The methodical exploration of the ancient labyrinth agreed with Hennet. He relished it, unlike his friend Nebin. The gnome declared on more than one occasion his wish to be free of the dark ways. The slow revelation of hidden paths forgotten below the earth, leading to further mysterious chambers, tunnels, tombs, and deeper passages, thrilled his sense of adventure. Danger threatened every step, but of course that was the spice. What was the lost purpose of these ancient halls? Were the delvers humanoid, or did they belong to some older, pre-humanoid species? It was fun to speculate.

They bypassed a chamber whose ceiling was upheld by statues carved to resemble giant men bearing a great burden. They walked along a hall where corroded metal plates in the ceiling buzzed and gleamed as they passed, but which offered no other clue as to their purpose. They walked through a tiny waterfall that issued from a shaft far above, and drained away through a side passage that led steeply down, possibly to join some sunless sea of myth. Or so Hennet liked to imagine.

Even now they walked a passage hung with the tatters of time-lost tapestries, Brek in front holding the gleaming lantern aloft. A garble of whispered voices issued from the very stone beneath their feet. When they first heard the noises, the company stopped and thoroughly investigated, but could find no inherent threat. Thus, they walked on, despite the susurrus of voices speaking in tongues long dead on the surface.

For a long stretch—since the Test of Wit in fact—nothing assailed their passage. Such was the sorcerer's thought when they came to a side door along the passage. Bones of some past traveler lay strewn before the door. Here he had apparently met his end. The catacombs were moist and given to rot, and the traveler's possessions were decomposed, but a dagger still glinted, untouched by time. The nearby door was rent and notched, as if the traveler had spent his last hours desperately trying to force his way through. If so, he had failed in that attempt and died far from light and hope.

Nebin ventured, "Why do you suppose he wanted to pass this door? Is our way the same, to reach the revived temple?"

Brek Gorunn looked at the door, then forward down the hall they had been traversing, and said, "My gut tells me this door is not our path. But it conceals something, or so this poor fellow believed."

"We should open the door ourselves, to see what we can see," broke in Hennet. This was exactly the sort of thing he loved. "Perhaps a treasury, or a library filled with the lore of times forgotten?"

He threw in the library in an attempt to get Nebin interested.

"Or a demon bound with spells of somnolence, until disturbed," said Brek Gorunn. "It may be both, or neither, but it is not our quest. Later, we may return when other needs are met. It would be foolhardy to turn aside now, wasting our strength when we will soon have such need of it."

"Brek Gorunn is right, Hennet," said Ember. She put a hand on his shoulder as if commiserating. Her touch was enough to convince him.

Besides, he realized the wisdom of Brek's words. "At least let's gather this poor fellows belongings," he said. "We might learn something of his purpose."

So saying, he retrieved the dagger. He turned it over in his hands, and the others drew close. Beautiful, he thought. The handle was carved to resemble a unicorn, and the blade, its horn. Its ageless appearance suggested preservation only magic could explain. Testing that hypothesis was easy enough—Hennet concentrated on the dagger and felt the answering pulse of enchantment. It wasn't an overpowering response, but it was definite.

The sorcerer looked up to his companions and said, "This dagger is magical."

A harsh voice from farther up the hallway said, "Then hand it over!"

Hennet started, nearly dropping the dagger, as the others whirled around. Farther up along the passage, a band of men appeared, unshuttering their lamps and drawing their swords.

There were perhaps half a dozen of them. The four in the front, three humans and a halfling, waved swords as they came on, two by two down the corridor. Two elves in the rear held cocked bows.

Another man, better dressed than the others and standing behind the elves, called out, "The dagger, and your other valuables. We're the Raiding Lions. I'm Jeelsen. If you've heard of us, you know that we are merciful to those who surrender up their wealth to us when asked."

Brek Gorunn cursed, "By Moradin's overflowing tankard, what are you doing down here?"

Nebin called out, "Actually, we haven't heard of you, Jellyfish!"

Hennet elbowed the gnome in the ribs, hard.

