The way to The Gnasher's lair was easy to find and follow. Both because Soriah remembered well the way she had been dragged by Skarg and his orcs and because of the horrible shrieks and cries coming from that direction. Apart from their own torches, they saw no other light. Apart from themselves and the unnatural wailing they encountered no signs of life.
They did, however, find an orc.
It had been dead for close to a week, judging by the swelling and discoloration. It lay on its side, its eyes glassy and staring, clutching vainly at its ruined throat.
"This is an animal bite," Finian said, looking at the ragged edges of the wound. "Probably a wolf."
"Or a dog?" Kirnoth asked. He pointed to a small shape lying against the wall a little further on. It was clearly a dead dog and once they'd brought their torches closer it became clear which dog it was.
"Rufus!" Finian said.
"Nirlar's dog?" Kirnoth asked, hoping that he'd remembered their story about the group's adventure in Poppof's house before the wizard had joined their ranks.
"Yes," Ledare said.
The Archer shook his head.
"He was killed by a sword to the belly," he told them. "But guessing by the blood on his muzzle, he didn't go down without a fight."
"This doesn't bode well," Ledare said warily.
"Gordigan?" Kirnoth spoke into his shirt. "Do you sense anything?"
*Crap!* the duckbunny muttered in the elf's mind. *I was hoping you'd forget about me.*
"What are you talking about?" the mage asked.
*This is one of the dumbest things I've ever seen you and the other big persons do!* the familiar replied. *Are you trying to get killed? And anyway, why should I help when I never get anything for it?*
"Because your help may be what keeps us alive," Kirnoth answered.
*Oh, sure!* Gordigan said. *Put it all on me! It's always, Gordigan do you smell anything? Gordigan do you hear anything? But is it ever, Gordigan do you want any of this shiny stuff we found? Well, no, for your information I don't notice anything you don't already know. There's a big meat eater up ahead. Probably a bear, but it doesn't smell quite right. It's probably going to kill us all and eat us. There! Happy now?"
"Thank you," the mage told his shirt.
*And you never even asked that big Ledare person about getting me one of those shiny rings did you?* the duckbunny asked, but he already knew the answer.
"Did you get anything from him?" Ledare asked.
"Nothing useful," the mage told her at which point Gordigan let out an irritated quack. Kirnoth put his hands on the front of his shirt and continued. "He thinks it smells sort of like a bear. It's definitely a big meat-eating animal."
They continued to the end of the hallway where the barricade that Soriah remembered choked off the area to their right. Behind it was The Gnasher's lair. On the floor was a trail of dried blood that matched the trail they had seen in the entry way. It went from the darkened corridor to their left up to the barricade.
The wailing had stopped.
"If we're to get a look at this thing, we'll need to clear a path," Soriah said. She recalled how the orcs had disassembled the barricade when they were getting ready to feed her to the beast beyond.
"One of us could sneak in and check stuff out using the ring," Finian suggested as they removed piled debris.
"If that will even help us go undetected," Kirnoth cautioned. "I fear he may be able to smell or hear us, regardless of the ring."
"Well, I can move pretty quietly too," the Archer countered.
Soriah handed over the Ring of Invisibility and Finian took it reverently. He looked at it and at the others before slipping it on his finger and disappearing from view.
"I'll be right back," he said and squirmed his way around the barricade.
The area beyond the pile of debris was dark, and Finian paused to give his eyes a chance to adjust. While he waited, he reached out with his other senses. He could smell animal waste. He could hear the squeak and patter of rats moving about. He could feel the closeness of the walls around him. Gradually, his elven eyes began to adjust and he could see the piles of debris sitting coldly on the even colder floor. It was piled up in such a way that it resembled a maze. Here and there amidst the fallen timbers and broken stone he could see the warm bodies of rats rushing about.
Suddenly he could hear a panting sound coming from nearby. He couldn't tell which direction it was coming from, but it seemed to be drawing closer. He knocked an arrow in his bow and waited, unwilling to move too far from the entrance of the maze.
He could see its body glowing hotly through the tangle of rubble a moment before it rounded a pile and came into full view. It was big and moved on all fours and the Archer's first thought was: bear. But the head that swiveled toward Finian, presenting enormous round eyes was most un-bearlike. As was the screeching cry that it emitted as it began to charge.
In a heartbeat, the Archer raised his bow, took aim for the creature's right eye and let it fly. A month ago, the arrow would have flown true, but the lingering numbness in his fingers made the shot go off-target by a fraction and the shaft instead struck the top of The Gnasher's feathered skull. The arrow hit hard enough to shatter against the great head, and although blood began to flow hotly down the thing's face, it continued to charge.
And shriek its rage.
"That doesn't sound good!" Ledare said. She tossed down her torch and unslung her shield.
"We need to get beyond this barrier immediately!" Kirnoth cried. Like the Janissary, he dropped his torch and pulled the crystal rod from his belt. In his fist, the rod began to glow softly, shedding nearly as much light as the torch.
"No!" Soriah said, stepping in front of the mage. "We need to keep him barred in! I'll try to get Finian out!"
The Battleguard drew her scimitars and moved toward the narrow opening they had made in the barricade, colliding with Finian as the half-elf slipped through from the other side. The Archer rebounded off of Soriah's bulky frame and nearly fell backward into the questing paw that reached through the opening in the barricade. Claws as long as daggers slashed at the air.
