Crypt of the Shadowking (34 page)

In moments Morhion stood behind Caledan, who felt the mage’s knife slit his bonds. “Why are you doing this?” he whispered savagely. “What more do you seek to gain, mage?”

“We do not have time for explanations,” Morhion said with infuriating calm. The mage also cut the rope binding Caledan’s ankles.

Free of her bonds, the Harper had started toward the dais. She closed her hand about the reed pipes. Snake looked up, fury blazing in his eyes.

“Caledan!” Mari shouted as she threw the pipes in his direction. Even as the instrument arced through the air Snake reached out an arm toward the Harper and spoke a word of magic. A jagged stream of poisonous light burst from his fingertips, striking Mari full in the chest. The force of the blast hurled her backward, and she crumpled without a word, her face white. She did not move.

Caledan caught the pipes but stood as if frozen. At that moment he knew he had been a fool. He loved the Harper as much as he had ever loved Kera. Perhaps even more. But he had been prideful and realized his true feelings too late. Now Mari was gone as well. His shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Will you let her sacrifice mean nothing?” Morhion whispered in his ear. Caledan turned to the mage. More than ever he wanted to kill Morhion. But that could wait. With one last glance at the runes inscribed upon the seven columns, he lifted the pipes to his lips.

“Play a single note, and the boy dies,” a soft, sibilant voice said. Snake stood before the dais, holding Kellen tightly by the shoulder. A bare inch from the boy’s neck Snake held a thin, golden needle. “The needle is coated with a poison called telsiak. Believe me when I tell you that the child will be quite dead before you can play a second note.”

Caledan stared at the thin, hard-faced lord steward for a long moment. He sighed, lowering the pipes. He could not do it. He had lost Kera. Now Mari lay unmoving, almost certainly dead. How could he let himself lose his newfound son as well?

“No, Father!” Kellen cried out. “You don’t have to do what he says. Isn’t that what you told me?” The boy’s voice was plaintive, but there was something different about his eyes…

“I’m … I’m sorry, Kellen.” Caledan let the pipes slip from his fingers.

“In the name of the Abyss, look above!” Ferret shouted, Pointing to the crypt’s domed ceiling. Involuntarily, Snake turned his gaze upward. There was nothing there but shadows. Too late the lord steward realized he had fallen for the oldest trick of all.

He winced in pain as he looked down at the golden needle protruding from his chest. In the instant when he had looked away, the boy had grabbed his hand and turned the needle into the lord steward’s body.

“Master…” Snake said as he pulled out the needle. But that was all. In the space of a heartbeat his lips turned blue, and his hands stiffened into rigid claws. He toppled to the floor. His hard eyes stared blankly forward, as dull and lifeless as stones. The lord steward Snake was dead.

But the Shadowking was not.

“Thanks for the distraction, Ferret,” Caledan said grimly to the thief.

“Don’t mention it.” the thief replied. “Though you might want to start worrying about that.” He nodded toward the dais.

The Shadowking was nearly complete. Muscles and veins writhed like serpents beneath skin as dark and smooth as night. Its legs were as thick as columns, ending in cloven hooves. It flexed its powerful arms; long, dark talons sprang from its fingertips. A tail lined with jagged, saw-toothed barbs cracked like a whip in the air. All that remained indistinct was the Shadowking’s face. And slowly, inexorably, that too was taking shape.

“Do something, Father!” Kellen cried, running forward.

“Play the shadow song, Caledan,” Estah said, her voice strong and reassuring.

“Now would be a good time,” Ferret added.

Caledan reached down and picked up the pipes. His fingers felt numb, and he fumbled, nearly dropping the pipes. It had been so many years since he had played music. He feared he would not remember how. He feared that he had read incorrectly the Talfir letters inscribed upon the columns. Then a hand reached up and touched his own, a hand that was small but strong. He did not need to look to know it was Kellen’s. Suddenly all his fear slipped away, all his regrets and bitterness. And then there was only music.

He played a first, clear note—a wistful, almost optimistic sound. Talek Talembar had not told him to listen for the echo of the song in the place it had last been played. Talembar had told him to look for the echo of the song. That was the key.

He played the second note of the song, higher in pitch, a pure, ringing note. What the words written in Talfir said, Caledan wasn’t certain, but he knew enough of the ancient language to recognize what letters the runes stood for, and that was enough. The first letter of each word was a note of music. It had been so terribly obvious, a puzzle so simple any apprentice minstrel would have seen it, yet anyone who could not read music would never have understood.

