by Ben Cassidy
They both saw it at the same time.
The end of the rope came down through the hole in the ceiling, and landed in an uneven heap on the floor in front of them.
For the space of a heartbeat they stared in stunned silence.
“Oh dear,” said Maklavir.
Kara hung by one hand. Dirt and rocks crumbled down onto her shoulder and head. With a grunt, she threw up her other hand and grabbed the rim of the hole.
What had happened? Had the rope broken?
She spat the dirt out of her mouth, and prepared to pull herself up.
A face suddenly appeared above her.
Kara looked up and saw Galla standing above her. “Give me a hand!” she begged. She twisted her head to avoid another tumbling rock.
Galla didn’t move. He stared at her impassively. “Sorry,” he said in a cold voice.
Kara looked up in shocked amazement.
Galla’s boot crashed down on her left hand.
Maklavir and Joseph moved quickly to the fallen rope.
The diplomat scratched his goatee in puzzlement. “Now why--?”
Joseph reached down for the end of the rope, and looked up the hole at the same moment.
He dropped the rope instantly.
Blinding pain smashed through Kara’s hand as Galla’s boot crushed it.
Instinctively she let go of her grip, hanging only by her right hand. She twirled unsteadily for a minute, feeling more rocks and dirt shower down onto her head.
The stone floor gaped menacingly thirty feet below her.
“Have you lost your mind?” she spat up at the priest.
Galla sneered, the dagger still in his hand. “On the contrary. There are people who will pay me a king’s ransom for this pendant.” He gave a thin smile. “And I don’t really feel like sharing it.”
His boot crunched down hard on Kara’s right hand.
She let go.
“Back!” shouted Joseph. He gave Maklavir a hard push away from the hole in the ceiling above them. His rapier clattered to the ground the next second, and Joseph braced his feet, widening his arms in front of him.
Before the flustered diplomat could say a thing, Kara tumbled down from above and crashed heavily into Joseph.
The impact knocked them both to the ground.
Maklavir rushed over to his two friends. “Joseph? Kara? Are you all right?”
Kara opened her eyes, gave the diplomat a dazed look, then suddenly snapped to attention. She sat up, rubbing her side painfully. “Galla betrayed us,” she said hurriedly. “He cut the rope—” Her eyes suddenly registered the unmoving form of Joseph beneath her.
“Joseph!” she cried, an edge of panic in her voice. “Joseph!”
Kendril came up the last few stairs and emerged into the entry room. He glanced down quickly at Joseph on the floor, then up to the hole in the ceiling.
“Galla cut the rope,” Maklavir explained grimly. “We’re trapped.”
Joseph coughed loudly. He sat halfway up and opened his eyes.
Kara put one arm behind him and helped him up into a full sitting position.
“That hurt,” the scout said with a groan.
Kendril stepped over to them, looking up towards the hole above. He spun around, glancing back at the stairs behind them.
“I’m sorry,” blurted Kara. “Galla started running. I tried to stop him—”
“No one’s blaming you,” said Joseph softly. He winced, trying to push himself to his feet.
“Alright,” said Kendril suddenly. He turned back towards the stairs. “Maklavir, you’re with me. Kara, make us an exit.”
The redhead got to her feet, massaging her bruised right hand. “How?”
“However you can,” the Ghostwalker said. “Find something to use as a grapple, and get that rope fastened up top again. We need to get out of here or we’re all going to be rat food.”
As if to punctuate his words, a high-pitched shriek echoed up from the stairwell.
“They’re coming again,” said Joseph with a grimace of pain. He tried to get to his feet, then fell back again. “The wolfrats won’t stop until we’re dead.”
Kara’s eyes widened. “Wolfrats?”
Kendril started reloading a pistol, heading back quickly for the stairs. “Maklavir and I will hold them as long as we can.”
Maklavir uncrossed his arms. “Excuse me?”
