City of the Dead (28 page)

Gustin snapped off some rattling words, grabbing at Sophraea with one hand and Feeler with the other. Their magical speed created a breeze that made Sophraea’s skirts and curls stream out behind her.

She heard a loud shout and then a howl echoed down the passageway.

“Stunk’s bullies are in the tunnel!” she warned the others.

As abrupdy as it began, Gustin’s burst of speed ran out. Sophraea felt the power drop off immediately. Suddenly her feet seemed incredibly slow, as if she struggled through glue. Each step took enormous effort. Each time she lifted a foot, she heard the mud beneath her soles give a popping sound.

“Come oh, come on,” Feeler cried, lunging toward Fish.

The other gravedigger stretched out his arms, ready to snatch them to safety.

With a leap, Gustin cleared the steps leading up to the solid rock floor. He hauled on Sophraea’s arm and Fish caught her other hand. She felt her toes touch mud, sticky and thick, holding her back. Fish and Gustin yanked. Pain shot through her shoulder joints. And then between them, the two swung her to safety.

Sophraea sank to her knees with a gasp.

Behind them, the tunnel began to glow with aquamarine phosphorescence. Stunk’s startled men could be clearly seen. Already the floor beneath their feet was shining wet and the tang of rotting seaweed filled the tunnel.

The mud stirred and then parted, and something huge and white and scaled swam momentarily both across the floor and in the floor. Then the salty scent of the open sea filled the air.

Stunk’s men tried to turn and run, but the mud caught them. The air shimmered around them. With an awfulgioop, fighter after fighter was sucked down into the open portal.

The surface rippled with their passing and then was smooth and still, gleaming wetly under the luminescent glow ofthe tunnel walls.

Only the werewolf escaped being pulled under. Faster than the armored men, the beast raced through the tunnel and launched himself into the air at Sophraea.

From where she kneeled on the solid stone step, still gasping for breath, Sophraea saw a mouthful of huge teeth bearing down on her. The gigantic paws reached for her. Behind her, she heard Gustin and the others shout. Light flashed on the outstretched claws.

Her heart pounded. Her breath stuck in her throat. She sat back on her heels and tried to stand but her legs felt too numb. She’d never make it, never get to her feet in time to run. Her damp fingers dug into the wicker handle of her basket. For an endless moment, she stared, horrified. And then she reacted.

With her own yell bouncing off the walls, Sophraea swung the basket loaded with bricks. It smacked into the terrible beast’s nose.

The werewolf tumbled back onto the quicksand floor of the tunnel.

Another gioop and he was gone.

Absolutely breathless, Sophraea turned to face her friends. They stared back with an expression akin to awe or maybe it was surprise.

“The women of Waterdeep are amazing,” Gustin finally said with great conviction.

“Let’s go back under the Markarl tomb,” she panted.

“What?” asked Gustin as he caught her hand, holding it in a hard clasp as if he was afraid she’d fall back into the portal

shining brilliantly blue behind her. “I thought you wanted to get home. I think we should go back to Dead End House. You’ll be safer there.”

“We’ve got to end this,” Sophraea argued, but she made no move to pull her hand free. There was something reassuring about Gustin’s warm fingers curled around hers. “We must put the shoe back where it belongs. Once we get the dead settled, maybe Stunk will listen to reason. Or we can get Lord Adarbrent to help. But we can’t keep running and fighting.”

She didn’t add that carrying a basketful of bricks was slowing her down and wearing her out. Those bricks had saved her too often to complain about them.

With a reluctant nod, Gustin helped her to her feet and they started running again in the direction that she indicated. Feeler and Fish trailed after them.

“I think it would be safer to go back to the house,” Gustin said. “We could fetch some of your brothets or cousins.”

They could, and then she could watch Stunk’s guards or the noble dead attack her family. Look at what had happened already! The less family members involved, the better, she decided.

“No,” said Sophraea out loud. “I started this curse by carrying off the shoe and I’m going to end it.”

At Rampage Stunk’s mansion, the angry fat man questioned a battered and bruised doorjack. The man nursed a bloody and broken nose, but managed to tell Stunk about how he’d been tricked into following the girl and the wizard underneath the City of the Dead.

