Crypt of the Shadowking h-6

by Mark Anthony

  "Andebari al Oghma, al d'bai altanl" Tyveris roared. "In the Name of the Binder, may evil's enchantment be shattered!"

  Suddenly the priest of Cyric let out a strangled cry. The circlet about the stone queen's brow flared brilliantly, shattering into countless splinters of stone. The statue halted Then slowly, almost gracefully, it toppled to the street smashing the cobbles as it struck, shaking the very foundations of the city.

  But the statue of the king showed no such reaction. It continued to move toward Caledan, who dangled halfway up the rope.

  "Hurry, Caledan!" Tyveris shouted down. His face looked ashen and haggard. "I dispelled the magic coursing through one of the statues, but I don't think I can break the enchantment in the other!"

  Meanwhile, the priest of Cyric had regained his composure, and his chanting rippled forth once again as he gripped the steel amulet.

  "Allow me," Ferret said. He took the knife Tyveris had used to cut the prisoners' ropes and hefted it experimentally, testing its weight. Then he let if fly with a precise, expert throw.

  The priest's chanting abruptly stopped.

  The flabby disciple of Cyric slipped from the back of his horse, Ferret's knife embedded deep in his throat. Blood flowed out to pool with the grime of the street. The purple glow of the amulet flickered, faded. The statue of the nameless king slowed to a halt.

  Then a rivulet of the dead priest's blood trickled across the steel amulet. The dark blood hissed and steamed. The purple aura strengthened and grew brilliant once again. Blood flowed more quickly toward the amulet now, defying gravity as it rose from the cobbles to the evil symbol.

  The stone king began to move, once more, toward Caledan.

  "Uh-oh," was all Ferret said.

  The statue of the king reached out a hand of granite to crush Caledan.

  Caledan's arms were going numb. He wasn't going to make it.

  "Break the king's circlet, Caledan!" Tyveris bellowed. "It's the heart of its power!"

  The stony fingers, each as thick as a tree branch, began to close about Caledan. There wasn't time to think. Holding on to the rope with one hand, he drew his sword. Just as the cold, hard fingertips brushed against his chest he swung the rope forward and brought the hilt of his sword down on the circlet resting on the statue's brow.

  His hand was thrown back painfully with the force of the blow. The sword clattered to the street far below. The stony fingers closed about his chest, tightening until he could barely breathe-before shuddering to a stop.

  His blow had cracked the king's crown. Brilliant purple sparks flared about the dark fissure, sizzling like lightning. The violet glow wavered, then vanished. The gigantic statue lurched precariously to one side. Caledan tried to free himself from its grip, but he was stuck in its grasp. The stone king started to topple.

  "Oh, no you don't," Tyveris growled. The loremaster, his chest against the bridge, reached down, just managing to grab Caledan's collar. Caledan felt himself pulled roughly from the stone king's grasp as the statue fell next to its queen. With a grunt Tyveris hauled him up onto the bridge.

  Caledan groaned. His shoulders and chest felt as if they were on fire. "I am really far too old for this," he managed between gasps.

  "So are we all," Tyveris rumbled wearily, rubbing his aching temples. Breaking the priest's enchantment had left him exhausted.

  "Speak for yourself," Ferret replied in his raspy voice, his dark eyes shining.

  Caledan could have, he would have strangled the little thief.

  The trio made their way westward along a mazework of bridges far above the city streets. Some Zhentarim tried to follow, but the smokepowder blast had blocked the western exit from the plaza. The three companions quickly left the turmoil of the square behind.

  Finally they descended to a quiet side street. Estah, clad in simple peasant garb, sat on the bench of a farmer's wagon filled with straw, holding the reins to a pair of ponies. Man was with her.

  "Ferret!" Estah cried out in joy at the sight of the thief. He bowed deeply in response.

  "What took you so long?" Man asked, her eyes flashing. Caledan and Tyveris exchanged a weary look. "I really don't think you'd believe us, Harper." She laughed. "You're probably right." "We'd better go," Estah warned. "The guards will be coming this way soon enough."

