Jarial swallowed the dose and within minutes was able to walk around the chamber. When his stride had steadied, he held the foursome in his gaze. "I can't thank you enough," he said. "What quest brings you to these dungeons? You must let me aid you."
Kestrel laughed humorlessly. He was welcome to take her place.
The band, now five in number, continued through the maze of passages. Jarial thought he remembered the location of a stairway that led up into the hill of the acropolis, so at his suggestion the party backtracked to a previous fork and headed down a different corridor.
A few yards down, light spilled out of a doorway. Within, they heard sounds of shuffling and sporadic muttering as if someone were talking to himself. Kestrel snuck ahead and peered inside.
Nottle the peddler bent over an open trunk, rummaging through its contents. "An' what's this? Ah, yes! Dwarven weapons always fetch a good price."
Kestrel blinked. The peddler was foraging through the dungeons as casually as if he were shopping in Phlan's marketplace. Was the little guy trying to get himself killed? She motioned to the others to join her, then entered the chamber. Engrossed in his scavenging, the halfling didn't even notice her.
"Nottle, what are you doing here?"
"Yiaah!" The peddler jumped about a foot. The short sword he'd been holding clattered back into the chest. "Jeepers! Ye scared me!"
"Worse things than us could stroll into this room," Kestrel said as her companions entered. "How did you get in here?"
"I saw ye folks unseal the door, and I follow'd ye in. Them elven clerics mean well an' all, but thanks t' them I ain't been able to git in here fer weeks—all the good stuff's nearly gone."
The paladin shook his head in disbelief. "You're telling us this whole dungeon complex has been plundered in a matter of weeks?" Corran asked. "By whom?"
"Everyone!" Nottle retrieved the short sword he'd dropped and added it to the collection of booty he evidently intended to abscond with. "Since them horrible phaerimm and alhoon have been run outta this part o'the city, all sortsa creatures come here to loot their old hoards. Why do ye think there's so many orcs about? It's a great time to be a scavenger!"
"Aren't you afraid for your safety?" Ghleanna asked.
"No more'n usual." The peddler struggled into his overstuffed pack and picked up his lantern. "A bit o'danger comes with the trade. If I wanted to play it completely safe, I'd open a borin' little shop in Waterdeep. 'Sides, the orcs're some o'my best customers, so they pretty much leave me alone."
"Orcs aren't the only things haunting these passageways," Jarial said. "I've seen zombies and—"
"Oh, I can handle a few zombies." Nottle headed for the door. "Nice chattin' with ye folks again. Let me know if ye need anythin'!" With that, he was gone.
All five of them stared after the peddler. "He's going to get himself killed," Durwyn said.
Kestrel shrugged. "Better him than us." In a way, she envied the halfling. Were the need for stealth not so great on this misguided mission of theirs, she would have enjoyed looting these ruins right along with Nottle. But she could ill afford the noise of carrying too much plunder.
As they filed out of the room, Kestrel heard Durwyn whisper to Jarial, "What's an alhoon?" She'd wondered the same thing herself at Nottle's first mention of them but hadn't wanted to admit ignorance.
"An undead mind flayer," the mage said. "Horrible creatures with heads that look like an octopus. Between their psionic powers and wizard spells they're deadly opponents."
"And the phaerimm?"
"Extremely powerful magic-using creatures, nearly all teeth, claws, and tail. I saw plenty of them—and alhoon—in the time I was trapped down here, but as the peddler said, they just up and disappeared one day. It must have taken something awfully strong to drive them away."
Kestrel didn't want to dwell on what that "something" might be. If it was the same creature—or creatures— responsible for creating the new Pool of Radiance, their mission was even more futile than she'd thought.
They headed farther down the passage, ducking into rooms as they continued their search for a way up and out of the dungeons. Many of the rooms stood empty or littered with broken furniture, while others—probably the former lairs of the alhoon and phaerimm—held ransacked chests or similar signs of already having been visited by scavengers such as Nottle. As in the region where Jarial had been trapped, the torches along the wall of this new area became sparser, until they reached a zone where there were none at all. Though each of the explorers held a torch, the flames did little to illuminate their surroundings. A pall of preternatural darkness cloaked this sector of the dungeons.