Soriah elbowed Finian out of the thing's reach and looked beyond the huge paw, which was covered with a bizarre mix of dark brown fur and feathers. She saw The Gnasher's bright yellow eyes glaring at her from the darkness on the other side of the barricade. They were huge and round, set above a snapping beak from which it emitted its terrible shrieking.
The barricade began to quake as the thing pushed against it from the other side.
"Kirnoth, blast it with a fireball or web of steel or something!" she commanded, but the elf was way ahead of her.
No sooner had the words left the Battleguard's mouth than two glowing bolts of raw manna leapt from the rod in Kirnoth's hand. They changed course in flight, arcing around Soriah's head to strike The Gnasher's questing arm. The sound that erupted from the creature was nearly deafening, and the arm withdrew. They could hear it lurching away from the barricade, whimpering as it went.
"Let's make sure this barricade holds!" Soriah said quickly, sliding her scimitars back into their sheathes.
"What's that?" Finian asked. He pointed at the four glowing balls of light that hung in the air around Kirnoth's head.
Confused, the mage turned, and the four balls of light moved at once into his field of vision.
"One of your new spells?" Ledare asked as she helped to pile rubble back on the barricade.
"No," Kirnoth said. He held out his hand and willed one of the spheres to settle there. It obeyed and glowed coolly on his palm. "It looks and behaves like a Dancing Lights enchantment, but I've never learned to cast that particular spell. It seems to be another wild surge, but I don't understand... I cast Magic Missile perfectly."
Soriah harrumphed.
"At least there are no mice this time," she said with a smirk.
"And we all got to keep our pants on," Ledare added casting a glance at the mage over her shoulder.
Finian looked at Soriah and Ledare as they worked to shore up the pile of rubble.
"We should consider pressing our advantage with this thing," he said, plucking thoughtfully at his bowstring. "I shot it with an arrow and Kirnoth fried it with his spell. It's wounded and we're not."
Soriah shook her head and moved another broken timber onto the pile.
"Let's search the rest of the place first for Nirlar," she said. "Then if we find him, free the undead, and leave The Gnasher alone."
"But we could set up a trap for the creature," Finian pressed. "We should have an organized plan for how to do it, but I want to kill The Gnasher because I heard noises back in there. Who knows if it was The Gnasher or what. I also have a bad feeling that this is what happened to Nirlar and I want to look for traces of him."
"I say leave The Gnasher alone," the Battleguard said again. "I want to find Nirlar and free the dead."
"To relieve your conscience?" Finian shot back. "I never would have left a friend to die in the first place."
Soriah dropped the bit of rubble in her hands and stood upright, scowling at the Archer.
"I agree with Soriah that we leave The Gnasher alone," Kirnoth interjected. "If we decide to kill the beast, we can always come back for him after we deal with the undead. But I just don't see that it's as much of a priority as dealing with the undead."
"It isn't a priority for you not to find him!" Finian snarled at the mage. "You did not know Nirlar! I fought with him and bled with him!"
"Calm yourself my friend. I never meant to suggest that Nirlar is not a priority. I meant that The Gnasher is not," the elf clarified, his tone soothing. "If you believe Nirlar is in there with The Gnasher, then surely you realize we are not talking about saving him, but only retrieving his body. If that it the case, the body can wait until after we deal with the undead. Furthermore, it seems to me it is much more likely that Nirlar is in the room with the undead, according to what Soriah has told us."
Just then, the four balls of light floating around Kirnoth winked off all at once.
"I would not want him to leave me as monster food or walking around as an undead," Finian admitted.
"Then that's the plan," Ledare concluded. "We'll search the place for signs of Nirlar and then destroy the undead."
They walked through what seemed like miles of darkened passages. Many of them were blocked almost completely by rubble, but in others, there were signs of extensive excavation. The orcs had evidently been laboring long to free the ruin from the choking earth. All of the rooms contained decorative friezes running along the top two feet of their walls, but most of them had shattered long ago. Those that remained depicted the building of the temple by humans and dwarves and elves. There were runes carved beneath all the sculptures, but they were in a language that none of them recognized.
They spent little time examining each room's contents. Instead they contented themselves with a quick overview of the complex. In the areas they searched, they found two areas that immediately stood out from the rest.
They discovered one door that they could not open, and judging from the many chips and gouges that covered it, neither could the orcs. It bore a single keyhole beneath the small symbol of an acorn.
In another room, they found large spiders with bodies as big around as dinner plates. The arachnids crouched in their webs and regarded the four of them with glittering black eyes as if challenging the Companions to enter their lair.
They found no sign of Nirlar or any clue as to where the orcs might have gone.
At last Soriah called a halt to their search.
"If I am to break the evil magic that binds these poor souls to their flesh after death, I must do it soon," she explained. "The process requires great concentration on my part and I fear I will be too tired to continue if we spend any more time searching."
"Then let's deal with them now," Ledare suggested. "I have no desire to spend time resting here."
They gathered themselves as they had before, outside the door to the slaves' cell. Ledare and Kirnoth prepared their flasks of holy water and Finian readied himself at the chains that operated the door while Soriah began to pray. The cleric gripped her holy symbol and raised her hand, chanting all the while.
"Now!" she cried and Finian pulled on the chains and the charnel house stench billowed out at them. They could see four pairs of red eyes staring out at them from the darkness within and Soriah began to walk forward.
