"Pool of Radiance: Ruins of Myth Drannor" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bebris Carrie)

CHAPTER THREE

At sunrise, supplied with directions and rations from the clerics, the foursome left the elven shelter and hiked to the entrance of the dwarven undercity. Dawn proved a good time to travel the city's surface-the sunlight chased away undead wanderers, while the hour was too early for much activity on the part of humanoids. The few orcs they did spot en route were easily avoided.

The daylight, however, did little to lift the pall that lay over the ruined city. An aura of tarnished greatness hung about Myth Drannor, its former dignity reduced to rubble along with its structures. Everywhere Kestrel looked, flawed beauty met her gaze: crumbling arches, cracked columns, decapitated statues, dead or dying trees. The tales she'd heard of the fallen elven capital had described treasure there for the taking by anyone brave enough to face its new denizens. However, even to her rogue's sensibilities, looting this city seemed less like robbing from the rich than stealing from a cripple.

The party spotted the double doors inscribed with Mystra's star symbol. They approached slowly, this time anticipating the thunderous Word of Opening rending the air.

"Aodhfionn!"

The command, as yesterday spoken by the mysterious otherworldly voice, roared like the surf pounding on the shore. Kestrel started at the force as vibrations echoed in the air. Hinges too long in need of oil protested strenuously. The doors to the undercity swung open to reveal a dark corridor.

Smooth, perfectly planed rock walls lined the ten-foot-wide opening. Within, narrower passages broke off in three directions. Lit torches punctuated the walls at fixed intervals, confirming that some sort of humanoid occupants passed through regularly. When she'd heard these dungeons were of dwarven construction, Kestrel had feared she and the others would have to stoop to move through them. Fortunately, the ceiling was at least six and a half feet high. Durwyn might have to duck in places to keep his helmet from scraping the roof, but otherwise it appeared that the foursome would find their movement generally unhindered.

Kestrel waited for someone else to enter first. She might have agreed to accompany these misguided do-gooders on their suicide mission, but she had no plans to stick her neck out an inch further than she had to. She'd do what she could to keep the party alive and intact-thus improving her own chances of survival-but her commitment ended there.

"Go ahead, Corran," she prompted. The holy knight seemed to have appointed himself the leader of their little group anyway. "I'll be right behind you."

"I assume that's supposed to reassure me," he said, "but I can't help wondering if I'll feel a knife in my back."

Don't tempt me, she thought. Aloud she said, "Only if you keep us standing here much longer. The sooner we go in, the sooner we get this over with."

"Let us enter, then." Sword in hand, Corran strode forward into the flickering torchlight "May Tyr guide our steps-and our hearts."

"Whatever."

The two women entered after the paladin, with Durwyn bringing up the rear. Corran chose the path that broke off to the right Kestrel thought they should have paused at the fork and listened for clues to what lay ahead in each direction, but she didn't care enough to speak up, and she didn't feel like arguing with him this early in the morning. If he wanted to believe that his god guided his steps, that was fine with her-she just wished he and Durwyn would make less noise clanking around the stone corridor in their armor. They must have alerted the entire undercity population to their presence already.

When they reached the third fork, she couldn't hold her tongue anymore. "Do you have any idea where you're going?" she asked.

He stopped, turning to face her. "Do you?"

"No, but it might help to listen ahead instead of just parading through." No sooner had she spoken than she thought she heard a voice murmuring in the passage to their right.

He opened his mouth to respond, but she covered it with her hand. "Hush!" She cocked her head, trying to make out the words.

"What do you hear?" Ghleanna whispered.

It was a low, guttural voice. An orc? Probably, but she wanted to find out for sure. "Wait here." At the mage's raised brows, she added, "I won't go far."

She crept down the right passageway, moving soundlessly and keeping to the shadows created by the flickering torchlight. After a few dozen yards, she still couldn't see the speakers-she'd determined there were two of them- but she could hear them clearly, and the low rumble of many voices still further down the corridor.

"Ugly wizard need more guards. Blood Spear Tribe come today. Meet here later."

"Broken Skull Tribe show who boss."

"No! Ugly wizard say no fight each other."

They were orcs, all right. Either that, or the stupidest-sounding humans she'd ever overheard. She padded back to the fork, then trod about thirty yards down the other passage. She held her breath and listened closely but heard nothing but the crackle of torches. She returned to the group.

"A couple tribes of orcs are gathering in the right passage," she said, deliberately leaving out the mention of the "ugly wizard"-one of the scarred mages they'd heard about? Knowing Corran, he would want to confront the spellcaster immediately. "I vote we go to the left."

