Crypt of the Shadowking (31 page)

“A price?”

The mage lifted an arm. Slowly he drew back the sleeve of his gray robe. Mari gasped, clamping a hand over her mouth. The mage’s forearm was crisscrossed with fine, pale scars. She looked up at him, her eyes wide.

“Such is the fate of the restless dead that they are envious of the living,” the mage said. For a moment, there was a trembling in his voice, and again the fear in his eyes. “Once each month, when the moon is full, the spirit of Serafi comes to me and drinks of my fresh, hot blood. Such is the pact I made with the vaporous spirit in payment for the knowledge he imparted to me.”

Mari shuddered. “When will the pact end?” she managed to gasp. She felt ill.

The mage’s eyes grew icy once more. “When I die.”

The shadows of twilight crept through the narrow streets of the Old City like ghosts. It was time to go. The companions readied themselves as best they could in the warm firelight of the common room.

As Caledan adjusted his swordbelt, he saw the Harper and Morhion exchange a meaningful look. Something has happened between them, he thought, clenching his hands into fists. He swore softly under his breath. Yet why should whatever went on between those two be of concern to him?

“I wish I were going with you, wife,” said Jolle regretfully as he hugged Estah close. His broad, usually cheerful face was troubled.

“You have two rather good reasons to stay,” Tyveris said as he picked up Pog and Nog and tossed them, shrieking with laughter, into the air before setting them back down.

Mari spoke then. “Once Tyveris and I begin freeing the prisoners, guards will most likely be summoned to the dungeons. The tunnels beneath the Tor should clear out. With luck you will be able to find the entrance of the crypt of the Shadowking.”

“Don’t worry about me, Harper,” Caledan growled. “You do your part tonight, and I’ll do mine. After that, I never expect to see you or the Harpers again. You can save your meddling for somebody else. I’ve had enough of it.”

For a moment the proud look on Mari’s face wavered. She cast a brief glance at Morhion, her dark eyes troubled, then turned her gaze back to Caledan and thrust her chin out defiantly.

“Let’s go, then,” Tyveris said gruffly, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

They kept to shadowed lanes and dim alleyways, hoping to avoid any confrontations with the Zhentarim. A silence hung over the city. There was not a trace of wind. It was as if the city itself knew that its fate hung in the balance this night and was holding its breath.

They were near the rear wall of the Temple of Selune when two dark forms suddenly separated themselves from the shadows of an alcove to join the companions. Caledan started to draw his sword in surprise, but Ferret’s hand on his arm stayed the action.

“These are friends,” the thief hissed.

“Well met, Ferret,” one of the thieves, a slender, dark-haired woman with large, catlike eyes, whispered.

“Greetings, Kyana,” Ferret answered the woman.

Kyana spied the big Tabaxi. “What is this?” she asked mischievously. “A disciple of Oghma sneaking around the city like a common criminal? A rather large disciple of Oghma at that.”

Tyveris’s face darkened. “I was a warrior long before I was a loremaster, thief,” he said dangerously. “Don’t forget it.”

Kyana tapped her cheek thoughtfully. “Very well, I won’t.” She turned to Mari. “Talim and I will be going with you into the dungeons.” She nodded toward the other thief, a young man—hardly more than a boy—with a mop of red hair. Mari started to protest, but Kyana held up a hand. “No arguments, Harper. If you want to use our entrance to the dungeons, you have to play by our rules. Besides, you’re going to need some help springing all those locks on the prisoners’ cells.”

Kyana led them down a dank, foul-smelling alley. She stopped at a peeling wooden door, knocking three times before pausing, then twice after that. After a long moment the door opened. Caledan felt eyes watching them from all around.

Kyana led the way into the ill-lit building. There were numerous thieves inside, but it was difficult to count them all, for they kept to the shadowed corners. Kyana paid them no heed as she led the companions down a flight of rickety stairs into the basement The small stone room was littered with broken crates and rotted furniture. Against one wall slumped an ancient oaken wardrobe. Kyana opened the wardrobe’s doors. Inside was blackness, pure and perfect.

“In there?” Tyveris asked, uncomfortably eyeing the narrow opening.

Kyana nodded. “You’re not afraid of the dark, are you, my overfed monk?”

Tyveris glared at her. Then he gathered his robes about his knees and stepped into the wardrobe. Kyana gestured for the others to follow.