“I’m coming too,” said Joseph. He reached for his rapier, gritting his teeth against the pain.
“You’re no good to us like that,” said Kendril. “Catch your breath. There’ll be plenty of rats to kill.” He turned to Maklavir, and motioned with his head to the stairwell. “Let’s go.”
Maklavir gaped at his companion. “You can’t be serious! I’m no warrior, Kendril.”
“This isn’t war,” said Kendril. “It’s rat-sticking. Much more fun. Now come on.”
The diplomat gave Kara and Joseph a desperate glance, then headed after the Ghostwalker towards the stairs. “Eru help us,” he muttered.
“And Eru help Galla,” Kendril said with a dark glitter in his eyes, “when I catch up to him.”
The donkey was still where Galla had left it, tied up a short distance away from the temple entrance. He quickly undid the rope, glancing back over his shoulder nervously.
The four adventurers could not get out of that temple. They had the rope, certainly, but there was no way for them to reattach it. Galla would have put the stone cover back in place, but it was far too heavy for him to move by himself.
Besides, what would be the point? There was no way they could get out of there.
He flipped up the cover on the donkey’s saddlebag, pausing for a moment as he held the pendant up. The first light of dawn shone across the face of the red jewel, but it still remained dark and cold, the color of congealed blood.
Galla had spent the last five years of his life looking for what he now held in his hand. Five years of digging around in archives and ancient ruins, constantly suffering the ridicule and mockery of his colleagues. Now everything he sought lay in his very hands, like a dream transformed into reality. He could scarcely believe it was true.
Buyers, very influential and wealthy buyers, were already lined up, and the money they would pay for this dusty trinket was enough to make Galla very, very rich. He didn’t know why they wanted it. Frankly, it didn’t matter. The money they were offering was enough to quell any questions he might have asked.
He gingerly put the pendant into the saddlebag, closing it tightly. The only thing that mattered was that he was finally going to live the life he had always deserved.
And that was certainly worth the lives of four mercenaries.
“The pillar, quickly!”
Kendril dashed across the short stretch of the room, leaping over one of the stone benches as he did so.
The entrance to the spiral staircase was just ahead, smoke drifting out of its darkened entrance. Hideous screeches and clawing sounds came from down below.
Maklavir stopped. He drew his sword with a shaking hand. “Didn’t you say you killed several of them?”
Kendril smashed his shoulder against one of the stone pillars on either side of the opening. “Two, maybe three,” he grunted. “There’s a lot more coming.” The pillar shifted, then came crashing down across the entrance to the stairs with a deafening boom.
“How many more, exactly?” Maklavir asked uneasily.
The Ghostwalker stepped back and drew both his swords. He stuck them point down into the ground, one on each side of him, then pulled out his pistols. He cocked back the locks on both of them.
“A lot.” He looked over at the diplomat. “We hold here for as long as we can. We have to give Kara and Joseph as much time to reattach that rope as possible.”
“Assuming they can.”
“Don’t worry,” said Kendril confidently. “They will.”
The dagger came dropping back down again. The rope that was tied around its handle tr
ailed along behind it.
Kara leapt back out of its way, wiping the dirt from her eyes. “Tuldor’s beard!” she cursed as she grabbed the throwing dagger again. “This is impossible.”
“What we need is a proper grapple,” said Joseph as he climbed painfully to his feet.
Kara twirled the rope around again, the dagger spinning on its end. “Well, we don’t have one.” She let the dagger go and it flew up through the air towards the hole in the ceiling.
It hit above with a metallic chink, then came falling back down.
She cursed again in a very unlady-like manner. “I don’t think it would matter. You saw the ruins up above. There isn’t anything for this to catch on and hold.”
Joseph made a face as he reached for his rapier. He picked it gingerly up off the floor. “We don’t have a choice,” he said. “Keep trying.”
A high-pitched snarl came echoing up from down below. The next moment came the sounds of claws clattering against stone.
