Once Around the Realms

Chapter 17

"Well, it's about time," Shurleen reproved. "What took you so long?"

"I had to say good-bye to our most gracious host," Passepout responded, brushing past her to take his place at Volo's side.

"Well, if that's all of us," Volo observed, taking the lead, "onward, then."

The four travelers started walking farther into the darkness.

The darkness was of a strange quality. It was pitch black, as if one were buried alive, yet there seemed to be enough illumination so that they could see each other, as well as certain details of the passage around them.

The passage around them was also curious. At one point it seemed to be an infinite universe of darkness stretching out in all directions around the narrow path upon which they walked, dwarfing them in its infinity. At other times it seemed to close in on them as if it were a mine or a cave through some Underdark lair or mountain cavern, with the only space existing a hairbreadth above their heads and even less than that at their sides. It was both an agoraphobic's and a claustrophobic's nightmare at the same time.

Though none of the party had yet to see anything that might pose a threat, uneasiness pervaded their midst, a palpable fear of the unknown that seemed to be tightening its grip on them the farther they went.

"Remember," Volo reminded, "don't talk to anyone we come across."

"What is this place?" Shurleen asked, a none-too-slight tremor audible in her voice.

"Mad Monkey said it was the Land of the Dead," Passepout replied.

Shurleen shivered at the mention of the word "dead," and quickly grasped the hand of the person nearest her as a secondary reinforcement that she was not alone. Curtis looked down at his hand firmly grasped by the heiress, her lacquered nails reflecting the darkness while framed in the creamy whiteness of her pampered hands. His urge to pull away was overridden by his sense of the needs of his companion, no matter how disagreeable she could be.

Gradually, parts of the passing landscape became clearer as they passed. Exotic beasts, horned beings, and mindless husks that once might have walked among the living seemed to pass them by as if they were unaware of the travelers' presence.

"Who are they?" Shurleen whispered.

"Beings with whom we do not wish to speak," Curtis succinctly replied, urging her to move faster so their group would not become more stretched out.

After what seemed like hours of treading through the darkness, the group decided to rest for a few minutes to catch their breath.

"Mad Monkey didn't say anything about not stopping along the way, did he?" Volo queried of the rotund thespian.

"No," Passepout replied. "Stopping seemed to be all right as long as we didn't talk to anyone. I even remember he said we could observe what we wanted, though, quite frankly, I really haven't seen anything worth writing home about."

"Let's hope it stays that way," Curtis interjected. "I prefer boring and dull to dangerous and deadly any day."

"I wouldn't call the walking dead and fiends of the underworld boring and dull," Shurleen argued, without relinquishing her grip on Curtis's hand.

"Hey, if they don't bother us, we won't bother them, and that's fine by me," Curtis replied, beginning to enjoy the feeling of feminine digits between his rough-skinned fingers, calloused by the bristles of splintering ropes and abrasive surfaces.

Passepout saw a rocky, mushroom-like growth off to the side which he thought would make a good seat to rest his weary bulk, and decided to remove himself from the group to take advantage of it.

Eo, that feels good, Passepout thought, his thoughts beginning to drift as his body began to relax.

"Hi! Remember me?" a voice purred.

There, now sitting next to him, was the inviting figure of Shurleen dressed as she had been that night at the No Bull House, silken kimono open almost to the waist, her hair freshly scented with lotus blossom shampoo.

"I want you!" the voice purred.

Once again Passepout was at a loss for words, his desires and fragile ego riding a runaway mining car down a steep-sloped tunnel.

"Now!" the voice demanded.

"Hey, Passepout, time to get the lead out. We'd be burning daylight if there were any light to be had," called the voice of the master traveler.

Passepout was pulled back, jerking his head back toward Volo's voice. The rest of the group had taken to their feet and were preparing to leave… Shurleen included, now attired in the traveling clothes he seemed to recall she had been wearing when they entered the portal.

