Брюс Корделл - Oath of Nerull

“We’re not going to kill someone just to get past the archway,” exclaimed Ember.

She was prepared to sacrifice a lot, but not an innocent life.

Hennet nodded. “There has to be another way to the temple. How are all the cultists getting in and out?”

Brek shook his head. “If we wanted to come in the front door, we wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

“I have an idea,” said Nebin, still studying the runes. He pulled a small dagger from his belt and looked at the others. “A violent death, of the sort we can assume this nasty death god prefers, produces blood. Maybe a drop would do as well as a bucket.”

Nebin winced as he pricked a finger with his dagger. Blood beaded on his fingertip. The gnome flicked the drop, painting a copper-size portion on the glowing tiles red. The blood trembled, then was sucked into the stone, leaving not a trace.

The glimmer in the tiles faded. Something clicked, muffled by the walls. All was quiet once more.

“Well, I’ve either deactivated, or activated something. Who wants to go first?” asked Nebin.

Ember advanced, ready to jump back at the first sign of trouble. Again, she came to no harm. She motioned the others to follow, but not before giving the gnome a grateful look.

“You are wise beyond your size, Nebin.”

The gnome nodded, accepting the compliment as his due. She shrugged and turned back to face front. Ember enjoyed giving the wizard compliments, if only to see him preen after each one.

They passed down the corridor, and the trap, if any, failed to materialize. On they traveled, descending farther as they went. The subterranean dark weighed on Ember. She sensed a similar depression in Hennet and Nebin, but not Brek Gorunn. She supposed the dwarf preferred the bosom of the earth to the open skies.

Soon Ember noticed that the stone walls of the passage were cracked. Seeping moisture widened some of the cracks over the years, forming gaping holes. They passed skull-carved balusters, looming in the swaying lantern’s light. Their footsteps echoed as they walked, leaping ahead, then following behind. Again the corridor emptied into a chamber, much larger than the others. Shapes were revealed in the vast room; pale domes, biers, and carved sarcophagi with images of men long dead. Ember couldn’t begin to estimate the size of the room, but the absolute stillness of the air and the hollow echoes from their small movements revealed that it was at least several hundred feet wide, if not more.

“This doesn’t seem a particularly safe route,” quavered Nebin. “Those are sarcophagi. You know, with dead people in them.”

His words echoed with ominous portent. Quiet followed.

Ember realized the gnome was right. This was a sort of mausoleum. And it was old, probably older than any structure she had ever been inside.

She said, “Stay alert. I expect that those who have lain here so long have no more interest in the living, if they ever did.”

Even as she spoke words of confidence, she debated internally. Stories and her own experience told her that it was always wise to expect to find undead prowling near tombs, even those considered safe.

Brek Gorunn motioned them ahead. The dwarf gripped his warhammer.

They passed into the chamber between tables and buildings carved from marble. The darkness was complete, sealing them inside the circle of Brek’s light. They passed the ominous mouths of tombs carved with faces, bodies, skulls, and darker symbols. Maybe the old cult of Nerull once claimed the spaces beneath New Koratia, but Ember could see the tombs here were far older than a few hundred years, older than the founding of the city, stretching into the past even beyond the knowledge of the cultists who briefly claimed it.

The strains of a flute playing alone in the distance stopped Ember. The notes were placid and deep, as if a dirge.

“Do you hear that?” she asked.

Everyone stopped, straining their ears, but the ghost-music was silent.

“I think I heard it, for a second,” said Hennet. “Pipes, maybe, or a fife?”

“It reminded me of a flute,” said Ember.

Brek said, “I heard it, and did not like it, whatever its source. Best we press ahead swiftly, lest we meet the musician.”

Passing deeper into the vast underground graveyard, they were stopped again. A mighty crevice lay across their path, splintered and jagged. Some ancient movement of the earth bisected the chamber. Many of the tombs that lay along the crack were half toppled into the chasm, broken and splintered. Though the crevice spoke of a violent convulsion, it was diluted across a gulf of time. The lantern’s light could just reach the far portion of the chamber across the divide.

Brek Gorunn inched forward and held his lamp over the edge.

“No bottom in sight,” he said.

Ember joined Brek on the lip. She saw bits of crumbled stone and broken statuary fetched up on rough ledges farther down. One sarcophagus lay cracked completely open on a narrow ledge. It was empty, its former contents swallowed by the chasm.

The dwarf said, “The crevice looks to be about twenty or twenty five feet across. Too far to jump, at least for anyone but Ember.”

Ember gathered her legs for the leap, eager to put it behind her. She felt a touch on her shoulder.

“Ember, hold on,” Brek said. He pointed to the left. She could see a slender shaft of white stone jutting out over the chasm. “See that column? It bridges the chasm. Let’s look at that before you risk jumping across.”

“Don’t think I can make it?” she asked.

“I am certain that you will make it,” explained Brek Gorunn. “Then, there you’ll be on the other side, vulnerable to any creature hiding over there in the gloom. You could be attacked while the rest of us are still stuck over here.”

“Perhaps,” conceded Ember.

Of course the dwarf was right. It wasn’t like her to be impetuous, but the unrelieved darkness preyed on her mind.

The group moved to the fallen column. It bridged the crevice at an angle, and was visibly cracked. Brek ran his fingers across the stone, considering. He unlimbered his pack and rummaged through it, then produced the rope he’d purchased earlier in the city.

He said, “I don’t trust this span. In case it gives out, a little insurance is best.”

“Nebin, you’re the lightest, you should cross first,” Ember said.

When Brek didn’t disagree, Nebin stepped up to the edge of the chasm. The dwarf tied the rope around the gnome’s waist and secured the other end to a jutting piece of masonry.

“Make sure it’s tight!” warned Nebin. “And leave plenty of slack, I don’t want to be thrown off-balance by a snag on the rope.”

The gnome peered across the chasm, then briskly stepped across the column, not looking down, his arms held out for balance. Ember smiled when he reached the far side. The gnome waved and undid the rope from around his waist.

Next went Hennet, then Ember carrying the lantern. She watched Brek Gorunn closely as he prepared to cross. He was the heaviest, and she worried. The dwarf undid the knot anchoring the rope to his side of the chasm. Once loose, he tied the free end around his waist and waved to her. She nodded, wrapped the rope twice around another marble obelisk on her side of the chasm, then tied the end to the same, heavy column. Holding the rope with both hands, she prepared to take up slack as the dwarf crossed by pulling the rope around the column.

Balance wasn’t a problem. The dwarf’s center of gravity was low enough that he could stroll across the bridge if he chose to. He decided instead that moving quickly would be best, as quickly as Ember could take in the rope. It took him only a few moments to reach the point where the crack was worst.