Maklavir tensed. He gripped his weapon tightly.
Kendril leveled both his pistols at the dark opening in front of them. “You didn’t happen to bring any of those grenades, did you?”
Maklavir gave him a startled look. “A couple, yes. But we can’t use them.”
Kendril raised his eyebrows. “Why in Eru’s name not?”
“There’s no way to control the direction or placement of the explosion. This place is old, a thousand years or more. One grenade could bring everything down on our heads.”
“That’s what you said in the Balneth catacombs, too,” said Kendril between his teeth.
“That was different. I could place the charges there. Here a grenade would—”
A loud shriek came just before a dark shape rounded the corner, its fangs bared and eyes blazing. Snarling, it leapt up the last few stairs towards the fallen pillar.
“Great Eru!” cried Maklavir. He fell back a step.
Two more shapes appeared in the stairwell, shrieking and chittering as they came. The first wolfrat leapt on top of the stone pillar, lashing its tail back and forth like a whip. With a hiss it curled back its mouth in a snarl.
Kendril fired.
They heard the pistol shots at the same moment, followed by a horrible scream.
Kara dropped the makeshift grappling hook, and reached instinctively for her bow.
Joseph pushed himself away from the wall he had been leaning against, and raised his rapier. He took a step, then faltered as pain shot through his body.
Kara lifted her bow. She looked over at her friend uncertainly.
“Go,” Joseph said simply. He reached for the grapple lying on the ground.
Without a second’s hesitation, Kara headed for the stairs.
The body of the first wolfrat was still twitching in its death throes when two more beasts came vaulting over the pillar.
Kendril snatched up the two short swords from where they were stuck in the ground, and bounded forward through the swirling smoke his own pistols had made moments before. He slashed at the rodent to his left, then stabbed forward at the one to his right, swinging his leg back at the same moment to avoid a snapping pair of jaws.
His first swing missed, but the second found solid purchase in a wolfrat’s neck.
Kendril yanked the blade out again, black blood staining the end of his sword.
Maklavir steeled himself, then made a valiant lunge forward with his own sword. It made a glancing blow on the leg of one of the creatures.
The wolfrat turned and gave a vicious bite in Maklavir’s direction.
The diplomat dodged back with a curse, his purple cape swirling behind him.
Kendril drove his sword into the back of the beast he had injured and finished it off.
The second wolfrat, bleeding from the cut on its leg, turned with a snarl. It snapped its fangs at the Ghostwalker’s midsection.
Seeing the beast’s attention distracted, Maklavir made another swipe with his sword.
The creature ducked, then sprang back at the hapless diplomat.
Faster than an eye could blink, Kendril lashed out with both swords and caught the gigantic rat in the middle of its attack.
With a squeal, the creature hit the ground, thrashing its life out over the stones and dirt.
“Back!” shouted Kendril. He pushed Maklavir away from the fallen pillar.
Two more wolfrats leapt over the tumbled stone, and even more pairs of red eyes appeared in the black stairway beyond.
An unearthly howl, like nothing either of the adventurers had heard before, billowed up from the depths.
Kendril swiped at the rats in front of them, and caught one across the face.
The other one pressed forward and caught hold of Maklavir’s cape with its teeth.
The diplomat stumbled back with a curse, leaving the wolfrat with a torn patch of purple fabric in its teeth.
The creature moved forward again.
Two more wolfrats appeared at the top of the stairs, their sleek black forms moving easily over the makeshift obstacle. Several more dark shapes moved in the stairwell behind them, chittering and chattering as they came.
Kendril swung his sword wildly, fending off the nearest wolfrat as he retreated back across the room. “There’s too many!” he shouted over his shoulder at Maklavir. “Make for the stairs!”
The diplomat made another half-hearted jab with his weapon, then sprinted towards the passageway leading up.
Kendril followed after him, holding one wolfrat off with a sword in each hand.