"The name," screamed the brigand, "is Jeelsen! If you haven't heard of us, then know now that while we are merciful to some, to those who give us trouble we are bloodthirsty to the last. Which shall we visit on you? Mercy, or death? Either way, we'll have your valuables. Surrender now and live!"

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.

Splashes echoed again across the lake. A quick check behind confirmed that all her friends were accounted for.

From the rear, Nebin whispered, "Now don't tell me you all didn't hear that?"

Ember cocked her head and heard another series of splashes. A sad melody sounding like a flute wafted out from the cold darkness behind them.

"Oh, shards!" yelled Nebin. "It's been following us. Go, go, go!"

So saying, the gnome tried to worm his way around Hennet and nearly knocked both of them into the still water.

"Nebin, if you push me in so help me...," began Hennet.

"Quickly!" hissed Ember from the lead.

Following her own command, she turned and redoubled her earlier pace, praying the dwarf suffered no misstep. If he fell, he'd be lost. Now was not the time to mount a water rescue. She didn't want to meet that hideous, tentacled thing again, and especially not while trapped on a ledge.

They all followed her, and so, too, did the fluting. Ripples, as of something moving out on the lake, began washing against the foot of the ledge. The fear she remembered so clearly from the nightmare at the crevice clawed anew at the edges of her mind.

The path opened into a larger space, and Ember rushed forward from the ledge, gasping, looking for any avenue of escape. The others were close on her heels and had the same thoughts in mind. But the space seemed only a cubbyhole, a room-sized niche in the side of the cavern.

Somehow they all spied the alcove at the back of the landing at the same time and rushed forward. To their horror, it was not a pathway but only a small, dead-end hollow space. The only way out was to continue around the lake on the ledge, and that meant more of the horrid fluting.

Besides the horror of the tentacled thing, Ember had been keeping one eye on the green light. They were noticeably closer to it now. In fact, it was close enough that she could see its glow reflected off the damp stone walls of the cavern.

Suddenly the light dimmed to nothing. Ember realized that something must have blocked the entrance to the niche, trapping them inside.

Tentacles wavered toward them in the small chamber, twitching in time to that hideous, unnatural fluting. The sound was utterly devoid of life, like the voice of death calling in the night. It seemed to come from a void, and it beckoned them to its realm beyond terror.

Ember believed her last, desperate hour had arrived. She moved forward, uncertain what she could do against such a creature, but preferring death to torment. Beside her, Brek Gorunn held forth his warhammer, praying aloud to Moradin for the strength to prevail against such unholy might. Nebin pointed his trusty wand at the blot of evil, his face set and grim. Hennet drew the Golden Wand, his eyes steely.

Ember inched forward.

Interlaced with the ghastly music, she suddenly heard a voice.

It was an inhuman sound created by the lilting tones, and it said, "Give back what you have stolen." Ember hesitated, confused.

Nebin squeaked out, "We haven't stolen anything! Leave us be!"

The mass filled all the opening and bulged inward. The music swelled, and with it the voice.

It said again, "Give back. Give back what you have stolen. The Door of Midnight swings wide, unless the thief returns the key."

Her voice shaking, Ember asked, "What did the thief take?"

A dozen tentacles wormed across the cramped space as the voice said, "The horn blade."

"The unicorn dagger!" cried Hennet as he yanked the gleaming blade from his belt. He flipped it through the air toward the monstrosity. "Take it!"

Darkness converged on the dagger, hiding it from view. The moment the weapon disappeared, the music died.

A final note whispered, "You may go," then silence returned.

The darkness receded from the lantern's glow like a physical creature. Perhaps it was. When it was gone, so was the dagger.

Ember breathed heavily. Perhaps her last battle wasn't upon her after all.

She smiled tentatively and said, "Was that a good omen?"

Everyone laughed, the tension broken. Nebin cast himself on the floor in relief.

"Perhaps we were wrong about that fellow we found lying near the door," said Hennet. "I guess that dagger wasn't his, though we found it near his remains. He must have taken it from some tomb or reliquary. Perhaps from beyond that door—could it be the Door of Midnight? If it wasn't his, it wasn't mine to take, either. I hope we returned it to its rightful owner."