They came upon a room that seemed to serve as an antechamber to a larger complex. Several doors in the back and side walls stood open, and the party entered one to find themselves engulfed in nearly total darkness. The flames of their torches cast little more light than candles.
"I don't recognize this area at all," Jarial said. "We must have made a wrong t—"
"Hush!" Kestrel interrupted him. She held her breath, concentrating on a sound she heard echoing from the stillness. Rattle. Scrape. Rattle. The noise seemed to come from a room off to their right
Rattle rattle. Scrape scrape. Rattle rattle.
"I hear it, too," Ghleanna whispered.
Clack. Clack. Clack clack.
Corran's hand drifted to his sword hilt, but suddenly stopped. He sucked in his breath. "It almost sounds like—"
A white shape shuffled into view, its grinning head and gangly limbs a stark contrast to the blackness beyond. Clattering erupted as a sea of others appeared behind it.
"Skeletons!" Durwyn leapt forward, swinging his battle-axe in a wide arc that shattered the skull of the nearest foe.
"At least a dozen of them," Corran called out as two creatures armed with swords closed in on him. He left his own sword in its sheath, reaching for the warhammer on his back instead. In a single movement, he brought it around and smashed the sternum of the first skeleton. It crumpled into a pile on the ground.
The creatures were closing in fast. There had to be more than a dozen, but in the poor light Kestrel couldn't determine where they were coming from. She grabbed her club from her belt and snapped her wrist to extend the weapon to its full length. Her daggers would do no good against a mass of walking bones with no flesh to pierce.
A sudden flare issued from Jarial's fingertips, sending a sheet of flames shooting toward a group of skeletons. Within seconds, the blaze consumed three of them and caused two more to fall back. Distracted by the spell, Kestrel almost didn't hear the rattling bones approaching behind her. She spun around, automatically swinging her club. The baton struck the lone skeleton hard enough to knock it off balance. She seized the advantage and struck again, knocking its weapon out of its grasp. Her third strike bashed in its skull.
She glanced back at the others. Corran had dispatched several skeletons, but for every one that fell two more surged in. Both warriors were heavily engaged now, shielding the more physically vulnerable sorcerers. As she watched, Durwyn swung his axe in a powerful arc that sent the skulls of two creatures flying at once. Their headless remains clattered into a pile at his feet He kicked the bones aside and pressed forward to attack another foe.
A flash of steel caught her eye, alerting her just in time to an advancing opponent. Was it the flickering torchlight, or had this collection of bones yellowed with age or decay? Its sinister grin held no teeth, and cracks appeared along its clavicle and pelvis. The creature swung its sword in a jerky motion that Kestrel easily parried. She then struck the frail hipbone with all the strength she could muster. The brittle pelvis shattered.
The skeleton, now in two halves, collapsed. The fall alone sent several ribs skidding across the floor. Its legs fell still, but the creature propped its torso up on one bony hand and swung its sword with the other, trying to cut Kestrel's legs out from under her. She jumped to avoid the sweeping weapon and
landed on the weakened collarbone. It snapped under her weight. A final blow from her club kept the creature from rising again.
She had just finished off this latest foe when she saw Corran cast aside his torch. A moment later, a flash of metal in his left hand caught her attention. His holy symbol. Did he hope to repel the skeletons as he had the zombies last night? The creatures were coming at him too fast to give him a chance.
A crazy, desperate idea entered her thoughts, and she acted before she could talk herself out of it. She dove to the ground and rolled into the skeletons. The creature nearest Corran crashed to the floor. Before it could recover its feet, she swung her club and caught another skeleton in the knees. It fell on top of the first and caused a third to trip over their sprawled bones. Kestrel scrambled out of the pile. They were down but not defeated, providing Corran with only a small window of opportunity.
It was all he needed. "By all that is holy, begone!" he cried, holding Tyr's symbol aloft.
At the paladin's shout the skeletons nearest him retreated. At the same time, light burst from the head of Ghleanna's staff, at last fully illuminating the room.
