“They’re weak-minded creatures, easily dominated by other monsters,” Kurzen replied. “I think it’s their way of pledging loyalty to their master.”
“What sort of master?”
Kurzen shrugged. “Hard to say. Let’s hope that our path just skirts their territory instead of leading us deeper in. I hate fighting troglodytes; can’t stand the smell of them.”
“I wholeheartedly agree,” Jack said. “Let us press on before any more of them show up.”
From the market hall, they turned northward again—or so Kurzen said, anyway—and followed a wide, straight passage for some distance. Suites of chambers were cut into the stone on either side, many littered with rubble and old debris. From time to time, Jack caught a whiff of troglodyte stench hanging in the air; either some of the musk had rubbed off on his clothes or more of the foul brutes were not as far off as he’d like them. Fortunately, no more of the creatures appeared, and he began to think that perhaps they’d left the trogs behind them.
At the end of the straight passage, they came to a cloverleaf-shaped chamber with fine masonry walls and great double-doors of bronze lying wrecked in a grand doorway to the right. Dead fountains stood before the doors, revealed by the golden light of Halamar’s light spell. “The Hall of Knowledge,” Kurzen explained. “The city’s sages and scribes gathered here. Few of my forefathers took to wizardry, but those who did were counted part of the sage’s brotherhood.”
“Is it worth exploring?” Jack asked, studying the darkened doorway with interest.
“It was plundered long ago,” Kurzen answered. “I’ve heard there are hidden vaults that haven’t yet been found, but the deeper reaches are guarded by magical constructs—gargoyles, golems, things of that sort. Best to leave it for another day.”
The rogue’s interest dimmed as soon as Kurzen mentioned guardians. “Maybe we’ll have a look if the rest of the day’s work comes up dry,” he decided. “Carry on.”
Kurzen led the band to another staircase leading down. This one descended only thirty feet or so before emerging onto a ledge in the side of a large natural crevasse. For a moment Jack thought they’d found the upper landing of the elevator to the deeper Underdark again, but he realized that this was a much smaller cavern. The stairs turned left and descended along the sheer side of the crevasse; the dwarf guide paused to scan the stalactites hanging overhead carefully before continuing down the stairs. Shadows thrown by Halamar’s light on the stone formations created vast, fanglike caricatures on the crevasse’s rough walls. They were more than a little unnerving, and Jack was glad when they reached the bottom of the stairs and turned back into a passageway surrounded by solid stone.
“Lower your light,” Kurzen said softly to Halamar. “We’re drawing near to the temple.”
The sorcerer waved a hand over the glowing crystal at the head of his staff, dimming its brightness to little more than a small lamp. With an exchange of glances between the members of the small company, they fell silent and advanced more slowly. Ahead of them a huge stone lintel loomed out of the shadows, covered with geometric designs and the sharp-edged runes of Dwarvish writing. Cautiously they ventured beneath the doorway, finding themselves in a great antechamber or narthex between the passage they’d followed and another hallway at the opposite end. In the middle a mighty archway led into the temple proper; Jack caught a glimpse of golden tile and the shadow of mighty columns waiting beyond.
“The Temple of the Soulforger,” Kurzen said in a hushed voice. “There are grander rooms in Sarbreen, but none more sacred or more beautifully wrought. Tread these chambers with respect, my friends.”
“Well done, Kurzen,” Jack answered.
He started forward … only to catch the sudden sharp reek of troglodyte-musk and the sound of scaly feet ahead. Dozens of troglodyte warriors poured out of the arch leading to the inner temple and rushed the small party.
“Bane’s blazing bollocks! Here they come again!” shouted Narm. He ran forward to meet the monsters’ charge, brandishing his greatsword.
Kurzen followed after him, raising his shield and guarding the big fighter’s back. Halamar conjured up a great curtain of fire that momentarily stopped the wave of troglodytes from simply overrunning the company; Jack decided to stick by to the sorcerer and defend him from any close attack. In a matter of moments Jack was hard-pressed by a pair of the degenerate monsters, fending them off with thrust after thrust of his rapier. Despite the company’s aggressive defense, the sheer weight of numbers forced the adventurers back toward the hallway outside the temple narthex.