The others concurred. They headed down the left corridor, passing several solidly built wooden doors inscribed with glyphs-all of them different, none of them recognizable to anyone in the party. Kestrel tried to pick the locks of the first two doors, but discovered them magically, not mechanically, sealed.

"They must require those other Words of Opening the clerics talked about," Durwyn said.

"You think?" Kestrel retorted. Leave it to Durwyn to state the obvious.

Several hundred yards farther, they came upon a doorway that glittered in the torchlight as they approached, as if it held a door of glass. When they reached it, they discovered the surface thick with frost and crystals.

Ghleanna extended her hand to touch the surface. "It's ice. A solid sheet of ice."

"Strange," Kestrel said. "I wonder what's inside?"

Durwyn hefted his axe. "Let's find out." Before Kestrel could stop him, he swung the axe so hard it created an ear-splitting crash that echoed throughout the passageway. A huge web of cracks spread across the ice from the center of his strike. A second blow sent large chunks of ice flying into the room beyond.

Kestrel grabbed his arm before he could swing again. She fought to keep her voice muted. "What in the Abyss are you doing?" she hissed. "Every orc in this dungeon will hear you!"

Confusion spread across Durwyn's features. "I thought you wanted to-"

"He might as well finish now," Corran said. "One more blow, and we'll be able to get through."

Durwyn looked to Kestrel as if for permission. Corran was right-if breaking through was going to attract attention from the orcs, the alarm had already sounded. She supposed it was even possible that they were far enough away that the orcs wouldn't be able to determine the origin of the noise. Besides, for all they knew, the path to the House of Gems might lie beyond this frozen doorway. She shrugged her reluctant assent.

The warrior struck a third time, shattering enough of the door to create a man-sized hole. They kicked aside hunks and shards of ice, then grabbed a torch from one of the wall sconces. Corran thrust it through the opening and peered in.

"It's a small room," he said. "Maybe ten or twelve feet square. Looks like there's no one inside." He crawled through, followed by the others.

Once inside, Kestrel shivered with cold. In the center of the room-taking up most of the room, in fact-was a large circular rune inscribed on the stone floor. Its intricate knot-work pattern was outlined in white frost. In the center, about waist-high, floated a golden sphere encrusted with icicles.

She crossed to the levitating sphere, withdrew one of her daggers, and prodded it. The sphere did not move. She tapped harder, but her effort yielded only the clank of steel against ice. Finally, she put the dagger away and pushed against the sphere with all her strength. It felt as icy as it looked, but it would not budge.

"Let me help," Durwyn offered. The big warrior threw all of his weight against the floating object, but it remained just as firmly in place.

"I give up," Kestrel said. She glanced at their other companions. Ghleanna knelt at the edge of the rune, closely examining it. Corran stood facing one of the walls, his back to the group.

"Ghleanna, what do you suppose this is?" the paladin asked.

The mage approached, as did Kestrel and Durwyn. The wall held an engraved formation of four diamond shapes arranged in a column, with a vertical line bisecting them. A ruby was embedded in the lowest point of the bottom diamond.

"I've never seen its like before," Ghleanna said.

Corran traced the edge of the ruby with his index finger. "I tried removing the gem, but it's wedged in there pretty tight."

"Not exactly your area of expertise, I imagine," said Kestrel. "Let me try." She removed a pointed metal file from one of her belt pouches and tried to insert it between the gem and the wall to pry out the ruby. Despite her best efforts, the stone remained firmly in place-now surrounded by scratch marks.

"Apparently not your area of expertise either," Corran remarked.

She shot him a dirty look. The failure of her thieving skills bothered her enough-she didn't need Sir Self-Righteous rubbing it in. "It must be magically frozen in place, like everything else in this room," she said stiffly. "Otherwise I would have had no problem removing it."

Ghleanna offered to use sorcery in hopes of learning more about the room, but all agreed her spells were better saved for whatever lay ahead than to merely satisfy curiosity. "I'm sure this room isn't the only mysterious thing we'll encounter in Myth Drannor," Corran said.

Kestrel hoped the others proved this benign.

After a while, the party entered an area of the dungeons that appeared less frequented by the orcs. Fewer torches lined these walls, and many of them had sputtered out or been extinguished. The light became dim enough that Corran removed one of the unlit torches from its sconce, lighted it off the next burning torch they came upon, and carried it with them. Soon, the passageway's illumination grew so bad that the others followed suit.