Caledan had taken this way before, when Ferret had helped him escape from the dungeons, so he knew what lay ahead of them. Still, it did not make the utter darkness of the narrow, confining tunnel any more pleasant. He breathed a sigh of relief when they finally stepped out of the passage into an abandoned part of the dungeon beneath the tower.

Kyana shut the entrance behind them. It blended seamlessly with the rough stone wall. The portal would be absolutely impossible to detect if one didn’t know beforehand where it was.

Kyana led the way down the debris-littered passageway. Cells lined the corridor, but their iron bars were rusted, their doors hanging on their hinges at extreme angles. No one had used this part of the dungeon in centuries. They would encounter no guards down here.

Soon they reached an intersection. Caledan could see golden light glowing down each of the passageways to their right and left. Moans of pain and the dull clanging of iron drifted faintly on the dark, fetid air.

Here was to be a parting of ways.

“There are prisoners down each of these corridors,” Ferret whispered. “Both eventually lead to the tower. The tunnel leading to the excavations is a short distance down the left-hand passage.”

“Tyveris, you head down the corridor to the right,” Mart said gravely. “Free as many prisoners as you can. Kyana, go with him. Talim and I will take the left-hand passage and do the same. We’ll catch up to you by the stairs leading up to the tower—if at all possible.”

Tyveris nodded solemnly. “May the gods be with you this night,” the big loremaster said in his rumbling voice.

“Don’t worry, Harper, I’ll take good care of him,” Kyana said as she and the loremaster started off down the right-hand corridor. Ferret didn’t hesitate, quickly leading the others down the other passageway.

They were nearly to the tunnel that led to the excavations when Ferret called the others to a halt. He cocked his head. Caledan could see his ears twitching. “There are guards coming,” he whispered. “Seven or eight at least. I can hear the clanking of their armor.”

Caledan listened. At first he could hear nothing, then the faint sound of booted feet against cold stone drifted down the passageway. They couldn’t risk a fight. At best, it would delay them, and at worst…

“This way,” Morhion said, gesturing to the shadowed mouth of a side passage. “It may be our only chance.”

Caledan hesitated, but there was no time to think. “Come on,” Morhion hissed, starting down the side corridor. The others followed. There was a foul, vaguely sweet odor in the air. The passageway gave Caledan a bad feeling.

Without warning the passage opened up into a small, darkened chamber. It was a dead end, Caledan realized. He swore, sensing something was very wrong, and gripped the hilt of his sword. Too late.

Torches burst into life all around the companions. Caledan stumbled backward involuntarily, blinded by the glare. When his vision cleared, he realized they were surrounded by Zhentarim.

There were at least a dozen warriors, each holding a crossbow trained on one of the companions—all except for Morhion. The mage stepped forward, joining two dark-robed figures who stood alongside the Zhentarim.

Morhion had betrayed them.

“You’ll pay for this, mage,” Caledan spat. He lunged forward, only to be brought up short as several Zhentarim leveled their swordpoints at his chest.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Caledan,” a clear voice said as one of the black-robed figures pushed back its cowl. Ravendas. “Yes, Caledan, it is I. You did not think you would escape me so easily, did you?” She turned to address the other black-robed figure. “Your traitor has done exceedingly well.”

Ravendas’s companion also pushed back his heavy cowl. It was Lord Steward Snake, his dark eyes glittering in the torchlight. “As I promised, my lord.”

“Twice now you have done me a great favor, Morhion Gen’dahar,” Ravendas crooned. The mage did not meet her gaze. He stared blankly forward, his attitude unfathomable. ‘This time you have outdone yourself. I had not expected you to bring me the troublesome Harper as well.”

Ravendas approached Mari. “Who will lead your little rebellion now, Harper?” Mari stiffened, yet remained silent So Morhion had betrayed them, informing Ravendas of the plan to free the prisoners.

“What are you going to do with us?” Caledan demanded hotly.

“Kill you, of course,” Ravendas said flatly. “But I wish you to live long enough to see me wield the power of the Nightstone. It will make your failure all the more bitter.” She turned to one of the Zhentarim warriors. “Bind them.”

Caledan, Mari, Estah, and Ferret were each bound tightly. Suddenly Caledan noticed that the young thief, Talim, was not among them. He must have slipped away in the darkness. The four were dragged out of the passageway, and for a brief moment Caledan found himself next to Morhion.