Nine skeletons—those Corran had repelled—circled the room's perimeter, keeping as much distance as possible between themselves and the paladin as they attempted to reach the exits. Two more yet advanced, while the three Kestrel had felled clumsily tried to disengage themselves from each other.
The sudden brightness startled the skeletons enough to give the explorers the initiative. Kestrel easily finished off the three fallen creatures, methodically bashing each skull. Ghleanna smashed her quarterstaff through the spinal column of one of those advancing, while Durwyn arced his axe to crush another. He and the paladin then set about picking off the retreating skeletons.
A low moan behind her caused Kestrel to spin around again—and add a groan of her own to the chant as an all-too-familiar smell greeted her nostrils. "Zombies!" she called out. Five of the creatures shuffled into the chamber from the door through which the explorers had entered. She tossed her twin daggers at the first walking corpse, then reached for the blade she'd retrieved from Loren's body. As she threw the unfamiliar weapon, it glinted in the magical light of Ghleanna's spell. The blade struck the creature's heart causing it to crumple to the ground. She was out of daggers—she'd have to fight off the rest of the zombies with the club.
To her amazement however, the nondescript dagger pulled itself free of the monster and flew back into her left hand. A magical dagger! She both thrilled and cringed at the discovery. A returning dagger could prove valuable, but magical weapons had been known to hold curses.
As the sounds of the skeleton battle died behind her, Corran's voice echoed off the chamber walls again. "Trouble us no longer!" The remaining zombies ceased their advance and attempted to escape. Kestrel threw Loren's blade at the creatures she'd already injured. No way were they shuffling off with her twin daggers stuck in them. Thanks to the weapon's boomerang power, she felled both foes. Corran and Durwyn took care of the last two zombies.
In the aftermath, Corran removed his helm and pushed sweat-dampened hair away from his eyes. He nodded toward the dagger that had once again found its way back to Kestrel's hand. "A magical blade. What will you call it?"
"Call it?" She wasn't even sure she would keep it—she would certainly use it conservatively until she knew she could trust its sorcery.
"Enchanted weapons deserve their own names."
Kestrel shrugged. "I've thought of it as Loren's blade up to now. I guess I'll continue to do so."
"Loren's Blade," Corran repeated. "A good name."
Kestrel studied the paladin as he cleaned and secured his own weapon. He might be an arrogant know-it-all, but the man knew how to fight That little routine he did with the holy symbol was proving useful, too.
She'd sooner eat roasted zombie flesh than tell him so.
"Do you suppose we stumbled into their lair?" Ghleanna asked the group at large.
"Either that, or they may have been guarding something," Corran answered. "An exit, perhaps? Let's take a look around."
They poked through the room from which the skeletons had emerged, finding little more than rubble, and continued to explore the rest of the complex. Ultimately, they came to what appeared to be the main chamber. Bones lay strewn about, some human, some not. Unlike the animated skeletons they encountered earlier, these seemed to lie where their owners had died, earthly possessions still surrounding them. One of the skeletons yet wore a gray woolen cloak and a pair of snakeskin boots.
At the sight, Jarial caught his breath. "Ozama."
Kestrel turned away, allowing the mage a few moments of privacy in which to grieve his former lover's loss, or curse her for entrapping him, or whatever he wanted to do upon discovering her remains. She glanced around the room, noticing that the door opposite bore an unfamiliar glyph—two swirling circles drawn with a single line. The symbol was burned into the wood. A small barred window in the door looked into the next chamber, but from her vantage point she could see only darkness within.
She approached the door. Finding it sealed, she peered through the window but still couldn't see anything inside. She beckoned Ghleanna. "Can you cast the light from your staff into there?"
"Certainly." The mage came forward and lifted her staff toward the opening, but the darkness beyond completely swallowed up the light Ghleanna frowned. "How strange...."
"I'm afraid I'm a little shy," said a rasping voice from the blackness.
Despite its refined tone, the voice sent a shudder down Kestrel's spine, like the sound of fingernails on glass. "Who are you?" she asked.