Caledan played the third note, this one lower, more ominous, a note of power. The pipes felt warm in his hands.

“I don’t mean to be pushy, but you might want to hurry it up,” Ferret whispered, jerking his head toward the dais.

Slowly the Shadowking had begun to draw itself up to its full, towering height, spreading its arms wide. Two batlike wings unfurled from its back. The Nightstone pulsed lividly in the center of its misshapen chest as hot and red as blood. Now the Shadowking’s visage was coming into focus, but its face was not the face of a man, not like that of the death mask on the sarcophagus. Instead it was the face of a beast. Fangs like obsidian knives protruded from its maw, oozing dark ichor.

Caledan almost faltered as he played the fourth note, but he clenched his fingers tightly about the pipes and forced himself to breathe. The music continued. The entire chamber was beginning to resonate with it. Each of the notes echoed off the dark stone, interweaving with the others. He played the fifth note, then the sixth. He was trembling now. The sound of the echoing song was growing deeper, more complex.

The Shadowking took a step forward. Its cloven hoof cracked the stone of the dais. It took another step, and more stone crumbled beneath its ponderous stride. It reached out a claw, straight toward Caledan. The last outlines of its twisted face coalesced. It opened its maw to let out a roar of triumph, and a crimson flame burst to life in its eyes. After a thousand years of entombment, the Shadowking lived again.

Bow to me! a vast and ancient voice thundered within Caledan’s mind. Terror clawed brutally at his heart. Bow to me, I am Darkness!

Caledan shook his head against the crushing power of the voice, struggling to stay upright. Summoning his last few shreds of will, he played the final note of the shadow song.

The vast harmony that echoed about the crypt was suddenly complete, becoming a single chord of deep and ancient power. The music soared to a deafening volume. Caledan fell to his knees, dropping the pipes and covering his ears. The others did the same.

The Shadowking shrieked with a fury so monstrous and incomprehensible Caledan thought the sound of it would drive him mad. Then, with a clap of thunder, the Nightstone that beat in the Shadowking’s chest burst asunder in a spray of dark, crystalline shards. The Shadowking began to waver and grow indistinct. Its darkness faded into a hazy translucence.

Finally, with a last shuddering sigh, the Shadowking flickered and was gone, like a shadow on the wall banished by the light of a single candle.

Caledan looked up to see Kellen. The boy’s face was expressionless. Caledan gripped his hand, then Kellen flung himself into Caledan’s arms, sobbing. Caledan held him tightly. “It’s all right, Kellen,” he said softly. “I’m here now. It’s all right.”

“Caledan, I think you’d better come here.”

It was Estah. Her voice sounded tight. Gently, Caledan pushed Kellen away and rose.

The healer knelt at Mari’s side. The Harper lay unmoving, her fiery hair spread out beneath her on the dark stone, her face deathly pale.

“Is she… ?” Caledan managed to ask, choking on the words.

“She is not dead,” Estah said.

“Then you can use your medallion,” Caledan said urgently, kneeling beside the halfling. “Use it, Estah. Please. Heal her for me. For all of us.”

Estah shook her head sorrowfully. “I don’t know if my magic can help her, Caledan. She is not dead, nor is she alive. It’s almost as if her spirit is somehow caught in the gateway between this world and the next.”

“It is the enchantment of the tomb,” Morhion said. He ran his fingers across the stone of one of the basalt columns. “I can feel it lingering in this place.”

“Then let’s get her out of here,” Caledan said. He lifted Mari’s limp form in his arms, taking a few steps forward. Suddenly the floor lurched beneath him. Only Ferret’s hand kept him from falling. There was a cracking sound, followed by the tumult of falling stone.

Caledan gasped. The crack in the dome of the ceiling gaped wide and jagged now, and other cracks spread outward from it. Suddenly one of the buttresses lining the perimeter of the tomb slumped, sending massive blocks of basalt crashing to the floor. The onyx shattered like glass beneath the force of the boulders.

“The crypt is collapsing!” Caledan shouted above the roar of the cave-in.

“The vibrations of the song must have weakened the dome,” Morhion cried.

The floor lurched again. With a sound like lightning a crack opened in the center of the tomb. The companions scrambled away from the edge of the widening chasm. They watched as the massive sarcophagus listed like a sinking ship and then slid into the void.