“These fellows are the same tribe as the others.” Arlith called. “Look at their eyes!”
The halfling was right, Jack noted; the troglodytes he fought wore ragged eye patches like their comrades upstairs, and were likewise painted with eye-like symbols. Ragged volleys of trog javelins flew through the air, clattering all around the company. “Fall back!” he shouted to Narm and Kurzen. “We can hold them off on the stairs outside!”
The dwarf and the half-orc gave ground grudgingly, retreating back to the narthex entrance. A blast of green fire suddenly roared in the opposite archway, incinerating a number of the troglodyte dart-throwers that were hanging back from the press. The trogs pressing in against Narm and Kurzen hesitated, risking quick glances over the shoulders and hissing at each other in their thick, rasping voices. Then another party of adventurers appeared, bursting out of the smoking opening as their own battle spilled over into the temple’s great narthex. Two of the newcomers—an elf armed with sword and wand and an armored human wearing the robes of a cleric of Tempus—instantly turned to face whatever followed them out of the opposite tunnel, while a tattooed human swordsman and a tiefling wielding a scimitar of black fire simply cut into the back ranks of the troglodytes facing Jack and his companions without even breaking stride. Silhouetted by emerald fires smoldering in the doorway, a trio of umber hulks shambled into fray, pursuing the other heroes … only to be momentarily checked as a black-haired woman in dark mail appeared and took a stand against them, her katana flashing in the greenish light.
“Jelan? No!” Jack exclaimed. “What is she doing here?” The question was rhetorical, of course: Myrkyssa Jelan was seeking the Sarkonagael after all, or she wouldn’t be on the doorstep of the Temple of the Soulforger. And that meant that either the resting place of the tome was not quite as secure as he’d believed or the Warlord had been keeping her eye on him. Jelan glanced over her shoulder, and her eyes met Jack’s for an instant before she turned back to the monsters pressing her.
Jack started to shout a warning to his comrades or to simply protest this unfair turn of events, but the troglodyte battering at him redoubled its assault, feeling the threat approaching from behind it. Jack ducked a wild swing of its spiked club, which shattered the face of one of the figures shown in the ancient dwarven carvings that covered the walls, and riposted with a clean thrust into the troglodyte’s chest. The monster hissed in agony and staggered, but as soon as Jack drew back his point, it raised its club and came on again.
“Not fair!” Jack cried. “You are supposed to fall. Can’t you see that I’ve killed you?”
The trog lumbered ahead and swung again; Jack had no room to backpedal, so he leaped inside its swing and found himself breast-to-breast with the stinking creature. It dropped its club and seized Jack’s throat with one big, scaly claw, opening its mouth impossibly wide to reveal rows of sharp, serrated teeth. Blood spumed in its throat, but the creature held Jack fast as it prepared to take his face in its jaws. In desperation Jack dropped his rapier to the floor, drawing the dagger from his belt and plunging the blade into the trog’s neck just under its ear-hole. The monster shuddered and collapsed; Jack shouldered aside its body and scooped up his sword again.
The battle was absolute chaos. Troglodytes seethed back and forth between the two companies of adventurers, filling the air with their awful reek. The umber hulks chasing Jelan’s group waded into the middle of
it all, lashing out with their mammoth claws and scissoring their horrible mandibles with an awful clacking sound. Adventurers and troglodytes both staggered about or stood struck senseless by the mind-whelming power of the umber hulks’ quadruple eyes. Others flew into blind berserk fury, lashing out at whatever was near, friend or foe.
“No amount of coin is worth this,” Jack muttered. “I hereby forswear dungeon-delving forever. There must be easier ways to throw away one’s life.”
Kurzen went down cursing, his leg yanked out from under him by a sweep of an umber hulk’s talons. The monster’s next strike crumpled the dwarf’s shield like tin, and the monster opened its mandibles wide to slice the dwarf in half—but it suddenly buckled in agony as Myrkyssa Jelan slashed it across its chitin-covered back. Arlith, overcome by the power of the umber hulks’ eyes, dropped her crossbow and fled the room, running off in blind panic. Half a dozen of the surviving troglodytes scattered and ran with her, some likewise confused and some simply abandoning the fight. Narm pressed forward to hack at another one of the hulks, while Halamar slung fire left and right and Jelan’s mage—the elf with sword and wand—hammered darts of magical force at the umber hulk Jelan had wounded.
