Academy of Flamecraft - Part 1. Arcade.
I remember the flames.
The braziers flare like suns. The fire sweeps across the dais.
I did not expect the raw blast of heat, and at the last instant I doubt our wisdom in choosing this gate. Then I fear my own doubt, for in truth some gates are barred to those who are not without fear. A spiral then. The flames, too, swirl, and we are gone.
I expected a trap. The situation demanded one. The Academy of Flamecraft, lost for many centuries... even so it would never be undefended.
Expectations met. The derro must also have been surprised.
It was well that the Prismatic Walls guarded our flanks as we stood on the arrival platform, sheer drops on all sides and surrounded. Again the wand performs well.
We move with great speed; the shaman's lightning still faster. Another painful battle, completed with cost.
The scorched map from the shaman's belt proves nearly unreadable. We circle up the immense shaft on the wide stone ramps; scramble over the occasional gaps.
The silence, the heat, they are oppressive.
Finally the many-doored hallway. Alix (bumbling cretin) fawning over the cute, antennaed monster with a propeller on its tail. His belt buckle and nearly his weapons made sacrifice to its hunger. The thing prefers rich ore to coarse iron. Nolin tricks it into one of the few rooms with an intact stone door.
So little remains here that is whole. Empty corridors.
Cadrienne. It was not the lost library calling silently to her. Her holy book, ashes in dragonfire. She read my books for comfort, studying intently over my shoulder. Too intently? Should I have guessed the truth?
The deadly tapestry with teeth, and nearby the carapace and mandibles of a creature that once burrowed through solid rock. I shall remember its form for myself.
The lost chamber, it's walls, floor, ceiling covered in tiny precise runes. In the corner, the bones of the imprisoned genius. At the end scribing the runes with his blood and finger bones, too weak to effect his escape. With sufficient power and sanity, the walls might have become the impossible, a free-standing gate.
Another ambush. The derro, ready this time, still no match. Nine magic missiles? Kestellan? How did the pompous, conniving fool manage it? Still, I fail to guess. Cadrienne's smile... it was warm on my back.
The iron bottle stripped from Dargastal's ravaged corpse was occupied, but not by an innocent. Freed, the efreet thanks us and departs with promises of later service.
Kadraskus, genie edged in fire. Alix's eyes shine with greed. Who knows what deals he makes behind our backs?
Statues stare with flaming eyes, mesmerizing. Long-dead Masters of the Art, burning still.
A small scrap of burnt paper, forgotten. We are directed through the test of elements, to the chamber, the Room of Ceremony. With a "found" key, Cadrienne unlocks the door. Within, the Mirror stares back at us. Portals to Fire, Magma, Smoke, lurk beneath their tapestries, awaiting only the braziers' lash to disgorge hellish servants.
History plays across the Mirror, too fast to follow, as if obeying silent commands. An exit appears. The Mirror is also a portal. Home, crouching in the snowdrifts.
We depart. We relax, we eat, we drink. We are idiots. I am an idiot.
Too late, I finally comprehend and charge outside to effect rescue. The smoke spirals slowly up from the rune melted in the snow. Cadrienne is gone. She has been absent for some time, I think. The necklace gem, it seems, was also occupied. Mirata du Chemith has played us well.
Tao swears. Nolin despairs. Velendo berates God. We panic.
The note arrives. It is polite. The Headmistress of the Academy is nothing if not polite. Even her threats are polite.
She will return to power draped in our friend's flesh. We have been warned. It is time to be heroes.