As before, one of the undead things began to slink toward the cleric.
"Get thee from my sight, unclean thing!" Soriah commanded.
This time, however, instead of fleeing into the darkness, the creature sprang at the Battleguard, a dripping black tongue lolling dog-like from its open jaws.
"By the grace of -" she managed to say before the thing was on her. Its clawed hands grabbed her arms at the wrists and Soriah felt an icy chill settle into her body. Its muzzle darted toward her, but she was able to pull her head back enough to keep from losing more of her face.
Soriah reeled backward out of the thing's grip. Her arms hung nerveless from her torso, completely paralyzed from the shoulder to the tips of her fingers.
Finian began to pull of the opposite chain at once, but he was too late. A second of the creatures moved quickly beneath the descending door and came at him all claws and befouled teeth. He backed away from it, readying his mace as he went.
Kirnoth and Ledare threw their holy water almost in unison, aiming for the undead monster that was harrying Soriah. Kirnoth's missed entirely, breaking open to the right, two feet short of the creature while Ledare's missile shattered against the thing's left thigh. It squealed in pain and smoke began rising from its flesh.
Two more of the creatures squirmed from beneath the door, their eyes gleaming in the darkness.
The creature that had come after Finian slashed outward with its claws. Its first strike narrowly missed the Archer's shoulder, but its other opened a gash on his right thigh. A numbing chill began to settle into the limb at once, forcing Finian to brace himself against the wall to avoid falling.
He struck outward with his black mace, but it was a wild swing and missed the thing by a wide margin.
Kirnoth muttered a few words and pointed to the ground in front of the cell door. The stone there began at once to glisten in the torchlight, and the two undead creatures caught in the area began to flail around ineffectually in an effort to get to their feet.
Ledare stepped in toward the creature that she had burned with the holy water, drawing her sword as she advanced. Her opponent, however, was quicker and it was on her at once, its numbing claws deadening her right arm. Her longsword clattered to the floor.
It smiled at the startled Janissary and went to press its advantage, but Soriah charged the thing, driving her shoulder into its gut and knocking it off Ledare. The Battleguard was muttering prayers as she fought, but they didn't seem to be having any effect on either her useless arms or the foul shell that had once been Beaduferth Shieldancer.
"Oh, Queen of the Light and Queen of Mercy," Soriah prayed. "Blessed be thy divine gifts upon the holy and the righteous. Blessed be thy gifts upon those most in need."
The undead creature she was confronting seemed unimpressed by her pleas for divine aid and it lashed out at her. Its first slash opened more scratches on her right arm. Her paralyzed limb felt nothing and the cleric was able to avoid both its other set of claws and its snapping teeth.
Finian managed to steady himself, and he swung outward at the creature before him. The head of the black mace thudded solidly against the thing's neck, but his opponent didn't fall. Instead it reached up and seized the Archer's swordarm at the wrist and the limb went cold and limp immediately. The half-elf saw but could not feel the creature's stained teeth sink through the leather armor on his forearm like it was parchment.
His black mace struck the floor with a clang.
An instant later, Ledare's shield clattered to the floor as well. The Janissary shrugged off the device and reached with her left hand for her fallen blade.
Kirnoth, meanwhile, had thrust the rod back into his belt. Fearful that the Dancing Lights had served as some sort of warning sign that the rod was running low on manna, the mage contented himself with relying instead on his own reserves. He knew from experience that he could safely cast Magic Missile twice before he was seriously drained. He gestured, directing the first dweomer at the creature harassing Soriah.
Two bolts of energy leapt from his fingertips, arced around the Battleguard and sizzled home against the undead thing. Smoking holes opened in its right shin and abdomen, and the thing collapsed onto the floor like a broken doll.
"Blessed be the ones who have served you as these poor souls have in life," Soriah was still praying. "Let them perish in peace. They are corrupted and know not the evil and the horror they now instill."
She had begun to back up slowly.
Finian swung his left fist at the creature that had latched onto his arm. His blow glanced ineffectually off of the thing's shoulder, and it continued to gnaw ferociously at the Archer's paralyzed limb.
Kirnoth carefully repeated the incantation and pointed at the creature. He felt the tug of manna draining from him and two more eldritch missiles jumped from his fingers, one striking the undead in the calf and the other pounding it squarely between the shoulder blades.
It released the Archer and fell limply to the floor.
"Thank you," Finian breathed. "I-"
Before he could say more, Ledare raised her sword and shouted. The two walking corpses had both managed to roll free of Kirnoth's Grease spell and were getting to their feet.
"Grant us few, us humble few, your protection from their evil and touch of coldness," the Battleguard was saying. "It numbs us to the soul. Grant us your courage to stand and face the undead before us so that we may act as your hand to send them to their peaceable reward."
"We've got to close that door!" Finian cried, lurching toward the chain with his good hand. He almost fell because of his paralyzed leg, but somehow managed to retain his footing.
"No!" Kirnoth countered, eager to try his new spell. "We'll use the magic rope!"
He pulled out the crystal rod, knowing that he didn't have enough manna to cast even a spell of the First Circle without it.
While the mage incantated and Finian struggled with the chains, Ledare stepped up and swung her sword at the nearest of the things. It was a well-placed strike, and would have gutted the creature had the Janissary been using her proper arm. As it was, the blow fell short and the creature sprang on her.