Jack reversed the dagger with which he’d killed the troglodyte and took aim at the umber hulk fighting Narm. His throw took the creature in one of its large, multifaceted eyes. The hulk howled with a high screech of pain until the half-orc ducked under its fumbling grasp to drive his sword through a chink in its armor. The last umber hulk abruptly wheeled and fled, trampling over a couple of troglodytes who were milling about in their confusion. Jack wheeled, looking for another foe, but the troglodytes were all dead or in retreat, as were the umber hulks. Only the two parties of adventurers still faced each other.
“Who in the Nine Hells are you fellows?” Narm demanded, facing Jelan’s tiefling and his sword of ebony flames.
“The Moon Dagger Company,” the tiefling snarled. “And who are you?”
“Jack Ravenwild,” said Myrkyssa Jelan. She drew a small cloth from her belt to wipe the black gore from her katana, but kept her sword ready to hand as she cleaned it. “You have the infuriating habit of turning up when least expected.”
“Who is this, Jack?” Kurzen asked. He was limping, but he seemed like he could still fight.
“Myrkyssa Jelan, once the Warlord of the Vast,” Jack answered. He did not take his eyes off her. “And I fail to see how my presence here interferes with any business of yours, because I am simply following a design of my own. In fact, I might ask exactly what your purpose here is, Elana. What are you up to?”
“I am here for the Sarkonagael, of course,” Jelan replied.
“We were here first. The book is ours.”
“That remains to be seen.” She coolly surveyed Jack’s companions, taking their measure.
Jack fumed, glancing at the open archway leading to the temple. The situation was simply intolerable. Even if they agreed to retrieve the book together and split the reward, he was suddenly short half the purse he’d hoped to win with this little expedition. Or, worse yet, Jelan might have no intention of turning in the Sarkonagael for any kind of reward. She’d gotten her hands on that book once before and proceeded to employ its dark powers to create all sorts of mayhem in the city. If she still had an interest in it, Jack was certain it could be for no good reason.
To buy himself a moment to regain his composure, he met Jelan’s gaze and demanded, “How did you know it was here?”
“I arranged for the book’s location to be divined, of course.”
“Not so fast,” Jack shot back. “I am well acquainted with your peculiar condition, Elana. You are completely unaffected by magic. A diviner could do nothing to help you find the tome.”
Jelan allowed herself a small smile. “Well, in that you are correct. However, two people learn the result of a divination, do they not?”
Jack spluttered in outrage. “Why, that is unheard of! Diviners are supposed to adhere to a strict code of professional ethics respecting their clients’ confidentiality.”
“It would appear that I made Aderbleen Krestner a more convincing offer than you did,” Jelan answered. She turned and said something to the elf standing behind her … and the elf abruptly raised his wand at Jack and his companions, speaking a spell in his own language.
“On your guard!” Narm shouted, and surged forward—but at that instant a roaring wall of green fire sprang into life around Jack and his friends, ringing them where they stood. The half-orc jerked back from the searing flames with an oath; Kurzen and Arlith raised their weapons, ready to defend themselves, but Jelan and her mercenaries simply left Jack’s party trapped within the ring of flames.
“Forgive me, Jack, but I have a book to retrieve!” Jelan shouted through the roaring of the fire. “Stay where you are, and you shouldn’t be harmed. My mage Kilarnan—” the elf gave a small smile, and bowed at the mention of his name—“informs me that the flames will abate in a quarter-hour or so. I caution you not to follow me; if I have to discourage pursuit more forcefully, I’ll do so without a moment’s hesitation.”
Jelan raised her mailed hand to her brow in a mocking salute, then motioned to her mercenaries. As Jack and his comrades watched through the flames, the Warlord wheeled and strode boldly through the gate leading to the inner temple. Her mercenaries followed after her.
