Gauis Darkspell and the Sapphire of Regret | Part 1
The Loincloth of Doom
Gaius hadn’t taken more than seven steps -- well, maybe more like six, before he felt the first pang of regret.
It was less like a pang, when you’re hungry and your stomach is growling but the love of your life is standing in front of you with her lips pursed and her eyes closed and she’s been waiting all day to be kissed, but you’re really craving one of the massive turkey legs and tankard of ale down at the tavern. It’s two-for-one night on turkey legs and ale, and maybe she could just wait a few minutes, or even go with you. Because your life’s light can down a turkey leg like a mountain troll, and isn’t that what love is?
But it wasn’t like that at all, except now Gaius realized that he hadn’t carb-loaded for this adventure like he should have, and he was indeed feeling a bit peckish as he, Axor, Bane and his life’s light, Ilium of the Ample Bosom, or was it Pert Bottom? -- relationships were complicated -- raced down the stairs leading away from the palace vault and about thirty-four of the King’s Guard. There had been thirty-five, but one stopped to pull a rock out of his boot and he was subsequently trampled by the Palace Guardian, a twelve-foot tall Minotaur with a massive battle axe, a sour attitude and a loin cloth that was considerably more disturbing than both his attitude and battle axe.
Regret filled Gaius like gas after a night of cheese wheels and cabbage. Or perhaps it was just his tendency to get a little farty when he was anxious, something no potion he’d concocted had ever remedied. Instead, he tried to focus on the problem at hand. It wasn’t cabbage, he said to himself as he leapt down to the next landing with practiced ease, and it certainly wasn’t the curse of the stone. That was a rumor, a wives’ tale at most. He’d heard the stories and promptly discounted all of them.
“Gaius!” Illium screamed in his ear when an arrow bounced off her shoulder guard. She grabbed his free hand, bollocksing the spell he was warming up, and pulled him to the side as Axor and Bane rumbled by. “A moment,” she cried and stepped forward.
The clatter of steel guardsmen boots filled the stone staircase behind them, and a moment later, the first palace guard clattered into view. Lightweight metal armor from head to foot, the only thing exposed was his face. It was nearly as red as his hair, a mustachioed man who looked a little bit like an angry sardine trapped in a tin can two sizes too small. He was followed immediately by a few younger fellows, all of them clad in similar gear and carrying halberds that looked more ceremonial than anything, but lethal nonetheless.
“Aboratium Artures,” whispered Ilium, her lithe fingers weaving an amber light in front of her like the strands of a spider web. And then her voice roared, “Flare of Fury Ignite!” which immediately reminded Gaius of the time he’d neglected to mention there was a spider on her arm until she’d seen it and promptly set the tavern on fire. Two-for-one turkey legs had been off the menu for a few months after that. Regrettably.
A blazing shard of amber light flashed across the small space and burst over the heads of the descending guards, dousing them in a shower of sparks, just as Illium’s cloak burst into flames. The guardsmen, unprepared for the aerial assault, and their attacker’s self-own, danced around, screaming and trying to avoid the downpour, just as Ilium danced around and screamed a litany of obscenities that would have gotten her free drinks at the nearest tavern. Gaius leapt into action, ripping the cloak away and tossing it aside like that not-so-magic carpet he’d gotten at a yard sale. The carpet had caught fire the first time he’d spoken the incantation for it to fly, and the seller had just been about to offer a full refund until the flaming carpet burned his entire stand to the ground.
As for the guards, they stiffened, growled, and rushed at the two wizards just as the rest of the guards came into view.
“Gaius!” Illium shouted, and she turned and bolted past Gaius, giving him a look that hinted at a lack of snogging later.
Gaius shrugged innocently, hoping that might get him a sniff at a snog, and then turned and followed her down the next set of steps. Somewhere behind them, the Minotaur and his Loincloth of Doom -- that’s what Gaius heard in his head the moment he saw the beast -- roared, and all Gaius could think of was how much he didn’t want to find out what was underneath that little slip of dirty wool.
Regretfully, this was not how it was supposed to go. They were not, as Axor had insisted, following a ‘well-rehearsed and foolproof exit strategy,’ which they’d planned for weeks after the dinner invitation to Gaius and his party Ilium had been carefully arranged. The Duke of Dread was notorious for both his labyrinthine, trap-filled castle defenses and his remarkably bad cherry cobbler. They’d avoided the latter, thanks to some sleight of hand by Bane -- he’d accidentally knocked over the entire cart carrying the cherry cobbler to the table because he was “afraid of turtles.” It didn’t make sense, but Bane spoke so infrequently, you just had to go with it. So, one danger avoided. The other…?
They were running. Very fast. Down winding stairs that smelled like centuries-old regret and recent Minotaur sweat, carrying an infamous gem that their client was willing to pay a handsome sum for -- a very handsome sum; in fact, so handsome, the client confessed, it could star in its own traveling variety show or win a pageant.
The plan had been simple -- sneak out of their rooms after the big party, Ilium having prepared a potion that diluted the alcohol they would be drinking for hours. While the castle and its owner snored the snores of the eternally snockered, Gaius and company would sneak up to the tall tower on the east side of the castle and take aim at the vault. Therein, they knew, rested untold riches -- well, not untold because surely someone had told someone something, or everyone wouldn’t know about the untold riches. According to what was told by someone somewhere, the vault held ancient heirlooms and a few rare magical items, among them the fabled Sapphire of Regret.
