The Mark of Nerath: A Dungeons & Dragons Novel

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The Mark of Nerath: A Dungeons & Dragons Novel Page 25

by Bill Slavicsek


  A thick fog began to swirl around Kalaban’s feet, rising up from the ground. At first, the knight-commander thought nothing of the mist. Then he noticed how it changed direction and moved against the gentle breeze blowing down the valley between the hills from the north. A moment later, the mist began to solidify, and then Magroth was standing beside him. The Mad Emperor appeared calm, sated, although he smacked his lips and stuck out his tongue like a child who had just been forced to eat something he didn’t like.

  “You wouldn’t believe how awful giant spiders taste,” Magroth complained. “It was all I could do to even find that in these gods’ forsaken hills. No matter. My cursed descendent and his companions should be along any time now. Which reminds me.”

  Magroth pulled the chain that held the Necropolis Stone from around his neck. He held it up to inspect it briefly, then looked up to examine the sky.

  “Daylight is coming,” Magroth hissed. “Come, knight-commander, let us see what this key unlocks.”

  Kalaban followed Magroth into the shallow depression that contained the pedestal of stone. He watched as Magroth gently placed the dead glass into the carved slot atop the pedestal. Nothing happened. Magroth smiled at Kalaban’s evident disappointment.

  “One more thing to do,” Magroth said, holding his hand above the black stone. He squeezed his fingers into his fist, letting the clawlike nails dig into his withered flesh until blood welled and dripped on to the dead glass.

  Spider blood, Kalaban thought. Or whatever blood the spider ate before Magroth drew the precious liquid from it.

  Three drops of the crimson liquid splashed on to the flat plane of the dead glass. Each one pooled into a brilliant dollop before being sucked into the stone. One drop, two drops, three. A loud click sounded from the stone pedestal or from something just beneath it. Then the hills began to rumble and the ground that they were standing on began to descend. The pedestal was part of some kind of platform that even now was lowering the two undead creatures into a great open space beneath the Old Hills.

  As the platform continued to descend, leaving an opening above them, Magroth willed light to radiate from the top of his staff. The light revealed the sunken city of the dead that spread out to the north and east. It appeared that the place had once been above ground, but something had caused it to fall into the earth and become buried. An earthquake, perhaps, wondered Kalaban, or maybe the actions of an angry god? Parts of the necropolis rested at different levels beneath the hills, with some sections tilted at a steep angle to the right and others angled to the left. Very few sections were level or complete. The place was a literal ruin of mausoleums and vaults and temples dedicated to Orcus.

  Finally, the platform came to rest some fifty feet beneath the surface. Magroth reclaimed the Necropolis Stone from the pedestal and stepped off to find the place where he had to perform the ritual that the death priest had given him. Kalaban started to follow, but Magroth raised his hand.

  “This is where we part ways, knight-commander,” Magroth said without turning to look at him. “At least for now. There is a green dragon in the hills above. It was waiting for us, watching us as we fiddled with the pedestal in the small cave. I have no idea what it wants, but it must not be allowed to interfere with the ritual I’m about to perform. Deal with it, Kalaban. Deal with it as you deal with everything I need you to.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Kalaban said, drawing his soulsword and turning to face the opening above them.

  “And whatever you do, knight-commander,” Magroth added as he started to walk away, “make sure that my descendent is allowed to enter the necropolis. Don’t let the dragon eat the young fool before I can use him as a sacrifice.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Kalaban said again as he tried to think of a way to quickly defeat a green dragon.

  Nothing brilliant immediately sprang to mind.

  71 THE NECROPOLIS OF ANDOK SUR, THE DARK BEFORE THE DAWN

  Tiktag watched in amazement as the hill and the land around it collapsed into the earth, leaving behind a jagged gash that opened into the ground.

  “The way is opened,” Vestapalk said. “The Herald must be below. That is why we were led here. That is why the very land itself has opened before us. The Elemental Eye sees these things, and it is well pleased.”

