Марк Энтони: Crypt of the Shadowking

“Oh, really?” Caledan asked, raising an eyebrow. No doubt they had sent Al’maren here to spy on the Zhents—that would be standard procedure—but Al’maren looked so wet behind the ears he was almost tempted to offer her a handkerchief. “So what makes you think now that I’m not the fellow you’re after?” Caledan went on.

“Oh, please!” Mari said with a husky laugh, halting for a moment to stare at Caledan. “No offense, friend, but now that I’ve seen you up close you look more like a vagabond cutpurse than a hero of renown.”

Caledan spread out his hands. “No offense taken,” he replied amiably.

“Besides, if you really were Caldorien, you’d have a set of reed pipes with you,” she continued wearily. “You don’t happen to play the pipes, do you, scoundrel?”

“I wouldn’t know which end to blow in,” Caledan said, lying smoothly.

“I didn’t think so,” Mari said, sighing. “Caledan Caldorien was supposed to have been the finest piper in the Realms and one of the bravest men as well. We could use his help in dealing with the … the city’s new ruler.”

Harpers, Caledan thought derisively. They send one agent on what was probably her first mission to counter a city crawling with Zhentarim. That was just like them. They were idealists almost to the point of idiocy. Mari Al’maren no doubt thought that a few old, tired ballads and a few lofty, outdated ideals were somehow enough to end all the suffering and darkness in the world. Caledan knew better. He, of all people, knew that music—and the Harpers—would never be enough.

“Well, I’m sorry to have caused you trouble, friend scoundrel,” Mari continued, “though you seem to have paid me back for it.” She rubbed her shoulder. “I’ve got to keep searching. This city is supposed to have been Caldorien’s last known home, though gods know why anyone would live here.” She looked distastefully around the dingy street.

“It wasn’t always so bad,” Caledan said, taking a step toward her. “It was beautiful once. You know, legendary Iriaebor of the Thousand Spires.”

She smiled crookedly. Mari was not a woman who would ever be accused of being pretty, Caledan thought, but there was a warmth to her smile that made him grin back. “I’ll let you know if I run into this ‘Caldorien’ character.”

“Don’t bother,” she replied wryly. “It’s going to take me a while to heal my bruises from our first encounter. So do me a favor, friend scoundrel. Let’s say farewell.”

Caledan performed a stiff mock bow. “As you wish.” He straightened up—and his eyes widened in shock.

Mari frowned at him in puzzlement. “What is it, scoundrel?”

“Don’t look now,” he whispered, “but I don’t think you were the only one who has been doing a little following.”

Mari spun swiftly on her heels, and the blood drained from her face. Not a hundred paces away three black dogs were loping down the alley. Each was as large as a pony, and all of them were covered with flickering crimson flames. Their eyes glowed with a deadly golden light, and their huge maws hung open, baring their fangs.

Caledan gave a low whistle. “It looks like you should have said good-bye when you had the chance, Harper.”

Caledan drew his dagger from his boot as the three magical mastiffs howled, an eerie sound of fury and bloodlust.

“Please don’t tell me that pig-sticker is all you’ve got, scoundrel,” the Harper said caustically. Her movements were fluid as she unsheathed the curved, gleaming sabre belted at her hip and assumed a battle-ready stance.

“As you wish.” Caledan gritted his teeth.

Mari shot him a hard look, but there was no time for a reply. The hounds were rapidly closing the distance between them. Caledan could hear the crackling of the fiery auras that surrounded the beasts. The air was charged with an acrid, sulfuric odor. He let his dagger fly in a precise arc. It struck the lead hound directly between the eyes—and then bounced harmlessly off the creature’s skull.

Caledan and Mari traded desperate looks.

“These are enchanted beasts,” he shouted. “I don’t think mundane weapons can harm them.”

“Now you tell me,” Mari said disgustedly, thrusting her sabre back into its sheath. “May I be so bold as to suggest we turn tail and run?”

“We’ll never be able to outrun them.”

“Well, maybe we can outclimb them.”

Caledan nodded. He made a running leap onto the alley’s wall and began scrambling up the crumbling, uneven stone surface. The Harper did likewise on the opposite wall. Just as Caledan was heaving himself over the top, the flaming mastiffs were upon them. One of the beasts let out a feral snarl as it leaped upward, its jaws snapping. Caledan felt its hot, scorching breath even through his boots.

Somehow he managed to heave himself onto the sooty rooftop. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest, and his breath came in searing, ragged gasps. “What in the Abyss did I ever see in this battling evil business?” he groaned as he dragged himself to his feet. He saw that the Harper had reached the rooftop across the narrow alley, no more than ten feet away. The three magical hounds circled below, snarling and growling. Hot, sizzling spittle drooled from their maws, pitting the cobblestones where it dripped.

“What now, scoundrel?” Mari called across the gap, hands on her hips.

Caledan saw a large oaken barrel perched on the rooftop a few feet away from him. It was a rain barrel, filled to the brim with cool, dark water. An idea struck him. “Harper, is there anything over there that holds water?”

Mari frowned in confusion, but she looked around the rooftop all the same. “There’s a trough here with some sort of swill in it,” she called across the alley. “But I wouldn’t recommend it if you’re thirsty. I think more than a few pigeons have been using it as their personal bath.”

“It’ll do. Drag it to the edge of the rooftop, and when I tell you, dump it into the alley.”

Mari glared at him. “You want to give the dogs a bath?”

“Just do it, Harper,” Caledan growled.

She muttered something under her breath but did as he asked all the same. The fiery mastiffs were scrabbling at the walls, getting higher with each jump. It was only a matter of moments before one of them successfully made the leap.

“Now, Harper!”

Caledan pushed over the heavy rain barrel. At the same moment Mari grunted, heaving the wooden trough onto its side. Cold water rained down on the three mastiffs. There was a deafening hissing sound as a thick cloud of steam billowed up from the alley. The hounds yelped as their flaming auras were doused and extinguished.

Caledan readied himself for a dash along the rooftops. He hoped the trick with the water would give him and the Harper a few moments’ head start before they were forced to climb back down and take to the streets. Suddenly Caledan halted. He watched the magical beasts in fascination.

The mastiffs were continuing to yelp and whine, but their movements were growing slower, stiff and jerky. Steam ceased to rise from their sodden pelts. Abruptly the hounds froze in their tracks. They stood motionless for a heartbeat, and then, with a sound like breaking glass, the beasts collapsed into three heaps of jagged black shards.

Caledan shook his head in amazement. The magical beasts were dead, shattered like hot crockery immersed in cold water.

The Harper arched an eyebrow. “Not bad, scoundrel. Did you know that was going to happen?”

“Of course,” he lied.

The two climbed back down into the alley. With his boot Caledan kicked apart the piles of broken shards. They rang like chimes as they skittered across the cobbles. He found his dagger and stuffed it back into its sheath in his boot.