canyon floor.
Joel rummaged hastily through one of the backpacks. He had spilled most of the contents over the flying carpet before he found the scroll he wanted. By the time he'd unrolled the vellum, the slasrath was closing in on him and Holly. This time the paladin took a stance beside Joel, nearer to the bottom of the narrow canyon where the razor-winged beast couldn't spread its wings without slicing at the rocky slope on either side.
That's when they discovered that the slasrath, like their carpet, could hover overhead. Its wings rippled above them as it stabbed down at Holly with its tail. The deadly stinger at the end of the creature's tail struck her in the chest but failed to pierce the paladin's damaged breastplate.
By the light of the finder's stone, Joel chanted the incantation inscribed on the scroll as Holly fought to hold off the slasrath. When the bard finished, he motioned toward the slasrath's eyestalks, both focused on the paladin.
A light as bright as day burst about the slasrath's head. The beast howled in terror and soared upward. It hovered high above them, shaking its head, trying to throw off the light spell that now blinded it. It flew about in a spiral until it hit the mountainside. Then it lay still against the slope.
Emilo came pelting back up to Joel as fast as his short legs could carry him.
'You've got to come quick,' the kender said breathlessly. 'I think Jas has been poisoned.'
They hopped on the carpet and Emilo ordered it to fly low along the floor of the canyon.
Jas lay on the ground on her stomach with her wings spread around her, effectively camouflaging her from view. Her left calf had swollen to the size of a melon, and her breathing was strained and shallow.
Joel dug frantically through the scrolls until he discovered one to neutralize poison. He set his hand on Jas's injured leg and chanted from the scroll. Blue light flowed from his hand and seeped into the winged woman. The swelling subsided slightly and Jas moaned. After a few minutes her breathing grew steadier and less labored. Emilo pulled out a water flask and helped Jas take a few sips.
Holly looked back down the canyon while Joel and Emilo aided the winged woman. 'I'm going to finish taking care of that creature,' the paladin said. 'I'll be back in a few minutes.'
Before Joel could stop her, Holly began trekking back to where they'd last fought the slasrath. Joel called after her, but the paladin had already disappeared behind an outcropping of rock.
'Should I follow her?' Emilo asked.
Intent on casting a spell to heal Jas's injuries, Joel nodded without really thinking.
When the magical energy finished seeping into her, Jas sighed and sat up. 'I'm getting too old for this,' the winged woman grumbled.
Holly and Emilo returned a few minutes later. Holly sat down and proceeded to clean the slasrath's ichor from her blade.
'I wish you wouldn't run off like that,' Joel snapped.
'You blinded the thing. It would be cruel not to put it out of its misery quickly,' the paladin countered. 'Now we can camp here without worrying about it coming back.'
Joel sighed. There was no sense arguing with Holly. The paladin was always certain she was doing the right thing.
The canyon floor was covered with black flinty ash and broken hexagonal columns of stone that had sheared away from the mountainside above. The ground was warm but solid. It was also sterile. Nothing grew anywhere, not even lichen on the rocks.
The adventurers set up camp on the carpet so they could flee quickly if attacked. They shared a meal from Winnie's supplies. Holly insisted that she wasn't very tired and took the first watch along with Emilo.
Joel slept fitfully in the Gehennan heat. He dreamt of the Realms being beset with nothing but bad luck- earthquakes, floods, and fires. Others died all around him, crushed, drowned, and burned, yet he remained unharmed. He realized he must be in a dream. Since he knew he was dreaming, he tried to qualm his fears of the disasters he witnessed. If Selune's suspicions were correct, it was not only Tymora's Luck that was being drained, but Beshaba's as well. Eventually the bad luck would end, too. Yet that thought would not quell Joel's dream fears, and the bard thought he understood why.
When Beshaba and Tymora were salvaged from the poisoned Tyche, perhaps they didn't really each possess a different kind of luck. Perhaps their very nature shaped the luck they had. Even were it within her power, the selfish and vengeful Beshaba would never grant anyone good luck, just as the kind and generous Tymora would never curse someone with misfortune. Now another power, was stealing both Beshaba's and Tymora's Luck. If an evil, selfish god had dominion over good luck, 'good' luck would cease to exist.
Just when the bard thought his dreams couldn't get any worse, he dreamt again of the children.
OFFSTAGE
Somewhere else in the Prime Material Plane on the world known as Toril in Realmspace, Amber Wyvernspur watched with annoyance as her cousin Cory jumped across the marble tiles of the floor of the family mausoleum. Either Cory was especially lucky from being favored by Tymora or his father had been fool enough to demonstrate the secret pattern to him. A rectangular section of the floor dropped a foot lower than the surrounding floor and slid away, revealing a staircase leading downward.
'We have to hurry,' Cory said. 'The door doesn't stay open for long.'
Tavan and Toran took up the torches they had just lit and took the lead. Cory, Lumen, and Ferrin hurried after them.
'Are there any spiders?' Heather asked uncertainly.
'Giant ones, as big as cats, with furry bodies,' Olivia said gleefully. 'We'll catch one and make it a pet.'
'All right,' Heather agreed. She didn't like spiders, but she loved cats.
The two younger girls headed down the stairs, leaving Amber with Pars.
'Pars, you don't have to come if you don't want to,' the eldest Wyvernspur child said to her youngest brother.
'I'm not a baby,' Pars shouted, and he started down the stairs, backward, so he could negotiate the steep steps without falling.
Amber sighed and followed behind him. The mausoleum had been chill, but on the stairs, warm air rose up from below. The warmth failed to dispel the gooseflesh on Amber's neck and arms.
At the bottom of the stairs the way was blocked with a heavy leaden door, on which was painted the image of a red wyvern. Heather pulled out Uncle Steele's key and turned it in the lock.
'What does that say?' Olivia asked, pointing to words engraved in the stone over the door.
Amber took Tavan's torch and held it up high. ' 'None but Wyvernspurs shall pass this door and live,' ' she read aloud.
'Neat!' Tavan said as he and his brother pushed open the door.
From the stairs above came a shout, a hoarse, growling war cry.
'What's that?' Ferrin whispered.
Amber looked back up the stairs with alarm. Something outside the mausoleum, something that must have been lurking in the graveyard, had followed them through the secret door. She squinted into the darkness and caught sight of glowing red eyes and the flash of a steel sword. A moment later she was able to make out the outline of a tall, hairy creature with a face like a pig's.
'It's an orc!' Amber shouted, throwing the torch she held at the creature. 'Run!' she screamed.
The cousins raced through the door. Amber stopped only long enough to pick up Pars before dashing after the others. There was no time to close the door behind them.
The crypt beyond the door was a vast tunneled chamber with straight walls and a curved ceiling. The children's footfalls and screams echoed along the passage as they ran through the crypt. In the wall at the far end of the room was an arched opening that led to another stairway leading down.
'Wait!' Amber shouted as she passed beneath the arch. 'Don't go down into the catacombs! It's dangerous down there!'
The others halted on the stairs and glared back at their eldest cousin.