  Tiktag had to admit that the signs had surely brought them to this place. Something momentous was about to happen, the wyrmpriest was certain of that. The green dragon got up and moved from its hiding place. A few steps of the dragon’s great stride and it was next to the opening in the earth. It peered down into the gaping hole, studying the terrain while Tiktag ran to catch up.

  “Time to fly, wyrmpriest,” Vestapalk said, lowering its head and neck so that the kobold could climb on. Tiktag was barely settled in when the dragon flapped its massive wings and leaped into the gaping hole.

  Vestapalk soared into the darkness, carrying Tiktag on its back. They appeared to be flying down into a great cavern beneath the hills. Spread throughout the cavern were the ruins of a large town or a small city composed of cobbled streets and stone buildings. On further inspection, Tiktag could see that the buildings weren’t homes or temples. They looked like the stone vaults where many of the races store their dead. He had seen examples of such things in Winterhaven, for example, but never so many or so ornate as the ones that filled this cavern.

  But it was obvious to the kobold that the place wasn’t built beneath the ground. It appeared to Tiktag that the entire city of the dead fell into the earth from above. Parts of it had settled on different levels of the cavern, and many of the sections were cantered at odd angles that gave the place an otherworldly feel. Moreover, the wyrmpriest saw many examples of Orcus worship. Statues, shrines, and carved symbols associated with the Demon Prince of Undeath were everywhere, covering the close-packed mausoleums, lining the cobbled paths, and filling every inch of worked stone.

  “Why has the Elemental Eye led us to this place of death, wyrmpriest?” Vestapalk asked as he spiraled down toward a more or less level patch of ground below them.

  “I don’t know, mighty Vestapalk,” Tiktag admitted, though he hated to not be able to provide the dragon with some kind of answer.

  “And what is that thing waiting below us?”

  Tiktag strained to see around the green dragon’s wide neck. Standing beside the stone pedestal that had been in the shallow cave before the entire hillside had collapsed was a human-sized figure in fire-blackened plate armor. He carried a sword and shield, and Tiktag could see dark energy playing across the length of the blade. As they spiraled closer still, Tiktag saw the telltale signs of undeath about the figure: glowing red eyes and skin as pale as many of the stones around them.

  “Something undead, Vestapalk,” Tiktag warned. “Of that I am sure.”

  The green dragon decided to start the battle as it often did. It expelled a cloud of poison gas at the undead warrior. Then it prepared to dive at the creature and rip him apart with its claws.

  Tiktag, trying to see from his unusual vantage point, noticed that the poison gas wasn’t causing the undead warrior to gag or writhe in pain. In fact, it didn’t appear to affect the undead warrior at all. “Master, beware!” Tiktag managed to shout, but the green dragon was already committed. It flew directly at the undead warrior, who calmly ducked low and raked his sword up in a deadly arc. Vestapalk howled in pain and suddenly lost control of its dive. Tiktag leaped just before the green dragon smashed into a small stone building. The structure shattered, revealing dozens of close-packed bodies that had been stored inside it.

  The wyrmpriest rolled and managed to gain his feet. He leveled his fetish-decorated staff and launched an orb of green energy at the undead warrior. As with the cloud of gas, however, the poison orb seemed to have little or no effect on the creature. Fear gripped the kobold, who tightened his hands around his staff and danced back, away from the armored creature.

  “Now I get to strike,” said the undead warrior, striding forwar
d without the least bit of hesitation.

  Tiktag was certain that his time in this world was about to come to an end when Vestapalk roared a warning. The wyrmpriest dropped to the ground just as the green dragon’s tail swept through the space above him and slammed into the undead warrior. The powerful blow sent the creature sailing back. He smashed into another of the stone mausoleums, but not as dramatically as the dragon had. The stone building held up to the undead warrior’s much smaller bulk. Not so much as a crack appeared along the stoneworked surface. The impact was jarring to the creature, however, who connected with the hard stone and bounced off to crash loudly to the cobbled path before it.

  “What are you and why do you challenge Vestapalk?” the green dragon demanded.

  “I am Kalaban,” the undead creature said as it lifted himself off the ground. “I am knight-commander of Nerath. I am a death knight. And I am your death, dragon.”

