Despite his confusion over where he was and how he got there, Malthooz felt clear-headed and alert. He considered for a moment that he might be dead, but discarded the notion. This place did not look like the paradise of wilderness and plenty the shamans promised.
Without thinking, he grabbed the wooden symbol. His whole body convulsed as his fingers wrapped around the trinket. A surge of energy ran from the symbol through his hand and along his arm. His head snapped back as the wave traveled up his spine. Malthooz shut his eyes against a flood of tears, but they could not be halted.
A moment later the energy stopped, and the symbol of Pelor clattered to the ground. A flood of emotions and memories hit Malthooz all at once. Feelings long pent up suddenly rushed forth: wounds of humiliation at the hands of his childhood peers; having to watching his village suffer failed crops and the raids of bandits; the pain he'd felt when Krusk moved on, and his anger at himself for not being brave enough to leave himself. All of those feelings came and passed.
Malthooz stared at the wooden symbol. The words of the acolyte of Pelor echoed in his mind. "You lack faith in yourself." Then more of the things he had been told came back. Some were things he had tried to forget: that a deity's call was not one of choice and that it was useless to resist. Malthooz had resisted from the start, and continued to fight it. He ran from his village, having convinced himself that he wanted only to find Krusk, thinking that if he could convince Krusk to return, everything would be all right and his heart would be at peace. He was beginning to understand how wrong he was.
Mialee reacted reflexively. Her hand shot toward the claw as the familiar words of a spell came to her lips. Three bolts of light and energy flew from her outstretched fingers and raced at the appendage, slamming into its armored side. The yellow glow of the missiles dissipated against the claw, sending arcs of electricity racing along its rough surface, but doing it no visible damage.
She cursed under her breath as the tendrils of magic faded into the surface of the armor. Realizing that she had only a few seconds before the rest of the creature came bursting into the hold, she grabbed Malthooz by the collar and pulled his body down the hall with all her strength. Mialee was thankful that the passage of many years and feet had worn the floor to a smooth polish. Nevertheless, strength was not one of the elf's primary virtues, and the strain of dragging the half-orc's bulk taxed her muscles to the limit of her endurance.
Krusk was already moving forward by the time Mialee loosed her ineffective magic. He was upon the beast before she pulled Malthooz safely from the claw's reach. Heat burned in his chest and a hum filled his ears. The rage of battle infused him and he welcomed the feeling, hungering for the rush that a good fight brought. His axe felt like an extension of his arm as he moved in on the monster.
A second claw reached into the hallway, grabbing the jagged edge of the hole and wrenching away more timber. A pair of legs came through the hole, followed by another. Soon the entire bulk of a giant crab filled the narrow passageway. Its mouth was a dark complex of tiny mandibles and jaw plates that popped and clicked as they opened and closed. It must have been lurking in the shallow water, Krusk thought as he swung his axe at a leg that speared toward his throat. Krusk could guess why there were no bodies in the wreck.
"You'll not take this meal so easily as the corpse of a dead, bloated sailor," Krusk howled as he brought his axe back around on the crab.
He was deep in the throes of his rage and cared little for the fact that the monster couldn't understand him. His weapon smashed into one of the crab's armored claws with a crunch, shattering the plating near the tip, sending small bits of shell flying back into the barbarian's face.
The monster moved toward Krusk, responding to the immediate threat. It lashed out at the barbarian with both claws, the wound from Krusk's axe barely slowing it. Krusk knew little of sea creatures but he suspected that the beast could not feel pain.
The crab snapped at Krusk as he tried to land a second strike. The inner surface of its claws looked like a rough landscape of calcified matter. They didn't look sharp but the barbarian knew that what they lacked in edge, they made up for in sheer strength. He was more than aware that either of them could easily sever his arm once it locked on. To be caught by both was unthinkable. Krusk bided his time, looking for the opportunity to hit, knowing that the monster would neither rest nor be frightened away.
Mialee dropped Malthooz a few yards from the crab's back. She tossed her short bow aside, realizing the futility of using the weapon against the creature's tough exoskeleton. She thought her staff would be equally useless, except perhaps as a distraction to the crab so she abandoned it as well and prepared to cast another spell.
Against such a mindless beast, magical charms and enchantments would be of no use. Her magic missiles already demonstrated their futility. She realized that Krusk was their best hope of surviving the attack and she set about to bolster the half-orc's offensive power. If the barbarian was going to stand a chance against the monster's multiple weapons, he was going to need more than just his axe and a little luck.
She concentrated on Krusk's movements, watching his every move and getting herself in tune with his every step and shift. Grabbing a piece of licorice root from a pouch at her side, she shifted part of her awareness to the twig. Her mouth worked the words of the spell, her delivery becoming louder and more sure as the magic took effect. Speaking the final word, Mialee shifted her attention back to Krusk and sent forth a conjuration of energy.
Krusk felt the potency of the magic coursing through his veins. Even in his enraged state, the warmth of the magic infused his movements and brought an extra quickness to his attacks. He redoubled his efforts. One of the creature's legs let go with a snap as Krusk's axe severed it near the joint. The remaining stub twitched and jerked, rendered all but useless with the loss of its pointed tip. Krusk concentrated his attacks on the smaller appendages between warding off the lunging claws.
Beast and barbarian danced back and forth down the tiny hallway. The sound of Krusk's booted footsteps was lost amidst the clacking of the monster's legs on the wooden floor. Krusk was lost in a passionate rage of survival, his actions marked by instinct that rivaled that of the crab. Time and again he landed blows on the creature. The salty smell of sea water oozed from cracks and fissures in the crab's outer skeleton. Bits of soft, pink meat hung from the holes. Still the beast came like a relentless automaton.
Mialee struck at the creature's hind legs. She had little hope of causing any real injury, but her rapid assault forced the crab to skitter to keep its balance.
Finally, Krusk took off one of the claws with a mighty swing. That created an opening in the monster's defense and allowed Krusk to shift his attacks toward the crab's belly and the softer shell beneath its mouth, where another strike deep into the underside of the creature gave Krusk his victory.
The monster convulsed and crashed to the floor, its remaining legs crumpled and knotted beneath its bulk.
Krusk and Mialee both rushed to Malthooz's side. Mialee grabbed his wrist and felt the weak beat of his heart through the artery there.
"He's alive," she said, dropping Malthooz's limp arm, "and pretty damn lucky, I'd say."
"His luck will run out at some point," Krusk spat, "and I don't want his death on my head."
"Any one of us would have been caught off guard and felled by that blow. If you're going to be so damn glib about his lack of skill, why don't you check that ego of yours and teach him to fight?"