Dungeons & Dragons - The Movie Read online

Not for the first time, Vildan wished he could simply have his body strapped to the library ladder and stay there all the time. He had strengthened the tendons and muscles in his legs for sixty years, climbing up and down in this very room an uncounted number of times. Now though, late in his eighty-seventh year, his legs had turned against him, as had everything else in his tall and withered frame. Nothing irritated him more than waiting below while others searched the crowded shelves above.

  “Its up there,” he grumbled. “Unless you moved it somewhere, Marina, this is where it has to be.”

  “Yes, it should be,” Marina said patiently, “and I’m sure it’ll turn up soon.”

  “Maybeyou are sure,” Vildan muttered. “I’m surely not.”

  Marina sighed. She had many duties in the Library at the school, but the most important task of all was following Vildan about and taking the blame for everything the mage lost.

  “Ah, a moment. I see it now,” Vildan said. “There. Right under your nose. How anyone with eyes to see could miss it, I couldn’t say. Marina, my dear, why was it there with the books on Alchemy? It clearly belongs in Dracology. Anyone would know that.”

  “I really couldn’t say, sire.”

  Because you put it there yesterday yourself, that’s why, she thought. Because you climbed this very ladder and nearly fell when you thought I wasn’t looking.

  “Huh!” Without even glancing her way, Vildan took the yellowed scroll from her hand, crossed the room, and set the ancient document on a table already crowded with dusty tomes.

  At once, he began fussing about with vials, pots, mortar and pestle, and the countless jars of evil-smelling potions that were always scattered about, sometimes tipping over with horrid results.

  Marina wondered why magic was such a foul, odorous profession. Just once, why couldn’t someone make a spell that smelled good?

  While Vildan worked, she busied herself with cleaning up the area where he’d worked the night before. Learning from a master magician was an endless, near hopeless task, not nearly as exciting as she’d pictured. Still, who else could she stand to work for? Who else would want her, for that matter?

  She shuddered at the thought of even getting near one of those foul-minded mages who would eagerly take her on.

  “Gods protect me,” she whispered to herself. Before she’d do that, she would simply give up magic and scrub floors somewhere.

  No one who knew Marina or had any knowledge of her goals would mistake her for a scullery maid. She was a tall, slender woman with silken hair the color of dark autumn leaves swept gracefully atop her head. Her eyes were dark as river stones, and her skin was fine ivory tinted with gold, reflections of her birth-land in the far mountain reaches of the north.

  She dressed in a simple, plum-colored gown under a black cowl sewn with a golden pattern of runes. On one wrist, she wore a breathtaking bracelet adorned with a brilliant green stone the size of a pheasant’s egg. Marina came by her love of magic naturally, and the bracelet was a gift from her father, a mage himself like his father before him. She carried herself with a regal bearing, and many who saw her were certain she was somehow of royal birth.

  Many men who admired her beauty passed her by with much regret, thinking her somewhat haughty glance reflected a lady too distant and cool to even approach. In truth, quite the opposite was true. Marina simply had little desire to expose her emotions and masked them from the world. This, too, was a part of her heritage, for one learned early in a mage’s family to betray no weakness that others might use to pull them down.

  She watched Vildan with her usual calm and forbearance. He could be surly and overbearing at times, and completely forget that she was there, but she loved the old man like a father and would put up with anything as long as he allowed her to stay.

  I hope he never guesses the truth of that. If he does, he will drive me completely mad.

  There was another aspect of the mage that made Marina doubly proud to be a part of his busy life. Vildan, above all others, had been close to the Emperor, and now that he was gone, Vildan was the strong right arm of the Empress Savina herself.

  “And the gods know she needs all the strength she can get,” Marina said beneath her breath. “Especially in such dangerous times as this.”

  Bending closely over a particularly ancient scroll, Vildan squinted at the fading runes and sprinkled a pinch of nightblack over the surface. He then stood back and waited. After a moment, he scowled and muttered inaudibly. Adding a pinch of ground adder, he tried again. This time, the scroll gave off a faint shimmer, which quickly faded and died.