  The green dragon laughed. It was a sound that Tiktag would never get used to.

  “Vestapalk has a destiny, little undead creature,” the green dragon sneered. “You do not have the power to change that.”

  “We’ll see,” said the death knight, and he launched himself against mighty Vestapalk.

  72 THE OLD HILLS, DAWN

  Shara rode her mount out of the dark passage and into the cool air of the Old Hills. The sky was just beginning to brighten over the tops of the hills to the east, and the first rays of the sun would soon paint the sky in brilliant shades of gold and blue. Roghar had healed her injured leg, and she felt fit and ready for whatever happened next. The companions had all experienced the rumble and shaking that had rocked the passage a few minutes ago. None of them had any idea what was happening among the Old Hills, but Erak was certain that it had something to do with his mission.

  Uldane rode beside her, as he always did. She saw the expression of wonder and excitement that the halfling wore, and she smiled. It was the first smile she could remember since that fateful day in the clearing high within the Cairngorm Peaks. It felt good to smile. It helped that Uldane was so full of joy and adventure, even after all that had happened to them. He couldn’t wait to see where this quest took them next. And, whether she liked it or not, his mood was contagious. She had to get back to hunting the green dragon, but for another day or so she was content to stay with this group and help Erak and Falon accomplish whatever it was that the gods seemed to demand of them.

  Gods, Shara thought. She had little use for the strange and distant beings. All they ever seemed to do was make demands and engineer mysterious events that never appeared to serve any real purpose as far as she could tell. She certainly never complained when Cliffside or Roghar performed a healing or when Falon conjured up divine power to help defeat a foe. But beyond that, she had never been one to bend a knee or beg forgiveness. Faith could move mountains, she had heard a wandering cleric say once during an impromptu sermon in Winterhaven’s town square. Be that as it may, Shara preferred to rely on her greatsword, her courage, and the commitment of her friends. As long as the gods didn’t interfere in her affairs, she promised to stay out of theirs. That attitude had served her well until recently. And now? Here she was, riding into who knew what kind of danger to help a young cleric, who was apparently the heir to the long-gone throne of Nerath, and a revenant, who was the Raven Queen’s champion. She had to admit, she could feel her old fire—her zest for life and battle—beginning to return.

  Erak and Roghar led the way out of the underground Labyrinth and into the crisscrossing valleys of the Old Hills. Shara and Uldane followed behind them, with Falon, Darrum, and the golem next in line. Albanon brought up the rear, with Tempest riding in front of him on his horse. Her horse, actually, Shara had heard them say. Despite the long hours of travel and the number of battles they had endured since leaving Fallcrest, thanks to divine healing the companions were healthy and whole. Shara didn’t think that Falon and Roghar had much more to give them in that regard, not without refreshing themselves with prayer and sleep. No one had said anything, but she figured they all knew that an opportunity for either wasn’t in their immediate future.

  “That’s not something you see every day,” Roghar said as he and Erak drew back on their reins and brought up their mounts. They had stopped beside a gaping hole in the earth, and Shara could see where a part of the hillside had collapsed into the ground. She dismounted and moved to stand beside the hole. It opened into a huge cavern. In the light of the steadily brightening sky, she could see the slanted structures that filled the hole.

  “It’s a sunken city!” Uldane exclaimed.

  “A necropolis, actually,” Erak said. “That’s the lost necropolis of Andok Sur.”

  “And you know this how?” Shara said, unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

  Erak simply looked at her. “Magroth must have opened this path,” the revenant said. “This place is holy to the followers of Orcus. Whatever the Mad Emperor plans to do here, I have to find a way to stop him.”

  A great roar bellowed from the cavern beneath them, and Shara’s skin went cold.

  “Shara, did you hear that?” Uldane asked, obviously delighted by the sound. “That sounded like the green dragon!”

  Momentary fear was quickly replaced by the hatred that Shara felt for the creature. She tightened her hand around the pommel of her sword.

  “That’s Vestapalk, the damned beast that killed my father and my friends,” Shara said. “The rest of you can deal with Magroth. The green dragon is mine to kill.”