“If ever it is in my power,” he whispered harshly, “I will kill you for this treachery, mage.”

“I know,” was all Morhion said.

Twenty

“Where are they?” Tyveris muttered repeatedly. He paced the small stone antechamber. Kyana watched him, her arms folded across her doeskin jerkin. A score of prisoners huddled in the cold, dank chamber behind her. Their clothes were in rags, their faces dirty and haggard, many of them gaunt with hunger. However, they clutched makeshift weapons in their hands, along with several short swords and crossbows Tyveris and Kyana had brought with them.

“I know the Harper is your friend, monk,” Kyana said, “but we can’t afford to wait much longer. We’ve been lucky so far that we haven’t run into any guards. But eventually our luck is going to run out. I’m afraid we have to assume that something has happened to the Harper and the others.” “You can assume what you like,” Tyveris growled. The prisoners watched him with worried eyes. “Where are they?” he muttered one more time.

Much as he hated to admit it, he knew Kyana was right.

It had been nearly an hour since he and the thief had freed a score of men and women in one of the dungeon blocks. It was only a matter of time until the escape was discovered, and then they would lose their only advantage—surprise. Cormik’s agents were poised outside the tower, ready to send the signal to the bands of cityfolk waiting throughout the city that the prisoners had been safely freed. Then the rebellion would begin in earnest.

Tyveris could feel Kyana’s eyes on him. She was pressing him to make a decision. Tyveris had hoped Mari and the others would catch up with him before it was necessary to make the final assault on the tower. I’m a priest now, not a warrior, Tyveris swore inwardly.

Suddenly Kyana stiffened. She lifted a hand to her lips for silence. Tyveris caught the faint sound of footpads echoing off cold stone. Someone was hurrying toward the antechamber. Kyana loosened her saber and moved to the door. Tyveris prepared himself to spring. A shadow moved outside the doorway.

“Wait, it’s me—Talim!” a voice gasped just as Kyana raised her saber. Tyveris sighed in relief as the young, red-haired thief rushed into the room. His freckled face was pale, his gray eyes wide.

“What is it?” Kyana asked him, concerned.

“I have bad news,” the young thief said, swallowing hard. He told his story: Mari, Caledan, and the others had been captured by Ravendas and taken to the crypt of the Shadowking. “It was the mage who betrayed them,” Talim said sadly. “But I was at the rear of the party, and I managed to melt into the shadows. They didn’t notice me.”

“You did well,” Tyveris said somberly. His heart felt as cold as the surrounding walls. Almost instinctively he started for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Kyana demanded.

“To help my friends,” he declared fiercely.

“And what do you propose we do with them?” she asked quietly, nodding her head toward the prisoners gathered in the antechamber. “Return them to their cells?”

Tyveris glared at her. Then his shoulders slumped. Again, the thief was right. He couldn’t turn his back on the prisoners. No, he had to trust that Man, Caledan, and the others could take care of themselves. He had his own job to do now.

“All right,” he said gruffly. “We’ll go on as planned, without Mari. But I’m not much of a warrior nowadays, Kyana. You’re going to have to take charge.”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Kyana said slyly. “They’re looking to you, monk, not me.” All faces turned expectantly toward Tyveris.

He swallowed hard. I will lead them, but I will not kill, he vowed inwardly. I gave you my promise, Tali, my sister. I promised you there would be no more killing.

“All right, then,” he growled. “Let’s go.”

Despite the weeks and even months each of them had spent laboring beneath the Tor, the cityfolk moved with a speed and energy that amazed Tyveris. With Kyana and Talim scouting ahead, they made their way past the slime-covered walls of the corridor, toward the heart of the dungeon. They moved as stealthily as they could, with the brave, though pale and haggard, faces of people determined to win their freedom or die.

The group came to a corridor leading off to a block of cells, and Talim and Kyana swiftly picked the locks on the iron doors. Tyveris quickly explained to the newly-freed prisoners what they intended to do. “If you do not wish, you do not have to come with us,” the loremaster said. When they left the block, however, not a prisoner chose to remain behind.

It was at the next block of cells that they encountered several guards, three dungeon warders, gambling with dice of polished bone. The first two died before they realized what was transpiring, one with Kyana’s saber in his heart, the other with Talim’s dagger in his back. The third tried to shout an alarm as he scrambled for his sword, but his cry was strangled into silence as a trio of crossbow bolts buried themselves in his throat and chest.