Dark Army: Hoist On His Own Petard

Kas Luthien paced back and forth across the chamber, occasionally glancing at the darkwater pool. It still showed the library, empty. The would-be king and the traitors were gone again. They were obviously still in the tower somehow, and every minute that passed brought all of them closer to the restoration of Fanaxia and the resurrection of his mistress Vecna. 

Still, they kept doing things that they shouldn't have been able to do. Watching the morgs paralyze the little gnome and the Dwint'lithar girl had been deeply satisfying, but then that brat who called himself Ruin had ripped the morgs off them and tossed the undead right off the tower. The heretic priest had taken a few blows, but he'd also been fighting with a flame blade that somehow worked despite the suppression of their magics. Their sorceress was all but useless now, but still she could somehow fire off magic missiles... and the half-dragon had cut the Angel of Decay apart. 

None of that should have been possible. 

He still didn't know how they managed to disappear. Whatever they were doing, they were obviously using the opportunity to rest and heal -- though again, how that was possible he couldn't imagine. They should have been dead three times over already. 

Almonda was right, he decided. He had his magics; they didn't. He should go down there and kill them himself. He turned and strode for the door, placed his hand upon the handle, and yanked it open. 

A fly buzzed past his ear. 

He stopped in the doorway. Slowly he turned and looked back at the darkwater pool... and at the twin piles of platinum beside it. 

He couldn't. If he went down there and ended this himself, he would be cheating on the bet he'd made with Malafar. It was one thing to lose a bet with the Hierophant; it was quite another to try to cheat him. No, he was trapped in his artificial maze just as much as his intended victims were. Which was, no doubt, exactly what the Hierophant Malafar had intended. 

"You fucking bastard," he rasped. He had to wait for their arrival now, relying on the measures he'd already put in place. Relying on Almonda, very likely. He felt a sting with the realization. Malafar couldn't help but win, at this point. If their enemies died, then the Order of Secrets came out ahead and the Hierophant could point out that he had blessed Luthien's endeavor. If they somehow survived the maze and slew Luthien, then there was one less rival for their Mistress' attention. And if Luthien went downstairs, even to assist Almonda and her forces, he would be violating the bet and giving Malafar an excuse to be rid of him. 

Standing in the open doorway, Luthien called for food and drink and then went to settle himself beside the darkwater pool again. None of that mattered, he told himself. This would work. 

It had to.