Staring right back at him, mere inches away, was a set of pale-yellow eyes in a wide, round face, topped off by a set of long and pointed ears.
“You know, there’s a ward on that door that sounds whenever you open it.” The voice was male and lower than most elven voices; even the men usually sounded like singing flutes. It belonged to an elf wearing long, red robes that didn’t fit his expansive stomach and holding a wooden staff with symbols carved across it.
Eric braced for attack, but instead, the elf turned around and walked back into the room. “Come on then, may as well chat for a bit. I haven’t had any company in ages. Tell your friends they’re welcome, too.”
Eric swallowed hard, trying to gulp down his nerves and uncertainty at the oddness of this situation. “Aren’t you going to demand we sheath our weapons or something?”
“Why? It’s not like they’ll do you any good.”
Briefly, Eric considered testing that theory and rushing the elf. It was only the robes and staff that made him hesitate. That was the garb of a wizard, and if he knew they were coming, he’d had ample time to cast trap or protection spells. Only fools and gods fought a prepared wizard.
“My name is Eric.” He sheathed his blade and motioned for the others. Strange as this was, no blood had been spilt yet, and he wanted to see if that trend could continue.
“Good to meet you, Eric. You may call me Aldron. Please, take a seat. It will be nice to have someone to talk to for a bit.”
For the first time, Eric noticed the rest of the room. It was large, expansive, filled with bookshelves along the walls. In the center were various workbenches, along with a table that still held scraps of meal on it. In one corner sat several large chairs, each filled with cushions and appearing quite comfortable. At the far end was a small stove and cabinet, presumably filled with food, next to a low table with various cooking tools atop it. Beside the kitchen area was a large wooden chest that hosted no lock, and directly across from the chest was a pedestal. It was carved from some sort of white marble, inscribed with all manner of runes to the point where it practically glowed with magic.
Sitting atop it was a strange object, misshapen to Eric’s eye, yet beautiful. It was forged from crystal and clear as day, save only for a design on the top that he couldn’t make out. Unlike the pedestal that supported it, the object gave off no glow or light, yet Eric found himself unable to look away. It didn’t present its magic like the things he was accustomed to seeing. No, this object somehow spoke to a part of him he’d never known about before, whispering that he was looking at a piece of the world beyond his comprehension. This artifact was not powerful. It was power.
As soon as his eyes fell upon it, Eric knew he’d found what the king sent them after.
“Quite pretty, isn’t it?” Aldron said. He had taken one of the soft chairs and was sitting comfortably in it. “Of course, someone like you can’t appreciate the real beauty of it. That’s a privilege reserved for folks purely of our world.”
“Of our world?”
Thistle’s voice snapped Eric out of his fugue, and he realized the others had caught up to him while he was gazing at the artifact. He turned his gaze away from the pedestal and the prize it held, determined to keep his wits about him while dealing with this mage.
“Yes, of our world. Didn’t expect me to know about that, did you? My time with this magical object — The Bridge, I’ve come to call it — has opened my mind to many of the secrets normally veiled from our kind.”
“Oh, and what sort of secrets might those be?” Thistle walked over and took a seat of his own. Gabrielle followed, but Grumph and Eric stayed standing. Pleasant as the atmosphere was, it wouldn’t do to have them all clustered together in an easy target.
“The Bridge has whispered to me of countless things since I discovered it all those months ago. But the most important one is that I know you people, adventurers, are not truly beings of our world. Sure, you may look and feel like flesh from this plane, but the spirit guiding you is separate. It dwells in another place altogether.” Aldron pulled out a pipe and lit it with a flick of his wrist.
“The magic crystal told you that, did it?” Gabrielle didn’t bother keeping the incredulous doubt from her face.
“It isn’t a crystal,” Aldron corrected. “Truthfully, I’m not entirely sure what it is. All I’ve discerned in my time is that it is a piece of a larger whole, an artifact of untold power that will finally allow us to fight back.”
“Why don’t we back up a bit,” Thistle suggested. “Just who are you, and how did you come across this Bridge, as you call it?”
“I was a wizard working under the king’s thumb, aiding the excavation team that first uncovered this dungeon. The others scampered off to report their findings, but I was tasked with exploring and mapping duties. After several days, I eventually made my way to this chamber, where I found The Bridge. From that moment on, I’ve lived here, provided for by the dungeon’s magic, tirelessly studying the effects and power of this magnificent artifact.”
“Bugbearshit. There’s no way one wizard fought through this entire dungeon,” Gabrielle said. “Not when countless adventurers have died trying to get past the halfway point.”
“Ah, silly adventurer, there were no monsters when I came through. It was my discovery of The Bridge that led to the dungeon’s reawakening. The dungeon and The Bridge were in states of dormancy… they were sleeping. I awoke one, which roused the other. That is how I made it here unscathed.” Aldron rose from his comfy chair and ambled across the room, stopped at a table and picked up a half-full glass of old mead.
“As to why none of you can press through the dungeon, I did tell you already, The Bridge allows us to fight back against you invaders.”
“Fight back how?” Eric asked. His eyes were on the artifact once more. He could hear it, a keening note that filled up his soul. It was almost as if it was speaking to him, yet he knew not the language.
“Your world pushes into ours like a river flowing into a lake. The lake has no recourse; it must accept what the river sends. The Bridge changes that. It allows our world to push back. Not much, in its incomplete state, but enough to render adventurers in its proximity powerless. The term I believe you use is ‘critical failure’. None of you can so much as a land a blow on me right now; The Bridge is calibrated to cause catastrophic results from all but the most mundane of actions.” Aldron finished off his glass of old mead and set the empty container down on the table. “Does it terrify you, brave adventurers, to know that the river no longer flows in a single direction?”
“More intrigues us, really,” Thistle replied. “So all adventurers come from this other place, and your crystal there can make it so nothing they try to do succeeds. It’s a neat trick, but it seems a bit limited in its capacity.”
“I’ll give you that, but remember, this piece of The Bridge is just that: a piece. When fully assembled, there is no telling what havoc we can wreak on your world.” Aldron’s face fell a bit, his elf ears drooping slowly. “Even if there is cost to our own.”
“Cost?” Grumph asked. In his mind, he began calling up spells. As a fellow wizard, it was his job to knock out as much of the magical might of their attackers as possible.
“Yes, horrible cost, not that you care.” Aldron shook his head slowly. “The Bridge is not perfect, not yet. For using its power, there are repercussions in our world. I’ve tried to keep them minimal; unfortunately, a few have slipped through. The cost of altering the world of the adventurers is that it compounds the repercussions of adventurers meddling in our world.”
“Forgive me, I don’t quite understand,” Thistle said.
“Of course, you don’t.” Aldron’s sadness seemed to evaporate, replaced by a bubbling sense of anger. “You act as if our entire realm exists purely for your amusement. It would never occur to you that some of the monsters you see are neither of your world nor of ours. The Bridge links more than one world, and using its power causes them to bleed together, often in horrible, bloody ways.”