As they neared a chamber with an open doorway, a sudden voice from within startled them. "Light? Oh-whoever you are, I beseech you! Please bring your light this way!"

They exchanged glances, knowing that their torches would reveal them to the speaker well before they could see him.

"A trap?" Kestrel mouthed.

"I don't think so," Corran responded softly. "If he means to ambush us, why alert us to his presence?" More loudly, he called out, "We're on our way."

Corran entered the chamber first. "Oh!"

"What?" Kestrel darted in after him. "Oh!" she echoed. "Well, I'll be damned…"

In the corner of the room stood a man-or at least, half a man. He looked ordinary enough from the torso up, with a medium build, long brown hair, and penetrating dark eyes. From the waist down, the unfortunate fellow was embedded in an enormous boulder. His body appeared to simply end, consumed by the rock.

Behind her, Kestrel heard Durwyn and Ghleanna enter. The warrior gasped. "What happened to you?"

"If you can believe it, a lovers' quarrel," the man responded. "I was exploring these dungeons with my fiancee, a fellow sorcerer, when we fell into an argument. The subject was so trivial that I can't even remember what the fight was about, but in the heat of the moment I renounced my love for Ozama. She flew into a rage and cast a spell that sealed me in this boulder until I solved a riddle:

A quest of love

Ends with me,

Yet I am made

Endlessly.

If I drop,

I say my name,

If I touch rock,

Freedom gain."

Kestrel nearly snorted. "That old thing? Your sweetheart changed the ending, but the first half of it must have circulated through half the taverns between here and Waterdeep last year."

"And all the courts the year before," Corran added.

The man's face lit up, his eyes darting from one party member to the next. "Do you really know the answer?"

"A ring," Durwyn said.

Kestrel crossed the room and tapped her silver ring against the rock. A mighty crack! rent the air as the boulder broke into pieces. The long-trapped wizard immediately fell to his knees, his legs unused to supporting his weight.

"A ring," he murmured, rubbing the atrophied muscles of his calves through the fabric of his purple robes. "So much lost time over such a simple answer." He remained absorbed in his own thoughts, an expression of regret settling onto his angular face. His musings, however, lasted but a few moments before he left the mournful thoughts behind and addressed the foursome. "My name is Jarial. Words aren't enough to thank you for releasing me."

Corran introduced the party, then asked how long Jarial had been trapped in the boulder.

"Since the Year of the Arch-1353 by the Dale calendar," he said. "What year is it now? There's no way to tell time in here."

"The Year of the Gauntlet. 1369." Kestrel soberly studied him. Even though Jarial was a sorcerer, she felt sorry for him wasting so much of his life trapped alone in the darkness. He appeared only twenty or so, but he had to be much older. And the riddle that had imprisoned him had become so common while he endured endless isolation-even Durwyn had known the answer! "You mean this Ozama woman just left you down here for sixteen years and never came back?"

"I believe she meant to return," Jarial said. "Something must have happened to her. She was angry but not vindictive enough to leave me here forever. We came here in the first place seeking a magical item called the Wizard's Torc, said to lie in the lair of a dark naga somewhere in these dungeons. I fear she continued looking for it alone and met with misfortune."

"Or found it and left you here to rot while she kept it for herself," Kestrel said. "How did you survive, anyway? I mean, excuse me for asking, but why didn't you starve to death, or get killed by the creatures dwelling down here?" She noted that his jaw was not even roughened by stubble, nor his clothes frayed by sixteen years of constant wear.

"Ozama's spell kept me safe from the ravages of time and enemies," Jarial said. "Though I did begin to fear I would go mad. At first, of course, I pondered the riddle every waking moment. When no solution came to me, I shouted myself hoarse calling for help. That attracted the attention of some of the undercity's more unpleasant residents, who offered no aid but found it entertaining to come in here and torment me."

Jarial's little-used voice sounded scratchy. The poor man was probably parched. Corran offered him some water, which the mage accepted gratefully.

"You're a sorcerer," Kestrel prodded. "Couldn't you use magic to free yourself?"

"Believe me, I tried! After going through all the spells I knew, I started devising new ones." Jarial smiled ruefully. "Though I had the satisfaction of using some of my mocking antagonists for target practice, I still couldn't gain my freedom." He continued kneading the muscles of his legs, trying to rub life back into them.

"After giving up on using sorcery to free myself, I spent probably another year just saying aloud every word I could possibly think of, hoping to accidentally stumble on the answer. Obviously, that strategy proved ineffective as well. Eventually, I stopped bothering to even use magic to light this room. I'd just consigned myself to spending eternity here, alone in the darkness with only my own thoughts for company." The lonely sorcerer tried again to rise, but his legs remained too weak to support him.