“Stay close to me,” Caledan shouted to Kellen above the deafening noise. Kellen’s face was white with fear, but he nodded, following behind. Caledan stumbled on, clutching Mari.

They ran for the open doorway and had nearly reached it when the greatest tremor yet shook the crypt. Two of the basalt columns tilted crazily and tumbled off their plinths toward the tomb’s center. A huge chunk of the ceiling gave way, and the mosaic exploded against the floor. Caledan dropped to his knees. Chunks of flying stone and shards of tile cut into his skin, yet he kept his grip on Mari.

“Look at the door!” Kellen shouted.

Caledan jerked his head up to see the two massive slabs of onyx slowly closing. He could see now that it was not magic that had opened the doors after all, but a simple lead counterweight hanging from a chain. With that last tremor, the iron chain had snapped and was now slipping freely through a pulley.

With impressive quickness Ferret dashed forward, sprang into the air, and caught the rising end of the chain. The onyx doors continued to swing shut. The chain carried the thief higher. Then the doors began to slow. Finally they came to a halt, leaving an open space barely two feet wide between them. Ferret dangled at least a dozen feet above the floor, swinging slowly from side-to-side, a crooked-toothed grin on his face.

Another tremor shook the tomb. With a groan the doors swung shut a few more inches.

“I’m not sure I can hold on much longer,” Ferret shouted down. “Get through the door. Ill follow.”

“Crazy thief,” Caledan muttered, but with Mari in his arms, he slipped through the narrow opening with Kellen on his heels. Estah and Morhion followed moments later. Caledan peered back through the doorway at the thief still dangling from the chain.

“All right, Ferret, we’re on the other side,” Caledan-called through the doorway. “Now you—”

“Caledan, don’t you see?” Estah said fearfully. “Once Ferret lets go of that chain, the doors will shut. He’ll be trapped. Ferret, don’t let go!” she cried through the doorway.

“It’s all right, Estah,” Ferret called to them. He still wore his grin, but there was sorrow in his dark eyes. “It’s just my greedy nature. You see, I want to keep all of the treasure in the tomb for myself. You understand, don’t you?”

Tears streamed down Estah’s cheeks. “Yes, Ferret. I do understand.”

“Don’t do this, you idiot thief!” Caledan shouted. He laid Mari down, ready to dash through the doorway, but he was too late.

“Tell Tyveris good-bye for me,” Ferret called out in his raspy voice.

The thief let go of the chain, and the onyx doors closed with a boom.

“Ferretl” Caledan screamed. He slammed into the doorway, trying to dig his fingers into the crack to pry open the ponderous slabs of stone. But it was no use.

“You cannot open those doors, Caldorien,” Morhion said solemnly.

Caledan slumped, bowing his head against the door. He knew the mage was right. The blasted mage was always right. Another tremor shook the stone around them. Dust rained down from the ceiling.

“We have to go, Caledan,” Estah said, her voice thick with grief. “Mari needs you now. And Kellen, too.”

Slowly, Caledan stood up, nodding grimly. He took Mari’s form in his arms once again and looked at Kellen, who stood bravely beside him.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said.

Their flight upward through the dark, labyrinthine tunnels was like a nightmare, a nightmare Caledan thought would never end. His lungs burned as if they were on fire; his heart felt as if it was going to burst. But he did not slow his pace. He clutched Mari against his chest, his knuckles as white as her pale face. Estah, Kellen, and Morhion followed close behind.

Finally they reached the dungeons below the tower. They came to a large, circular chamber and saw the remnants of what looked to have been a ferocious battle. Corpses littered the slate floor, which was dark and slick with blood. Many were Zhentarim, but many looked to be cityfolk as well. Caledan could not be certain of which there were more. The air was hazy and stifling with the reek of torches. He dashed up the flight of stone steps, two at time.

After what seemed an eternity of climbing, Caledan burst outside into the blessedly clear night. Kellen, Estah, and Morhion were only paces behind him. Each of them was coated with dust, covered with bruises and scratches, but they were alive.

“Caledan!” a deep bellow rang out in the tower courtyard.

Caledan looked up, blinking the dust from his eyes. He saw that the gates in the tower’s outer wall had been thrown open. Between them stood a massive, hulking figure with a broad, familiar face. Behind him was a throng of cheering cityfolk.