Part 3 (2/2)

”Sit down!”

The dagger slipped from Farfell's suddenly nerveless fingers, and he flopped down into his chair. His face went beet red, and he strained mightily to stand, but couldn't do so.

”I am the Magic Maestro here,” Ronnell informed him coldly.

”The runner of this game. The controller of yer destinies. To be the MM of a game of Tragic Magic is t'be the Supreme Being. So I'll thank ye to continue the evening's entertainment.”

”Entertainment! A man is dead!My man is dead!” Farfell bellowed.

”I found that entertaining,” said Ronnell placidly.

Tomas was still shaking his head, his eyes wide. ”This isn't happening. I refuse to believe.... None of this is real. It's all a fantasythat I'll be awakening from just about any time.”

I desperately wanted to share his outlook. Instead I snapped out,”Shut up,” and glared at Ronnell.

”Who are you?”

”I? I am Ronnell McDonnell!” he said with fierce pride. A crack of thunder obligingly accompanied the p.r.o.nouncement, as if matters weren't sufficiently melodramatic. ”Ronnell McDonnell?” I said with a grimace. ”Of the Clan McDonnell?”

”Aye, the same.” Cruel amus.e.m.e.nt glittered in his eyes. ”Ye've heard of me.”

”I haven't,” said Farfell.

”I have. I just didn't believe a word of it,” said Tomas.

I reached over and cuffed Tomas on the side of the head. It just seemed like the thing to do at that moment. Then I turned to Farfell, who looked as if a dozen emotions were warring within him at once.

”McDonnell is a weaver I've heard tell of, back when I was an innkeeper in a far-off land. His name is mentioned in whispers, lest saying it too loudly summon him.”

Ronnell seemed to find that amusing. ”Really. And what do the whispers say?”

My voice low and even, I said, ”They say you're insane. They say you seek ways to control men's destinies. They say that normal human sustenance is no longer sufficient for you, and that you consume your victims' vitality at the cusp of their deaths.”

”Anything else?”

I pondered a moment. ”That you're a h.e.l.l of a dancer. But I never placed much stock in that.”

Farfell looked fiercely in my direction, and then in Tomas's. ”Let's rush him. He can't withstand a charge from all of us.”

”Fine idea. You first,” I said tightly. I was trying to rise from the chair, but having no luck. I was rooted to the spot.

”This isn't happening, this isn't happening,” Tomas kept saying, but there was no conviction in his voice. Instead it sounded like borderline panic. I took cold pleasure in that. Misery loves company. Right then I was in the mood for lots of company.

”Ye have submitted yerself to my authority as Magic Maestro,” said Ronnell. ”By the laws of this game, yer bound t'me, and the game must be seen through to the end.”

”And what const.i.tutes the end?” I asked.

”Until ye lose,” he replied, which was pretty much the answer I'd suspected.

”And if we win?”

He laughed at that. ”Oh, I think the dice will see that doesn't happen. But,” he added, ”ye never know.

They can be capricious.” Then he laughed once more, and there was another flash of lightning for further punctuation.

Then, as if further discussion was pointless--which it probably was--Ronnell McDonnell of the Clan McDonnell looked back down at the adventure he was charting. In a soft, insistent voice, he said, ”The entire hallway in front of ye is aflame.”

”We back up,” I said quickly, ”and head for the exit.” ”Bad news,” said Ronnell, not sounding as if he thought it was particularly bad. ”A monstrous cave troll is standing between ye and the exit. He advances on ye. He looks hungry. The chances are that he will devour ye. However, he's a relatively young troll and will likely be satisfied with one of ye.”

There was deathly silence for a moment, and suddenly Farfell shouted,”We toss him the cleric!”

”The h.e.l.l you do!” Tomas cried out, doubting less and less by the moment. He lunged for the dice, but Farfell scooped them up and dropped them as if they were red hot. The dice skidded across the table and came up double six.

”The move works,” Ronnell said calmly.

”It doesn't work!”Tomas said, and suddenly the front of his body seemed to explode, as if it was being ripped open by a great unseen force. I ducked to avoid the hurtling organs that splattered just above me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a glow and then the unbelieving Tomas was gone, his essence ripped from his body with as much force as his body was ripped from itself.

The s.h.i.+p tilted wildly, the force of the storm growing. I heard cries of alarm from the deck above. The sailors were running around to batten down this or tie off that. Their struggle to keep afloat would have been of far more importance to me were I not concerned with my own impending death struggle.

Ronnell McDonnell was grinning viciously. ”The monstrous cave troll chokes on the cleric as pieces of him lodge in its throat and it dies...”

”We race for the exit,” I said.

”...but it falls in front of the exit, blocking yer way out with its sheer bulk. It's too heavy for ye t'lift.”

”I take out my sword of power and start hacking at it,” said Farfell. He kept glancing nervously at the charred remains of the Mousser. He looked as if he wanted to start sobbing, but was too afraid to do even that.

”Yer sword deflects off it.”

”I hit it again.”

”Yer sword bounces away once more,” said Ronnell. He was beginning to look slightly impatient.

”There is, however, another door down at the opposite end. It appears t'be open...”

”I hit the ogre with my sword,” insisted Farfell.

Ronnell appeared to be getting annoyed, and I immediately realized why. Farfell had apparently discovered a move he could make that was fairly harmless. If he made no further move in the game, then he would be impervious to anything bad happening to him. He would hack at the unyielding ogre from now until doomsday for all he cared. Meantime, sooner or later, someone who wasn't a partic.i.p.ant in this cursed game would enter the room and, with any luck, beat Ronnell senseless. I would have been howling for help the entire time, but the sounds of the storm outside were too vicious. I knew it would have been a waste of effort.

”The blade. Bounces. Off.” His teeth gritted with intensity, Farfell repeated, ”I hit. The Ogre. With. My Sword.”

Ronnell sat back in his chair for a moment, appearing to consider the situation. Then he shrugged.

”Very well. Roll the dice.”

Farfell immediately picked up the dice and tossed them. They clattered across the table and came up a two and a three.

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