"Here, drink this." Ghleanna offered him a small vial of bluish liquid, one of the potions they had found on Athan's band. Faeril had identified it as a healing potion made of blueglow moss, a local plant renowned for its curative properties but now in short supply. "You'll never manage to massage away years of disuse."

Jarial swallowed the dose and within minutes was able to walk around the chamber. When his stride had steadied, he held the foursome in his gaze. "I can't thank you enough," he said. "What quest brings you to these dungeons? You must let me aid you."

Kestrel laughed humorlessly. He was welcome to take her place.

The band, now five in number, continued through the maze of passages. Jarial thought he remembered the location of a stairway that led up into the hill of the acropolis, so at his suggestion the party backtracked to a previous fork and headed down a different corridor.

A few yards down, light spilled out of a doorway. Within, they heard sounds of shuffling and sporadic muttering as if someone were talking to himself. Kestrel snuck ahead and peered inside.

Nottle the peddler bent over an open trunk, rummaging through its contents. "An' what's this? Ah, yes! Dwarven weapons always fetch a good price."

Kestrel blinked. The peddler was foraging through the dungeons as casually as if he were shopping in Phlan's marketplace. Was the little guy trying to get himself killed? She motioned to the others to join her, then entered the chamber. Engrossed in his scavenging, the halfling didn't even notice her.

"Nottle, what are you doing here?"

"Yiaah!" The peddler jumped about a foot. The short sword he'd been holding clattered back into the chest. "Jeepers! Ye scared me!"

"Worse things than us could stroll into this room," Kestrel said as her companions entered. "How did you get in here?"

"I saw ye folks unseal the door, and I follow'd ye in. Them elven clerics mean well an' all, but thanks t' them I ain't been able to git in here fer weeks-all the good stuff's nearly gone."

The paladin shook his head in disbelief. "You're telling us this whole dungeon complex has been plundered in a matter of weeks?" Corran asked. "By whom?"

"Everyone!" Nottle retrieved the short sword he'd dropped and added it to the collection of booty he evidently intended to abscond with. "Since them horrible phaerimm and alhoon have been run outta this part o'the city, all sortsa creatures come here to loot their old hoards. Why do ye think there's so many orcs about? It's a great time to be a scavenger!"

"Aren't you afraid for your safety?" Ghleanna asked.

"No more'n usual." The peddler struggled into his overstuffed pack and picked up his lantern. "A bit o'danger comes with the trade. If I wanted to play it completely safe, I'd open a borin' little shop in Waterdeep. 'Sides, the orcs're some o'my best customers, so they pretty much leave me alone."

"Orcs aren't the only things haunting these passageways," Jarial said. "I've seen zombies and-"

"Oh, I can handle a few zombies." Nottle headed for the door. "Nice chattin' with ye folks again. Let me know if ye need anythin'!" With that, he was gone.

All five of them stared after the peddler. "He's going to get himself killed," Durwyn said.

Kestrel shrugged. "Better him than us." In a way, she envied the halfling. Were the need for stealth not so great on this misguided mission of theirs, she would have enjoyed looting these ruins right along with Nottle. But she could ill afford the noise of carrying too much plunder.

As they filed out of the room, Kestrel heard Durwyn whisper to Jarial, "What's an alhoon?" She'd wondered the same thing herself at Nottle's first mention of them but hadn't wanted to admit ignorance.

"An undead mind flayer," the mage said. "Horrible creatures with heads that look like an octopus. Between their psionic powers and wizard spells they're deadly opponents."

"And the phaerimm?"

"Extremely powerful magic-using creatures, nearly all teeth, claws, and tail. I saw plenty of them-and alhoon-in the time I was trapped down here, but as the peddler said, they just up and disappeared one day. It must have taken something awfully strong to drive them away."

Kestrel didn't want to dwell on what that "something" might be. If it was the same creature-or creatures- responsible for creating the new Pool of Radiance, their mission was even more futile than she'd thought.

They headed farther down the passage, ducking into rooms as they continued their search for a way up and out of the dungeons. Many of the rooms stood empty or littered with broken furniture, while others-probably the former lairs of the alhoon and phaerimm-held ransacked chests or similar signs of already having been visited by scavengers such as Nottle. As in the region where Jarial had been trapped, the torches along the wall of this new area became sparser, until they reached a zone where there were none at all. Though each of the explorers held a torch, the flames did little to illuminate their surroundings. A pall of preternatural darkness cloaked this sector of the dungeons.

