Paul Kemp - Shadow witness

Jak began searching the debris.

Gale quickly found the boxes against the far wall, – beneath an overturned weapon rack, a wooden.-, and a pile of broken broadswords. He gave a short, soft whistle to get Jak's attention. _Iere." The h'ttle man hurried over. Gale could no longer hear the sounds of the feeding ghouls.

He saw right away that ghouls had been at the strongboxes. The surfaces had been scratched with claws and beaten with something heavy. The lock and hinges had been pried at but they hadn't been opened. He felt a flash of hope.

"1 don't have a key," he said to Jak, "Can you get them open?"

Jak eyed the locks professionally and nodded. "I don't have another spell for it, but I should be able to do it the hard way." He reached into one of his pouches and pulled forth a small leather case. After loosing its strap, he unfolded it to reveal a bewildering array of lock picking tools-from a bent copper wire to a hardened steel pry for tumblers. He pondered for a moment, selected a tool Gale did not recognize, and set to work.

"Tough lock," Jak observed after working on it for a moment. He exchanged the first tool for his tumbler pry. "But 111 get it."

Tense, Gale said nothing. He could hear the growls of the ghouls from somewhere down the hall.

"Hurry, Jak."

"Mmhmm."

The growls grew louder. Through the thick door, Gale could hear the thump and scrape of clawed feet on wood, closer now.

"Jak…"

"I know." Jak's fingers worked rapidly. Gale heard click after click in the lock but the damned thing didn't open!

The maddened snarls of the rampaging ghouls drew nearer until they sounded right outside the armory door. There had to be ten or more! Their footfalls sounded like a stampede of market cattle. Heart thumping, Gale stood over Jak and turned to face the door, blade ready.

"Hurry up, godsdammit," he whispered over his shoulder. He would rather face ten ghouls with an enchanted blade than without.

"Almost… got… it…" replied the little man. "There!"

He lifted the fid of the strongbox just as a ghoul body thumped into the door. Jak gave a start and dropped the tumbler pry. The sound of the tool clanking on the wood floor made Gale wince. Surely they had heard that. He expected a flood of ghouls to rush the room in seconds.

"Cale-r-" whispered Jak.

Gale waved his hand sharply. "Hssst."

The little man popped his mouth closed, drew his blades, and stood beside Cale, waiting.

Seconds passed and the door stayed closed. Gradually, the sound of the growls began to grow fainter. The ghouls were moving past them! Cale could not believe their luck!

They waited in nervous silence as the sounds of the rampaging pack grew fainter and fainter, until finally the growls disappeared altogether. They exhaled as one.

"Dark," Jak whispered.

"Dark indeed," Gale said, and shot him a hard smile. "We got lucky there."

Jak returned the smile with a grin and tapped the luckstone that hung from a chain at his belt. "The Lady does favor the foolish, Cale." He turned and knelt before the open chest. "Here, look at all this."

Lined with black velvet, the first iron strongbox held two long swords, a gilt mahogany case, and a small, plain maple box. Each long sword had a large onyx set into the pommel, a hilt wrapped with silver wire, and a flawless, shining blade,

Cale reached for the blades but Jak stayed his hand.

"Let me check for magical traps," he said. "Ill also confirm that they're enchanted."

"Good idea," Cale replied, then added some good-natured ribbing. "Must be nice to have spells at your disposal on a job."

Jak winked at him as he pulled forth his holy symbol. "Very nice. The Trickster takes care of his own." He looked up at Cale sidelong. "Mask does too, I suspect."

While Cale thought on that, Jak softly intoned the words to a spell. Afterward, he carefully scrutinized the chest.

"No traps," he said with assurance. Still holding the bejeweled cloak-clasp, he mouthed the words to a second spell. "The swords are magical, plus whatever is in the box and case."

Without further ado, he lifted out the case and popped it open. Within its red, felt-lined interior sat four silvery sling bullets, each inscribed over their entire surface with tiny, intricate runes. He set that aside and pried open the maple box. Three glass vials sat within, cushioned by packing rags. The translucent liquid within the vials shimmered azure in the blue light of the wand.

"Potions," Jak announced, followed quickly by, "No good to us now though, unless you know what they do."

Cale shook his head in the negative. "Bring them anyway," he said, and knelt to pick up one of the enchanted long swords. He tested its heft. Though somewhat wider than his normal blade, the enchanted long sword felt lighter and perfectly balanced. He smiled appreciatively, though he knew it mustn't be too powerful a weapon or the Righteous Man would not have stored it in the common armory. Even a weak enchantment was better than none. Thazienne's dagger had wounded the shadow demon and he did not think it had been particularly powerful. He discarded his own ordinary blade and sheathed the enchanted one.

Jak pocketed the potions and placed the magical sling bullets in his ammunition pouch. He slid over to the other strongbox, pulled out his tools, and set to work on it.

While he waited, Cale paced apprehensively. His eyes fell on the open strongbox.

"Jak…"

"Hmm?" The little man didn't turn around. "Nearly got it."

A tingle ran up Gale's spine. He knelt before the first strongbox, throat constricted.

Within, nearly invisible against the black velvet, lay a black felt mask, the symbol of Mask the Shadow-lord. Cale stared at it, motionless, afraid to touch. Was this a sign? He felt himself standing on the edge of a cliff. Touching the mask would be to step off and fall, or fly. He wasn't sure if he was ready to fly.

We must have overlooked it, he thought, but didn't really believe it.

Beside him, Jak popped open the lock on the other strongbox. "Got it," he said, and lifted the lid.

Cale grabbed the mask and stuffed it into his cloak pocket. He told himself he did it for the sake of Jak's safety, but knew it to be untrue, For the first time in his life, he was hoping for help from a god. The events of the last two days had changed him. Yreillar had to be stopped. Tonight, Cale would take help from wherever he could get it.

"No traps," Jak said. He whistled and pulled out a wide-bladed, mundane looking short sword. "Looks plain, brut the aura shows it as enchanted. Ill use it." He lifted out another maple box like the one they had found in the first strongbox. "Nothing special." Liquid dripped from the seam between the lid and the bottom. The potion vials must have been broken when the room was tossed. They're no good." He pulled out a small leather bag, loosed the drawstring, and dumped the contents onto his palm, two rings, one a plain elec-trum band, one a silver band inset with three small black opals.

"No way to know what these do, either," said Jak. "You take this one." He tossed Cale the bejeweled silver ring. "I'll keep this one." He slipped the electrum ring into a belt pouch. "Well figure them out later."

Cale pocketed the ring. When he did, his hand brushed the felt of the mask and a charge raced through his body. He had difficulty deciding whether he had imagined it or not. For an instant, he felt a part of something larger than himself. He felt a newfound confidence. Maybe they would get out of this alive.

Jak stood and took a few practice stabs with his new short sword, seemed satisfied, and looked at Cale. "Let's get moving."

Pleased to hear the confidence in Jak's voice, Cale nodded and moved for the door. He knelt and placed his ear against the door. The ghouls were gone.