was suddenly peppered with tiny points of light. These motes twinkled, grew brighter, and then began to blaze and dance. Soon the velvety black sky was a mass of whizzing comets and little suns that seemed to spark and dance as the cosmos grew brighter and stranger with each passing moment. But as the comets streaked here and there, and the stars became larger and brighter, the tingling changed to sharp pain, and the whole universe shuddered.

"That's done it!"

"Ready with the draught, there."

"Must we add elixir to balm? It seems we expend the whole- "

"There would be no whole without this part."

Gord opened his eyes. He hurt all over, but the pain was fading even as it forced him into consciousness. Several faces swam into shape in the distance as he forced his eyes to focus. As his vision cleared, one of the faces came nearer and spoke to him.

"Drink this now, carefully. You mustn't spill a drop."

He was thirsty – parched, in fact – and did not need to be told twice. One hand supported the back of his head while another raised the cup to his lips. The liquid had a slightly effervescent quality, and it was sweet-tasting and felt soothing to his mouth, throat, and stomach as he drank. Gord was willing to drain every drop, no need to caution him about that! It was very tempting to try to gulp the stuff, but the young man repressed the urge and quaffed it slowly, allowing only a trickle at a time to pass his lips, wash over his tongue, and go down his gullet. He sighed with regret as the last drop was consumed. His outside still hurt, but his insides felt better than he could ever recall. The hand propping up his head lowered it gently back down to a pillow of rolled-up cloth.

"Can you speak?" It was the voice of the nearest face again.

Gord blinked his eyes and thought about that for a minute. The glow inside him was fading, moving outward. As it did so, the hurt that had pervaded him changed and shrank, squeezed out of existence between the cool tingling coming from the surface of his body and the wonderful warmth radiating out from his core. "Yes, and I can sit up too," he finally replied. Before anyone could speak or act, the young man pulled himself into a sitting position. The brisk movement made his head swim a bit, but he felt no more pain. "What is this?" he blurted out as he looked down at himself. Gord was stark naked, and his skin was a bright pink!

"We found you near death," a thin man with corded muscles and stubbled cheeks said. "I was not for it," the fellow explained, "but Smoker and the others insisted."

"What Post is trying to tell you, stranger, is that we used healing balm and an elixir of much potency to bring you back from the gate of death," the one called Smoker added.

Gord was impressed and grateful, but being alive was not the most important thing on his mind right now. "Can I have a shirt and hose, even a tunic or robe? I have many more questions, but I prefer to converse in a more dignified condition." Gord was neither shy nor prudish, but when all others around him were clothed, the young thief saw nakedness as an extreme disadvantage. He quickly surveyed the room. He was still in the temple, but the place was a total shambles. The walls and floor were scarred and broken. Dead bodies were scattered around the chamber – three male drow, two men in nomad garb, and one corpse dressed in the robes of a spell-worker.

After a moment, someone had stripped one of the dead nomads and tossed a burnous of Yoli sort to him. It was only slightly torn, and he put it on without hesitation despite its pungent odor. "I thank you," he said, meaning it sincerely. "Now, what the dancing devils happened to me?"

"Dohojar here," the one named Smoker spoke up, "thinks you were hit by a bolt of lightning. That dead spell-binder over there was tossing all sorts of them around."

Gord looked at Dohojar, a small, brown-skinned fellow with blue-black hair and very white teeth that he showed as he smiled at the young adventurer. "I was studying magic, stranger, when the Death Pygmies took me as a slave," he said. "I was young then… had I only studied harder, perhaps I could have taught those little blasters a lesson or two."

The brown man didn't look very old now, scarcely into adulthood, except that his body was worn and his eyes looked very old and very hard. "So that's why I'm so pink. You healed my burns?"

"That is right, Zehaab," Dohojar chimed in again.

"We found a small store of medicines in the barracks of the pygmy chiefs and kept it with us for any great emergency. I thought you needed such help if you were to survive."

"Why did you bother with me? Your revolt appears to have succeeded. You – all of you – should be getting clear of this miniature version of the hells as quickly as you can. I don't want to see my work go to waste, after all," he finished with a thin smile.

Smoker looked hard at Post. "Didn't I tell you? He is the one!" Then, turning to Gord, the big, scar-faced man related more of his tale. "I was with the group that you and that drow female freed, stranger. How you managed to get to this city, and to bring those others from the outside to join in the attack, is a miracle. I am grateful, and all the rest of us are too. I – we – want you to be our leader as we fight our way out."