Its right hand latched onto her left arm, its left scratched at her right thigh and its teeth clamped down on her throat. She let out a gurgling cry of alarm an instant before her numbed leg went out from under her. She and her assailant fell roughly to the floor, which inadvertently saved them both from what was about to happen.
Finian pulled on the chain with all his weight and the door ground to the floor.
"Protect us from our own fear and let us be bathed in your light," Soriah prayed.
Kirnoth finished his spell and pointed the rod at the ceiling nearby. For an instant, the ceiling swirled and rippled like the surface of a pool, then a glittering golden rope dropped down from the area. Before the mage could even smile at his success, however, the lighting bolt erupted from the rod.
The lightning struck the ceiling, rebounded to the floor before ricocheting up to strike Soriah in the center of her abdomen. The bolt continued on through the Battleguard, hit the wall, bounced away and struck the one undead that remained standing. It ripped through the thing's right shoulder, hit the wall beside the door, then hit the ceiling, and ricocheted downward to finally dissipate in Finian's right shin. The Archer felt no pain in the numbed limb, but the jolt of electricity flowing through his body sent his feet out from under him nonetheless.
The smell of ozone was very strong in the corridor.
Kirnoth watched in horror as Finian and Soriah and the undead thing all three collapsed. Finian was twitching and moaning, but the other two weren't moving at all.
Ledare jerked her body like a beached fish and managed to throw off her assailant, but it left her with a piece of her cheek clamped between its teeth. She could feel her blood pouring down her neck, but couldn't even raise her paralyzed hands to staunch the flow.
Ledare let out a shriek of horror as blood began to fill her mouth from the bite wound to her cheek.
The sound snapped Finian out of his lightning-induced stupor, and he pushed himself up with his left arm. He saw the last of the undead things crouching between Soriah's body and Ledare. It slurped up a flap of the Janissary's flesh and swallowed it greedily. The Archer's mace lay nearby and he lurched for it at the same moment the creature sprang at him.
The thing was quicker by a wide margin, however, and its claws sank into the half-elf's reaching arm, numbing it to the shoulder in seconds. Finian caught a glimpse of the creature's teeth coming at his face before darkness pressed in all around him and he slipped blissfully into unconsciousness.
The mage looked up from where he was hunched over Soriah in time to see the walking dead mangle Finian with its claws and teeth. He had checked the cleric's throat for a lifebeat as he had seen her check for one on others. There was none.
The Battleguard was well and truly dead.
"Any good ideas, Gordigan?" the mage muttered.
*Only the one that should have occurred to you five minutes ago,* the duckbunny responded in his mind. *RUN!!!!*
There was no other choice.
He pointed the crystal rod at the boil-covered back and spoke the words of the Magic Missile incantation. The rod pulsed and two missiles leapt across the hallway, striking the creature in the small of the back and the left knee. It jerked and turned away from the unmoving Archer and regarded Kirnoth with unending malice. As it turned, however, the mage could see a strange grayness spreading across its body from the two magical impacts, and by the time it had fully turned and tensed to spring, it had become completely petrified.
It fell over with a thunk, and one of its stone arms snapped off at the elbow.
Before Kirnoth could feel any sense of elation at his success, excruciating pain ripped through his body. He screamed and pitched forward, dropping to his hands and knees. His vision clouded, and he could hear the sounds of his shirt splitting at the shoulders. For a moment, he couldn't breathe until the clasps on his gorgetal popped away from his neck. His bracers likewise burst apart as his wrists swelled. When the pain subsided, he lay on the floor panting for a moment.
"Kirnoth?" Ledare called. "Are you-?"
"I'm okay," he interrupted. He looked at his hands; they seemed thicker. Stronger. "I think so, anyway."
"Are Soriah and Finian okay?" the Janissary asked. "I don't hear them any more."
Kirnoth stood up and almost fell over. He had grown! He guessed that he stood nearly a foot taller. As he moved, he heard stitches bursting in his tunic. His head was swimming. What had happened?
"Kirnoth?" Ledare called out again. "What's going on?"
The Janissary looked worse than she probably was, Kirnoth thought. Her face and head were covered in blood, and all but one of her limbs lay paralyzed on the floor. But she seemed in control of her faculties and she was craning her head to see what was going on around her.
"I'll check on them right now," the elf shouted.
He knew already what kind of shape Soriah was in, so the mage moved quickly toward Finian and pressed his fingers against the Archer's throat. For a few tortured moments, he could feel nothing, but at last, he found a lifebeat. It was very weak, but it was there, nonetheless. He quickly began ripping Finian's cloak into strips for bandages.
"Shaharizod?" He muttered as he worked. "If you're listening, we could use some help right about now."
Apparently, the deity was busy elsewhere, for no help appeared.
"Are they alive?" Ledare asked from where she lay.
The mage looked over at the Battleguard's unmoving body and felt grief rising within him.
"Kirnoth?" Ledare called again, spitting blood from her mouth.
"Finian's alive. Barely," the mage responded, carefully stopping the Archer's bleeding.
"What about Soriah?" Ledare asked. "Is she-?"
Her voice trailed off, unwilling to state the worst.
Kirnoth choked back on a tear.
"She's dead, Ledare," he said. "Soriah's dead."
There was a pregnant pause as the weight of Kirnoth's words settled onto the Janissary's mind.
