James Wyatt - Oath of Vigilance

“What is it?” he asked.

“Look.” Tempest pointed into the crater.

The depression was a couple dozen yards across, the sides worn almost smooth by a century of rain. Larger chunks of rubble littered the bottom, including recognizable pieces from some of the buildings that lined the edges, as though the crater were slowly expanding and drawing more of the ruins down to its heart. Roghar followed Tempest’s pointing finger and saw what looked like the mouth of a tunnel in the crater’s wall, about halfway down the side opposite where he stood.

“The gods have led us true,” Travic said.

Roghar nodded. The tunnel mouth was clearly in use. Even from his position, he could see a rough path leading up the side of the crater from the tunnel mouth, and the pattern of debris beneath the tunnel suggested that rubble had been cleared out from the interior to make a clear route-presumably leading to some secret lair.

“I never met a tunnel mouth I didn’t like,” Roghar said. “Adventure awaits!”

He started circling around the edge of the crater toward the path, and Tempest hurried after him.

“Roghar, wait!” Travic called.

“What’s the matter?”

Travic frowned, staring down into the crater. “I’m not sure,” he said. “I have a strange feeling about this place.”

“You said it yourself. The gods led us here. You’re not getting cold feet now, are you?”

“Of course not. I just think we should approach with caution.”

“Live while you can, my friend!” Roghar said, starting toward the path again. “No telling how long you have left.”

“I’d prefer to prolong those days by exercising the caution and discretion I’ve been given,” Travic muttered, quickening his steps to catch up.

Roghar laughed, but he stopped abruptly when the bowl of the crater sent the sound echoing back to him, louder and harsher. He frowned at the echo and started down the path. His armored feet crunched in the gravel, sending a trickle of pebbles off the side of the path and down into the crater. The crater seemed to magnify every sound.

He made his way along the path, cringing at every sound the crater echoed back to him. As the path took him lower and the earth took him in, the echoes surrounded him-his own footfalls and those of his companions, every crunch of gravel and rustle of cascading debris. He started hearing whispers in the echoes, words he couldn’t understand, although they felt threatening. He stopped and turned to look at Travic and Tempest, and found them glancing around as he was to find the source of the whispers.

“Now I see what you mean about that strange feeling, Travic,” Roghar rumbled. The sound that came back to his ears was like rolling thunder.

Travic and Tempest both nodded, unwilling to speak. Roghar swallowed his fear and continued down the path, treading as lightly as he could manage.

Tempest’s scream echoed into a shrieking assault on his ears. He tried to turn to see what was wrong but found the world spinning around him, and he lurched sideways, nearly hurling himself off the path. He crouched and put one knee down to steady himself, and managed to look over his shoulder without falling over.

Travic was sprawled on the ground, his back to the crater wall. He clutched one of Tempest’s hands in both of his own, struggling to pull her back up over the rough edge of the path.

Roghar turned himself and dove for Tempest’s other hand, which was scrabbling for purchase at the edge. Flat on his belly, he caught hold of her, then braced himself as she started pulling herself up. In the space of a few pounding heartbeats she was back on the path, leaning against the crater wall, terror showing in her wide eyes.

“What happened?” Roghar asked. The flurry of echoes made him wince, and Travic’s face grew a shade paler.

“I slipped,” Tempest whispered. Her eyes met his, and he saw the same fear he often saw when he rushed to her bedside in the middle of the night. He furrowed his brow in concern, but she gave the slightest shake of her head before turning to Travic. “Thank you for catching me.”

“The echoes of your scream threw me off balance,” Travic whispered back. “You almost had a nasty tumble.”

“Sorry,” she said. “It just came out.”

Roghar got to his feet and helped Travic stand. He put an arm around Tempest’s shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Are you all right?” he said.

She nodded, but her eyes couldn’t hold his gaze.

“We can still go back,” he said.

“No.” She shrugged out of his half embrace and nodded toward the tunnel mouth, no more than ten yards away. “It was just a slip.”

Roghar scowled. The storm of whispering echoes was growing unbearable, making it impossible to think. He resolved to discuss the “slip” with Tempest later, and he started back down the path. The echoes of their footsteps grew more intense as Roghar went on, but despite his growing sense of anticipation, he reached the tunnel mouth without further incident.

The tunnel had been dug out of the earth, and it was shored up with a mix of fresh lumber and ancient stone columns. It ran even more steeply downward than the path in the crater, and curved sharply around to the left, cutting off Roghar’s view. He saw no sign of light coming up the tunnel, so Roghar reached into the pouch at his belt and found a sunrod. Before he could light it, Travic came and stood beside him.

“I’ll take care of the light,” the priest said. He rested a hand on the seal of Bahamut that adorned Roghar’s shield and closed his eyes for a moment, then a mote of light like a tiny sun sprang to life on the shield.

“Now my enemies can have no doubt where I am,” Roghar said, smiling.

“It’s no different than if you were carrying that sunrod,” Travic replied.

“I wasn’t complaining. Let them try to get past this shield and my armor. Better that than have them attacking the two of you.”

“Roghar,” Travic whispered, with a glance at Tempest. The tiefling was staring into the crater.

Roghar raised an eyebrow.

“She screamed before she fell,” Travic said. He stepped back and gestured toward the tunnel mouth. “Shall we?”

Roghar watched Tempest as she turned back toward them, her eyes still wide and her mouth set into a thin line. Had she experienced some kind of vision? Perhaps her nightmares had come to plague her by day as they did every night. Was she going mad?

Just a slip, he thought. But a slip of her foot? Or a slip of her self-control?

Tempest kept such tight rein on her thoughts and her emotions-it was part of what allowed her to keep control over the sinister power she wielded. If that control was slipping …

“What are we waiting for?” Tempest demanded. She met Roghar’s gaze with a mischievous smile, and he couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“Travic needed a moment to pluck up his courage,” Roghar said. “The older he gets, the longer it takes.”

Travic laughed. “That’s true of a lot of things, but not this. Let’s move.”

Roghar turned to the tunnel mouth. He’d have to duck his head to enter, and if anything attacked in the tunnel he’d be at a disadvantage, fighting in very close quarters. On the other hand, the curve to the left was slightly to his advantage, giving him better reach with his sword hand than an opponent coming up the other way. Assuming his hypothetical opponent used weapons.

“Who’s plucking up his courage now?” Travic said behind him.

Shooting a grin back to the priest, Roghar stooped and entered the tunnel. The bedeviling echoes ceased at once, and his footsteps seemed muted by comparison. The light Travic had put on his shield shone clear and bright, filling the tunnel until it curved out of sight. Alert for any sound around the curves, Roghar advanced as fast as the low ceiling would allow.