Benton awoke in the dark. He tried to sit up, but discovered his hands were tied behind his back. He lay still and tried to determine the nature of his surroundings. By the feel of it, he wasn't at the bottom of a crevasse in the mountainside. He was lying on a masonry floor. By the echo, he judged he was in a room about 15 feet square. His eyes were adjusting to the dimness, and by the flickering light from a torch that leaked through the cracks in a closed door, he could see the inert form of Sitto Lan lying on the other side of the room.
Benton tried to sit up again, to find that his legs were tied too, and that he was tied by a long cord to the wall. He said in a hushed voice, "Sitto. Are you awake?"
He took Sitto's refusal to answer as a negative. He swung his legs around to try to nudge Sitto, and managed to boot him in the head. That got a reaction. "Ow," mumbled Sitto.
Sitto tried to sit up only to discover that he was tied up. "I'm tied up," said Sitto.
"Yes," replied Benton.
"Where are we?"
"It would appear that we are in a dungeon," said Benton. After a moment, he reconsidered and continued a little more helpfully, "It would appear that we were captured by the Horde after we fell into the crevasse and brought here. Presumably, we are somewhere inside the Dark Mountain. From here it should be easy to find the captain."
Sitto looked around the dungeon and said wryly, "Oh yeah. We've got them right where they want us...."
Both Benton and Sitto started trying to untie themselves, but the bonds were too tight. Finally, Sitto gave up and said, "What are we going to do?"
"Just sit here, I guess."
"YAAAHH!!!" shouted Sitto from across the room.
"What?!"
"Something small and hairy just brushed against me!" yelled a jumpy Sitto.
Benton strained his senses trying to detect whatever it was that had upset Sitto. Then he saw it -- a small shape near the wall opposite the door, and it was coming toward him. It moved with a peculiar, but not entirely unfamiliar undulating motion. Then Benton recognized it.
"Spot!" he exclaimed.
"What?" choked out an unbelieving Sitto.
"It's Spot," repeated Benton. "He must have been transported to Xenon III the same time all the rest of us were, just to a different place."
And they don't have much to eat here, let me tell you! thought Spot. He trundled over to where Benton sat.
"Think you can chew through these bonds?" Benton asked Spot.
Spot crawled up and began chewing.
"I thought tribbles didn't have any teeth," said Sitto from across the room.
"They don't," replied Benton. "But Spot is only half tribble." As he said that, the last fiber of his bonds snapped and he was free, thanks to Spot. Benton carried Spot over to Sitto and set him to work on Sitto's bonds. Soon both men were free again. Benton placed Spot in a belt pouch and Sitto said, "I owe you a dozen jelly doughnuts, Spot." Spot chirped.
Benton checked the door, it was unlocked. They left their prison cell, and proceeded into the hallway outside. In an alcove near the door, Benton found their weapons. The two men quickly rearmed themselves and then continued. The hallway was dark, and didn't seem oft-used. But from somewhere ahead of them they could hear some commotion: howling and wailing, drumming and foot-stomping, and rough chanting in an alien tongue. It sounded like some sort of ceremony. They hurried.
As they drew closer to the source of the noise, Benton could understand short snatches of the chanting. It was a harsh evil-sounding language that hurt his ears to listen to it, but he recognized some names from Glybothar's tale, names of the evil Horde leaders: Morthog, Nazboor, Mordamo, Azhnagh. Liberally sprinkled throughout the chanting was the name Pharox. And then one name that filled Benton with foreboding: Stephen.
Are we too late? Benton quickened his pace. Sitto kept up. Ahead was a steady, unearthly glow, and Benton could feel the heat rising.
Suddenly, he and Sitto burst out into a large chamber. The opposite wall was fifty feet away. The room was lit with a hellish, red glow emanating from within a 5-foot wide channel that ran the entire width of the room from wall to wall. A narrow stone bridge spanned the channel, linking the two sides of the room. The occasional flicker of fire could be glimpsed dancing above the lip of the channel. The heat emanated from there.