  Vildan brought his hand to his waist and straightened his weary back.

  “I swear all the demons of the underworld are set against me this night, Marina. I have never seen a scroll so determined to hide its secrets. It is clearly protected by very ancient magic.”

  “It must be, sire, if it defies your powers.”

  “Yes, well…” Vildan frowned at the wrinkled, fading parchment that dared to resist his efforts.

  “Let’s try something else. Bring me some manticore wing, if you will.”

  “I fear we’re out, Master,” Marina said with regret. “I sent the old woman, Lethine, to the eastern border for that and other potions, as you’ll recall. I don’t expect her back until—”

  “Great gods of the wind!” Vildan shouted, pounding his fist on the table and raising a cloud of dust from ages past. “Isn’t there anything that works in this place anymore? What am I supposed to do, make up spells in my head? Get me some raven’s eye, then. That will have to do for now. It’s in the red pot next to the gall.”

  “Yes, I’ll look for it right away,” Marina said, knowing full well that Vildan had used up all the raven’s eye months before, making a horrible smell.

  “Help me,” she said softly, with a quick glance above, addressing any spirits who might be lingering about. “I’ve got to tell him, and he isn’t going to like that at all.”

  * * *

  “Come on, Snails!” Ridley whispered as loud as he dared. Snails was still dangling from the window high above the hard floor.

  “I thought you said this was going to be easy.”

  “No,” Ridley replied. “I said this wasn’t impossible.”

  “See?” Snails yelped as he almost lost his grip. He climbed back up to the window sill and steadied himself. “That’s the same thing you said when we robbed that little halfling’s house.” Ridley rolled his eyes, and Snails continued. “And who did he catch? Who? Me! And who’d he beat from the waist down? Me.”

  “Are you gonna jump or dangle and complain up there all night?”

  “Are you gonna catch me?”

  “I’ll catch you. Now, will you hurry?”

  Snails didn’t seem convinced. “Promise?”

  “Yes!” Ridley said in a whisper that was growing steadily louder. He held his arms open. “I promise. Now jump.”

  “All right.” Snails closed his eyes and steadied his nerves. “Here goes.”

  A noise that sounded disturbingly like a very large animal came from somewhere beyond the opposite window just as Snails let go. Ridley tensed and turned toward the sound. Snails hit the ground behind him and screamed.

  “Sorry.” Ridley winced. “I thought I heard something.”

  “You did!” Snails said angrily. “Me hitting the ground, you dolt!”

  Ridley turned, already putting the incident behind him. A faint sliver of light from outside cast an eerie pattern over a glass tank of angry red scorpions, and another of giant beetles.

  “Oh, wonderful,” Snails said as he got up. “I’ve got bugs in my bed at home. I didn’t need to come here.”

  Ridley didn’t hear. He gazed about the dark hall, trying to see every wonder at once. “This place is a veritable treasure house, Snails. There’s a fortune here, more than I ever dreamed.”

  He made his way carefully across the room, stopped, and studied one glass tank, one cage, after another. One
cage held hideous giant rats, each with a single ruby eye. A glass tank was writhing with a nest of silver vipers, serpents with heads on both ends. They hissed and struck at the sides with a terrible rage.

  “No wonder they’re mad,” Ridley said. “I would be, too.”

  There was cage after cage of creatures Ridley had never even imagined before. How many were natural beings, he wondered, and how many the result of magic?

  “This is it, truly, my friend. We’ve stumbled on the mother lode of every thief’s dream. Anything we take out of here is worth its weight in gold.”

  Snails let out a breath between his teeth. “I can’t argue that. Look what I found here.”

  Snails reached up on a dirty shelf and held out a gleaming, bejeweled paperweight. “If those aren’t sapphires, I’ll eat my hat. This thing’s worth a—”

  With a bright explosion of lightning, the giant, chalky skeleton of a dragon suddenly appeared, looming over Snails.

  “Rid—Ridley!”

  Snails dropped the paperweight, turned, and stumbled away from the horrid creature shimmering in the dark.

  “Snails, watch it!”