“It was a trap,” he mumbled through his hands clamped over his hairy face. “We got down in a tunnel and then it filled with mud and sucked me in. I thought I’d drown, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. Though I was almost dead, I managed to fight my way back

up to the surface and I wasn’t in the tunnel anymore. I was in the harbor staring back at Waterdeep.” “So you lost them!” said Stunk.

“But I recognized her,” growled Furkin in his mostly human form. “I thought she didn’t smell like any moon elf. She’s the stonecutter’s daughter. The one we saw outside Lord Adarbrents mansion.”

“Sophraea Carver,” sputtered Stunk, who had an excellent memory for names. “Gather the guards. We’re going to Dead End House. I have had enough of the Carvers and their alliance with that old man!”

II nderneath the City of the Dead, Sophraea’s odd sense of place II and direction surfaced again. With unerring steps, she led them to the exact spot where she had first found the brocade shoe.

Replacing the shoe in the center of the passage, she backed away from it.

Gustin frowned as he studied the battered focus of the ritual that had stirred up the noble dead ofWaterdeep. “Well,” said Sophraea, “now what?”

“That’s just it,” the wizard replied. “I don’t feel anything here. It’s not like it was when we were above ground. I could feel magic there.”

“And here?” the exhausted girl asked him. The events of the day had finally worn her down. She wanted to collapse in a corner, perhaps sleep for a few days, or maybe just go back to Dead End House and let her mother and Myemaw fuss over her. Outrunning Stunk’s men, battling the werewolf, and even trekking so far through the cold and dark tunnels made her sympathize with Gustin’s oft-spoken desire to sit in the kitchen next to Myemaw’s soup pot.

Nearby, Feeler and Fish waited patiently to escort them back home.

But first Gustin had to reverse the ritual and send the dead back to their graves.

Sophraea asked again, “What now?”

Gustin shrugged. His face reflected the same frustration that she felt. “There’s nothing here,” he said.

“But we found the shoe here,” Sophraea protested.

“We did,” he agreed, “but this is not where the curse began. I wish I could explain it better. It’s just what I feel—like the way that you know where we are right now.”

“We have to do something,” Sophraea said.

Gustin nodded, “I’ll try a reversal. But, without a specific starting point, I don’t know if this will work.”

His eyes gleamed under his long lashes as he pulled out his guidebook and his wand. His motions were quick and efficient, none of the large gestures he normally made. A flickering red light gradually outlined his lanky frame. Even Sophraea could feel the crackle of magic in the air as Gustin opened his book and raised his wand above his head.

An agitated Feeler backed farther away from the wizard, his long tentacles sticking straight out from his head as if electrified by the energy of the wizard. Fish gawped at them, his split tongue flickering over his double row of shark teeth. Each lick of his tongue sent a shower of sparks dancing out of his open mouth.

The red light brightened around the wizard. For a brief moment, it appeared as if Gustin Bone was on fire. Then, just as quickly, the light winked out, extinguishing not only the spell but also other sources of illumination. The usual pale glow of the tunnel walls disappeared and even the gravediggers’ sturdy lantern flared and then went out, leaving them all blinking in total blackness.

Out of the darkness came Gustin’s voice. “That’s the first time that ever happened!” he exclaimed.

Sophraea put out both her hands and stumbled toward Gustin, going in the direction of his voice. Each step was terrifying as she wajked blindly forward. She lost all sense of where she was, how far away the walls of the tunnel were, or even whether the floor was slanting up or down. Dizzy in the darkness, Sophraea groped with slow steps toward where she hoped to find the wizard.

“Gustin!” she called.

“Here!” he answered but she couldn’t tell if he was directly in front of her or just a little to her right. “My tinder won’t wotIc,” called Feeler. “Gustin, what did you do?” Sophraea said with feeling. “Extinguishment,” the reply came.

She was certain now that he was standing a little to her right and adjusted her creeping course accordingly.

“I didn’t think that ritual would be quite so complete,” complained the wizard. “I’ve put out everything it seems.”

“For how far?” asked Sophraea. “Maybe we could back down the tunnel until we reach an area with light.”

“I don’t know how far,” admitted Gustin. “Maybe it is just this section. Or maybe it has spread. It felt like it was spreading at the end.”

