The blightlord considered her retinue. Anammelech had preferred oozes, and bumbling Gameliel his corrupted forest creatures. Herself, she had a penchant for the undead, especially those that delighted haunting the nightand the ever dark corridors of these ruined Nar conjuries. From all the cold, animate servants she had to choose from, she had selected her four favorites to accompany her into Under-Tharos to collect Fallon, just in case there was trouble. Indeed, trouble had found her. They would have to discover Fallon’s whereabouts.
Heavily tattooed, poem-spewing Bonehammer rested on the shaft of the weapon from which he derived his name. Bonehammer’s moon-white skin peeked out from between indelibly inked scenes of depraved obscenity. His blank eyes regarded the Lurker’s glow, measuring.
Absalme, elf thin, gowned in thin white leather, hummed a tuneless dirge, awaiting Damanda’s next command. Her fingers played along the length of a flute of fused humanoid vertebrae.
The contorted, constantly twisting frame of Ezekial was draped in dull black cloth, hiding the extent of his deformity. Because of his nature, Ezekial’s posture hid a secret assassin’s strength, redoubled by his deathless spirit.
Finally there was diminutive Lex with her tomes, scrolls, and wands. A shock of purple hair grew like fungus on Lex’s graceful skull.
Lex grinned, showing her cruelly pointed canines, and said, “Some other demon got your elf before he even reached here, eh?”
“Perhaps. It is what we must discover. Ezekial!” “Yes, Mistress?” creaked he of cloaks, daggers, and teeth.
“Find the missing elf, or better yet, the girl-child he has with him.”
Ezekial bent, so precipitously and shockingly that those unused to his contortions might have thought that he had broken and his top half toppled. His nose a mere whisper above the floor, he began to sniff. Sniffing, he shuffled away from the greenish light, back along the way Fallon should have come.
Damanda and the other vampires followed.
CHAPTER 23
Tracks riddled the stone walls of the passage. Over the eons, trickling water had nearly dissolved away some sections, though a lingering malign influence restricted the damage from being total.
Marrec pressed forward, hoping to come to the core of the Sighing Vault, but paranoid that each new shadow hid an ambush by Eschar. His companions stepped cautiously behind him, Victorious bringing up the rear.
Ususi had bolstered the ice demon with magic that should make it more resistant to instant neutralization by Eschar. That would be important were they to face Eschar again.
Echoes of their footsteps sometimes leaped ahead, causing Marrec to pause suspiciously. Marrec said, “There is an open area ahead by the sound of it.” Whispers of his voice echoed back.
They pressed ahead, and the corridor emptied into a vast space. Shapes glowed with their own foul light, tumbled under a great subterranean ceiling. Pale domes, cracked sarcophagi, and possibly thousands of clay vessels, earthenware containers, and other containers lay scattered and broken around the chamber, most half buried in millennial dust. It was impossible to tell how many thousands more containers lay completely buried.
Even the slightest sound sent echoes scurrying and whispering across the chamber.
Victoricus intoned, “The Sighing Vault.”
Ususi asked, “How can we find the token amidst this morass? It would take years.”
“I smell it,” the ice demon said, almost as if surprised.
It began to slide forward, passing the outermost vessels of the gargantuan pile. Casual inspection showed that the chests, vessels, and pots that were broken were empty of all content.
“Stay alert,” said Marrec, gripping Justlance. “Eschar’s got to be here, waiting.” He followed on the demon’s heels. Gunggari followed him, next Ususi, and Elowen took up the rear, guarding their flank.
They passed out into the great cavern, passing between larger vessels of stone and iron so large that they were like windowless, doorless buildings. Narrow “streets” of clear space wound through that city of silence, and Victoricus followed one such lane to the center of the tumbled pile.
Some of the vessels where carved with faces, bodies, skulls, demonic glyphs, and more depraved symbology. It was clear that many Nar treasures and secrets resided there in their hundreds.
Marrec said quietly, “Eschar’s been a busy collector over the centuries.”
Ususi responded, “That or he happened upon a dumping ground of failed Nar experiments. I doubt there is much of any use here. I can’t detect any magic in any of these.” She waved her hand over a field of crooked, half- shattered clay pots.
“Looking for goodies?” wondered Marrec.
“I’m looking for anything that we can use to our advantage,” huffed the wizard.
Ahead of Marrec, Victoricus slid to a halt before a salt-white dome. They had traveled several hundred yards, picking their way through the vault field, and Marrec decided they might well be in the center of the cavern.
The ice demon pointed to the vault and said, “The Queen Abiding’s token lies within.”
Apprehensive that Eschar was watching them, so close to their goal, they spread out around the dome, looking for a door, window, or even a crack large enough to provide entry. The dome, like many of the smaller containers surrounding it, seemed sealed but unbroken. As far as Marrec could determine, the dome was carved of a single piece of limestone. A line of symbols ran around the periphery of the dome. That was all.
Dissatisfied with the time they were spending, Marrec grunted, “I suppose these are in the language of ancient Narfell?” He pointed to the symbols. He couldn’t understand why Eschar hadn’t already attacked them. His neck hair continually prickled, but no threat materialized to justify his tension. Yet.
Ususi studied the symbols. She read, translating, “Once for the First; Twice for the Archduke; Thrice for the Viscount; Four revolutions for the dual lords; Five for the Prince, Six for the Hag; Seven for the Seventh; Eight for the Eighth, and Nine for the King.”
“That doesn’t sound like a healthy litany,” noted Elowen, looking around nervously.
“It does have the sound of a summoning, doesn’t it,” mused Ususi.
“Is it?” asked Marrec.
The wizard shrugged, said, “I do not believe so, no, but it does remind me of something.” She pulled upon the flaps of one of her voluminous side satchels in which she carried various slim tomes and parchments covered in crabbed runes, sorted through the contents, then pulled forth a slender volume bound in blue leather. The edges were crumbling, and the symbols were faded, though they seemed similar to those on the dome.
Ususi explained, “This tome is banned in some cities of Faerun, if you can believe it. Some people don’t understand that to fight demons and devils you have to first recognize them.”.
Marrec’s eyes widened. He asked, “You carry a tome of demonology?”
The wizard said, “I carry many bits of knowledge. You never know when you’ll stumble upon something better left alone, but how would you know it, unless you can identify it as such? Ah hah!” her finger, scanning lines, stabbed at an entry.
Ususi said, “The writing on the dome refers to the Lords of Hell itself.”
All stood silent a moment, digesting the mage’s pronouncement. Finally Marrec said, “So… what now? Are we dealing with something far beyond our ability? A gate straight into Hell? I hate these damned Nar sorceries.”
“I’m not sure, but I suspect it is a riddle, merely playing with the names of Hell. If we can answer the riddle, I predict we can open the dome and reveal the queen’s token, along with whatever else Eschar stores here.”
“And Eschar himself, no doubt,” muttered Gunggari.
“Hold on; why devils?” asked Marrec. “Aren’t the Nar known for the demons they kept in thrall?”
Ususi replied, “Demons, devils, ‘loths… the Nar were not picky in those creatures they pressed into service. We say demons, but the Nar embraced a much wider swath of foulness.”
Elowen wondered, “These devils are called the First, the Second, and so on?”
“Yes, well, that is only part of their name. For instance, a devil named Bel is Lord of the First. The Lord of the Second is Dispater.”