"Are you sure?" she asked at last, her voice little more than a croaking whisper.
The mage wiped at his cheek with the back of his hand and nodded his head.
There was another pause.
"But Finian's alive, right?" Ledare asked.
"Yes," the elf replied.
"Good," she managed before she choked on more blood and was forced to turn her head to spit it out.
The mage rose from the Archer's side and came to hover over Ledare. Her cheek was bleeding rather freely, and he could see her teeth through a ragged hole there. He ripped a piece of cloth from his cloak, folded it carefully and put it inside the Janissary's mouth. She cried out as he pressed it between her bleeding cheek and her teeth.
"I'm sorry, Ledare," he apologized. "I'm not very good at this, but I don't want you choking on your own blood. I don't mean to-"
"You're doing fine," the Janissary muttered through clenched teeth. "You need to stop the bleeding."
He nodded and went to work fashioning a kind of patch for the half-elf's face. He bound the whole thing under Ledare's chin and up over the top of her head. While he worked, Ledare studied him closely.
When he was done she asked, "What happened to you? You look... larger somehow."
He rocked back on his haunches and looked at his unfamiliar hands. They were thick and flecked with his companions' blood.
"I don't know," he confessed. "I'm assuming this is an effect of the rod, but I don't really know."
He stared at his hands for a second or two more and then clenched them into fists and looked at the Janissary.
"I am so sorry about all of this, Ledare," he said, and a tear dropped from his left eye. "Perhaps I am more a liability than an asset to the group. Perhaps-"
"Kirnoth!" Ledare interrupted. "We need to go back to Barnacus. We will be no help to Nirlar if we all die before finding him. And in case you hadn't noticed, you're the only one in any shape to get us out of here."
"You're right," the mage sniffed. He wiped his cheeks again and stood up. "We need to get out of here and back to the temple as quickly as possible. I need to drag you and Soriah and Finian to the temple of Shaharizod. I will do whatever it takes to heal you and save Soriah."
"That's a good idea," Ledare agreed. "I think that, if at all possible, we should return Soriah's body to her temple and see what her people can do. Perhaps she can be raised from the dead."
"It will only take three days to get back to Barnacus and-" Kirnoth began but was interrupted by a groan from Finian.
"That's a bad idea," the Archer slurred, coming out of unconsciousness by sheer willpower.
"I have heard tell that a person killed by an undead may rise as an undead if not buried properly," he told them. "And I certainly do not want to have to fight Soriah. We need to do her last rights."
"How are you feeling?" Kirnoth asked. He rushed over to Finian and crouched down to check the dressings he'd applied to the half-elf's wounds.
"I'll live, no thanks to you," the Archer growled and swatted away the elf's hands. "The paralysis is wearing off at least. Of course that means I can feel where you fried me with that lightning bolt of yours!"
Kirnoth shrank away from Finian and shook his head.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so, so sorry."
"Sorry won't bring Soriah back," Finian countered. "Sorry won't make you look like less of an idiot!"
"Finian!" Ledare interjected. "This won't help-"
"No! I think Kirnoth needs to hear this," the Archer went on. "Get a real wizard to figure out what the hell that wand does so you can use it properly. But don't use it again until you get it checked out!"
Kirnoth pressed his lips together and nodded.
"I do not think I am going to be doing any magic for a while, Finian," he said. "But you're right about the rod. I'll not use it again until we know precisely what it is and what it does."
"Fine!" Finian said and pushed himself up to a sitting position. "Now drag Ledare over to me and I'll see what I can do with my herbs."
Kirnoth did as he was asked and while the Archer worked, he recounted the vision he had experienced while he hovered at death's door. He seemed to find particular importance in the acorn symbol that the man with the ice crystal eyes had given to him.
"Whose god has an acorn for a symbol?" he asked as he changed the Janissary's dressing.
Kirnoth shrugged, but Ledare's face lit up.
"Wait a minute, I have a skeleton key that will open any lock once!" she exclaimed. "Didn't that locked door we found have an acorn on it? Do you think there is something on the other side which might help us?"
"Well, it is obvious there is something important in there that the pig faces could not get," Finian told her. "I believe that we should try opening it."
"But it seems foolish to waste time if lives are at stake," Ledare suggested.
"I think that as a wise man said: 'time is of the essence' and we need to move swiftly," the Archer countered.
"I think we should bury Soriah outside first, then come back and open the door," Kirnoth offered hesitantly. "I don't want to take any chances with Soriah becoming undead."
"Returning her to her temple would seem more fitting than burying her here," Ledare said.
"I very much want to take Soriah back to her temple to be resurrected," Kirnoth confessed. "Unfortunately, we have no idea how long it will be before she turns into an undead, and it's at least three days back to Barnacus. I do not want to defile her by allowing her to turn. So I believe we must bury her here."
"I think he's right," Finian muttered reluctantly. "Any creature killed by an undead becomes one. We need to give Soriah her last rights, bless her and put the holy symbol on her."
In the end, Ledare agreed and Kirnoth was obliged to drag the Battleguard's body through the ruin to the canyon outside. Sensation soon returned to the Janissary's and the Archer's limbs, and they were able to amble alongside; both were too weak to lend any real aid or risk undoing all of Finian's hard work with his herbs. It was full night as they exited the complex and it took some time to climb all the way to the top of the canyon with Soriah's heavy body in tow. Rigor Mortis had set in before they found a suitable location for her grave in a grassy knoll amongst some evergreens.