“Spteading!” She had visions of Waterdeep plunged into deep twilight and more terrible night as every source of light went out. A ritual like that would throw the city into chaos. And what would the Blackstaff do to the wizard who had cast it? Gustin would be lucky if they let him out of the dungeons in time to celebrate his first century.

“You’ve got to stop it,” she urged him.

“I’m trying,” came the slightly testy sounding voice of the wizard, now definitely closer to her right hand. Sophraea snatched at the sound of his voice and grabbed a handful of cloth. She heard a muffled, “Hmph, let go of my shirt, you’re pulling it against my throat, I’m choking!”’

Ignoring Gustin’s complaints, she threw both arms around the wizard, anchoring herself in the disorientating darkness with a hard hug to his ribs. The wicker basket swinging from her arm banged against his back.

Gustin coughed and sputtered, “I appreciate the sentiment.” A

few quick pats landed on her head. “But I have to free my arms. I need to use them.”

“Just don’t move away from me,” Sophraea commanded. “If this doesn’t work, we need to find Feeler and Fish and lead them out of here.”

“We’re close to you,” Feeler called, a slithering noise undercutting his words. It sounded as if the tunnel was being crisscrossed by snakes sliding over each other. Sophraea sincerely hoped it was just Feeler’s odd tentacles waving on top of his head.

A moment later, the gravedigger confirmed her deduction. “I can feel your body heat with my tentacles,” he said. “If you stay still, 1 should be able to come to you.”

“Urgh,” said Sophraea, trying not to think about Feeler’s waving tentacles honing in upon her warm-blooded body.

“Just let me try this before anyone else grabs me,” Gustin pleaded but he didn’t pull away when Sophraea hugged him even harder.

“Do what you must,” she said, “and I’ll hang onto you. No matter what happens, we can all get out of here together.”

She felt more than heard the big sigh that shook Gustin’s chest. Once again, he muttered and waved his arms in complicated gestures. A pale lavender glow illuminated the very tips of his fingers and the end of his nose. A few more pink sparks shot off the top of his head.

In the light that Gustin cast from his own magic, Sophraea could see the dark outlines of Feeler and Fish barely a few steps away from her. Fish, who could see better in the low light than any of them, waved at her. Catching Feeler’s hand, Fish started toward Gustin and her. With some relief, Sophraea grabbed Fish’s scaly fingers in her own hand, squeezing them tightly. Even if Gustin’s spell failed, they could still form a human chain and grope their way out of the tunnels if they had to.

But the light swelling outward from the wizard’s hands and head

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warmed and darkened into a crimson aura, continuing to grow in strength. As the circle of illumination spread, the tunnel walls began to glow again and the flame in Feeler’s lantern sprang to life.

A few moments later, the tunnels had been fully restored to the normal poorly lit conditions found in the sewers of Waterdeep.

“It worked!” Sophraea cried and gaveGustin one more one-armed hug around the waist before quickly releasing him and stepping away. Her cheeks were flushed and she felt a little warm, a condition that she decided was due to the excitement of being able to see again.

Gustin suffered no such shyness. He stuffed his wand and book back into his tunic, grabbed Sophraea, and pulled her into a strong embrace, lifting her off her feet and spinning her around. He only let go upon hearing a hollow cough from Feeler.

“Sometimes, even I think I’m a genius,” Gustin exclaimed with a grin as the light in the tunnels grew ever brighter. “But, just in case this goes out again, let’s leave now.”

As she turned to lead them back to Dead End House, Sophraea tripped over the brocade shoe lying discarded upon the ground. She scooped it up and showed it to Gustin.

“What should we do with this?” she asked.

The wizard scratched his bearded chin and frowned. “I’m still certain that it is the key to reversing this curse,” he said. “Maybe we need to destroy it. Burning? Burying? Immersion in running water?”

“Which one?” Sophraea asked.

Gustin gave one of his rippling shrugs. “It’s hard to know,” he admitted, “without the original spellbook.” “And that’s with Lord Adarbrent.” “We think,” the wizard pointed out. She answered with a shrug of her own.

“So what do we do with this?” Sophraea asked, contemplating the tarnished shoe in her hand.

“Take it with us,” Gustin decided, plucking it out of her hold and once again wedging it under his belt.

A movement at the entrance of a tunnel caught her eye. Something large and distinctly bony was emerging from one of the tunnels that led farther under the City of the Dead.