Брюс Корделл - Oath of Nerull

“Elder Kairoth,” it intoned hollowly, “kill the woman! Then kill the rest!”

Kairoth grunted, his face working hard. Ember looked at her mentor, taking a step back. With a strangled grunt, he faced Ember.

He whispered, the muscles of his neck straining like wires, “Run!”

Ember nearly fell. Whatever had happened in the subterranean temple, they had not rescued Kairoth in time. It would have been clear to anyone that Kairoth’s will was fighting the magical effect with supernatural effort. To Ember, who knew the mental disciplines behind the Order’s training, the struggle playing out on Kairoth’s face was a nightmare to behold. If Kairoth could not overcome it, she knew no one could. That would indeed be powerful and frightening magic—and the ogre somehow manipulated it. The monster had to be dealt with, and quickly. None of them would live long if Kairoth turned fully against them.

“Hennet, Nebin, kill that ogre now!” she screamed.

She wanted to say more, but Kairoth kicked at her. Another kick, two feints, and then a hammer blow so fast and hard it made the air ring. Ember fell back with each attack, knowing she couldn’t fight her mentor. She barely dared to deflect his blows, afraid that even a glancing hit could shatter her arm or snap a wrist. She dodged and ducked, leaped and rolled, anything to stay away from those hands and feet that could strike like hot iron. If she could avoid getting crippled or knocked out, perhaps she could keep Kairoth occupied long enough for the others to eliminate the ogre that drove the monk to attack.

These were no thoughts in Ember’s mind, only instinct. No time existed for thought. The notion had barely formed when a steely fist streaked past her whirling defense. Even as she was lifted from her feet and lost track of the room’s orientation, she marveled at the elder’s speed and power. How could a human do such feats?

She smashed backward through a silk screen and slammed into the solid wall behind. The force of the impact sent spiderweb cracks through the stone. Only when she slid down and collided with the floor did Ember realize she was upside down. Darkness’s seductive veil tantalized her eyes.

Ember moaned, rolled onto all fours, and crawled forward. Blood dripped from the corner of her mouth, more streamed down her shoulder. She tried sitting up, pulling at the rough stones on the wall behind the screen for support, but her head swooned and up and down rushed together. Her back slapped the floor in a puff of dust. Lying there, she managed to turn her head so she could watch how the others fared without her.

Kairoth stood unmoving again, his hands squeezing into fists then relaxing, over and over. His face was beet red and sweat rolled across it to disappear into the knotted muscles of his neck. Ember looked for Hennet, then saw him facing the ogre. The sorcerer muttered a few syllables and gestured. A ghostly, disembodied hand appeared above and behind the ogre. The ogre didn’t seem to see it—it was yelling something to Kairoth, but she couldn’t hear over the thumping in her ears.

The ghostly hand, moving as Hennet’s own hand moved, grabbed a loose drape of silk, one of the sheets torn by the ogre’s entrance.

What’s he up to? she wondered.

With a flip and a shake, the hand flicked the silk over the head of the ogre. The ogre roared and groped for the edge of the cloth. Ember saw Nebin skip forward. The gnome’s hand was still charged with icy cold. He reached out and up, touching the creature in the middle of its chest. The ogre stiffened, its head wrapped in the silk.

It gasped, “Mistress Sosfane, help me! Nerull, preserve me.”

Then it fell. Its heart was frozen.

Something occluded Ember’s view. Kairoth! She flinched back as he reached toward her.

“Ember, a magical compulsion held me. I am so, so sorry. Please, let me help you.”

He held her hand, and she allowed him to help her stand. Ember groaned. Once she was on her feet, her head cleared quickly.

With a hand on her mentor’s shoulder, she said, “It was only your teaching, Kairoth, that allowed me to evade your attacks for as long as I did. And your last blow, I believe, would have killed anyone not trained by you.”

Kairoth sighed and said, “A blackness fell over me. Something other than my own will directed my actions.”

Ember nodded and vowed silently to keep one eye on the elder. His situation was a topic that required discussion, but it could wait.

Nebin remained where he stood before the unmoving ogre, breathing hard through his mouth. Ember presumed he was dazed or surprised at his own foolhardiness.

Hennet pulled a vial from his pouch and went to the dwarf’s side. The sorcerer put the vial to the dwarf’s lips, forcing him to drink. A gulp, a cough, and Brek Gorunn’s eyes popped open.

Seeing Hennet, he asked, “We are the victors, then?”

Hennet nodded wearily.

Vobod and Cestra both lay unconscious. Neither showed any sign of coming around, but they continued to breathe shallowly. After a search of all the defeated cultists and their equipment, the group considered the fruits of their victory. They had collected several mundane rings and amulets bearing Nerull’s sign, a few vials of magical liquid that Nebin promised to “keep safe” for later identification, and a single rolled parchment containing a message to Vobod. The message was inked in Common:

Dearest Vobod,

Administer the Oath to Elder Cestra. Her unwitting cooperation has been useful, but the time has come to bring her fully into the fold. Our secret is in danger of spilling out. Kairoth has resurfaced. I blame you for leaving him to his own devices in the Old Temple. He should have been brought to me, in the Revived Temple, as I commanded. You will receive your punishment in due course for this lapse. But for now, tend to Cestra. Things come to a head. Nerull’s umbral glory is about to shine forth from the flaming pit. Let all fall before the Reaper of Flesh!

“ ‘S’ eh?” wondered Nebin.

“Perhaps ‘S’ stands for Sosfane,” said Ember. “When we spoke with Elder Vobod earlier, he mentioned someone named Sosfane. He claimed she had been slain, but it’s obvious he lied about many things. Assuming ‘S’ and Sosfane are one and the same, what does she have against the Order of the Enabled Hand? I asked Vobod that question earlier, but he wouldn’t answer.”

“It could be that she is simply exploiting a weakness to further her cause,” Hennet mused. “Maybe the Order of the Enabled Hand is only involved because Vobod, or some other elder, proved weak?”

“Hard to say,” Kairoth responded. “We have few facts, and speculation won’t lead us to the truth.”

Nebin nudged Hennet in the ribs with a grin.

“Where is this ‘Revived Temple’ the note speaks of?” wondered Ember.

Kairoth shook his head and said, “If anywhere, it is below the city. The duke would never accept a temple to Nerull operating openly on the streets.”

Hennet asked, “Do you suppose it is near where we rescued you, Elder Kairoth?”

“It may be, though this letter suggests that they are not near each other. Lucky for me, it seems,” said the elder with unaccustomed irony.

“What is our next move? Despite all we have done here, this letter makes clear that we have not rooted out the source of the evil afflicting the order,” Ember said, looking to Kairoth for direction.

“Find the Revived Temple,” Kairoth replied. “Then we eliminate it, just as they attempted to eliminate us. We must fight or perish, that much is clear.”

Ember considered. “I concur, except for one thing. I mean no offense, Elder Kairoth, but you have become vulnerable to them, and your vulnerability places all of us in great danger. You could be turned against us again, should you accompany us on our search for the Revived Temple. The same is true of Cestra, and potentially any other monk of the Enabled Hand. As far as I know, I am the only one who hasn’t had contact with the Order before a few days ago. The task falls on me.”