Марк Энтони - Crypt of the Shadowking

“I realized that, if anyone knew of a secret way leading out of Darkhold, it would be the undead spirit of Serafi. By means of a dark spell I summoned Serafi to me. He agreed to reveal to me a secret route through the caverns that led out of the keep. It was by means of this underground passage that Caledan and I escaped from Darkhold. But there was a price.”

“A price?”

The mage lifted an arm. Slowly he drew back the sleeve of his gray robe. Mari gasped, clamping a hand over her mouth. The mage’s forearm was crisscrossed with fine, pale scars. She looked up at him, her eyes wide.

“Such is the fate of the restless dead that they are envious of the living,” the mage said. For a moment, there was a trembling in his voice, and again the fear in his eyes. “Once each month, when the moon is full, the spirit of Serafi comes to me and drinks of my fresh, hot blood. Such is the pact I made with the vaporous spirit in payment for the knowledge he imparted to me.”

Mari shuddered. “When will the pact end?” she managed to gasp. She felt ill.

The mage’s eyes grew icy once more. “When I die.”

The shadows of twilight crept through the narrow streets of the Old City like ghosts. It was time to go. The companions readied themselves as best they could in the warm firelight of the common room.

As Caledan adjusted his swordbelt, he saw the Harper and Morhion exchange a meaningful look. Something has happened between them, he thought, clenching his hands into fists. He swore softly under his breath. Yet why should whatever went on between those two be of concern to him?

“I wish I were going with you, wife,” said Jolle regretfully as he hugged Estah close. His broad, usually cheerful face was troubled.

“You have two rather good reasons to stay,” Tyveris said as he picked up Pog and Nog and tossed them, shrieking with laughter, into the air before setting them back down.

Mari spoke then. “Once Tyveris and I begin freeing the prisoners, guards will most likely be summoned to the dungeons. The tunnels beneath the Tor should clear out. With luck you will be able to find the entrance of the crypt of the Shadowking.”

“Don’t worry about me, Harper,” Caledan growled. “You do your part tonight, and I’ll do mine. After that, I never expect to see you or the Harpers again. You can save your meddling for somebody else. I’ve had enough of it.”

For a moment the proud look on Mari’s face wavered. She cast a brief glance at Morhion, her dark eyes troubled, then turned her gaze back to Caledan and thrust her chin out defiantly.

“Let’s go, then,” Tyveris said gruffly, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

They kept to shadowed lanes and dim alleyways, hoping to avoid any confrontations with the Zhentarim. A silence hung over the city. There was not a trace of wind. It was as if the city itself knew that its fate hung in the balance this night and was holding its breath.

They were near the rear wall of the Temple of Selûne when two dark forms suddenly separated themselves from the shadows of an alcove to join the companions. Caledan started to draw his sword in surprise, but Ferret’s hand on his arm stayed the action.

“These are friends,” the thief hissed.

“Well met, Ferret,” one of the thieves, a slender, dark-haired woman with large, catlike eyes, whispered.

“Greetings, Kyana,” Ferret answered the woman.

Kyana spied the big Tabaxi. “What is this?” she asked mischievously. “A disciple of Oghma sneaking around the city like a common criminal? A rather large disciple of Oghma at that.”

Tyveris’s face darkened. “I was a warrior long before I was a loremaster, thief,” he said dangerously. “Don’t forget it.”

Kyana tapped her cheek thoughtfully. “Very well, I won’t.” She turned to Mari. “Talim and I will be going with you into the dungeons.” She nodded toward the other thief, a young man—hardly more than a boy—with a mop of red hair. Mari started to protest, but Kyana held up a hand. “No arguments, Harper. If you want to use our entrance to the dungeons, you have to play by our rules. Besides, you’re going to need some help springing all those locks on the prisoners’ cells.”

Kyana led them down a dank, foul-smelling alley. She stopped at a peeling wooden door, knocking three times before pausing, then twice after that. After a long moment the door opened. Caledan felt eyes watching them from all around.

Kyana led the way into the ill-lit building. There were numerous thieves inside, but it was difficult to count them all, for they kept to the shadowed corners. Kyana paid them no heed as she led the companions down a flight of rickety stairs into the basement. The small stone room was littered with broken crates and rotted furniture. Against one wall slumped an ancient oaken wardrobe. Kyana opened the wardrobe’s doors. Inside was blackness, pure and perfect

“In there?” Tyveris asked, uncomfortably eyeing the narrow opening.

Kyana nodded. “You’re not afraid of the dark, are you, my overfed monk?”

Tyveris glared at her. Then he gathered his robes about his knees and stepped into the wardrobe. Kyana gestured for the others to follow.

Caledan had taken this way before, when Ferret had helped him escape from the dungeons, so he knew what lay ahead of them. Still, it did not make the utter darkness of the narrow, confining tunnel any more pleasant. He breathed a sigh of relief when they finally stepped out of the passage into an abandoned part of the dungeon beneath the tower.

Kyana shut the entrance behind them. It blended seamlessly with the rough stone wall. The portal would be absolutely impossible to detect if one didn’t know beforehand where it was.

Kyana led the way down the debris-littered passageway. Cells lined the corridor, but their iron bars were rusted, their doors hanging on their hinges at extreme angles. No one had used this part of the dungeon in centuries. They would encounter no guards down here.

Soon they reached an intersection. Caledan could see golden light glowing down each of the passageways to their right and left. Moans of pain and the dull clanging of iron drifted faintly on the dark, fetid air.

Here was to be a parting of ways.

“There are prisoners down each of these corridors,” Ferret whispered. “Both eventually lead to the tower. The tunnel leading to the excavations is a short distance down the left-hand passage.”

“Tyveris, you head down the corridor to the right,” Mari said gravely. “Free as many prisoners as you can. Kyana, go with him. Talim and I will take the left-hand passage and do the same. We’ll catch up to you by the stairs leading up to the tower—if at all possible.”

Tyveris nodded solemnly. “May the gods be with you this night,” the big loremaster said in his rumbling voice.

“Don’t worry, Harper, I’ll take good care of him,” Kyana said as she and the loremaster started off down the right-hand corridor. Ferret didn’t hesitate, quickly leading the others down the other passageway.

They were nearly to the tunnel that led to the excavations when Ferret called the others to a halt. He cocked his head. Caledan could see his ears twitching. “There are guards coming,” he whispered. “Seven or eight at least. I can hear the clanking of their armor.”

Caledan listened. At first he could hear nothing, then the faint sound of booted feet against cold stone drifted down the passageway. They couldn’t risk a fight At best, it would delay them, and at worst …

“This way,” Morhion said, gesturing to the shadowed mouth of a side passage. “It may be our only chance.”

Caledan hesitated, but there was no time to think. “Come on,” Morhion hissed, starting down the side corridor. The others followed. There was a foul, vaguely sweet odor in the air. The passageway gave Caledan a bad feeling.