D&D 03-Oath of Nerull

by T. H. Lain

"You used it! You followed the plan!" The gnome laughed happily.

  The too-large Aganon glowered. He stood over ten feet tall and he was puzzled. How had he lost? Only when he twisted around did he see the reason. The spell of magical enlargement made him grow so much that he no longer stood entirely in the ring. His giant-size left foot had slid out of the ring. It was still mostly inside the painted ring, and yet it had undeniably broken the circle, placing him out of bounds.

  The man's eyes glinted with a greenish light. A terrible anger moved there.

  He thundered, "Do not think that I'll suffer defeat through so cheap a trick. It's only a matter of time before my friends and I take charge of things around here. We'll see who gets the Golden Wand!"

  The judge, accustomed to sore losers, waved Aganon away. He thumped off, his enormous boots making wide tracks on the floor of the coliseum. That was when the cheering started in earnest.

  At the award ceremony later that day, Nebin watched proudly, if a little enviously, as the Golden Wand was conferred on Hennet. The sorcerer stood on a small riser in the middle of the coliseum, beneath the shadow of the Floating Tower. To the accompaniment of a salute by the gathered college wizards, an aged mage with a gray-streaked beard presented Hennet with his trophy. It was smooth, slender, and golden-hued.

  The wand shone with its own light, even in the full light of day.

  "With the Golden Wand," declared the mage, "you can invoke the very weapons of your enemies and turn their magical power against them! Use it wisely. You are its keeper for now."

  The wand glowed like sun-fired amber.

  Hennet raised the wand above his head and shouted, "I thank the College of Wizardry for hosting the Duel Arcane. I thank all of you who have come to watch the wonders of wizardry and sorcerery displayed here. But most of all, I want to thank the unexcelled wizard Nebin Raulnor, with whom I shall share this award. I couldn't have done it without his help."

  Nebin swallowed. The crowd cheered more wildly than before—Nebin had been the favorite of a very vocal gnomish contingent. He smiled back at his friend the sorcerer.

  After the festivities, which included a special feast held by the college for the winners (and their closest friends) in all the categories, Hennet, Nebin, and Ember returned to the Cuttlestone. Ember realized that her hearty congratulatory hug was the first overt sign she'd given the sorcerer that he was capable of winning her affection.

  What effect might that have on him? she wondered.

  Hennet, feeling gregarious and generous after his win, picked up the dinner tab in the common room. Thankfully, Brek Gorunn was not back from his fact-finding visit to the local temple of Moradin. Ember knew to beware the dwarf at table—his stomach was voluminous, and he would gladly take advantage of a free meal. When Brek Gorunn finally did appear, Hennet paid for the dwarf's meal all the same. The others had long since finished their meals. The menu was honey-braised duck slow roasted over cherry-wood embers.

  When the dwarf finally sighed and pushed his plate away, he said, "I learned a few things at the dwarven temple today."

  Ember sighed. She'd spent most of the day in a jovial and carefree mood, losing herself in watching the Duel Arcane. It was a nice break, but with the dwarf's words, she recalled her duty. It was time to get back to the matter at hand.

  Ember asked the question on everyone's mind. "What of the revived temple of Nerull? "The words chilled the table.

  The dwarf produced a leather case from his knapsack. Inside was a half-charred parchment—Ember realized it was a map. The dwarf laid it flat on the table, pinning down a curling edge with a handy tankard. Much of it was ruined by burn marks, but some lines remained visible, including a central area with many corridors leading outward.

  "This map was made by a cleric of Moradin four hundred and sixty years ago, when the old temple of Nerull was discovered, and destroyed. Now, it's all history. This is the only document the clerics could unearth. The map reveals how the old sewers connect to the far older catacombs." The dwarf pointed to the nexus and said, "Here's where we found Kairoth."

  "Catacombs? Are they part of the ancient city?" asked Nebin.

  "Yes, pre-Koratia. Here before even the first wave of Nerull-worshipers appeared, but well suited to their needs. Anyway, the old temple of Nerull was based in the very center of the catacombs. The Father Superior at Moradin's Temple, who I spoke with at length today, warned that if Nerull's temple is revived, it likely lies where the old temple once hid—at the heart of the oldest catacombs."