  “Huh—wuuuh!”

  Ridley cringed as his friend ran headlong into a stack of wooden boxes, sending them tumbling to the floor.

  “It’s an illusion, Snails! Look! It’s gone. Get up from there.”

  “It looked real enough to give a fellow a stroke,” Snails said, pulling himself to his feet. “By the gods, Rid, steal something and let’s get out of here.”

  “That’s the problem, you see? And a finer problem we never faced, my friend. There’s so much treasure here, it’s hard to decide what to steal. Gold is best, of course—always is—but it’s heavy, and we’ve got to climb down again. Gems are nice, and they weigh scarcely anything at all, but how can you tell in the dark if they’re real? That’s important. You’ve got to know if they’re real.”

  “What treasure? Where?”

  “What?”

  “I don’t see any gold. I don’t see any gems. All I see are bugs—and ugly bugs at the that.”

  “Well, of course you can’t see any treasure. It’s hidden. Even mages don’t leave their goods lying around. We’ve got to look is all. Look, and I promise you we’ll leave here rich as—”

  Ridley froze, turned, and stared as light suddenly spilled into the room. Standing against the brightness of the now open door was a woman so dazzling, so lovely, Ridley almost forgot the trouble he was in.

  “Evening,” he said, “we’re the new—”

  “—Cleaning crew!” Snails finished. “We’ll be out in a minute, my lady—soon as we get this mess straightened up. You don’t mind me saying, someone needs to go through this place, sweep up, sweep out—”

  “Shut up,” Ridley said without taking his eyes off the young woman. “This lady’s not feeble-minded, Snails.”

  “No, I’m not,” the woman said, shaking her head in disgust, “but you two apparently are. Just stand still, both of you! Don’t even try it!”

  Halfway to the window, Ridley and Snails froze in their tracks. A green pulse of eerie light leaped from the woman’s bracelet and circled the pair in its grip.

  “Look now, don’t do this,” Ridley protested. “We won’t hurt you, I promise.”

  “Oh, how marvelous,” she said, delighted and somewhat surprised by the power of the green stone. As she spoke, the shimmering band vanished, replaced by a common strand of ordinary rope.

  “Miss, there’s been a misunderstanding,” Ridley said.

  “There certainly has,” Snails added. “We don’t belong—Uh, what I meant to say was, we won’t be long here, if you’ll just forget about this and let us go.”

  The woman shot a fiery glance at the pair. “Where you’re going is the city dungeon, a place you’ve likely seen before, unless I miss my guess.”

  “Oh, the city dungeon!” Ridley said. “What a relief! I’ll thank you when they cut my head off.”

  “You should,” the woman replied. “It would be an improvement.”

  Ridley laughed, mocking her. “There’s that superior intelligence you mages are so famous for. What wit!”

  “We aren’t common thieves, miss!” Snails broke in. “Don’t think we are!”

  “No?” she raised a brow, a gesture Ridley found most appealing. “What are you, then?”

  “Lfecommon thieves,” Snails said. “We’re a lot better than your ordinary thieves. I could tell you some astonishing stories, criminal deeds that even I scarcely believe.”

  The woman shook her head. “Are you two feeble-minded, or what? What kind of genius would break into a magic school? You’d have to be really stupid, or—”

  “Or what?”

  “Or really… really stupid, that’s what.”

  “She’s got us there, Rid. Can’t argue with that.”

  “There, see?” Ridley said. “You’ve hit upon it, my lady. We’re not too bright, all right? You can’t hold that against us; that’s the way we are. It’s not out fault. We grew up in the streets, we never went to school, we… Uh, you get the picture, right?”

  “Oh, I certainly do.” Marina showed him a sour smile. “Now, if you’ll stay right there—which you will—I’ll find a city guard. There’s usually one right—”

  The woman’s words were lost in a harrowing scream from the other room.

  “Master!”

  The woman’s eyes went wide with fear. Turning quickly, she raced out of the room. Ridley and Snails came after her with a sudden jerk as the power of her spell nearly swept them off their feet.

