Room16ab
Jora reaches for the black mirror which races forward to envelop the group.
The transition is different than before. No cold assaults them, instead, dry heat like the open mouth of a blast furnace washes over them. Their mouths fill with grit with the taste of brimstone and salt. Dust and clouds swirl around them and then the air clears and they stand in the center of the room, their feet covered in sand.
The mirrors have disappeared.
In the corner of the room between the black and white doors crouches an enormous beast.
The creature’s body is that of a lion but a lion of a size which no man has ever seen. Its shoulder is level with the top of Jora’s head and each paw is as wide as his hips.
The human head perched on the monster’s neck snarls with fury and shakes the long black hair and beard as the youngsters appear.
“Will you face me in a battle of wits?”
Jora draws his sword and hears Conrad do the same beside him. “No, monster, we have chosen the path of war.”
“Then you shall die, no man can best me.”
“Lamia, the scroll,” Jora shouts.
Lamia digs in her pack and draws forth the scroll with the eye. She unrolls it and holds it toward the snarling monster.
“The eye,” it screams. “How did you get the eye?”
Jora screams a war cry and charges the sphinx. His sword stabs forward, swift as lightning, and the point buries itself between the monster’s ribs.
The sphinx roars in agony and a spray of blood erupts from the wound covering Jora in gore.
“We can kill it,” Conrad crows and slashes at the sphinx drawing blood from its left leg.
The sphinx turns away from the swords only to face Lamia, holding the scroll with the eye symbol between her teeth.
The monster wails and cowers, backing away from the image. Lamia swings her staff with all her might, crushing the monster’s cheek.
Safir dives forward slamming her weapon against the creature’s ribs. The monster wails and screams like a soul in torment as the four adventurers hack and beat it. Blood flies across the room coating the walls and the four warriors with dripping red ichor.
The monster collapses beneath the assault and the screaming adventurers attack for several minutes before realizing that the monster has been vanquished. They stagger back from the corpse. It no longer resembles a proud leonine monster; it is as ravaged as an antelope carcass after being feasted upon by a pride of lions.
The four friends hoot and scream in victory. They hug each other in joy and relief at having defeated such a formidable foe.
Jora finds himself hugging Safir tightly and the pair locks eyes. She really is beautiful, he thinks. Why has he never seen this before?
“You’re disgusting,” Safir says shattering the moment. She laughs and looks down at her own hands and clothing. “Of course, so am I.”
She digs in her pack and tosses white cloths to Lamia and Conrad. She takes another cloth and reaches toward Jora’s face. “Allow me.”
Jora nods and closes his eyes. The cloth moves across his face and neck with long gentle strokes. He understands why cats purr in pleasure; he feels a strange urge to do so.
“Good enough.”
Jora opens his eyes and then holds out his hand for the final cloth. Safir smiles, white through the red, and hands the towel over. Jora returns the favor, wiping gore from the girl’s features until her pink cheeks shine unmarred by gore.
“All clean,” he says.
“In that case, you still owe me a kiss.”
Safir purses her lips and turns her face up to Jora.
He places a finger on her lips. “Once we’re free; I promise.”
“I’ll hold you to that, sir.”
What choice should the adventurers make?