Марк Энтони - Crypt of the Shadowking

Without warning the passage opened up into a small, darkened chamber. It was a dead end, Caledan realized. He swore, sensing something was very wrong, and gripped the hilt of his sword. Too late.

Torches burst into life all around the companions. Caledan stumbled backward involuntarily, blinded by the glare. When his vision cleared, he realized they were surrounded by Zhentarim.

There were at least a dozen warriors, each holding a crossbow trained on one of the companions—all except for Morhion. The mage stepped forward, joining two dark-robed figures who stood alongside the Zhentarim.

Morhion had betrayed them.

“You’ll pay for this, mage,” Caledan spat. He lunged forward, only to be brought up short as several Zhentarim leveled their swordpoints at his chest.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Caledan,” a clear voice said as one of the black-robed figures pushed back its cowl. Ravendas. “Yes, Caledan, it is I. You did not think you would escape me so easily, did you?” She turned to address the other black-robed figure. “Your traitor has done exceedingly well.”

Ravendas’s companion also pushed back his heavy cowl. It was Lord Steward Snake, his dark eyes glittering in the torchlight. “As I promised, my lord.”

“Twice now you have done me a great favor, Morhion Gen’dahar,” Ravendas crooned. The mage did not meet her gaze. He stared blankly forward, his attitude unfathomable. “This time you have outdone yourself. I had not expected you to bring me the troublesome Harper as well.”

Ravendas approached Mari. “Who will lead your little rebellion now, Harper?” Mari stiffened, yet remained silent. So Morhion had betrayed them, informing Ravendas of the plan to free the prisoners.

“What are you going to do with us?” Caledan demanded hotly.

“Kill you, of course,” Ravendas said flatly. “But I wish you to live long enough to see me wield the power of the Nightstone. It will make your failure all the more bitter.” She turned to one of the Zhentarim warriors. “Bind them.”

Caledan, Mari, Estah, and Ferret were each bound tightly. Suddenly Caledan noticed that the young thief, Talim, was not among them. He must have slipped away in the darkness. The four were dragged out of the passageway, and for a brief moment Caledan found himself next to Morhion.

“If ever it is in my power,” he whispered harshly, “I will kill you for this treachery, mage.”

“I know,” was all Morhion said.

“Where are they?” Tyveris muttered repeatedly. He paced the small stone antechamber. Kyana watched him, her arms folded across her doeskin jerkin. A score of prisoners huddled in the cold, dank chamber behind her. Their clothes were in rags, their faces dirty and haggard, many of them gaunt with hunger. However, they clutched makeshift weapons in their hands, along with several short swords and crossbows Tyveris and Kyana had brought with them.

“I know the Harper is your friend, monk,” Kyana said, “but we can’t afford to wait much longer. We’ve been lucky so far that we haven’t run into any guards. But eventually our luck is going to run out. I’m afraid we have to assume that something has happened to the Harper and the others.”

“You can assume what you like,” Tyveris growled. The prisoners watched him with worried eyes. “Where are they?” he muttered one more time.

Much as he hated to admit it, he knew Kyana was right. It had been nearly an hour since he and the thief had freed a score of men and women in one of the dungeon blocks. It was only a matter of time until the escape was discovered, and then they would lose their only advantage—surprise. Cormik’s agents were poised outside the tower, ready to send the signal to the bands of cityfolk waiting throughout the city that the prisoners had been safely freed. Then the rebellion would begin in earnest.

Tyveris could feel Kyana’s eyes on him. She was pressing him to make a decision. Tyveris had hoped Mari and the others would catch up with him before it was necessary to make the final assault on the tower. I’m a priest now, not a warrior, Tyveris swore inwardly.

Suddenly Kyana stiffened. She lifted a hand to her lips for silence. Tyveris caught the faint sound of footpads echoing off cold stone. Someone was hurrying toward the antechamber. Kyana loosened her saber and moved to the door. Tyveris prepared himself to spring. A shadow moved outside the doorway.

“Wait, it’s me—Talim!” a voice gasped just as Kyana raised her saber. Tyveris sighed in relief as the young, red-haired thief rushed into the room. His freckled face was pale, his gray eyes wide.

“What is it?” Kyana asked him, concerned.

“I have bad news,” the young thief said, swallowing hard. He told his story: Mari, Caledan, and the others had been captured by Ravendas and taken to the crypt of the Shadowking. “It was the mage who betrayed them,” Talim said sadly. “But I was at the rear of the party, and I managed to melt into the shadows. They didn’t notice me.”

“You did well,” Tyveris said somberly. His heart felt as cold as the surrounding walls. Almost instinctively he started for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Kyana demanded.

“To help my friends,” he declared fiercely.

“And what do you propose we do with them?” she asked quietly, nodding her head toward the prisoners gathered in the antechamber. “Return them to their cells?”

Tyveris glared at her. Then his shoulders slumped. Again, the thief was right. He couldn’t turn his back on the prisoners. No, he had to trust that Mari, Caledan, and the others could take care of themselves. He had his own job to do now.

“All right,” he said gruffly. “We’ll go on as planned, without Mari. But I’m not much of a warrior nowadays, Kyana. You’re going to have to take charge.”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Kyana said slyly. “They’re looking to you, monk, not me.” All faces turned expectantly toward Tyveris.

He swallowed hard. I will lead them, but I will not kill, he vowed inwardly. I gave you my promise, Tali, my sister. I promised you there would be no more killing.

“All right, then,” he growled. “Let’s go.”

Despite the weeks and even months each of them had spent laboring beneath the Tor, the cityfolk moved with a speed and energy that amazed Tyveris. With Kyana and Talim scouting ahead, they made their way past the slime-covered walls of the corridor, toward the heart of the dungeon. They moved as stealthily as they could, with the brave, though pale and haggard, faces of people determined to win their freedom or die.

The group came to a corridor leading off to a block of cells, and Talim and Kyana swiftly picked the locks on the iron doors. Tyveris quickly explained to the newly-freed prisoners what they intended to do. “If you do not wish, you do not have to come with us,” the loremaster said. When they left the block, however, not a prisoner chose to remain behind.

It was at the next block of cells that they encountered several guards, three dungeon warders, gambling with dice of polished bone. The first two died before they realized what was transpiring, one with Kyana’s saber in his heart, the other with Talim’s dagger in his back. The third tried to shout an alarm as he scrambled for his sword, but his cry was strangled into silence as a trio of crossbow bolts buried themselves in his throat and chest.

Tyveris whirled in surprise to see three of the cityfolk reloading their crossbows. He reminded himself not to underestimate these courageous people.

One of the guards had a ring of keys at his belt, and these made the task of freeing the prisoners quicker. The thieves of the Purple Masks Guild had hidden several caches of weapons in lesser-used parts of the dungeon, and one of these was nearby. Soon Tyveris found he had over a hundred cityfolk crowding the corridor behind him, each with a weapon in hand, be it sword, knife, cudgel, or crossbow. Some of the cityfolk were but children, others were gray and weathered. There were as many women as men. All of them were ready to fight, and none were afraid to die.