More and more of the creatures gushed through the stairway entrance, ducking under and scrambling over the stone benches in the room.
Kendril backed up as quickly as he could, avoiding the tearing fangs of the beasts in front of him.
Something swept past his face, and one of the rats flew back with a shrill scream. An arrow was buried deep into its eye.
A moment later another arrow found its mark in a nearby wolfrat’s leg, pinning the unfortunate creature to the ground. It looked up at Kendril in rage and pain and snarled its defiance.
Kendril jumped back onto the first step and glanced over his shoulder.
Kara stood a few steps up. She reached for another arrow.
“I’ll keep you covered!” she shouted, then took a step back herself. “Come on!”
Kendril didn’t wait for a second urging. He turned and dashed up the stairs three at a time.
Maklavir was already at the top, pausing uncertainly to look back down at his friends.
The Ghostwalker dodged around Kara just as the thief fired off another arrow.
There was another shrieking squeal from down below.
Kendril sheathed one of his swords and looked over at Maklavir. “Light a grenade!”
The diplomat hesitated. “What? I can’t—”
Kara fired again. She tripped back up another couple steps.
Kendril turned back around, just in time to see a wolfrat jump onto the bottom step. “Light a grenade now!” he shouted.
Kara brought another arrow to the bowstring, but as she backed up her heel caught on the step behind her.
Her arrow fell, lost on the stone steps.
Kendril caught the back of her cloak while she was still off-balance and yanked her back with his free hand.
The wolfrat at the bottom of the stairs snarled up at them. It was immediately joined by two others.
Kendril erupted into the small entryway room, dragging Kara behind him.
“I can get another shot,” the redhead protested, trying in vain to reach another arrow.
“No time,” said Kendril. He glanced quickly over his shoulder. Maklavir was leaning over the lantern in the center of the room, a grenade in his hands.
“I need a matchcord,” the diplomat began, trying to get the lantern open. “It’s—”
A chorus of snarls and chitters came from the stairwell.
Kara raised another arrow and fitted it to her bow. Her hands w
ere shaking.
Joseph limped up beside her, his rapier at the ready.
Kendril turned back to Maklavir, and held out his hand. “Toss it here,” he ordered.
“But it’s not—”
“I said toss it!” the Ghostwalker roared.
Startled, Maklavir threw it to his companion. Kendril caught it and turned back to the stairway. His other hand dropped the sword it had been carrying and reached underneath his cloak to the small of his back. It emerged with a small silver pistol. Kendril stepped up to the edge of the stairs and glanced down.
There were at least five wolfrats on the stairs below him, and more behind them. They snarled up at him.
“Take cover,” Kendril called back. Cocking back the lock on his pistol, he tossed the grenade at the wolfrats.
As the metal sphere bounced down the steps and off one of the sidewalls, the wolfrats paused, their attention diverted by the strange new object.
Kendril brought his arm down with the pistol. He tracked the grenade as it rolled down the last few steps.
Maklavir stared at the Ghostwalker from where he had taken cover behind one of the statues.
“Oh, you can’t be—” he began.
Kendril fired.
Chapter 7
Sounds, garbled and indistinct, drifted through the air. Slowly, like fog clearing away from the ocean, they became more and more clear.
They were voices, talking softly.
Kendril opened one eye, then the other. The darkness that greeted him seemed hardly less than when his eyes had been shut. Blinking, he started to move.
And then the pain hit him.
It lanced up the right side of his head, like a sharp stab of flame. He winced, giving a sharp intake of breath.
“Well, well,” said a familiar voice nearby. “Look who finally decided to rejoin us.”
Kendril slowly turned his head and opened his eyes once more. In the gloom he could just make out Joseph sitting a few feet away.
“Joseph,” he managed, his lips feeling cracked and dry. “What--?”
“What happened?” The scout chuckled. “You set off a grenade in a thousand year-old temple, that’s what happened. Almost buried us all.”