  All were silent, remembering their last trip to the mere edge of that lightless maze below New Koratia.

  "Then, that is where we must go," said Hennet. Brek Gorunn nodded. Nebin put his head in his hands, sighing. Ember let Hennet have a brilliant smile.

  "We should go soon," agreed Brek Gorunn.

  "Soon!?" squalled Nebin. "Let's think about this. It would be so nice to simply relax. Let's say we order another round of wine? You can have ale, Brek, if wine doesn't suit you. No need to send us all off to the dungeons."

  The dwarf chuckled, "Soon, not in ten minutes, Nebin. I learned a few more things about the catacombs today in Moradin's temple library. We need to make a few preparations, based on what I learned there, and I will have that mug of ale."

  "Yes, let's purchase supplies at first light tomorrow," Ember concurred. "I'd like to head into the catacombs no later than noon."

  Hennet pulled out his trophy from the Duel Arcane, inspected it, and said, "I'm eager to see if the Golden Wand's power will serve me. I'd like to see if it really can cage magical attacks thrown against me and return them back upon my attacker. What better test than in Nerull's catacombs?"

  Nebin said, "How about not going into the catacombs and trying out the power right here in the Cuttlestone? Safer, I'd guess. I can fling a petty bolt at you."

  "No, my friend, the wand's power is not unlimited. Better to use it only at need. I'd rather not squander it."

  "Nebin, if you feel that a trip into the catacombs is not for you..." began Ember.

  "Hold on, don't say it. Of course I'm coming with you. I'm just on the side of caution, that's all," said the gnome. "If not me, who will be the voice of reason?"

  Hennet opened his eyes in mock surprise. "If not you? Let me recall to your mind a foray you and I shared last year. It was high summer—do you remember? We were summoned by the alchemist of Whitemore. You pulled that red lever in his laboratory. Oh, you recall that, I see! And do you remember what we went through because of that?"

  Nebin interrupted Hennet. "Yes, yes, no need to sift through the whole incident."

  Ember's and Brek's expressions indicated they actually wouldn't mind hearing the story, but Nebin continued speaking. "Anyway, we learn from our mistakes."

  "I'm glad," said Ember. And she really was. The gnome was competent, even though he enjoyed playing the clown.

  Nebin turned back to the dwarf and said, "And you're sure there is no other entry into the revived temple except through the catacombs?"

  "Of course there is! But, we're sneaking in. We have a map of the ancient entrance. Presumably, the red masks enter and leave using some entrance closer to the surface. Our way is longer, more dangerous, but should ultimately give us the element of surprise."

  Nebin nodded, apparently satisfied.

  Ember finished her drink, wondering about the red lever Nebin had pulled. It could wait, but she would like to hear that story someday.

  She said, "Wonderful. Tonight we relax. In the morning we prepare for our expedition against the cult of the death god."

  At dawn, after an early breakfast, the four companions headed to the market quarter.

  Shops could be found pretty much anywhere in the city, but they were concentrated in the market quarter. More importantly, the market quarter was home of the Wizard's Hoard. It dealt strictly in magic and had a first-rate reputation.

  Like the Floating Tower, the Hoard was run by the College of Wizardry, though it d
idn't float. It was a rambling building of luminescent stone resembling blocks of pearl. The main structure was covered by a dome that glittered even in moonlight. Inside, thousands of arcane items could be bought and sold for a fair price.

  The group entered through a wide portico and found themselves in a broad, covered bazaar. The ceiling, the interior of the vast dome, sparkled with stars as convincing as the night sky. Below, tents and carts crowded together at the center of the open area. These belonged to the hedge wizards and witches who rented space, selling minor charms and ointments from their wagons. The "good stuff" was to be found along the broad, curving walls, where permanent shop fronts were situated and run directly by the College of Wizardry. No-nonsense advertising hung above many of the shops, scribed in Draconic and other magical languages: Potions, Wands, Staves, Impenetrable Armors, Enchanted Blades, and more.

  They stood gazing in wonder. None had ever been to the Wizard's Hoard before. It was a little overwhelming.