Kirnoth dug unceasingly through the night while the others slept, determined to lay the Battleguard to rest in a proper grave. Orin's shield was beginning to paint the horizon with shades of pink and lavender as he reverently lowered the cleric's cold body into the dirt. He removed one of the remaining vials of holy water from her body and anointed her with it from head to toe, then arranged her holy symbol so that she clutched it in her death-stiffened fingers before going about the business of refilling the grave with soil.
By the time he was finished, the sun was fully above the horizon, and the others were awake.
"Get an hour or two of sleep, Kirnoth," Ledare suggested, taking a look at the elf's haggard, dirt-streaked face.
He lay down with out any intention of sleeping, and was awakened mid-morning by Finian.
"Come on, let's go see what's behind that door," the half-elf said without much conviction. Although Finian had taken great pains to dry his cheeks, his tears had left trails though the trail grime on his face and Kirnoth could see that the knees of his pants were muddied from kneeling at Soriah's graveside.
They retraced their steps through the ruin to stand outside the locked door that bore the acorn symbol carved above the tiny stone keyhole. Ledare fished in her belt pouch and produced the crystalline key that Afendemar had given to her when they had gone to recover the Ebony Grimoire from Poppof's house. So much had happened since then, it seemed to have occurred in a past more distant than six weeks ago.
She looked at the milky-colored key and then at Finian and Kirnoth. They each nodded and she put the key into the hole and turned. They all heard an audible click and the key evaporated at once as if it had been made of smoke all along. Then they readied themselves as best they could and she pressed against the door with her booted left foot.
Unlike the other doors in the complex, this one pivoted on a central axis, like the doors in Andamacles' lair had. It was a design popular amongst both dwarves and gnomes.
Nothing leapt at them from the darkness and their torchlight soon revealed a room that was every bit as spotless as the rest of the ruin was rundown. The walls were well sanded and without cracks, a stone shelf on the opposite side of the chamber held two intact, empty glass bottles. In the center of the floor sat four large copper bowls, each at least three feet across and covered with a design of intertwining vines and leaves quite similar to wood-elven art. Each bowl was filled nearly to the top with crystal clear liquid.
The air in the room smelled ever so faintly of roses.
"I wonder what causes the rose-like smell," Finian muttered aloud. He sniffed at the air, trying to get a sense of where the smell was coming from. But it seemed to come from everywhere at once.
"I wonder what the bowls mean," he told them and limped into the room. "They could be magical. We should drink the stuff."
"Now wait a minute," Ledare countered, moving in after the Archer. "Drinking this liquid seems very rash. We haven't the foggiest idea what it could be."
"And besides, if anyone's drinking, then I volunteer to go first," Kirnoth added. "It's only fair that I take the risk-"
"Kirnoth, you are taking too much to heart," the Janissary argued. "All our lives are at stake in this... you are very important."
She looked hard at the elf, making certain that she caught his gaze.
"Who knows," she added, "maybe it was Soriah's time to be with her queen. We need you to help us now."
"I really think that it was our destiny to get in here," Finian explained. He looked down at the four bowls then back up at Ledare and Kirnoth. "It is odd how this stuff is waiting for us. We had a key and it seems as if the potions are for the four of us. I am concerned that there are only we three here now."
"I agree with Finian. It appears we are supposed to drink this," the mage agreed. "And if it restores us, what about digging up Soriah and feeding it to her?"
Ledare looked shocked and Finian shivered.
"I hate digging up a grave, Kirnoth," the Archer explained. "It gives me the willies."
"But there are four bowls..." the elf muttered.
"Yes, there were four bowls," the Archer agreed. "I think that has some symbolism. I do not know if there is a fourth person who should drink from the bowl too, but I don't think we should disturb Soriah's grave."
Kirnoth nodded.
"I don't think digging up the grave is a good idea, either but I think drinking this potion is," he said. "I will go first and see what happens."
"Let's stop a moment and think this through," Ledare interrupted. "The orcs obviously wanted to get in this room, but why? Did the locked door intrigue them, or was there something specific they were after? We have no real idea what these potions could do! I don't think we should drink them. Let's take them and have the apothecary look at them - or someone we trust who would know these things."
"Let us use those bottles over there to collect the liquid from the fourth bowl and bring it with us," Kirnoth agreed but then added, "I am going to drink from one of them now, however."
The Janissary sighed.
"If you both are intent on drinking the liquids, I won't physically try to stop you," she said with a resigned tone. "I think that it is a bad idea."
"I understand," the elf said and bent over the nearest bowl. He could see his own wavering reflection in the surface of the liquid. He swallowed, took a deep breath and cupped his hand into the fluid. It was cool against his skin and he brought it to his lips and gulped it down. It tasted like spring water. A pleasant, soothing wave rushed through him, and the aches of the previous night's exertions and inadequate slumber seemed to melt away.
He smiled up at the others.
"It's magical," he told them. "Healing, I think."
That was all the encouragement that Finian needed and he lowered himself painfully to one of the other bowls and drank as Kirnoth had done. The effects were much more startling than they had been with the uninjured Kirnoth. Finian could feel the many wounds on his body itch with healing magic. The scratches to his thigh healed entirely, leaving the flesh there unblemished by a scar.
He didn't feel perfect by any means, but his overall health was improved by a third.
