Брюс Корделл - Oath of Nerull

All were silent, remembering their last trip to the mere edge of that lightless maze below New Koratia.

“Then, that is where we must go,” said Hennet. Brek Gorunn nodded. Nebin put his head in his hands, sighing. Ember let Hennet have a brilliant smile.

“We should go soon,” agreed Brek Gorunn.

“Soon!?” squalled Nebin. “Let’s think about this. It would be so nice to simply relax. Let’s say we order another round of wine? You can have ale, Brek, if wine doesn’t suit you. No need to send us all off to the dungeons.”

The dwarf chuckled, “Soon, not in ten minutes, Nebin. I learned a few more things about the catacombs today in Moradin’s temple library. We need to make a few preparations, based on what I learned there, and I will have that mug of ale.”

“Yes, let’s purchase supplies at first light tomorrow,” Ember concurred. “I’d like to head into the catacombs no later than noon.”

Hennet pulled out his trophy from the Duel Arcane, inspected it, and said, “I’m eager to see if the Golden Wand’s power will serve me. I’d like to see if it really can cage magical attacks thrown against me and return them back upon my attacker. What better test than in Nerull’s catacombs?”

Nebin said, “How about not going into the catacombs and trying out the power right here in the Cuttlestone? Safer, I’d guess. I can fling a petty bolt at you.”

“No, my friend, the wand’s power is not unlimited. Better to use it only at need. I’d rather not squander it.”

“Nebin, if you feel that a trip into the catacombs is not for you…” began Ember.

“Hold on, don’t say it. Of course I’m coming with you. I’m just on the side of caution, that’s all,” said the gnome. “If not me, who will be the voice of reason?”

Hennet opened his eyes in mock surprise. “If not you? Let me recall to your mind a foray you and I shared last year. It was high summer—do you remember? We were summoned by the alchemist of Whitemore. You pulled that red lever in his laboratory. Oh, you recall that, I see! And do you remember what we went through because of that?”

Nebin interrupted Hennet. “Yes, yes, no need to sift through the whole incident.”

Ember’s and Brek’s expressions indicated they actually wouldn’t mind hearing the story, but Nebin continued speaking. “Anyway, we learn from our mistakes.”

“I’m glad,” said Ember. And she really was. The gnome was competent, even though he enjoyed playing the clown.

Nebin turned back to the dwarf and said, “And you’re sure there is no other entry into the revived temple except through the catacombs?”

“Of course there is! But, we’re sneaking in. We have a map of the ancient entrance. Presumably, the red masks enter and leave using some entrance closer to the surface. Our way is longer, more dangerous, but should ultimately give us the element of surprise.”

Nebin nodded, apparently satisfied.

Ember finished her drink, wondering about the red lever Nebin had pulled. It could wait, but she would like to hear that story someday.

She said, “Wonderful. Tonight we relax. In the morning we prepare for our expedition against the cult of the death god.”

At dawn, after an early breakfast, the four companions headed to the market quarter.

Shops could be found pretty much anywhere in the city, but they were concentrated in the market quarter. More importantly, the market quarter was home of the Wizard’s Hoard. It dealt strictly in magic and had a first-rate reputation.

Like the Floating Tower, the Hoard was run by the College of Wizardry, though it didn’t float. It was a rambling building of luminescent stone resembling blocks of pearl. The main structure was covered by a dome that glittered even in moonlight. Inside, thousands of arcane items could be bought and sold for a fair price.

The group entered through a wide portico and found themselves in a broad, covered bazaar. The ceiling, the interior of the vast dome, sparkled with stars as convincing as the night sky. Below, tents and carts crowded together at the center of the open area. These belonged to the hedge wizards and witches who rented space, selling minor charms and ointments from their wagons. The “good stuff” was to be found along the broad, curving walls, where permanent shop fronts were situated and run directly by the College of Wizardry. No-nonsense advertising hung above many of the shops, scribed in Draconic and other magical languages: Potions, Wands, Staves, Impenetrable Armors, Enchanted Blades, and more.

They stood gazing in wonder. None had ever been to the Wizard’s Hoard before. It was a little overwhelming.

First, the group sold the trinkets, documents, and minor items retrieved when they rescued Kairoth. No buyer asked intrusive questions. Everyone purchased a few vials of magical curative. They knew it would be foolhardy to rely solely on Brek Gorunn to save them all from injuries.

Nebin bought some spare, spell-grade parchment.

Ember found a shop called Ellen’s Elixirs and Charms. The shop proprietor was a withered, human woman who wore dozens of charms on strands around her neck. Though she hawked many potential wonders, in the end, Ember bought a potion advertised to “make a hero” of the imbiber.

After purchasing a single curative, the dwarf made a beeline for the shop along the round called Smite Plus. Inside, a cornucopia of oils, charms, and scribed spells were available, each offering a temporary enhancement to a weapon. Brek used nearly his last gold imperial to purchase a magical oil that would briefly empower his warhammer. He grinned as he walked out. It was good to serve Moradin!

Hennet bought nothing besides curative vials. He had the Golden Wand, after all. Its powers would be a great help. A few people in the dome even recognized him from the Duel Arcane and congratulated him on his victory.

They met again near the entrance. It was time to move on. After leaving the Hoard they visited a few other shops—Hennet needed crossbow bolts, Ember desired a new pair of gloves, Brek wanted rope, and Nebin pointed out that they could be in the catacombs for quite some time—they had better purchase provisions enough to last for two or three days.

Finally all the supplies were bought, inventoried, and stowed. Each wore a small pack, a pouch, and a satchel. It was time to descend into the lightless halls beneath the city. That was adventure enough on its own, but they knew that getting through the catacombs was only half the challenge. Finding and dealing with the revived temple of Nerull in the heart of the catacombs was their true task.

“There it is,” said Ember, pointing at the rune-inscribed double door.

The sewers were behind them, the catacombs lay ahead. One of the stone doors remained open, as they’d left it. Inside, the chamber appeared unchanged. The pit trap gaped wide, opening onto a fall Ember remembered well.

Brek pushed into the room. Ember kept her eye on the far opening while Brek checked the pit.

“Seems clear,” shrugged the dwarf. “Let’s go.”

With the dwarf ahead and Ember right behind, they entered the narrow, urn-lined corridor. As before, Hennet and Nebin brought up the rear. They avoided disturbing the urns, for fear they still held the remains of people long dead. Brek’s lantern provided flickering and uncertain light, sending shadows chasing up and down the cemetery hallway.

The next chamber was also quiet. This is the room where we rescued Kairoth, reflected Ember. The room was circular, domed, and connected to six hallways. Each opening was shadowed with threat. During their last visit, greenish ghoul-light had lit the scene. Ember silently thanked providence that that foul radiance was gone, not to mention the animate, spellcasting corpse. Brek walked forward with his light and examined the floor around the altar.