Before he could complete the spell, however, a small, dark shape shot out of the cave. Apparently disturbed by the motion, the mushroom-creature started to vibrate, emitting an ear-splitting scream that echoed off the valley sides. It was abruptly cut off when Tarrel finished his incantation, and the four looked at each other uncertainly, and then back at the cave-mouth. Something was moving in the shadows behind the now-silent fungus. They flattened themselves against the rock, out of sight from the entrance.
The thing that had flown out of the cave-mouth circled for a while, and then came to a hover not far from the companions. It looked like a mixture of a hawk, a cat, and a monkey; Mordan raised his rapier, and saw from the corner of his eye that Brey had nocked an arrow and Tarrel was taking aim with his wand.
The creature’s mouth was moving, but it was silenced by the spell Tarrel had cast on the fungus. Holding its empty hands up in a gesture of peace, it flew rapidly until it was out of the spell’s effect.
“Wait!” the thing said. “I’m not a danger to you!” Its voice sounded human and female, with a Karrnathi accent. The three did not drop their guard, but Haldin spoke to the creature.
“This is a homunculus, is it not?” he asked. “May I assume that I am speaking to its owner?”
“Yes,” the creature said. “My name is Dria d’Cannith. I am a prisoner here. They didn’t capture my messenger, and I’ve been using it to scout for a way out.”
“D’Cannith?” asked Mordan. “Don’t tell me Dravuliel has warforged in there as well!”
The creature dipped briefly in a gesture that might be interpreted as a nod.
“I was sent here to rescue a member of the family who was kidnapped. Since being captured myself. I’ve found out that my cousin has been forced to work on a project which aims to create undead constructs, with the advantages of both types and the weaknesses of neither. At first he refused, but since they captured me he has been co-operating to save both our lives!”
Haldin spoke up. “Dear lady,” he said, “may I therefore suppose that, by the use of your homunculus here, you have been able to gain some knowledge of this facility’s layout?”
“Some,” the construct replied. “I can guide you from where you are to where they’re keeping me, and I know a few other places.”
“I see that you have done business with gnomes before,” said Haldin with a disarming smile, “since you are so careful to point out the advantages of rescuing you before doing anything else. But do not worry, we shall endeavor to help you, even though we came here for purposes of our own.”
“He’s all heart, isn’t he?” muttered Tarrel.
“What’s in the entrance?” asked Mordan. “Your little pet set the shrieker off, and it looks like something’s moving back there.”
“There are four violet fungi,” said the homunculus, “and behind them some zombies. I think the zombies are supposed to raise the alarm if anyone tries to get in that way. One of them is standing by a big gong.”
“This could be a trap, you know,” said Brey, glaring at the small creature.
Haldin turned to her with a reassuring smile. “Please don’t worry, Captain,” he said. “I have been examining the homunculus while we were speaking, and I am satisfied that it is a pure construct, with no hint of necromancy in its nature. While he is a necromancer of exceptional ability, I have seen nothing to suggest that Dravuliel has any skill as an artificer. But of course, we should always be on our guard.”
Tarrel pulled out his wand of fireballs. “Anyone for roast mushroom?” he said, and grinned.
Aiming his wand carefully, he placed a fireball directly in the cave mouth. Silent flame shot out of the narrow entrance, and the four companions finished the climb, with the homunculus flapping behind them.
Charred fragments of fungus littered the inside of the cave. They advanced cautiously as the cave turned into a narrow passage, their footfalls making no sound. Just before a bend in the passage, Haldin stopped and held up a hand, and gestured his companions to each side of the cave. Then he held up two fingers.
The two zombies never stood a chance; the intruders were upon them before they had time to react. Brey cut one almost in half with two swings of her longsword, while Mordan’s rapier gutted the other like a fish. It was strange, almost dreamlike, to be fighting in complete silence, to feel the impact of one’s blows but hear no sound.
Tarrel motioned the others to stop and mimed that he was going to look ahead. Holding the crystal wand to his chest, he vanished. A few seconds later, his companions heard the first sound in some time—a slight shuffle, followed by a dull thump. Looking round the corner, they saw Tarrel standing beside a large gong and sheathing his shortsword. At his feet was an armored corpse, its exposed flesh blistering from the holy water that puddled around it. Near the gong was a narrow opening, with a large, dimly lit chamber beyond. Tarrel scanned the area with his mirror.
“Looks like a storage area,” he said. “A lot of sacks and crates, but not much else.”
They went cautiously through the opening, using the boxes and sacks for cover. To their right, a broad passage led to the landing stage on the cliff side; they could see frantic movement beyond and hear the sounds of battle. Occasional bursts of flame lit the area. It seemed that the Ministry airship was providing them with a good diversion.
Tarrel hissed a warning, and they ducked behind cover as a group of zombies hurried to join the battle. They carried crossbows, and moved faster than any zombies Mordan had seen in the Karrnathi military.
For several nerve-wracking minutes, they made their way across the chamber, following the fluttering homunculus. The few containers that were open held a bewildering array of cargo: black gemstones of various shapes and sizes, an assortment of herbs and powders, kegs of ink, and what appeared to be several barrels of dirt. One group of crates gave off a strong smell of rotting fish, and two barrels, placed side by side, contained miniature skulls—one load cast in iron, and the other carved from a flecked gray stone.
They reached the other side of the chamber, where a rock-hewn passage led away into darkness, broken by the flickering of distant torches. The homunculus hovered in the entrance for a moment, then darted down it.
Following the flying construct, they found themselves in a guard room of sorts. The square central chamber was lined with cells, walled off by iron bars. Nearly all of them contained prisoners. On the left, a young human woman stood gripping the bars of her cell; the homunculus squeezed through them and settled on her shoulder with a trill of happiness, wrapping its tail lightly around her neck.
“Lady d’Cannith, I presume?” asked Haldin, with a courtly bow. She smiled wearily and nodded. Tarrel fished a set of slim, hooked tools from inside his coat and knelt down to examine the lock.
“Captain?”
Brey turned at the sound of a familiar voice. Her eyes widened in shock as she recognized the filthy, ragged creature that looked at her through matted hair.
“Egen?” she breathed. “It can’t be!”
Several other figures, barely recognizable as human, shuffled to the front of the cells.
“The Captain!” they muttered to each other, “she’s come back for us!” Brey turned away for a moment, wiping a bloody tear from her cheek.
“I don’t believe it!” she exclaimed, turning back to her lieutenant. “They kept you alive all this time?”
Egen pushed the hair out of his face with a ghastly parody of a smile.
“Yes, Captain,” he replied, “all you see here, at any rate. I can’t vouch for the others.”