He smiled up at the Janissary.
"You should try this, Ledare," he said through a wide grin. He cupped more of the water in his hand and drank it down, repeating the process until all of his cuts and scrapes were gone.
Ledare could no longer argue against drinking from the bowls, and she knelt painfully at a third copper container and brought the liquid to her eager lips. The sensation of her flesh magically knitting itself back together was very odd to say the least, but she welcomed the return of her smooth cheek after two draughts from the bowl.
She spat out the bitter-tasting packet of herbs that Finian had placed between her cheek and gum and grinned.
"Perhaps drinking from the potion has some merit," she said with a chuckle.
"I say we go back," Ledare repeated as Kirnoth carefully filled the two glass bottles from the fourth bowl. "We are down to three and not at peak performance. I, too, am concerned for Nirlar, but we will not be able to help him like this."
"Let us hurry back to the Temple of Shaharizod and inform them of what has happened with Soriah," Kirnoth said with a note of sadness in his voice.
"We are in agreement," Finian said. "We should let the temple of Shaharizod know the fate of Soriah. That she died gloriously in battle trying to turn the undead in her Queen's name."
They retraced their steps toward the entrance, leaving The Gnasher's shrieks and hoots behind. They had grown somewhat accustomed to the dark and empty halls, and so were taken quite by surprise as the rounded the corner to the tunnel out and saw an orc silhouetted against the afternoon sky. It was wearing a hooded, black cloak and carried a spear in one hand.
As soon as it spied them, it cried out, "Rannor!" and ran back the way it had come.
"I am tired of these fucking orcs!" Finian shouted and burst into a run.
"I'll take the invisibility ring and go see what... is..." Ledare said, her voice trailing off as she watched the Archer bolt up the sloping passage to the surface. She concluded with, "Damn it!" and started to follow as quickly as her armor would permit.
Kirnoth trailed behind, his hand on the pommel of his knife.
Finian rushed headlong up the tunnel, freeing his mace and one of his daggers as he went. The slope was slick in places with moss and, although the Archer retained his footing, the orc was able to outdistance him. It was out of melee range by the time he made it to the tunnel entrance. He poured on the speed, throwing all his energy into catching his prey. The creature was making for the steep path leading up along the wall of the canyon, but Finian was determined that the creature would not escape.
The orc paused two steps along the path, drew back its spear and with a cry of, "Nartag!" let the shaft fly. Whether it was skill with the weapon or blind luck, the spear embedded itself in Finian's chest. The impact drove him backward with a grunt. He dropped the weapons in his hands, gripped the wooden shaft and pulled the spear free of his flesh. Blood was flowing , but miraculously, the metal point hadn't damaged any major arteries.
"Are you alright?" Ledare asked, skidding to a stop by his side.
Finian looked up at the orc, which had made it nearly halfway out of the canyon, and the look of utter hatred in his eye made the Janissary take a step back.
The Archer removed his bow and uncapped his quiver.
"Arrow," he grunted, as if the idea had only just occurred to him. His hands, it seemed were several steps ahead of his brain.
He drew the knock to his ear, took aim and fired. The orc, however, had the advantage of distance and partial cover. The shaft broke against the rock wall above its head. The Archer's second shot struck several feet behind the creature.
"Finian," Ledare said as the half-elf reached again for his quiver. "Maybe we should -"
"This is for you, father," the Archer intoned in elvish as if he hadn't heard a word the Janissary was saying. He took careful aim and loosed the arrow.
The orc let out a satisfying shriek as the shaft transfixed its torso. It staggered, shouted, "Gej!" and fell face-first off the path. Its limp body did a half-flip as it dropped the forty or so feet to the canyon floor where it landed in a messy, broken heap.
"For you, father," Finian sighed.
"Are there others?" Kirnoth asked, scanning the lip of the canyon.
But if there were other orcs about, none of them made their presence known.
"We should take cover," Finian breathed. He'd laid down his bow and was pressing his hand against the spear wound in his chest. Blood was trickling between his fingers.
"How badly are you hurt?" Ledare asked. There was genuine concern in her face despite the fact that it was Finian's own rash actions that had led to his injury.
The Archer grunted as he got to his feet. He drew his hand away and looked at his slick, red palm.
"I think I'll live," he said. "But it may be worse than it seems. I need to stop the bleeding before I can tell."
"Let's get back inside the tunnel," Kirnoth suggested as he bent and picked up Finian's bow. The mage cast another glance up at the lip of the canyon. "I feel very exposed out here."
Finian was able to staunch the flow of blood from the spear wound with a light application of woundwort from the kit that Allena Dean had prepared for him before she left for Redwood with the rest of the Hospital staff. In the moonsdance that he'd had it, he'd gone through most of the healing herbs; he'd need to replenish his supply once he was back in Barnacus.
"Well?" Ledare asked again. "How badly are you hurt?"
"It's not too bad," the half-elf told her. "I want to go back and get some more of that healing shit. Perhaps you could take your ring back and look around while I heal myself."
The Janissary scowled.
"So now stealth seems the better alternative?" she grumbled. "If you had not gone running off like you did, you might have heard me suggest the same thing. We might have avoided your injury entirely."
Finian opened his mouth to respond but the Janissary raised her hand to silence him.
"There is no point in arguing. What is done is done," she said and held out her hand. "Give me the ring."