But Benton's attention quickly went from the details of the room itself to the inhabitants of the room, for it not deserted, this was the source of the chanting and drumming. Six black-robed Horde were on each side of the fiery chasm, beating huge ceremonial drums. On this side, nearer the chasm itself, as if they thrived on the heat, were the four aforementioned Horde leaders. They were also clad in dark robes, although theirs were much more ornate than the drummers'.
Hovering above the center of the chasm was a being of terrifying dimension and attribute. It was a creature that seemed made of fire itself, although it had a vague, humanoid form. All the evil and malice that had been directed at the Virgos on their march to Dark Mountain emanated from this one being. At last, they had discovered the true source of the troubles on Xenon III: Pharox!
But then Benton saw something that really turned his blood cold. On the other side of the fiery channel, he could see Captain Stephen Maruu! He seemed to be restrained somehow, and there was a hooded figure standing behind him. This entire ceremony seemed aimed at the captain, and that couldn't be good! Then the hooded figure stepped forward and lifted his cowl. It was another Stephen Maruu! But this one was dressed in the garb of the Horde!
All these observation took less than two seconds, of course. As soon as Benton and Sitto came crashing out of their tunnel into the chamber, the drumming and chanting stopped and all the Hordes' attention turned to the two intruders.
Benton and Sitto both let fly with their wrist-crossbows, and three Horde drummers dropped right off the bat, but the rest drew weapons and charged.
Suddenly, out of other doorways along this side of the chamber, Thuddius, Francesca, and Dweezle burst amid a hail of bolts. The Horde attack lost its momentum, and the hand-to-hand battle was joined. Benton could see Thudd mowing down Horde as he tried to get to the captain. Francesca was keeping to the sidelines, picking off stragglers with her crossbows. Sitto was taking on two opponents at once.
Suddenly, Benton found himself face to face with a very large Horde. It snarled at him and hissed in a raspy voice, "Azhnagh doash fencha poo!" It swung its wicked idej at Benton's head.
As Benton ducked under the blow, a peculiar tint on the blade caught his attention. The cutting edge was coated with some sort of oily substance. Poison! thought Benton frantically. The tiniest nick will likely kill!
Even as he dodged the Horde's first blow, in one smooth movement he slipped his own slender blade from its sheath and delivered a backhanded counterblow beneath the Horde's guard that managed to slice its leg deep.
The Horde bellowed in rage and pain, and clawed at its wound. Benton took advantage of its distraction and kicked the poisoned idej from its hand, then quickly finished it off with one quick thrust.
As Azhnagh slipped off his sword blade and onto the floor, Benton heard a warning shout from somewhere behind him. He tried to twist away from the new attack, but the second Horde leader's blade sliced a shallow furrow in his left biceps.
"Mordamo farthuk naghpur!" it screamed at him as it swung its idej again.
Benton barely managed to deflect the blow. He tried several times to get through Mordamo's defenses, but wasn't able to. He seemed to be getting weaker by the minute. His left arm felt like it was on fire. Mordamo was now pushing Benton back toward the burning chasm.
The Horde paused, sensing that victory was near. Suddenly, it roared in pain and began frantically trying to reach something out of reach on its back. Benton didn't wait to figure out what had happened, he simply took advantage of the break he had been handed. He lunged forward with his blade and took the Horde Mordamo through the chest.
Mordamo grimaced, then toppled forward onto the floor with a mighty crash. Spot was dislodged from Mordamo's back by the shock of the impact and rolled a few feet to come to rest against Benton's boot. He chirped innocently.
Benton was glad to see his old friend, but couldn't imagine how Spot got out of the pouch and onto the Horde's back. He looked about. His teammates had taken care of the other two Horde leaders, and the few remaining Horde were giving scant resistance.
Suddenly, his legs gave way and Benton landed hard on his knees. His sword fell from his suddenly numb hand and clattered on the floor in front of him. He remembered the wound on his arm from Mordamo's idej and instantly guessed what had happened. So, this is how it ends, he thought. With that, he tipped forward and landed on top of the slain Mordamo.
The sounds of the battle seemed to recede into the background. As if from a great distance, Benton thought he heard Spot screeching and a woman shouting his name. Then, someone turned him over so he was face-up. Gentle arms cradled his head. His eyes fluttered open and he saw that it was Francesca.
Then everything went dark.