They came upon a room that seemed to serve as an antechamber to a larger complex. Several doors in the back and side walls stood open, and the party entered one to find themselves engulfed in nearly total darkness. The flames of their torches cast little more light than candles.

"I don't recognize this area at all," Jarial said. "We must have made a wrong t-"

"Hush!" Kestrel interrupted him. She held her breath, concentrating on a sound she heard echoing from the stillness. Rattle. Scrape. Rattle. The noise seemed to come from a room off to their right

Rattle rattle. Scrape scrape. Rattle rattle.

"I hear it, too," Ghleanna whispered.

Clack. Clack. Clack clack.

Corran's hand drifted to his sword hilt, but suddenly stopped. He sucked in his breath. "It almost sounds like-"

A white shape shuffled into view, its grinning head and gangly limbs a stark contrast to the blackness beyond. Clattering erupted as a sea of others appeared behind it.

"Skeletons!" Durwyn leapt forward, swinging his battle-axe in a wide arc that shattered the skull of the nearest foe.

"At least a dozen of them," Corran called out as two creatures armed with swords closed in on him. He left his own sword in its sheath, reaching for the warhammer on his back instead. In a single movement, he brought it around and smashed the sternum of the first skeleton. It crumpled into a pile on the ground.

The creatures were closing in fast. There had to be more than a dozen, but in the poor light Kestrel couldn't determine where they were coming from. She grabbed her club from her belt and snapped her wrist to extend the weapon to its full length. Her daggers would do no good against a mass of walking bones with no flesh to pierce.

A sudden flare issued from Jarial's fingertips, sending a sheet of flames shooting toward a group of skeletons. Within seconds, the blaze consumed three of them and caused two more to fall back. Distracted by the spell, Kestrel almost didn't hear the rattling bones approaching behind her. She spun around, automatically swinging her club. The baton struck the lone skeleton hard enough to knock it off balance. She seized the advantage and struck again, knocking its weapon out of its grasp. Her third strike bashed in its skull.

She glanced back at the others. Corran had dispatched several skeletons, but for every one that fell two more surged in. Both warriors were heavily engaged now, shielding the more physically vulnerable sorcerers. As she watched, Durwyn swung his axe in a powerful arc that sent the skulls of two creatures flying at once. Their headless remains clattered into a pile at his feet He kicked the bones aside and pressed forward to attack another foe.

A flash of steel caught her eye, alerting her just in time to an advancing opponent. Was it the flickering torchlight, or had this collection of bones yellowed with age or decay? Its sinister grin held no teeth, and cracks appeared along its clavicle and pelvis. The creature swung its sword in a jerky motion that Kestrel easily parried. She then struck the frail hipbone with all the strength she could muster. The brittle pelvis shattered.

The skeleton, now in two halves, collapsed. The fall alone sent several ribs skidding across the floor. Its legs fell still, but the creature propped its torso up on one bony hand and swung its sword with the other, trying to cut Kestrel's legs out from under her. She jumped to avoid the sweeping weapon and landed on the weakened collarbone. It snapped under her weight. A final blow from her club kept the creature from rising again.

She had just finished off this latest foe when she saw Corran cast aside his torch. A moment later, a flash of metal in his left hand caught her attention. His holy symbol. Did he hope to repel the skeletons as he had the zombies last night? The creatures were coming at him too fast to give him a chance.

A crazy, desperate idea entered her thoughts, and she acted before she could talk herself out of it. She dove to the ground and rolled into the skeletons. The creature nearest Corran crashed to the floor. Before it could recover its feet, she swung her club and caught another skeleton in the knees. It fell on top of the first and caused a third to trip over their sprawled bones. Kestrel scrambled out of the pile. They were down but not defeated, providing Corran with only a small window of opportunity.

It was all he needed. "By all that is holy, begone!" he cried, holding Tyr's symbol aloft.

At the paladin's shout the skeletons nearest him retreated. At the same time, light burst from the head of Ghleanna's staff, at last fully illuminating the room.

Nine skeletons-those Corran had repelled-circled the room's perimeter, keeping as much distance as possible between themselves and the paladin as they attempted to reach the exits. Two more yet advanced, while the three Kestrel had felled clumsily tried to disengage themselves from each other.

The sudden brightness startled the skeletons enough to give the explorers the initiative. Kestrel easily finished off the three fallen creatures, methodically bashing each skull. Ghleanna smashed her quarterstaff through the spinal column of one of those advancing, while Durwyn arced his axe to crush another. He and the paladin then set about picking off the retreating skeletons.