  No one argued with the healer. Caledan, Mari, Tyveris, and Ferret burrowed themselves deep into the concealing straw in the bed of the wagon, and Estah flicked the reins. The wagon clattered down the street.

  Estah was right. Minutes later a pair of hard-faced Zhentarim warriors pounded on their chargers down the street. However, all they saw was a halfling farmer driving her wagon to market. They swore as they continued on, knowing that if they didn't find the troublemakers Lord Cutter was going to have their heads.

  Eight

  Twilight crept on soft, padded feet into the garden behind the Dreaming Dragon. Mari sat on a stone bench, watching as the pale crescent of the moon rose above the city's spires, its silken light glimmering off the moon-and-harp pin she wore on her jacket. The faint, sweet scent of the first crocuses hung upon the cool evening air, and the mourning doves that nested in the branches of an ancient oak tree sang their gentle song. She folded the piece of parchment she held and slipped it into her pocket. It was a missive from the Harpers.

  She had managed to slip away to the free market in the New City that afternoon to meet the messenger, but later Caledan had nearly caught her reading the secret communication. That would not have been good. The missive came from the hand of Belhuar Thantarth, from Twilight Hall in Berdusk. Continue your close contact with Caldorien, the Hussive had instructed her. However, he is not to discover from you what we already know. His resentment of the Harpers runs far too deep for him to believe what we have learned. He must discover the importance of the shadow magic himself.

  Mari heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching and looked up to see the big loremaster, Tyveris. He smiled broadly as he walked toward her, his teeth white in the moonlight, and Mari could not help but smile in return. There was a gentleness about the priest of Oghma despite his size, and he seemed perpetually good-natured.

  "Estah would not be pleased if you caught a chill out here, Mari," Tyveris said reprovingly, though as always there was a kindly note in his voice. He held out a midnight blue cloak and wrapped it about her shoulders. Mari tensed for a second when she realized that the cloak was Caledan's, then she relaxed. Tyveris meant well, and besides, he was right. The air was chilly, and she had been shivering.

  "Thank you, Tyveris," she said, pulling the cloak tightly about herself.

  "It really isn't safe to be out here so long, you know." Tyveris's dark eyes were concerned behind his spectacles. "The Zhentarim are combing the city for us after our exploits yesterday. Ferret's already… er… disposed of one guard who ventured too near the inn. You should come inside."

  "I will," she said. "I was simply… thinking, that's all."

  "Are you well, Mari?" Tyveris sat next to her on the bench. It groaned alarmingly beneath his bulk.

  Mari smiled at the massive Tabaxi. "Oh, it's nothing really," she told him. "This is just a day for memories, that's all." She took a deep breath of the purple air, sighing. "I was raised by a Harper, you know. Master Andros was his name. When I was a child, in the city of Elturel, both of my parents died of the fever. After that, I lived on the streets for several months, finding food where I could. But then winter came. I don't know if I would have survived. Or, if I had survived, what I might have become. That was when Master Andros found me."

  Mari thought back to that cold day, to the small, thin girl she had been, shivering in her rags in a storm drain beneath an abandoned building. She had been so afraid at first when the man had stopped and peered in at her through the grating. But his blue eyes had been so kind that finally she had reached out and taken his hand.

  "He took me in, like you take in children at the abbey, Tyveris. We lived in a small, rambling cotta
ge, filled with books, and maps, and musical instruments. He was growing older and didn't travel for the Harpers anymore. We spent our evenings together by the fire, reading, making music, or talking about ancient days. But Master Andros was more than just my teacher. He was my father, Tyveris, and my friend."

  The loremaster laid one of his big hands gently on Mari's own. "How long ago did his spirit move on?" he asked her softly.

  "Three years ago today," she said, surprised at the tightness in her throat and the trembling in her voice. What would Master Andros think of her? He had always taught her to be strong. "I joined the Harpers after he died," she said, clenching her jaw and forcing her trembling to stop. "I want more than anything to make him proud of me."

  They sat in silence for a time while the doves sang their sorrowful song. Finally Tyveris squeezed her hand and then stood. "Why must you make him proud of you, child?" he asked her softly. "Was he not already?"