Ember placed a hand on both of Hennet's shoulders, facing him. "I'd say you saved us."

Hennet took one of her hands in both of his and held it. His touch was firm, dry, and she treasured it.

"Not to interrupt this moment," said the dwarf, "but we're close to the center." Brek Gorunn stood at the edge of the niche where the creature had so recently been. He looked out across the water and the faint, green trail glimmering like a path to the nearby glow. "The green glow just ahead could well mark the porch of the revived temple."

"Whether it does or doesn't, I need to rest," said Nebin. "I've had as much as I can take in one day. If we're so close, let's rest a while, then go on at full strength afterward."

Brek nodded. "I can barely think, for memory of that fluting sound. That music will haunt me for years."

He looked at Ember, who mentally recounted the hours that had passed since they entered the catacombs. Everyone had sustained bruises and cuts in the fall down the chute. The mages had nearly exhausted their spells along the way and needed time to rest if only to refocus their energy. Ember was tired simply from so many hours of walking through darkness at high alert. Their narrow escape from the tentacled monstrosity had earned them a rest.

"Set camp," she said.

Their narrow sanctuary was bare of any adornment, debris, or other clues to its original purpose. For now, it served as the perfect shelter. Bedrolls and provisions were retrieved them from packs. Ember's mat had seen better days, but she still found it comfortable; she'd slept on much worse. Brek set the lantern in the corner, refilled the oil, and turned the wick low. Ember realized that she had come to regard the lantern and its welcome light almost as another member of their group.

Brek Gorunn volunteered for the first watch. He sat on the floor, near the alcove opening, humming dwarven chants under his breath. Ember tried to sleep, lulled by the dwarf's murmuring, the glimmering shadows thrown by the lamp, Nebin's snores, and Hennet's deep, easy breathing.

 

 

Hennet started suddenly awake—had someone tapped him? It was Ember, waking him for his turn on watch. The dwarf and the gnome were bundled in their bedrolls along one wall, turned away from the light of the lantern. Ember sat near him. The sorcerer sat up and yawned.

"All quiet?" asked Hennet sleepily.

"All quiet," confirmed Ember.

She watched him, her eyes hidden in shadow, but with a small smile touching her lips.

"Great. I'm good. I'll wake Nebin in a few hours. Get some sleep."

Ember nodded, but said, "I'm not sleepy. I've been meditating as I sat here, so I'm rested. I'll keep you company during your watch, if you like."

"I'd like nothing better!"

"Good. Perhaps you and I can talk a little."

"About what?"

Ember mused, then said, "I thought perhaps you could tell me more of your past journeys. I'm still curious about Nebin and the 'red lever' you referred to last night in the Cuttlestone."

Hennet laughed quietly, absurdly pleased she remembered his words. It seemed as if he had spoken them weeks ago. He pulled a wine skin from his pack and shared some with Ember. The stone where they sat was cold, and the wine helped warm their backsides, or at least it seemed so.

Hennet began, his voice a bit hoarse at first, "Well, it's a silly story after all. An alchemist known to both Nebin and I asked us to visit him in his home. He wanted our help on a certain matter of enchantment. The details are unimportant. The moment he left us alone in his laboratory, Nebin began riffling through things. That's when he found the lever. I knew right away what he was thinking, and warned him off. Of course he wouldn't listen. The next thing we knew, we were being chiseled out of an alchemical preservative. Two weeks had passed in the blink of an eye as we stood frozen in place. Nebin dumped a full load of the stuff on top of us. We're lucky neither of us suffocated."

Ember laughed quietly. Hennet wondered at her sudden closeness. He stopped himself from jumping to conclusions. Just because they were finally alone, and Ember chose that moment to make small talk—well, what of it? Likely she just wanted to talk, as she had indicated. But where his head insisted on reading nothing into the lamp-side chat, his heart had an entirely different interpretation.

When Ember drew close, kissing him on the lips, he knew his heart was right all along.

The lantern's light revealed her face a lighter shade against the dark stone walls behind her, but not so dark as her hair. Her eyes were as bright as stars.

"We have a little time," she whispered.