For a moment, the Archer glared up at her. His lips were pressed tightly together as if to keep the words forming behind them inside. He slid the ring off his finger and slapped it into Ledare's hand.
The Janissary took the band and looked at it. Even in the dim light of the tunnel it seemed almost to glow.
"I believe you and I should wait here while Ledare puts on the ring and checks the orc's body for clues," Kirnoth suggested to Finian. "She may run into trouble. Then, once she returns, we can return to the cave and get you back up to full strength."
The Archer nodded to Kirnoth. The Janissary considered, then she did the same.
"I will check the body for clues as to its purpose," she told them. "Then I will take a quick look around. I want to see what I can see, and then bring that information back so we know what we are up against."
"We'll wait here," Kirnoth said as Ledare slipped the ring snuggly onto her left hand and promptly vanished.
The sensation of vulnerability was great as the Janissary moved as quietly as she could out into the canyon. She could plainly see her own hands and body, and she imagined herself an easy target for any archers or spearmen that the orcs might have stationed along the top of the canyon. Only the fact that she cast no shadow reminded her that she was, in fact, invisible to anyone who might be looking down at her. Still, she kept her eyes on the watch for any sign of orcish presence but saw none. Apart from the dark silhouettes of crows circling overhead and the clouds crossing the sky high above them, nothing moved.
She managed to pick her way along the edge of the clifface until she stood beside the corpse of the orc. There was little doubt that it was dead. Not only did the bloody point of Finian's arrow protrude half-a-foot from the creature's back, but also its body was quite broken from the fall. Its blood - much darker than the blood of men or elves - painted the rocks around the point of impact, and although its leather armor kept the body more or less intact, the position of its limbs and head was quite unnatural.
She swallowed back her disgust and began to search the body.
It wore a heavy black cloak over patched and repatched leather armor and worn leather boots. A simple belt cinched its waist and from that depended a single pouch and a leather whip. The Janissary didn't like to think about whose flesh that whip had tasted - about the slaves that had toiled beneath its threat.
She withdrew her dagger and slit the straps holding the pouch to the belt. Then she opened it and examined its contents.
A handful of copper commons, four silver crowns, two high-elven Valatani silver pieces, and a square dwarven silver coin with a hole in one corner spilled out into her palm along with a tiny piece of cloth tied up with a small bit of twine. She untied the makeshift pouch and found four half-dead flies inside. Each had had its wings removed, and two of them were missing some legs as well.
She dumped the contents back into the belt pouch and hastily stuffed the pouch into her belt. There was nothing else of interest on the body, so she made her way to the path leading up.
"So there was no sign of other orcs?" Finian asked as he drank again from the same copper bowl that he'd drunk from before.
"Not that I could see," she said.
There was a long pause then during which time they could all hear The Gnasher wailing nearby behind its barricade.
"Then I vote we get back to Barnacus immediately," Kirnoth said. "We owe it to Soriah to tell the Temple of Shaharizod what happened to her. I am not at all sure how to go about finding Nirlar if the trail is cold, anyway."
"As I said before: we're no match for anyone in this state," Ledare agreed. "And we'll not serve Nirlar by getting ourselves killed."
She and Kirnoth both looked at Finian.
The Archer got to his feet, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
"You're right," he said with a nod. "I believe that the orcs are coming back, so we should get out of here before we are severely outnumbered."
"At last, a rational thought," Ledare said with a grin.
"I hate orcs, Ledare. I have always hated them. They are responsible for my father's death, which makes it even worse. But you're right: I fear they are near," he told her with a shrug. "Let us make haste through a path that will not let us be sitting ducks."
And they did.
Kirnoth donned Ledare's Ring of Invisibility and preceded them out of the ruins and up the path to the surface. When he spotted no other orcs, he signaled them with a thrown pebble and they followed. Finian's bow and Ledare's little-used hand crossbow were both at the ready. As it turned out, however, neither item was required for they spotted no further sign of orcs.
It was fully dark by the time they reached the top of the canyon, with heavy clouds blocking Shaharizod's mirrors from view. And by the time they reached the banks of the Twain, it was well into night.
"Let's camp here for the night," Finian suggested. "I'll take first watch."
Shortly after they awoke it began to drizzle rain.
As the first drops pattered down on her, the Janissary's shoulders slumped.
"Wonderful," Ledare grumbled, looking up at the sky.
"No sense complaining," the Archer told her as he shouldered his pack. He'd spent most of his life enduring the elements and cursing them did no good. "The sooner we get going, the sooner we'll be out of the rain."
Finian's words weren't entirely true. It continued to rain on and off all through Moonsday and most of Godsday, but they made good time along the game trail. Finian bid them stop at several points as they traveled while he collected various herbs growing along the riverbank. He discovered enough Birthwort and Comfrey for one application each, a patch of Henbane that wouldn't be ready for harvest until the middle of the summer, and two large growths of marsh-mallow that yielded enough root for 6 uses. He was pleased with the discoveries although he had hoped to find the more useful Adder's Tongue and Woundwort.
"We could press on and reach Barnacus in a few more hours," the Archer told them on the evening of the 22nd.
"It'll do no good," Ledare said. "They'll have long-since closed the gate for the evening by the time we get there. And I'd like a chance to dry off some before we visit the temple of Shaharizod."
"Let's rest," Kirnoth said. "My feet are sore from all this walking."