  “And mine,” Uldane said, a note of seriousness creeping into his voice.

  “Wizard,” Shara said, addressing Albanon. “Can you get me into that hole in the ground quickly?”

  Albanon examined the deep cavern, and then he said, “I can cast a spell on you that will allow you to fall like a feather to the bottom of the cavern. I can only use the spell once, however, so the rest of us will have to find another way down.”

  “Fine,” Shara said, “do it.”

  Uldane moved to stand beside her. “I’m not very heavy,” he said. “Shara can carry me.”

  “I don’t know,” Albanon frowned. “The spell’s not meant to be used on multiple creatures.”

  “Don’t cast it on multiple creatures,” Shara said. “Just me. I’ll carry Uldane. We’ll be fine.”

  “But …”

  “We’ll. Be. Fine.”

  Albanon nodded and began to cast the spell. As he made gestures and whispered words of power, Shara took one last look at the companions. Erak nodded to her as he and Roghar tied lengths of rope together to use for their own descent into the ruins. Tempest and Falon were moving the horses back, away from the gaping hole. They would probably have to let the horses run free, because none of them were going to want to wait up here while the rest went into the ruins. Only Darrum stood apart, a look of troubled concentration on his face.

  “Maybe Falon shouldn’t go into the ruins,” Darrum said, staring down into the deep darkness.

  “What are you thinking, Shield?” Erak asked as he checked the knots in the ropes.

  “Just that this Mad Emperor made it awfully easy for Falon to follow him. Maybe he wants Falon to catch up with him.”

  “I’m sure that’s exactly what he wants,” Erak said calmly.

  “So we give this undead thing what it wants?”

  “We end this,” Erak stated. “And for that to happen, Falon must be there.”

  “He just knows it,” Shara added, feeling the tingle of arcane energy play across her skin as Albanon finished casting his spell.

  Falon walked over and put a hand on Darrum’s shoulder. “I’m going, Darrum,” the young cleric said. “I’m tired of running away. Besides, I’ve met so few members of my family. Seems like an opportunity that I just can’t pass up.”

  “The spell is cast,” Albanon said as another dragon roar issued from the darkness below.

  “In addition to the green dragon,” Erak warned, “the ruin
s are probably overrun with all kinds of undead. And few of them will probably be as friendly as I am.”

  “Good to know,” Shara replied, another smile touching her lips. “You aren’t Jarren, are you?”

  “No,” Erak admitted softly, “I don’t believe that I was.”

  “May your battles end with you alive and your enemies dead,” Shara called out. “All of you. And now, I have a green dragon to slay!”

  Shara grabbed hold of Uldane, who was grinning like a child who had just been handed a sweet roll. She had the same feeling. Then she stepped into the open space above the cavern, and slowly began to fall.

  73 THE OLD HILLS, DAY

  As day exploded among the Old Hills, Falon saw that the cavern below was still shrouded in darkness like the night. Erak secured one end of the rope and tossed the other end into the hole. He tested the hold with a couple of hard pulls before nodding that it was ready for them to descend.

  “I don’t think your golem can climb down the rope,” Darrum said.

  Falon shrugged. “Yes, I already thought about that,” he said. Then he pointed into the hole. “Stoneguard, jump!” Falon commanded.

  Without hesitation, the stone golem stepped into the hole, much in the same manner as Shara had just moments before. Unlike Shara, the stone golem didn’t simply drift slowly toward the cavern’s bottom. It plummeted, immediately falling out of sight into the darkness below.

  “Are Shara and Uldane going to be all right against a dragon?” Albanon asked.

  Roghar began to climb down the rope.

  “Once we get to the bottom,” Erak said, “we’ll determine our next course of action. Perhaps a few more of us may go to help Shara.”

  Erak pointed to the rest of the companions, determining the order of the climb. Tempest. Albanon. Falon. Darrum. Once everyone signaled understanding, the revenant scampered down the rope and disappeared into the hole. Falon watched as the others, one at a time, took their position and started to make their descent.

 

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