  First, the group sold the trinkets, documents, and minor items retrieved when they rescued Kairoth. No buyer asked intrusive questions. Everyone purchased a few vials of magical curative. They knew it would be foolhardy to rely solely on Brek Gorunn to save them all from injuries.

  Nebin bought some spare, spell-grade parchment.

  Ember found a shop called Ellen's Elixirs and Charms. The shop proprietor was a withered, human woman who wore dozens of charms on strands around her neck. Though she hawked many potential wonders, in the end, Ember bought a potion advertised to "make a hero" of the imbiber.

  After purchasing a single curative, the dwarf made a beeline for the shop along the round called Smite Plus. Inside, a cornucopia of oils, charms, and scribed spells were available, each offering a temporary enhancement to a weapon. Brek used nearly his last gold imperial to purchase a magical oil that would briefly empower his warhammer. He grinned as he walked out. It was good to serve Moradin!

  Hennet bought nothing besides curative vials. He had the Golden Wand, after all. Its powers would be a great help. A few people in the dome even recognized him from the Duel Arcane and congratulated him on his victory.

  They met again near the entrance. It was time to move on. After leaving the Hoard they visited a few other shops—Hennet needed crossbow bolts, Ember desired a new pair of gloves, Brek wanted rope, and Nebin pointed out that they could be in the catacombs for quite some time—they had better purchase provisions enough to last for two or three days.

  Finally all the supplies were bought, inventoried, and stowed. Each wore a small pack, a pouch, and a satchel. It was time to descend into the lightless halls beneath the city. That was adventure enough on its own, but they knew that getting through the catacombs was only half the challenge. Finding and dealing with the revived temple of Nerull in the heart of the catacombs was their true task.

  "There it is," said Ember, pointing at the rune-inscribed double door.

  The sewers were behind them, the catacombs lay ahead. One of the stone doors remained open, as they'd left it. Inside, the chamber appeared unchanged. The pit trap gaped wide, opening onto a fall Ember remembered well.

  Brek pushed into the room. Ember kept her eye on the far opening while Brek checked the pit.

  "Seems clear," shrugged the dwarf. "Let's go."

  With the dwarf ahead and Ember right behind, they entered the narrow, urn-lined corridor. As before, Hennet and Nebin brought up the rear. They avoided disturbing the urns, for fear they still held the remains of people long dead. Brek's lantern provided flickering and uncertain light, sending shadows chasing up and down the cemetery hallway.

  The next chamber was also quiet. This is the room where we rescued Kairoth, reflected Ember. The room was circular, domed, and connected to six hallways. Each opening was shadowed with threat. During their last visit, greenish ghoul-light had lit the scene. Ember silently thanked providence that that foul radiance was gone, not to mention the animate, spellcasting corpse. Brek walked forward with his light and examined the floor around the altar.

  He looked up and declared, "The mummy carcass is gone. Or it removed itself. Either way, something has been here since us."

  "If you're suggesting we stay on our guard, don't worry," responded Hennet. "We are."

  Brek grinned through his beard.

  Hennet continued, "Which way does your map show now?"

  Ember moved next to the dwarf as he set down his warhammer and lamp and pulled out the charred map. It indicated that of the six passages connected to this chamber, only one was marked—with a symbol of a skull and scythe.

  Brek pointed at the corresponding passage across the room and said, "That way."

  "How much farther to the temple?" asked Nebin.

  The dwarf shook his head. "The map is only a fragment. If it ever had a scale, it's gone now. Pointing us down this corridor is the limit of its usefulness. I'll lead."

  The dwarf held forth the lamp and plunged into the corridor. Ember walked to his right, and she heard Hennet and Nebin follow.

  Like the last corridor, this one, too, was lined with elaborate urns. Unfamiliar glyphs on the sides of the urns winked below their ages-old blankets of dust. No one wanted to look at them too closely for fear of disturbing their contents. Almost immediately, the passage angled downward. After walking a long distance on the steep grade, the lantern revealed a mist in the air. The farther they pressed forward, the thicker the haze. Soon, it was a true fog. It smelled faintly of dank copper, or blood. Brek Gorunn's light was a glowing spot of blue in the darkness.

