Брюс Корделл - Oath of Nerull

The older monk slowly walked along the wall, one hand trailing across the brick. The dim light from a street lantern threw his shadow along the wall before him.

“Ah, here it is.”

A press, a twist, and a section of the wall whispered open.

Brek Gorunn noted in a professional tone, “Fine stonework.”

Kairoth pressed a finger to his lips, motioning them to follow with his other hand. The elder stepped through the door into a narrow, dusty corridor. Ember followed him, then Brek and Hennet, and Nebin brought up the rear.

In the darkness of the passage, someone whispered, “Shall I summon light?” Ember recognized Hennet’s voice.

The gruff voice of Brek Gorunn uttered a terse, “No.” There were a few more seconds of darkness, then light blossomed from a lantern held by the dwarf. “Save your magic for the fighting, if it comes to it.”

The narrow corridor ran parallel to the outer brick wall, then made a sudden turn, becoming even narrower, if possible. Ember felt sorry for the dwarf, who was barely able to squeeze along with bis broad shoulders and mail overcoat. Kairoth led them to a small door.

The monk opened the door, revealing a small meditation cubicle. It held a single, flickering candle. Ember realized the door they had just opened into the cubicle was also secret.

She murmured back to the others, “This is a meditation chamber; we must be in the Hall of Meditation. Good news; we are close to the Elders’ Sanctum.”

Brek nodded, whispering, “The more of the Motherhouse we can bypass completely, the more likely we are to succeed.”

“If we can avoid raising a general alarm, all the better. I do not want to fight innocent students,” Kairoth agreed.

So saying, the older monk moved into the cubicle and opened the far door. Beyond was a broad hallway lit with golden lanterns, though all were burning on low wicks. Ember and the others followed, one after the other, passing out of the meditation cubicle, which was normally considered large enough for only a single student. Nebin followed Brek into the hallway, and Hennet followed after, closing the door with a tiny click.

Ember scanned the hallway, relieved to see that their entry was unmarked. Sometimes those who couldn’t sleep visited the Hall of Meditation late at night to calm their thoughts.

Kairoth looked around and grimaced. “The Elders’ Sanctum lies at the end of the hall.”

They moved as a group in the direction the elder indicated. Ember recalled walking that very hall when she and Brek first visited the order two days before. A definite air of threat suffused the air, or at least she imagined so. A richly carved set of oak doors stood closed at the end of the hallway. The doors were framed in a matching oak lintel. The last time Ember and Brek passed that way, the doors were open.

Ember cocked her head. “Do you hear that?” Indeed, all could hear the mutterings of many voices in the next room, muted by the stout door. “It is some sort of gathering. I’ve never known the elders to meet so late.”

Ember looked to Kairoth, and the elder shook his head.

“Any elders we see beyond this door are masters in the art of hand, fist, and foot, even if they’ve been somehow subverted. It would be foolish for any of you to try your strength against them. Leave them to me. Are you ready?”

Nebin brought his goggles down over his eyes and pulled a scroll from his belt. Hennet rubbed his hands together, while the dwarf smacked the head of his warhammer into his other palm.

Ember simply nodded and said, “It is time.”

Kairoth pushed wide the door.

Two days before, Ember was heartened by the warm lights and fragrant oils of this chamber. Now, the ambiance of the reddish lights seemed to suggest only blood.

Four people sat in a circle at the center of the large room. All four wore red masks and chanted in atonal unison. At the center of the circle were two more figures. One was a woman half wrapped in gray strands of fabric, lying face up. She seemed drugged, unaware of her surroundings. Another red-masked figure hunched over her, tightening the woman’s wrappings, winding the fabric around her slowly and ritually in time to the chanting. Ember recognized both. The woman being wrapped was Elder Cestra, the other, Elder Vobod! The walls of the room were hidden by silken screens.

Elder Kairoth spoke loudly. “Vobod, your betrayal of the Order ends here.”

The chanting ceased as every masked face turned toward the intruders.

Vobod looked up, easily recognizable despite his red mask, and said, “Look here, my fellow adepts. We have more applicants who wish to take the Oath. Welcome them!”

The chanters scrambled to gain their feet. Elder Kairoth didn’t give them the chance. With a yell, he leaped spectacularly over their heads and delivered a powerful spinning kick to Elder Vobod. Vobod deflected most of the force with the back of his hand, then counterattacked; he was a blur of flashing arms and legs. Normally, an exhibition fight between two elders was something Ember wouldn’t miss. Now, she had to somehow deal with the other red-masked chanters. She hoped there were no elders hiding among them, or the battle was over before it began.

With a rush of feet, the red masks leaped to the attack, one after another.

Ember engaged the foremost, using careful ho shin sul, the self defense techniques of the Order. She was slightly dismayed when the man she faced used a similar, if not identical, technique. A stunning, round-house thunder slap to his neck penetrated his defense before he could counterattack. Ember spun past the collapsing man, looking for more adversaries.

Her breath caught when she saw robes cartwheeling past her and Brek’s flank, directly toward Hennet. The sorcerer traced a pattern in the air, then reduced his assailant to a writhing heap on the floor with sizzling bolts of magic. Though the man fell, the momentum of his charge pushed the body to within a foot of the sorcerer.

Two more menaced Brek Gorunn, each attempting to distract the dwarf so that the other could attempt a killing blow. Before Ember could assist, Nebin rushed forward, one of his hands aglow with frigid lambency. When the gnome’s hand brushed one of Brek’s attackers, the supernatural charge stopped him cold. A heartbeat later, the dwarf dropped the other with a ringing blow from his warhammer.

Kairoth and Vobod continued sparring, two blurred forms moving too quickly to resolve. The dwarf howled his cry to battle, attacking Vobod from the rear. Before the dwarf’s roar was fully formed, a foot lashed against his neck. The cry choked off and Brek collapsed, unmoving. Ember, on the dwarf’s heels, stopped to check on him. He breathed, but his neck was badly crushed. Ember looked up, wondering if she should pull the dwarf away or help her mentor. No decision was necessary.

With the dwarf as a distraction, Elder Kairoth executed another spin kick. This time, Vobod had no defense. With the sound of crunching bone, Vobod joined Brek Gorunn on the floor. Kairoth stood as a pillar, unmoving, but his eyes danced.

It was then that a brutish, hollow voice echoed in the chamber. It said, “Elder Kairoth, remember your oath!”

Kairoth staggered as if punched, then stood unmoving again, but the flames in his eyes were doused.

“Who said that?” squealed Nebin.

Ember darted her gaze around, trying to ascertain the same thing. It hadn’t been the last chanter. He cowered on the floor.

A shape burst through one of the screens surrounding the room, tearing the silk into flapping shreds. It was humanlike, yet bestial, half-again as big as a human. Its skin was muddy green.

Nebin squeaked, “An ogre! Or half-breed?”

The gnome’s voice wavered with uncertainty. The ogre-like monstrosity laughed.