But if she's over there, then who's over here? the chubby thespian thought. He turned his head back to the source of the amorous purring, but nothing was there now, not even the lingering scent of lotus blossom shampoo.

Passepout got to his feet and rejoined the group.

Oh, well, he thought to himself, at least I didn't talk to her. That would probably have been a bad thing. I think I'll stick to the path with the others from now on.

With a quick glance back at where he had been sitting, a quick thought of regret at what might have been, followed by a quick thought of terror at what really might have been, he proceeded with the others down the path.

"You know," Passepout declared, "I think it's probably a good idea for us to stay on the path, and not wander too far to the sides, and, above all, remember not to talk to strangers."

"Good advice, well said," Volo agreed, wondering what had instigated the advisory recap from the young thespian, but then quickly returning to the matters at hand.

"Onward," he urged. "Mad Monkey assured us that there would be a light at the end of this tunnel. We just haven't reached it yet."

"And remember," Passepout interrupted, once again with a warning tone, "sometimes the darkness plays tricks on the mind. There's no telling what you might see-or at least think you see."

Volo did a double take at his overly cautious companion, shook his head, and pressed on.

The path began to wind more, and the sights became more bizarre. They saw an ashen tapestry of what appeared to be crying mouths, hanging from a spear, frozen in mid-decay as if to have been preserved at precisely the moment before total disintegration occurred. Maniacal laughter could be heard from the shadows, though the source of the jocularity was noticeably absent.

Farther on, they came upon a rubbled site, as if an entire palace had been destroyed. The wreckage from the site seemed to have been made of bone and human flesh, both now reduced to shards and tatters.

"The bone palace of Cyric has been destroyed," Volo whispered. There were rumors of this among the Lords of Waterdeep and the College of War Wizards, but I never thought I would ever actually see it, at least not while I was still alive."

"Wasn't Cyric the God of Strife and Lord of the Dead?" Curtis asked. "Who could have done this?"

"Even the mad Prince of Lies himself has powerful enemies," Volo replied.

Much farther down the winding path, Volo halted the group.

"Listen!" he whispered urgently.

A steady murmuring of a single monotonous voice could be heard in the distance.

The truth is there.

They will understand it.

Am I not the true King of the Dead?

It must be true.

The Cyrinishad said so.

Yes.

Yes.

"Who is that?" Shurleen whispered.

"The Prince of Lies himself probably, we must avert our eyes so as to not be taken in by his trickery," Volo instructed.

The travelers hooded their eyes with their hands, focusing only on the next step in front of them.

Only Passepout dared to look up for a fraction of a second, but common sense intervened, and he quickly rehooded his eyes. Concentrating as he walked, he vaguely remembered a glimpse of some underworld castle but couldn't really remember if it was a tower, a pyramid, or a mansion of bone, and despite the murmuring, no one seemed to be home.

Am I curious enough to look back? he thought, then quickly dismissed the idea. Even if he was as brave as Mad Monkey seemed to think, bravery alone was a silly justification for foolhardiness.

In the distance behind them, they could hear a new ream of maniacal laughter.

They pressed on down the path faster, hoping that a light would soon appear in the distance.

At last a glimmer of sunlight seemed to be emanating from a crack in the darkness in the distance.

"There," Volo declared. "That must be the way out."

"Just like he promised," Passepout agreed. "And no harm has come to us since we stayed on the path and kept to ourselves."

"I'll be glad when we're out of here," Curtis confessed. "I can't wait to feel daylight again."

Though the crack of light was still a good distance away, their journey toward it, now that it was visible, passed quickly. Along the way, they could barely make out the gleam of lights reflected off shiny faceted surfaces. As they drew closer to the shaft of light that was their exit, the surfaces became more distinguishable, revealing that the tunnel surface that seemed to surround them was entirely composed of loose gems of indefinable value.

"Maybe we should pick up a souvenir, sort of a very valuable keepsake," Curtis suggested. "It's not like there are any armed guards around or anything."