  Before Mari could reply Tyveris turned and walked back into the firelit glow of the inn, leaving her alone in the darkness of the garden.

  Caledan headed down the narrow back stairwell and joined the others in the private dining chamber.

  Tyveris and Mari were helping Estah set supper on the board as Ferret entertained Pog and Nog with a copper coin the thief had borrowed from them. The weaselly little man sent the coin dancing about his knuckles, the penny disappearing in one hand only to reappear in the other. The two halfling children watched in rapt delight, and Nog squealed when Ferret seemingly pulled the coin right out of the boy's ear.

  "All right, that's enough," Estah scolded the three of them. 'To the supper table with all of you." Pog and Nog groaned in disappointment but shuffled off, dragging their feet, to obey their mother. Ferret, of course, pocketed their coin as he followed.

  "So are you ever going to tell us why Lord Ravendas wanted to string you up, Ferret?" Caledan asked the thief as they broke bread.

  Ferret shrugged. "All you had to do was ask, Caledan. It isn't as if it's a secret. I was making plans to escape from Ravendas's work gangs beneath the city, along with the other prisoners who were going to be hanged." He scratched at the dark stubble on his pointed chin. "But then one of the prisoners in on the plan got scared and betrayed us to the Zhentarim. That's when Ravendas decided to make an example of us. Oh, by the way." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object. He handed it to Mari. "I believe this is yours."

  "How-?" Mari started. He had handed her the moon-and-harp pin she always wore on her jacket, the sigil of the Harpers.

  "Just trying to keep in practice," Ferret explained with a wink.

  "Well how did you get yourself captured in the first place, Ferret?" Tyveris asked.

  "A minor miscalculation," Ferret replied, looking decidedly uncomfortable. "I had decided to relieve one of those spineless lords of a portion of his rather considerable store of gold. Unfortunately, I had the bad luck to pick one who had managed to get himself on Ravendas's bad side. Just as I was about to leave his tower, the Zhentarim broke down the door and threw the lord in chains, hauling him off to the dungeons. They captured me as well, even though I was merely an innocent bystander."

  "'Innocent bystander?'"

  Ferret shot Caledan a sour look. "Anyway," he said in his raspy voice, "Ravendas has quite an operation going on down beneath the tower's dungeons. The tunnels go on for miles. She must have close to a thousand cityfolk slaving for her against their wills. I don't know what it is she's digging for down there, but it must be something pretty important."

  Caledan nodded intently. "I'd pay handsomely for that information."

  "Really?" Ferret asked, a gleam in his beady eyes. "I might be able to… ask around."

  Caledan grimaced, reaching for his purse. "All right, Ferret," he grumbled. "How much is it going to cost?"

  It was midnight. Caledan and Mari stood in the shadows of a deserted intersection in the Old City, waiting. "Where is he?" Mari said in a whisper. "You don't suppose he ran off with the gold we gave him, do you? He is a thief, after all."

  He'll be here," Caledan whispered back. Unless the rogue ends up with a knife in his back, Caledan added silently to himself. "Ferret may not be strictly honorable, out there is a certain consistency to his actions, and we've been friends a long time. Besides, he wants the Zhentarim gone from the city just as much as we do, and I'm sure the thieves' guild does as well. They must be losing a fortune to Ravendas."

  "I'm still not certain petitioning a thieves' guild for help is a good idea," Man said.

  Caledan disagreed. "Thieves are as much a part of city life as temples, schools, and markets are. They keep the merchants from getting fat and lazy, and give the city guards something to do besides troubling honest folk. Now what could be wrong with that?"

  It was scant minutes later when the shadows stirred, and Ferret abruptly appeared. "So did you have any luck?" Caledan asked.

  Ferret nodded. "A little, I think. I tried all day to find out if there were any thieves in the city who had done work for Ravendas since she's been here, someone who might have heard what it is she wants, or know something concrete about her underground operations."

  "And?"

  "Most thieves have been avoiding her," Ferret explained. "No one wants to do work for someone who's likely to dispose of you when the job's finished. But I did hear of one old fellow, named Tembris, who did a job for her when she first came to Iriaebor. He may know something."