Stealing it, they reasoned, was as much for the money that their client had promised as for the Duke himself. If the Sapphire of Regret really was cursed -- and Gaius knew that curses were all in your head, then he’d suffer from curse after curse. The Duke of Dread, if he ever found out they’d stolen it, would thank them later.
But he would never find out, of course.
Gaius had practiced the unsealing and opening spells for weeks ahead of the trip. The vault had to be unsealed, then opened, lest booby traps of all sorts go off. There was a klaxon, a contingent of guards, and something else -- something dark and deadly, a danger that everyone alive had heard of but no one alive had ever seen and lived. Axor had spent the better part of a weekend pouring through ancient tomes, reams of parchment and not a few books of popular song lyrics trying to discern or deduce what that final danger was, but he hadn’t found even a hint beyond a single quatrain scribbled on a tavern napkin in a shaky hand:
Woe betide the misled knave,
Who dares disturb what none may save.
Beneath the vault, the beast is bound—
Where greed runs deep, no light is found.
“Cave troll,” said Gaius off-handedly, his favorite way of saying things. “Bane can beat a cave troll in his sleep, can’t you, Bane?” He’d eyed the big bastard barbarian sitting in the corner feeding a kitten that had followed him home earlier in the day.
“Cave troll bop,” said Bane without even looking up, and everyone had decided that was enough of that. Drunk bards in late-night taverns scrawling lyrics on a napkin, then leaving them in a carefully sealed box in the ancient library in the capital didn’t scare anyone. It was normal. Who didn’t do that? Clearly a ploy to get a chart-topping single played by bard jockeys all over the Six Kingdoms and Four Continents.
They’d made it up to the top of the tower without incident -- all part of the plan. Gaius rehearsed the spells with each step up the winding stone stairs. Illium walked with her eyes closed, her delicate fingers on Gaius’ shoulder, her thoughts and consciousness far ahead, searching out booby traps, guards and anything that seemed out of the ordinary. Axor strummed lightly on his sitar, sending soothing vibes out in every direction to calm any creatures that might react to their approach.
And Bane was simply invisible -- no, literally invisible. He was scary enough coming at you at nearly seven feet tall, all bare-chested rippling muscles and a crazed look in his eyes, his big basher battle axe in hand. It was scarier still that all he wore was a diamond-encrusted loin cloth and heavy black boots rain, sun, sleet or snow. But an invisible barbarian was an entirely whole other thing and likely to send you to the Green Pastures, where fallen warriors went, before you even knew what hit you. The Loincloth of Invisibility was admittedly the most unlikely magical item in all the realms, but worn by a literal death machine, it was the most powerful relic the party had at its disposal.
It was the middle of the night, most of the castle snoring loud enough to wake the dead, and Gaius was perched in front of a circle drawn in chalk, a mirror image of the great vault door only steps away. The spell was a simple reflection spell, preceded by a ward spell, cancelling out all of the magical protections and offering Gaius a way to open the door without even touching it. He whispered the litany of words he’d practiced a thousand times in the weeks leading up to this moment, his fingers moving ever so slightly as he felt the tumblers shift, heard the click of the lock, and the door creaked quietly open.
“Gaius,” breathed Illium as she stepped up, her long legs just within his view, “you’re the greatest wizard that ever lived.” He grinned because that meant only one thing -- a night of snogging and listening to her mewling his name was in the cards. All they had to do was get the sapphire and get out.
Gaius blew Illium a kiss as he stepped into the vault, taking quick account of the rest of his friends, then turned his eyes and the glowing end of his staff to the not-so-untold treasures that lay in the fabled strongroom. He whistled, or he would have if he were any good at whistling. The place was at least what dreams were made of, but even dreams hadn’t dreamt of the riches that lay before him.
The chamber itself was beyond belief, the size of the city’s cathedral at least, which was entirely impossible unless the Duke of Dread had the use of a powerful displacement spell. The walls were roughly hewn out of black rock in contrast to the floating chandeliers crafted from what looked like living fire elementals writhing in place. In every direction, Gaius’ gaze fell on stacks of platinum coins, piles of vibrant tapestries, chests full of gems and what was clearly a wall dedicated to the Duke’s fabled wine collection. And there, in the middle of it, gleaming with mystical energy, was a magnificent pink sapphire the size of Gaius’ fist.
“The duke is going to regret not having better protection spells,” said Gaius smugly, the smugness warming his heart and filling his belly. But there was no time to gloat, he knew. He still had to close the vault, erase any trace of magic in the area and get he and his friends back to their rooms before they were discovered.
He smiled to himself, opened the pouch at his hip, and slid the jewelstone in, feeling its warmth, as if it was glowing with some kind of internal energy. But he knew it was just his own heat, his heart pounding from adrenaline, blood pumping from the long walk up the stairs and the nervous energy surrounding the entire endeavor. Nothing else. They’d done the impossible thing, and they’d be back in their rooms, fast asleep -- minus a good long snog, in minutes.
Gaius gave the thumbs up as he stepped over the threshold of the vault, then froze as a klaxon rang out, the sconces on the walls flashed to flame, and a low roar echoed throughout the room just as a dark doorway appeared out of nowhere in the opposite wall.
“Shards,” he groaned, and he turned and ran.