  CHAPTER

  11

  As Marina came upon the library, she stopped short, taking in the horror before her in a single glance.

  “No, please,” she cried out, “he’s an old man! Let him go!”

  She gasped and raised a hand to her breast, almost too frightened to move. Vildan, sprawled on the floor in a tangle of books and scrolls, looked up at her with a great and terrible sorrow in his eyes. Around him, in full armor, were eight troopers of the Crimson Brigade, their faces hidden behind hideous masks. Each held a stubby crossbow pointed at Vildan’s head.

  “Well… company,” said the Brigade Commander as stepped out of shadow into the room. “And very pretty company, too.” He paused to look behind her, and frowned. “Except for that pair. What on earth are they doing here?”

  “I know you,” Marina replied with all the calm she could muster. “I know what you are, Damodar. Let’s talk about this, please. Whatever you want, I’ll try to help. But don’t hurt him! He can do you no harm.”

  Damodar threw back his head and laughed. “One more time, old man. Show me which of these damnable scrolls I’m looking for, or I’ll finish you off right here. And your charming friend as well.”

  Vildan looked directly at his captor. A pale blue glow sparked in his eyes, and a quick spell left his lips. Damodar deftly stepped aside, as a lance of blue pain drilled a hole in the wall behind his head. In that instant, a scroll rose off the table in a blur and slapped itself into Marina’s hand.

  “A very nice bit of magic,” Damodar said, “one you’ll pay dearly for, old man.” He turned his eyes on Marina. “Now, I think you’d best give that to me.”

  Before Damodar could act, a green beam of energy shot from her wrist, striking the Brigade Commander squarely in the chest. Damodar staggered and caught himself, his face filling with a rage he could scarcely contain.

  “I don’t believe it!” the taller of the two thieves shouted “You just zapped—”

  “—the head of the Crimson Brigade!” the other finished for him. “I’m extremely sorry I got you into this, friend.”

  “You two, quiet!” Damodar squinted at the pair in disgust. “Get rid of them. I’m getting bored with this.”

  A pair of Damodar’s troopers went quickly to the two thieves. Damodar clenched his gloved fists, eyes blazing, as he turned all his anger on the old man.

  “
That’s it, Vildan. The girl has your scroll, and I have her. I don’t need you now.”

  With scarcely a glance at his prey, he reached down and grasped Vildan’s head in both hands.

  “No!” Marina cried.

  It was over, quickly done. Marina drew a ragged breath as she heard the bones snap. The mage’s head jerked back on his shoulders and he sagged to the floor.

  In that instant, Marinas hand moved, almost of its own accord. A handful of red and silver dust suddenly clouded the air. A shimmering portal, like a door into some other world, hummed into being before Marina and the two thieves.

  “Come on, time to go,” Marina said, biting back her tears as a magical portal opened before her. “Its not going to get any better in here. The streets of Sumdall!”

  In a blink, the room was gone as something drew them through the bright circle and out of the room.

  * * *

  Ridley blinked, sniffing the night air of Sumdall City.

  “Nice trick,” Snails said. “I don’t mind saying, you call ’em a little close for me, lady.”

  “Shut up,” Marina growled. “Don’t say another word to me.”

  Ridley could almost feel the anger in her eyes.

  “A good man died back there, a better man than you’ll ever be, thief.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ridley said. “I really am, and I’m grateful for what you did.”

  “We are,” Snails said. “That’s as true as it can be.”

  She looked over her shoulder and swept back a strand of tousled hair.

  “I can open that thing, but I don’t know how to close it. We’d best get out of here.”

  She turned away, and Ridley followed her down a dark alleyway, still bound to Snails. Haifa moment later, he heard the call of angry soldiers, the clang of their armor, the rattle of their arms…

  Ridley raced through the twisted alleyway as fast as he could, hampered by the spell that held him to the girl. Once, she took one pathway in the dark, and Ridley and Snails took the other. The jolt cut into Ridley’s gut and nearly threw the pair to the ground.

  He cursed the girl, the ridiculous spell that chained him to her, and at the same time, reluctantly blessed her for setting them free.