"I wouldn't do that," Volo advised. "I remember the story of a mortal who, like ourselves, was granted a trip through the nether realms. She was warned to eat nothing, talk to no one, and stay on the path. She stuck to the rules with one exception-she ate three pomegranate seeds. When it came time to leave, her way out was blocked by an invisible wall. No one ever heard of her again."

"That sounds like a fairy tale," Shurleen scoffed, "and besides, Mad Monkey didn't say we couldn't pick something up along the way."

"Mad Monkey didn't say a lot of things," Volo replied, "and I don't think he felt compelled to tell us not to steal, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, phoo!" Shurleen complained. "Let's just get out of here."

The four travelers hurried to the crack of light that was the passage back to the surface world.

"Ladies before gentlemen," Volo offered, giving a mock bow, and indicating that Shurleen could go first.

"It's about time," she answered, about to barge through the crack.

"Wait a minute," Passepout interrupted, blocking her way. "I don't think letting her go first is such a good idea." The chubby thespian had just recalled his own close encounter with a beholder on the other side of the Myth Drannor portal.

"What do you mean?" the spoiled heiress demanded.

"Who knows what is on the other side? Mad Monkey only guaranteed us safe passage. He didn't mention anything about safe arrival," Passepout replied.

"Passepout is right," Curtis agreed. "Who knows what could be lurking out there? I'll go first."

"Agreed," said Volo, making way for Curtis to pass.

Curtis stepped forward into the light and seemed to disappear.

"All clear," he yelled, seemingly from afar. "Nothing here except a dark-skinned halfling, and he seems to be agreeable enough."

"Satisfied?" Shurleen asked sarcastically.

"Next," Volo instructed, indicating for her to pass.

Shurleen barged forward into the light but wasn't able to pass through.

"It's closed," she screamed in a panic, backing away from the light. "I can't get through."

"Empty your pockets," Volo instructed.

"Why?" She pouted.

"Just do it!" the master traveler demanded, growing very impatient.

Shurleen turned out her pockets.

They were empty.

"Let me see your hands," Volo demanded.

"Why?" she protested, hiding her palms.

Faster than a pickpocket at the Westgate fair, Volo grabbed her wrist and turned her hand over, revealing the palm of her hand.

A red ruby seemed to be stuck to it.

"It won't come off," she protested. "I picked it up back at the ruined castle, and it sort of got stuck to my hand. Now it won't come off."

"Maybe there is some truth to that fairy tale," Volo remarked.

The gravity of her situation dawned on her.

"No," she cried. "I can't stay here. What about Dragon Claw? What about Cyric? You can't just leave me here."

Volo was troubled. Though she was no picnic in the Dales, and a regular pain in the South, he knew he couldn't just leave her behind in the netherworld. He also noticed that since Curtis had passed into the light, the portal had indeed become smaller, and was shrinking as he watched.

"Let me try again?" she pleaded.

"It won't work," Volo replied, frantically fingering his beard.

"Wait!" Passepout exclaimed. "I have an idea!"

The chubby thespian looked into his pouch, smiled, and pulled out one of the necromancer's gems that had just turned red.

"Let's see if the guards of this portal, or whatever is holding her back, will take a substitute," Passepout said, lobbing the necromancer's gem back the way they came.

The gem bounced twice, and then proceeded to roll away from them.

"Now try," Passepout instructed.

"Hurry!" Volo urged.

Shurleen rushed forward and passed to the other side.

"Good thinking," Volo complimented, "now quickly, the portal is closing."

The two travelers rushed forward into the light, the portal closing behind them.

When their eyes had adjusted to the new infusion of sunlight, they noticed that they were standing on a sandy mountainside. The heat was oppressive, and the terrain was rocky.

Blinking his eyes, and then squinting until he could see clearly, Volo noticed the halfling that Curtis had been talking about, who had now been joined by a man of normal height.

"Look boss," the halfling told the man, who was apparently his master. "The planes… they are visitors from the planes."

The man strode forward, and said, "My friends, welcome to Maztica."