  Ember put her hand on the dwarf's shoulder and murmured, "Slow down a bit. The mist could hide anything."

  The dwarf grunted, but slowed. Ember thought all their footfalls sounded muffled, as if sound were strangled by the mist.

  Eventually the grade leveled off and the passage issued into a room whose edges were obscured in fog. The vapors were acrid in Ember's mouth and nose and made her eyes water. Brek stopped short of entering, and she stopped with him.

  Looking back, she said, "Stay close. It's impossible to say how big this room is, with the mist, and we don't want to lose anyone. We're going to follow the right-hand wall around the room. Keep your hand on the wall and you won't get lost. We'll follow it right around until we've come back to this entrance. That way, we won't miss any exits in this damnable fog."

  Brek grunted his approval, and they moved out. The fog was thicker than ever.

  The trip around the chamber proved a journey of only a minute, and they were moving cautiously. A single sealed exit opposite the entry was found during their circuit. A face, its mouth gaping wide, was carved in relief into the stone above the exit. Fell vapors issued from its mouth, constantly replenishing the haze in the chamber and the corridor leading to it.

  "What sorcery is this?" wondered Ember, leaning close.

  "Better ask, 'what wizardry,' " said Nebin.

  Ember rolled her eyes, though she knew no one could see her.

  Nebin continued, "I expect it is a relic of the ancient city. It's said that the ancient city housed a race of wizards. Well, best to fight wizardry with the same."

  Ember saw Nebin melt out of the mist as he moved to stand next to her and the face. She couldn't decide what race the carving portrayed, if it was intended to portray any. Nebin frowned, then fumbled in his pockets. He pulled a kerchief from his coat, considered it for a moment, then handed it to Ember and instructed her to stuff it into the stone mouth. The spewing vapor ceased.

  "A finer application of wizardry I've never seen," noted Hennet. "Perhaps with your next spell you can open the door?"

  Nebin chuckled. He reached for the door ring and pulled. The door didn't budge, but a stony cough issued from the carved face. The kerchief popped from the mouth, propelled by a puff of greenish gas.

  "Uh..." stammered the gnome, stumbling backward.

  Ember grabbed Nebin around the waist and hauled him toward the entrance. Hennet followed, nearly as quickly. Brek Gorunn ap
peared a few moments later.

  The dwarf sneezed and coughed a few times and said, "I got a whiff of it. Nasty. Poisonous, I expect. Best stay away until it clears."

  "If it does," Nebin said darkly.

  "It's an old trap," said the dwarf, "and spent, now that we've set it off. I'm sure the poison is weakened from the ages. Otherwise we would be short one gnome."

  Nebin darted a look back into the hazy room. Ember could see the curl of greenish mist slowly expanding and diluting into the fog. Nebin shivered.

  When Brek Gorunn decided all was clear, they cautiously returned to the door. As the dwarf said, there was no hint of the green gas. Better yet, the blue haze was lifting. The carved face seemed completely quiescent, as if some final bit of elan was now absent. Nebin gave it a tentative tap. Everyone breathed easier after a few seconds of no response.

  This time, Ember and Brek tried the door together while Nebin hung back. The door still held fast.

  "Put your shoulder into it, Ember," Brek Gorunn advised uselessly.

  The tendons in her legs and back trembled, then with a snap! the door burst open.

  Beyond, the lantern revealed a mist-free room. A mosaic of dark tile covered the floor and walls, though many tiles were cracked and broken. The faintest glitter of light edged the tiles, giving them a greenish tinge. Ember was pretty sure it wasn't a reflection cast by the lantern—it was a fell light all their own. Apart from the suspicious glow and scattered, broken tiles, the room was empty. Opposite their doorway stood a single, dark aperture. Bold runes were inscribed all around it.

  Seeing the runes, Nebin tried to squeeze past the dwarf and enter the room. Brek Gorunn held him back.

  "Hold on! Don't be foolish. Where there is one trap, there can be two, or more."

  "I don't like the look of those tiles," Hennet concurred. "They have a cursed light about them, or I'm no mage."

  Nebin seemed to restrain a comeback. Ember supposed it was because Hennet clutched the Golden Wand, proof positive that he knew a thing or two about magic.