A low moan behind her caused Kestrel to spin around again-and add a groan of her own to the chant as an all-too-familiar smell greeted her nostrils. "Zombies!" she called out. Five of the creatures shuffled into the chamber from the door through which the explorers had entered. She tossed her twin daggers at the first walking corpse, then reached for the blade she'd retrieved from Loren's body. As she threw the unfamiliar weapon, it glinted in the magical light of Ghleanna's spell. The blade struck the creature's heart causing it to crumple to the ground. She was out of daggers-she'd have to fight off the rest of the zombies with the club.

To her amazement however, the nondescript dagger pulled itself free of the monster and flew back into her left hand. A magical dagger! She both thrilled and cringed at the discovery. A returning dagger could prove valuable, but magical weapons had been known to hold curses.

As the sounds of the skeleton battle died behind her, Corran's voice echoed off the chamber walls again. "Trouble us no longer!" The remaining zombies ceased their advance and attempted to escape. Kestrel threw Loren's blade at the creatures she'd already injured. No way were they shuffling off with her twin daggers stuck in them. Thanks to the weapon's boomerang power, she felled both foes. Corran and Durwyn took care of the last two zombies.

In the aftermath, Corran removed his helm and pushed sweat-dampened hair away from his eyes. He nodded toward the dagger that had once again found its way back to Kestrel's hand. "A magical blade. What will you call it?"

"Call it?" She wasn't even sure she would keep it-she would certainly use it conservatively until she knew she could trust its sorcery.

"Enchanted weapons deserve their own names."

Kestrel shrugged. "I've thought of it as Loren's blade up to now. I guess I'll continue to do so."

"Loren's Blade," Corran repeated. "A good name."

Kestrel studied the paladin as he cleaned and secured his own weapon. He might be an arrogant know-it-all, but the man knew how to fight That little routine he did with the holy symbol was proving useful, too.

She'd sooner eat roasted zombie flesh than tell him so.

"Do you suppose we stumbled into their lair?" Ghleanna asked the group at large.

"Either that, or they may have been guarding something," Corran answered. "An exit, perhaps? Let's take a look around."

They poked through the room from which the skeletons had emerged, finding little more than rubble, and continued to explore the rest of the complex. Ultimately, they came to what appeared to be the main chamber. Bones lay strewn about, some human, some not. Unlike the animated skeletons they encountered earlier, these seemed to lie where their owners had died, earthly possessions still surrounding them. One of the skeletons yet wore a gray woolen cloak and a pair of snakeskin boots.

At the sight, Jarial caught his breath. "Ozama."

Kestrel turned away, allowing the mage a few moments of privacy in which to grieve his former lover's loss, or curse her for entrapping him, or whatever he wanted to do upon discovering her remains. She glanced around the room, noticing that the door opposite bore an unfamiliar glyph-two swirling circles drawn with a single line. The symbol was burned into the wood. A small barred window in the door looked into the next chamber, but from her vantage point she could see only darkness within.

She approached the door. Finding it sealed, she peered through the window but still couldn't see anything inside. She beckoned Ghleanna. "Can you cast the light from your staff into there?"

"Certainly." The mage came forward and lifted her staff toward the opening, but the darkness beyond completely swallowed up the light Ghleanna frowned. "How strange…"

"I'm afraid I'm a little shy," said a rasping voice from the blackness.

Despite its refined tone, the voice sent a shudder down Kestrel's spine, like the sound of fingernails on glass. "Who are you?" she asked.

"I might ask you that question," the mysterious speaker responded. The voice sounded male, but she couldn't be sure. "It is you, after all, who have intruded into my home."

Kestrel squinted, trying to make out a shape in the darkness, but could not discern even the dimmest outline. She did, however, detect a faint rustling, as of something sliding across a floor, followed by the clinking of metal.

Corran strode past Kestrel to stand before the window. "Please forgive the rudeness of my companion," he said, casting a scolding look toward Kestrel. "She's a little… uncultured."

Kestrel bristled, regretting that she had thought anything nice about the insufferable Lord D'Arcey a few minutes earlier.

The paladin then peered through the window himself. "We apologize for disturbing you-we seek only an exit from these dungeons to the Heights above."

"'Tis not a disturbance," the sibilant voice said. "Indeed, I welcome the diversion of visitors. This can be a rather solitary place."