  "So where is this Tembris?" Mari asked.

  Ferret cast a nervous glance over his shoulder. "Uh, I'll tell you on the way. I don't think it's such a good idea to stand around here for long." He started off at a brisk pace down the street, and Caledan and Mari hurried to keep up.

  "All right, Ferret. Who did you kill?" Caledan asked the rogue sternly.

  "No one," the thief answered in his raspy voice. "Er, no one you know, that is." He gave Mari a sheepish look. " pie can be so uncooperative sometimes."

  The Harper glared at the weaselly thief. Caledan, ever, didn't care how Ferret had gotten his information as long as it got them some answers.

  "This Tembris is a member of the Purple Masks Guild," Ferret explained as they made their way through the darkened streets.

  "Well, that's going to complicate things," Caledan muttered.

  "How so?" Mari asked.

  "Ferret and his family are independent thieves, Harper," Caledan replied.

  "He means we're not aligned with the guild," Ferret added. "Guilds don't usually tolerate independents like us. They generally give independents two choices-either join or be killed."

  "Why hasn't your family joined?" Mari asked with a puzzled frown.

  Ferret laughed nastily. "You don't know my grandmother Jewel, the head of my clan. She refuses to answer to anybody. Even a guildmaster would think twice before tangling with her."

  Soon they stood before a temple built of pale marble. Graceful columns supported an intricately carved facade, behind which rose a lofty, tapering spire. An elaborate frieze glimmered in the moonlight beneath the temple's cornices, depicting a woman with flowing hair holding the reins of a chariot that rode through the sky, bearing the orb of the moon.

  "The Purple Masks Guild is in the temple of the goddess Selune?" Caledan questioned Ferret.

  "Of course not," the rogue protested. "It's beneath it. The Moon Goddess is revered by all who walk the night, you know."

  They stepped through massive doors of polished Mahogany into the shadowy temple. Within was a long, column-lined hall. Moonlight poured through windows high in the pale walls, caught and reflected by mirrors so that the entire temple glowed with an unearthly light. A few priests and worshipers moved quietly about the temple, but none seemed to take notice of the three newcomers.

  A row of teakwood prayer boxes lined one wall, each large enough for a person to kneel in while making a silent, private plea to the goddess. Ferret counted the boxes as they passed by. When he had counted to thirteen, he st
opped. He opened the door and stepped into the small, dark space, gesturing for Caledan and Mari to follow. The Harper protested, claiming they couldn't possibly all fit inside.

  "You can wait outside if you like," Caledan told her, stepping into the cramped space.

  She swore under her breath, tossed her dark auburn hair, then stepped into the prayer box. Caledan shut the door. The only light came from a grate in the box's roof. The three barely fit, and Caledan was forced to take shallow breaths. The Harper was pressed close against him, and for the first time he noticed how small she really was. Her head barely came to his shoulder, and her hands, each cupping an elbow of her crossed arms, seemed half the size of his own.

  Ferret rapped three times on the wooden back of the prayer box, paused, then knocked twice more. Suddenly the wooden panel slid to one side, revealing a corridor beyond. The three stumbled into the larger space.

  Caledan froze. A swordpoint glittered in the torchlight an inch from his chest. A man clad all in gray except for a silken violet mask held the hilt of the sword, watching him warily. Caledan looked to either side and saw that Mari and Ferret had been similarly greeted.

  "Well, if it isn't the famous Ferret," one of the thieves said with an unpleasant smile. "The guildmaster is going to be pleased to see you, my friend." Caledan looked questioningly at Ferret, but the thief only shrugged.

  They were led down a long flight of stairs and then through a labyrinthine network of corridors and chambers that must have spread beneath the entire temple. Caledan had known the thieves of Iriaebor were organized, but he had no idea the guild had such an elaborate headquarters. Finally they were escorted into a lavishly decorated chamber Many-hued silks hung from the walls, and the floor was strewn with thick rugs and embroidered cushions. On a heap of pillows in the chamber's center reclined an enormous man. He was dressed in maroon and silver silk and held a goblet of wine in a fat, ring-covered hand.