"I might ask you that question," the mysterious speaker responded. The voice sounded male, but she couldn't be sure. "It is you, after all, who have intruded into my home."
Kestrel squinted, trying to make out a shape in the darkness, but could not discern even the dimmest outline. She did, however, detect a faint rustling, as of something sliding across a floor, followed by the clinking of metal.
Corran strode past Kestrel to stand before the window. "Please forgive the rudeness of my companion," he said, casting a scolding look toward Kestrel. "She's a little ... uncultured."
Kestrel bristled, regretting that she had thought anything nice about the insufferable Lord D'Arcey a few minutes earlier.
The paladin then peered through the window himself. "We apologize for disturbing you—we seek only an exit from these dungeons to the Heights above."
"'Tis not a disturbance," the sibilant voice said. "Indeed, I welcome the diversion of visitors. This can be a rather solitary place."
The last hiss on the word "place" caused goosebumps to form on Kestrel's arms. She glanced at the dusty bones strewn about the floor. Had these visitors also provided a diversion? She ambled away from the door to give the dried-out bodies a closer look. At first she'd assumed the skeletons and zombies had defeated them, but now she wondered otherwise. An exchange of glances with Ghleanna revealed that the mage held similar suspicions.
"I imagine one could grow bored in such isolation," Corran said.
"Indeed, no," the voice said. "Lonely perhaps, but not bored. I have a hobby—a passion really—for collecting things."
"What kind of things?" Kestrel called out, looking at the unfortunate adventurers who had preceded them to this place. Lives? Souls?
"Oh, necklaces, amulets, torcs, chokers, neck rings, pendants, collars—just about anything that goes around one's neck."
Jarial's head, which until now had been bowed over Ozama's remains, snapped up. "Preybelish," he whispered.
Kestrel quietly moved to his side. "You know him?"
"I believe we've found the dark naga Ozama and I sought all those years ago," he said, his voice barely audible even to Kestrel. "The one said to possess the Wizard's Torc." His fingers stroked Ozama's cloak. "She must have died trying to get it from him."
"Yes, she did," the voice—Preybelish—h
issed.
Kestrel's gaze darted to the door, then back to Jarial. "How could he possibly have heard you?"
Jarial drew his brows together. "I—"
"He doesn't know," Preybelish said. "But he does want to avenge his lady. Don't you ... Jarial? As much as the little bird beside you wants to settle a score with a certain holy knight."
"What do you mean by that?" Corran asked.
Kestrel froze, not even releasing her breath. Could the naga read their thoughts? She dared not ponder the idea for fear of giving something away to the creature. Instead, she concentrated on the image of a topaz necklace she'd once seen in—and liberated from—a shop window in Waterdeep. It had fetched a handsome price, but she envisioned herself holding the piece of jewelry as if she still possessed it.
"Forget these temporary companions, little thief. You don't believe in their cause anyway," Preybelish said. "We could form a lucrative partnership. I'll give you fair recompense for that necklace or any other any neckwear you wish to sell me."
"What nec—" Durwyn began. Ghleanna hushed him.
"I might be persuaded to part with it," Kestrel replied.
"Good, very good. I shall unseal the door for you. Come in—alone—and we will bargain."
Kestrel looked to Jarial for guidance, all the while forcing her surface thoughts to remain on the necklace. The mage nodded, but gestured for her to stall. "All right," she said to Preybelish. "But I prefer to see who I'm doing business with."
As she spoke, Jarial slipped the snakeskin boots off Ozama's skeleton and held them toward her. "Magic," he mouthed. She shook her head in refusal. Her daggers were hidden in her own boots, and she trusted the blades more than any enchantment. After one more pleading look, the mage slipped the boots on his own feet
"I'll dispel the darkness once you're inside," Preybelish said. The heavy wooden door creaked open.
She glanced at the others. Corran's hand rested on his sword hilt ready to unsheathe the weapon at any time. Ghleanna's mouth moved in an unheard spell, her left hand drifting in a slow arc. Durwyn looked just plain confused, but he held his battle-axe ready.
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