The last hiss on the word "place" caused goosebumps to form on Kestrel's arms. She glanced at the dusty bones strewn about the floor. Had these visitors also provided a diversion? She ambled away from the door to give the dried-out bodies a closer look. At first she'd assumed the skeletons and zombies had defeated them, but now she wondered otherwise. An exchange of glances with Ghleanna revealed that the mage held similar suspicions.

"I imagine one could grow bored in such isolation," Corran said.

"Indeed, no," the voice said. "Lonely perhaps, but not bored. I have a hobby-a passion really-for collecting things."

"What kind of things?" Kestrel called out, looking at the unfortunate adventurers who had preceded them to this place. Lives? Souls?

"Oh, necklaces, amulets, torcs, chokers, neck rings, pendants, collars-just about anything that goes around one's neck."

Jarial's head, which until now had been bowed over Ozama's remains, snapped up. "Preybelish," he whispered.

Kestrel quietly moved to his side. "You know him?"

"I believe we've found the dark naga Ozama and I sought all those years ago," he said, his voice barely audible even to Kestrel. "The one said to possess the Wizard's Torc." His fingers stroked Ozama's cloak. "She must have died trying to get it from him."

"Yes, she did," the voice-Preybelish-hissed.

Kestrel's gaze darted to the door, then back to Jarial. "How could he possibly have heard you?"

Jarial drew his brows together. "I-"

"He doesn't know," Preybelish said. "But he does want to avenge his lady. Don't you… Jarial? As much as the little bird beside you wants to settle a score with a certain holy knight."

"What do you mean by that?" Corran asked.

Kestrel froze, not even releasing her breath. Could the naga read their thoughts? She dared not ponder the idea for fear of giving something away to the creature. Instead, she concentrated on the image of a topaz necklace she'd once seen in-and liberated from-a shop window in Waterdeep. It had fetched a handsome price, but she envisioned herself holding the piece of jewelry as if she still possessed it.

"Forget these temporary companions, little thief. You don't believe in their cause anyway," Preybelish said. "We could form a lucrative partnership. I'll give you fair recompense for that necklace or any other any neckwear you wish to sell me."

"What nec-" Durwyn began. Ghleanna hushed him.

"I might be persuaded to part with it," Kestrel replied.

"Good, very good. I shall unseal the door for you. Come in-alone-and we will bargain."

Kestrel looked to Jarial for guidance, all the while forcing her surface thoughts to remain on the necklace. The mage nodded, but gestured for her to stall. "All right," she said to Preybelish. "But I prefer to see who I'm doing business with."

As she spoke, Jarial slipped the snakeskin boots off Ozama's skeleton and held them toward her. "Magic," he mouthed. She shook her head in refusal. Her daggers were hidden in her own boots, and she trusted the blades more than any enchantment. After one more pleading look, the mage slipped the boots on his own feet

"I'll dispel the darkness once you're inside," Preybelish said. The heavy wooden door creaked open.

She glanced at the others. Corran's hand rested on his sword hilt ready to unsheathe the weapon at any time. Ghleanna's mouth moved in an unheard spell, her left hand drifting in a slow arc. Durwyn looked just plain confused, but he held his battle-axe ready.

"Let us bargain, then." Kestrel walked toward the door.

Just as she reached it, Ghleanna uttered a single word aloud. The darkness that had engulfed Preybelish's chamber immediately dissipated, revealing a large purplish-black snake with a humanlike face. Around his neck, supported by his inflatable hood, dangled necklaces, chokers, and other neckwear of varying lengths and ostentation. The naga's thick coils disappeared beneath a sea of coins and jewelry, but Kestrel guessed his body must extend at least ten feet. His eyes shuttered to thin slits in the sudden light

Preybelish hissed, baring his long fangs. "You'll regret that, you foolish half-breed!" His tail, barbed and sharp as a razor, emerged from the treasure hoard and flicked violently, showering gold around the room and sending Kestrel diving for cover behind the decapitated marble head-and neck-of what had once been an enormous statue. Preybelish's attention, however, was focused outside his chamber. On Ghleanna.

A moment later, a jet of flame shot forth from the naga's tail straight at the female mage. Ghleanna howled as the entire left side of her body caught fire. She dropped to the floor to extinguish her clothing, rolling out of Kestrel's sight.

Corran, who had been standing a little too close to the doorway when the attack shot past sucked in his breath as his armor-heated by the flames-seared his skin. Despite the obvious pain, he advanced on Preybelish, Durwyn close behind.

"I have to agree with the little bird," the dark naga said. His eyes were wide open now, sinister glowing yellow orbs. "I do so hate the company of paladins. So holier-than-thou."

