Chapter 5: Spelled Door

I get my answer before I even ask, the paladin joining me in the shadow of the troll. "It's some kind of spell." The dwarf rubs his hands together, though he looks grim,

not excited. "I can't seem to identify the specific one."

So a wizard, is he? My assumption he is a warrior of some kind is a natural one, but I'm happy enough to have a magic user in our midst, no insult meant to the druid troll. Though I prefer to trust my sword above all else -when I'm in possession of one, that is

-having some magic to throw around when times are tough or if we are faced with the same in turn is a good thing.

"How lovely," Blossom says, speaking what I'm thinking though with much more sarcasm than is in my train of thought. "Isn't it wonderful to have someone with magical experience in our company? Except when the wizard apparently doesn't know how to go about opening a simple door."

I grab her and pull her out of harm's way as the dwarf snarls at her like he'd be happy to gut her and leave her behind with the dead guard.

"Be assured, annoying halfling," he says, "that Graldor Hammercast, wizard keeper of the Basalt Hill Clan, will not be bested by a mere door."

"We'll see," she says, sticking her tongue out at him. She's obviously young, too young to be out on her own, and yet here she is. That sharp wit of hers might serve her in familiar situations, but I worry she's going to get herself into more trouble with those she's supposed to be working with let alone the guards I anticipate on the other side of the exit. "Go ahead then, dwarf. Impress us already."

He turns his back on her, though whether to keep from choking her or to do as he promised I'm not sure. If this was a less dangerous situation their exchange actually might be amusing. As it is, I'm anxious to be moving on, acutely aware of the precariousness of our position. If we're caught here in this hallway by guards of significant number, we're either going to be back in our cells in short order or very much dead. And I'm rather attached to my life right now, memories or no memories.

Something about the sensation of being trapped makes me queasy.

"Hurry it up, why don't you?" The paladin prods him with words and, from the way her hands twitch, she wants to do more than that.

"I'm working as fast as I can." He doesn't turn around until he makes a soft sound of success, though the door remains sealed and closed. He spins toward us, face creased in confidence. "There's a key we're missing," he says then, accusation in his tone, gaze falling on the halfling. "We'll need it to break the spell and move past the entry."

"What kind of key?" The paladin turns back toward the cell and the body of the hobgoblin, but I'm already looking down at Blossom as the dwarf Graldor is. Her innocent look of guilt tells me everything I need to know and more.

"Hand it over," I say, shaking her slightly from my grip on her arm.

She feigns shock and outrage, huffing a breath as she widens those big eyes at me. "How dare you accuse me of whatever it is you're accusing me."

I sigh, shake her gently again. "Blossom, the key. We don't have time for this and you know it. Where is it?"

More pouting. "Why would you assume I have anything like that?" Was she being purposely obtuse?

"You're a thief," Graldor says. "Should be about this big." He pinches his fingers together until they are an inch or so apart, then turns his hand and does the same thing, slightly longer. "A rune stone with a mark like this etched on it." He points at the door,

the three circle motif in the middle and a tiny indentation at the center of them. "See anything like that?"

She jerks herself free of me and turns sideways, not meeting my eyes or his. "Maybe," she says. "What's it worth to you?"

I expect the dwarf to lose it on her, but when the tall elf grasps her by the ear and tugs hard, the halfling squeals while her captor leans close.

"Hand it over right now," she says, the song in her tone turning to a melodic threat, "or I'll clip your ears so short you'll look like a human."

Blossom gasps and stares up at the elf like she's offended her horribly. "You would

not."

"Watch me." The elf keeps a firm hold with one hand and extends her free one, long fingertips brushing the halfling's chin. "The stone, Blossom. You might like the view, but I'm done with it. We need to get out of here."

"I was going to hand it over," the halfling's whining is a surprise, though when her elf companion lets her go she doesn't reach for the stolen property immediately. "I was just having some fun."

"We don't have the luxury of fun right now, little one," Vosh says, far kinder than I'm feeling right now, and surprising from a troll no matter what kind and gentle persona he's chosen to show to the world. "Please, can you give us the key so we can go?"

To my surprise, she fishes it out of her pocket and gives it to me before turning her back on all of us and refusing to speak. I hand it off to Graldor who scowls in her direction before spinning on the door and placing the stone in the center. It's as he described, a small, flat rectangle of some kind of stone with a triple circle in the center. Graldor places it and then turns it slowly, something clicking inside the door before it shakes just a little.

And doesn't open.

Everyone groans, but Graldor waves that off. "Silence, critics and complainers," he grumbles. "There is a step I must complete. Give me a moment." Then he snaps his fingers. "A password, of course."

"Are you any good at riddling passwords, Graldor?" Vosh sounds hesitant.

"Of course," the wizard says, blowing a bit of air between his lips like such a suggestion is a personal insult to his intelligence. "And besides, it's something fit for a stupid hobgoblin to remember. How hard can it be?" He touches the stone and speaks. "Three circles."

The door sighs and releases, faintest flare of power around the edges glowing and then it swings outward half an inch. Graldor turns to grin at all of us with smug cockiness, wrinkles forming around his dark eyes when his round cheeks lift at his glee.

"There, you see?" He hooks both thumbs into the waist band of his pants. "You're welcome."

"Allow me." The paladin pushes past all of us and I'm right on her heels, irritated she's shoved her way into the lead. This time there's no mistaking the fact I crave that position for myself. For some reason I feel like that's my place, and when I reach out to grab her hand, to slow her down, the others right behind us, I feel my grasp slow and become impossibly trapped, my fingers touching her skin and freezing there while the air around me thickens into an invisible goo and I'm caught, held rigid. At least I can breathe, but that's the extent of my movement.

"It would seem," Blossom says in her cheery voice, "it's not just hobgoblins that are stupid."

Graldor howls a low protest. "I overlooked something, that's all," he says. "Maybe the fact we're not hobgoblins ourselves?" I'm able to turn my head, I

discover, look back when Blossom's face squishes, tendons in her neck flexing, telling me she's also trapped from the head down. It could be worse for her, of course, had the spell hit at a certain general height. But it appears to affect all of us from the neck down.

Just as well. I'd rather not watch her smother while there's nothing I can do to help her or the dwarf wizard who's just four inches taller than her.

"There has to be a way out of this," the elf says. "Graldor?" "I'm thinking," he snaps.

"Think faster." She tilts her head to one side, face leaning out as she tenses. "I hear footsteps."

Blossom opens her mouth, the obvious, "Of course you do," more than likely her choice of taunt. I shake my head at her to keep her quiet, not that silence will help.

Because, a moment later, still no closer to freeing ourselves from the sticky goo of the air around us, we can only stare at the four hobgoblins who turn the abrupt corner and almost run right into us.

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