Брюс Корделл - Oath of Nerull

Brek muttered, “There must be other entrances to the catacombs besides the one we used.”

Hennet could only agree. At least, none of those menacing them in the narrow hall carried overt Nerullan symbology.

Nebin whispered, “Who does this poser think he’s fooling? Hennet, ensorcel him, I’ll take out the rest.”

Ember raised an eyebrow. Hennet knew why; it wasn’t like the gnome to be so brash. Hennet studied his friend, and saw the way he possessively clutched his spellbook.

Brek Gorunn said, “Those archers can do much damage from a distance, while the swordsmen hold us off. Perhaps we should pay their toll.”

Ember looked at the dwarf, then at Hennet and Nebin, and said, “I’m not about to give them Loku’s Bracers, the relics of my vanquished chapter. Without our equipment, we would have to turn back from our quest, and there’s no way out behind us. I’m with Nebin. We must fight.”

Hennet, never one to back down from a challenge, nodded grimly.

Jeelsen, seeing their impromptu conference, apparently misread their hesitation.

He yelled, “Yes, yes, you know I speak the truth. Save yourselves some trouble. Am I answered?”

Nebin shouted, “You are!”

The gnome flicked a scroll from his belt and began incanting. Brek unlimbered a crossbow and scrambled to fit a bolt and pull back the crank.

He yelled, “Watch those archers! I’ll peg the swordsmen.”

Hennet’s blood beat in his ears. Brek and Ember took the front rank in the narrow corridor, while he and Nebin stood behind.

Hennet yelled, “You picked your victims badly this time!”

Actually he had no illusions about his own power and his inexperience in the world, but perhaps his bold speech, backed up by aggressive action, would give the bandits pause. He called up his own power. Magic was in his blood, and he loved wielding it. Giving it a shape and a name, he let go a glittering, ruby ray toward Jeelsen.

Ember leaped forward, directly toward the swordsmen. Hennet tensed, then gasped in surprise as she deftly tumble-rolled past them, avoiding their sudden, wild swings. Arrows from the bow-armed elves whined past her spinning form to snap against the wall and floor. Then she was past them, too. Before Hennet quite knew how, she stood next to Jeelsen. The bandit leader recoiled in surprise.

That was when Hennet’s magical bolts struck the bandit leader, sending him gasping and reeling backward. Ember followed up, unleashing a spinning kick that knocked Jeelsen flat. Twin streamers of smoke rose from his clothing where Hennet’s spell had hit him.

Nebin finished his incantation, and the two swordsmen at the front collapsed to the floor, asleep. The four left on their feet wavered.

Brek Gorunn, who had finally finished cocking his crossbow, pointed at the leading swordsman and said, “Run.”

The archers and swordsmen, seeing Jeelsen prostrate and smoking, ran back down the corridor the way they came. Jeelsen, despite his pain, called after them to no effect. Ember nudged him with her foot, as if to remind the bandit leader of her presence.

Jeelsen suddenly changed tactics, exclaiming, “Mercy! We made a grave error. Oh, yes, most grave. We didn’t know…we didn’t realize you were so powerful…please, mercy!”

Ember nudged the man with her foot again. Hennet saw that by the way she clenched her jaw, she was restraining herself from delivering a stronger blow.

“Get up,” she said. “Wake your men, and leave. If we meet you or any of your men again in these catacombs, or hear of you attacking anyone else, you’ll have us to reckon with and we won’t be merciful. Do you understand me?”

Jeelsen rose unsteadily to his feet and said, “I understand.”

Still holding his cocked crossbow, Brek Gorunn added, “Fear makes you agreeable now. When we’ve gone, remember that we showed you mercy when you deserved none. Seek a new path, or your reward will be ashes in your mouth. Even Moradin may be merciful to the repentant.”

Hennet wondered at the dwarf’s sudden sermonizing. It was a tack he hadn’t used before. Then again, he’d never fought human foes with the dwarf before.

Jeelsen, not quite sure what to make of the dwarf’s speech, murmured, “You are so right. Of course, I’ll repent.”

Without a glance at his men who lay sleeping from Nebin’s spell, he turned and trotted down the stone corridor after the others, grabbing his lamp as he passed. The bobbing light dwindled into the distance.

“I don’t know why I waste Moradin’s teaching on one such as him,” Brek Gorunn said. “Incompetence is its own reward—that’s another of the Dwarffather’s teachings, my friends.”

The dwarf laughed, uncocking his crossbow.

Ember rejoined them before the door, stepping carefully over the sleeping forms, and said, “A swift fight—a good omen, I think. Let’s continue. These louts can take their chances here after sleeping off their poor decision.”

“Should we interrogate one of the sleepers,” asked Hennet, “to see if they know anything about the temple?”

Ember paused, her brow creased. She shook her head. “No, I’d rather they continue to think we’re tomb raiders like themselves. We can’t kill them in cold blood, and I’d hate to let them know our purpose in case they get ahead of us and give warning.”

He nodded. She was right. He didn’t kid himself—at this point, he’d find it hard to disagree with her, no matter what she said.

“We just scared off a roving band of brigands without taking a bruise!” exulted Nebin.

Hennet grinned and said, “We do make a good team, don’t you think, Ember?” He glanced at Ember, smiling. She winked back. Then they readjusted their gear and moved on.

Ember felt they were close. Brek Gorunn confirmed it. His dwarven instincts concerning stone and the earth seemed supernatural, they were so finely tuned. Even some of her own abilities, and certainly those of her teachers, verged on and sometimes crossed the line from ordinary to extraordinary, Ember reflected.

But the passage Brek led them down was blocked by water. She watched Brek, wondering which way he’d point them next. The dwarf was baffled.

“The map indicates clearly that this is the fastest way,” he said. “If we have to backtrack, we’ll lose hours!”

The stone walls of the tunnel opened up on either side into what seemed a natural cavern that was far larger than the lamp’s small circle of illumination. The floor descended to the edge of a subterranean lake. Its water was so perfectly still and so inky black that it looked almost like a gigantic mirror laid on the floor. The sound of splashing, however, indicated that somewhere in the distance, the water was moving. Of more immediate concern was a glimmer of green light twinkling out on the lake. In the gloom, it was impossible to judge the distance from the shore to the unidentified light.

Ember edged down to the pool. Something caught her eye on the left side of the cavern.

“Brek, please bring the lamp down here.”

The dwarf obliged. With the light, Ember spied a slender stone ledge running around the side of the cavern. It was close to the water and difficult to see. At the near end the ledge was only about two feet across, and the edges were partly crumbled. Whether it continued on that way for its whole length was anyone’s guess. It was the only way forward. The dwarf had not steered them wrong, and Ember clapped him on the back.

“This way,” she said. “I’ll go first, then Brek with the light. Hennet and Nebin bring up the rear—Nebin, watch behind. We don’t want to be surprised out on this catwalk.”

The gnome gulped, nodding.

Silently, clutching at the rocky wall to the left, they went in single file along the ledge. Indeed, there were many places where the path was crumbled nearly to nothing. Luckily, the gaps were small enough that a single step was sufficient to get past, even for the gnome. Ember wasn’t worried about herself here. It was Brek Gorunn, with his broad shoulders and heavy armor, that caused her concern.