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Part 7

Damon's footsteps echoed in the cave. It seemed to be a mostly linear pathway, so we knew that he couldn't get lost, and presumably, he would need to come out the way he came in - so perhaps we could just wait for him here and see if he returned at all.

But that did not seem like a good idea at all. If there was another exit, we would not want him escaping with the Blacksmith's daughter, claiming we had all died in the process, and taking all the glory, gold, and gratitude without fairly sharing it around.

The hallway was dark, even in the light of the torch. It was vast. We picked up the pace, and Damon's silouhette was visible in the distance. It appeared that the hallway opened up into a vast opening, in which there was an incredibly bright light source. He entered the room, which was like a forest clearing, only - it was... in a cave.

We came in after him, and there she was. Damon started making a noise. A loud noise, one that probably, to him, sounded like victory, but to the rest of us, watching on, sounded like a hysterical man bent on getting the attention of anyone and everything in the vicinity.

"You're the Blacksmith's daughter!" He bellowed, as the group stood in a line either side of him, me, directly to his left.

"She is definitely someone's daughter..." I started, before chastising him "And, how do you know this is not some sort of elaborate trap?" I squinted in the bright light of this cave clearing - it was difficult to make anything out, and even my hands looked like an apparition from another world. It was hard to determine if the figure Damon was speaking to was corporeal, or whether she just an illusion, a distraction, or, as I suspected, a piece of bait.

Nonetheless, upon reflection, I would have entered the room and behaved in exactly the same way. The absence of any other options... seemed suspect in its own right.

The woman, the daughter, the bait, whoever she was, was silent. Damon approached her. She didn't speak. He took her by the arm and led her away from the centre of the room, back towards the entrance. I pivoted to track his progress, and all of where immediately on guard to danger.

But there did not seem to be any apparent danger. Until an unseen gate descended from the ceiling, closing off the only way in, and the only way out. At least, the only one we could discern.

Nobody screamed, but there was an edge of panic in the room. With the forest cut off from my world, I too, was a bit anxious, but I didn't have much time for that take hold.

In the centre of the room, where the woman had stood, the stone spiralled downward into a stair case, into some other chamber. Gerald took the lead, and we all followed in tow. All except Damon, who was trying, pointlessly, to smash open the gate that had trapped us in with his hammer.

We took the woman, presuming she was the black smith's daughter, down the stair way with us, and as my eyes adjusted to the dim, I could make out a small party of goblins, and what seemed like an underground lake. No one was swimming laps, but there were boats perched on the shoreline of the underground lake.

I knew what to do. The others saw only the targets at hand, and anticipated a head on fight. Except, of course, Damon, whose incessant hammering from above did not slow. If only he could make himself useful down here. What a dumb man.

My thoughts were interrupted by sounds. Sounds emanating from Marcia. A sort of chanting at first, then an ethereal vocal melody that was simply enchanting. It filled me with a sense of calm, and success, and as I moved to the shoreline, preparing for my coming transformation, it filled with a clarity of thought I hadn't experienced after all.

Perhaps the bardic arts are useful, I thought, dipping a leg into the water, and taking a breath. When I emerged again, I would be taking the form of a giant crab, and I was certain that would be startling the others in the group. Yes, I can shapeshift.

Anita threw a knife in the direction of one of the Goblins. It fell where it stood. Gerald rushed at them, startling them to retreat to a boat. I lurked in the shallows, and once they were aboard the boat, I chopped it to pieces with one rapidly moving claw, and propelled the goblins into the water, holding them down, with the other.

They made such satisfying splashing sounds as they struggled for oxygen. For a moment, it seemed as though Damon's percussive banging was a backing track for Marcia's chanting, but that was not the cause of the percussion.

From the other side of the lake, a large vessel, with dozens of oars emerged, lit by flaming lanterns. It approached at speed. We must have pissed off some important Goblins, or this was just a really unlikely coincidence in this underground lake house.

Arrows emerged from ports on the side of the vessel, and clattered against my temporary crab-shell. It was as though we were about to encounter whoever had really taken the blacksmith's daughter, and it seemed like they had significant forces.

If only Damon would come and help. I couldn't understand while Marcia was still singing amid all this clamour. Gerald and Anita moved to what little cover they could find, and we all collectively inhaled for the fight to come. I didn't know where the Blacksmith's Daughter had gotten to.

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## THE DRUID'S DILEMMA WILL CONTINUE

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Space Reserved for Link to Part 8 when published

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D R A M A T I S

P E R S O N A E

^{(so far)}

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The Druid:
A quiet protagonist-narrator, nameless, female. Lover of wild life. Interested in aquatic welfare. Wants to get on with the job.

The Drunken Cleric:
Damon, alcoholic, violent, full of vitriol. Concussed and dazed. Owes Coin.., learning how to be useful by trying to smash down an impregnable barrier

The Fighter:
Gerald, loves fish, gambling, and pumping iron. Fish 3, Damon 0, Goblins 0,

The Hooded Figure:
Anita, sly, calculating, mysterious. Quick, Stabby, can throw things

The Statuesque Bardess:
Marcia, #1 member of the Damon hate fan club, is owed money, sings songs

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