Corran brought his sword down with enough force to cleave the snakelike creature in half. The attack, however, glanced off some invisible barrier, not even nicking a scale. "Vile serpent!" the paladin shouted in frustration.

Durwyn swung his axe. The blade found its mark, sinking into the naga's muscular body. Preybelish hissed and swung his tail, catching Durwyn in the chest and knocking him off his feet. Blood started seeping from a gash in the warrior's neck.

Kestrel looked through the doorway to see what Jarial was doing, but the wizard had disappeared from view. Was he attending Ghleanna? "Not now, Jarial," she muttered. "This can't be left up to me."

From her vantage point she had a clear shot at the creature's back-or whatever one called the part of a snake's coils opposite the underbelly. Preybelish seemed to be focusing his attention and his mind-reading abilities on Corran at the moment. She withdrew her daggers from her boots but paused before throwing them. Once she hurled the weapons, then what? She'd accomplish nothing but angering the creature and drawing his attention back to herself. While Loren's Blade would return to her hand, she did not trust its magic.

The holy knight attempted another attack. This swing managed to bite into the monster's flesh, though it visibly slowed before impact. Preybelish uttered a string of foul epithets and thrashed his tail at the paladin. It hit Corran with enough force to knock a lesser man to his knees, but Corran caught his balance, his armor apparently shielding him from the tail's sting.

Durwyn lay slumped on the floor, unconscious. Though the gash in his neck bled, the flow was not profuse enough for such a large man to have passed out already. Kestrel looked back at the wicked barbs on the end of Preybelish's tail. Two of them dripped black fluid.

Poison.

The creature muttered arcane words under its breath-another spell. Where in the Abyss was Jarial? She let the daggers fly before the naga could finish his incantation.

The evil serpent howled in rage as the weapons drove into his flesh less than a foot from his head. Thick brown blood welled from the wounds. He twisted around to glare at her, fangs bared, yellow eyes blazing with pain and fury. "Don't you know that snakes eat little birds?" he hissed.

"Not this one." Kestrel managed to sound more confident than she felt.

Preybelish uttered a string of incomprehensible syllables, weaving another spell. Corran swung his sword again, this time striking the creature with full force. The naga, however, would not allow his concentration to be broken. He stared unblinking at Kestrel as his voice rose in pitch.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she tensed in anticipation of the inevitable sorcery. Would flames consume her, as they had Ghleanna?

Suddenly, an arrow materialized behind Preybelish and raced through the air to embed itself in the back of the creature's head. The acrid odor of burning flesh filled the room as acid ate through the naga's skin. Just feet away, Jarial appeared.

The naga screamed in rage, swinging his tail wildly. The barbed point caught Jarial's legs, knocking him down. Kestrel swore under her breath. Not Jarial too? Now two of their party were poisoned and a third badly burned.

Preybelish turned on Corran. "Don't even think about it," the creature said before the paladin so much as lifted his arm for the intended strike. The naga swung his tail once again, knocking Corran's sword out of his grasp.

Kestrel's mind raced. If they could only control that tail

"Catch a naga by the tail?" Preybelish mocked, twisting around to fix her with his evil gaze. "What would you do once you got your hands on it?"

Behind the naga, to Kestrel's surprise, Jarial got back to his feet. The mage appeared winded but hardly scratched. She forced her thoughts away from the wizard, so as not to betray him to Preybelish's mind-reading powers.

"This!" Jarial said. He darted out his hand and touched creature's tail just below the barbed tip. The contact lasted only a split second, but it was long enough. Preybelish screeched inhumanly as the last quarter of his body went rigid and fell immobile to the ground.

The naga bared his fangs and spun his upper body to advance on Jarial, still possessing enough unparalyzed coils to reach the unarmored mage. Corran went for his warhammer but Kestrel was faster.

She leaped onto Preybelish's back, grabbed one of the many chains hanging from his neck, and twisted. When the chain closed around the creature's airway, she pulled hard. "Did you say you collect neckwear, Preybelish?"

Despite her effort, the naga managed to get enough air to begin hissing out the words of a final spell.

She braced her feet against the naga's spine and tugged with all her might "Chokers, right?" Preybelish thrashed about so wildly that she had trouble retaining her grip. Corran hurried over to lend his strength. With the paladin's added power, the evil creature's eyes grew wide, his words of incantation becoming desperate gurgles as he fought to breathe. Kestrel threw her whole body into one final tug.

"Choke on this."