Downfall

The kobold's voice was different, softer, and the words were less distinct. The kobold was different, too. The scraggly hair that clung to his bottom jaw turned white as the companions watched. Then it began fluttering to the floor, like dry pine needles falling from a dead tree.

He opened his mouth, as if to say something again. His eyes were wide with fright and disbelief, and his fingers, which were feeling frantically about his face, were trembling. Fetch's scaly skin was flaking and losing its color, becoming as gray as the stone on which he sat. His eyes had lost their glossiness, the red fading to a dark pink. The kobold gasped, a rattling wheeze escaping his lips, and he glanced between Dhamon and Rig as his chest heaved.

The mariner stared slack-jawed. "Dhamon…"

"I see him, Rig."

"Magic. The little guy mentioned something about the magic exacting a price."

Rikali sucked in her breath. The half-elf had been watching the river, and only now truly noticed that the kobold had changed. "Pigs, what happened to you, Fetch?"

The kobold didn't reply, though he gestured feebly to the pool.

"Well, make it change you back," the half-elf stated. "Wiggle your fingers and make it fix you."

Rig shook his head. "I don't think that's possible."

"Well, maybe it'll wear off."

"I feel…" Fetch began in his soft voice. "Cold."

"Dhamon, what are we gonna do about him? Can Grim…" Rikali's words trailed off as she glanced again at the river. "Dhamon, the river really is risin'! We have to hurry. Please, lover! Let's just grab Fetch and get out of here. We'll take him to Grim Kedar's. That old ogre'll fix him up, just like he did you and Mai."

Dhamon glanced at Fetch, his face an unreadable mask, then he turned and hurried toward the water. He rugged his boots free and tucked their tops under his belt in the back. The half-elf followed him, asking what they should do about Fetch and would Dhamon carry him. He didn't answer her, simply grasped Rikali's hand and eased into the water, taking several deep breaths. Rikali clung to the edge for a moment, looking at the dais.

Rig padded closer to the kobold until he was towering over Fetch.

"Shouldn't we wait for them, lover?" she asked.

Dhamon took several more deep breaths and shook his head. "No, the river's rising too fast." His tone was emotionless. "I'm not waiting around for them. It might have been a mistake to wait this long." He dropped below the surface, beginning to swim with the current. Rikali took a last look at Rig and Fetch, then followed after Dhamon, the green light fading as they swam from the chamber and were swallowed by the absolute blackness.

* * * * * * *

Rig stared at the kobold. Was the green light playing tricks? Simply making the kobold look… older? An illusion. Perhaps it was something from the pool, maybe it took the kobold's energy. And, perhaps when the kobold rested he would revert to his more youthful appearance. The mariner wished Palin Majere was here. The sorcerer would know what to do. Though he wondered whether Palin would have toyed with the pool to begin with.

"We have to leave," he said finally, scowling when the creature twitched and wheezed. "You all right? Fetch?"

The kobold shivered and wrapped his arms around his chest. His eyes had faded further. "No, I'm not all right," he hissed. "Damn Black Robe magic. Said there was a price. I paid it all right. A big one."

The mariner seemed genuinely concerned for the creature and took a closer look at him. The usual mix of scales and skin beneath the robe, though the color had changed, still had the stench. But when the kobold looked up to meet his stare, the mariner noticed something else different. It was an illusion or a trick of the green light.

There were wrinkles about his eyes, like an aging human would exhibit, and the hairs that grew in scattered clumps along the sides of his head were a smattering of red and gray, and there weren't as many of them. Rig extended a hand, and the kobold took it, grimacing a little when he got up.

"Ache a lot," Fetch said. His shoulders shook as he turned from the mariner, stuffing his fist in his mouth to choke back a sob. "Stolen," the kobold repeated. "Years."

"What's a few years? Besides, whatever happened, it'll probably just wear off. Just like Dhamon suggested. And there is that pasty-faced ogre in Bloten." Rig adopted a light tone, hoping to get the creature moving. "Grim, right? We'll go see Grim." He looked at the river. If I had any sense, he thought to himself, I'd leave this little thing right here and swim for it.

The kobold had squared his diminutive shoulders. "It stole more than just a few years. My arms and legs feel stiff. Hurts to move ‘em. Don't see quite so well. Everything's a little fuzzy."