“They’re going to beat us to the prize,” Narm snarled. “Now what?”
Jack thought quickly. His instinct was to pursue at once, wall of fire or not … but if any more monsters waited in the temple proper, perhaps it would be better to let Jelan and her followers take their measure first. “Halamar, do you have a way to protect us against the flames?”
Halamar, the fire-sorcerer, gave a low laugh. “Trust me, fire is the least of my concerns. We can exit whenever we like.”
“And Arlith is still outside,” Kurzen observed. “If Halamar can protect us against the elf’s magic, then what are we waiting for? Let’s get out of this infernal trap. I mean to have a word or two with that so-called warlord.”
Jack raised his hand, motioning for patience. “Not yet, friend Kurzen,” he said. “Let Jelan find out what dangers wait in the temple. When she returns this way, it will seem that we are caught perfectly in her wizard’s cage … but we’ll simply be waiting to ambush her and take back our book.”
Kurzen ran his hand over his short-cropped hair and nodded. “I like it,” he decided. “Do we kill them, or just teach them a lesson they won’t soon forget?”
“I want the book, but I am not sure that I’m prepared to murder for it,” Jack replied. “Spare them if you can.” He was trying to become respectable, after all, and while the authorities might not make much of rival companies brawling in the dungeons below the city, deaths tended to invite official interest of the sort Jack didn’t want. He sheathed his rapier and dropped his pack from his shoulders to the flagstones, seating himself on the ground. He was rapidly becoming aware of a dozen small aches, pains, and injuries that he hadn’t noticed in the heat of the fighting; a brief respite seemed in order. “Rest now. They’ll be out soon enough.”
Jack drank deeply from his waterflask, then bandaged a nasty gouge just above his left boot where the spike of a troglodyte’s club had missed crushing his shinbone by a whisker. The emerald flames continued to dance and crackle around the small company; inside the circle it was growing uncomfortably warm, and perspiration gleamed on each face. Narm and Kurzen talked quietly as they drank from their own flasks, weighing the best strategy for taking down the Moon Daggers quickly. The minutes dragged on, and still Jelan’s party did not appear; Jack hoped that meant they were busy sorting through an immense pile of loot and hadn’t simply found the book and made their exit through some other passageway on the far side of the temple.
The mage Halamar came and sat down beside Jack, bringing his pipe out of his robes. “Is this truly the Myrkyssa Jelan of legend that we are facing?” he asked.<
br />
“That is the very Myrkyssa Jelan you have just met,” Jack said. “She, and I, were magically imprisoned for the last century, and released only a few tendays ago.”
“Astonishing. I thought she was only a myth, a legend. No one could do the things she is said to have done.”
“You don’t know her as well as I do,” Jack said glumly. He liked their chances of catching Jelan off guard … but that woman was damnably competent. He didn’t care for the idea of crossing swords with her again. “Listen, my friend: When we move against the Warlord’s company, deal with her wizard if you can. No spell of yours will have any affect at all on Jelan herself. She is completely immune to magic.”
“So that much of the legend is true,” Halamar mused. He fell silent for a moment, frowning in thought.
At that moment Kurzen suddenly scrambled upright and pointed back at the doorway leading from the hall into the narthex. “Gods have mercy!” he cried. “It’s a beholder!”
Jack leaped to his feet and whirled to look back the way they had come. A great, spherical shape easily eight or nine feet across floated slowly into the temple narthex. Writhing eyestalks crowned its upper surface, and its single central eye glared at the ring of emerald flames and the explorers waiting inside. Behind the monster more troglodytes slunk along, cringing and hissing to the eye-tyrant.
“Ahhh,” the beholder gurgled in its thick voice. “Here are the cruel ones who killed our servants and defiled our lair. We are not pleased with them. Do they think to hide from us within their magic? They are mistaken. Which of the ten dooms at our command do they deserve, we wonder?”
“Now I understand—the troglodytes maim themselves to show devotion to their master,” Narm remarked. He sighed and raised his sword into a guard position. “Eye tyrant, indeed. Well, with luck we will die quickly.”
Prince of Ravens: A Forgotten Realms Novel Page 18
