The Emerald Scepter soa-3 Page 19

  Even after the creature had moved past, Vambran remained still for several long moments more, unwilling even to turn his head to see where it had gone.

  Finally, when his heartbeat had slowed to an even rate, the lieutenant did rise, barely enough to peer around. He saw no sign of the immense shark.

  Thank Tymora, he thought, sagging down again.

  After gathering his strength, Vambran rose up from his protected hiding place. He saw no evidence of the rest of his companions. Dismayed, he considered the best course of action.

  On land, he thought, if a soldier gets lost in the woods, he's instructed to stay put and let others find him. Maybe that works in the water, too. But how long do I wait for them to come back? he wondered. It's bound to get even darker down here. I can make a light, but Serille said that was a bad idea.

  After weighing his options, the lieutenant decided to follow his instincts, which told him to return to the domed building he had discovered before the arrival of the shark. He rationalized that it was the place where he had first lost his companions and thus, if they followed the same methods as on the surface, they would backtrack to that spot and find him. But the truth was, he felt drawn to the location. Curiosity was driving him to find out what was inside, through that narrow space that he had imagined being a doorway.

  The only problem was, how could he leave a clue for the others that he was there? Vambran needed some way to mark the spot, leave some sign behind-subtle enough not to attract the attention of unwanted species, but obvious enough to those who knew what to look for.

  Vambran had no idea how long it took him to find the unusual formation again, but eventually he spotted the strange dome. With a sigh of relief, he settled down near the rocky crevice that he thought might allow ingress. The fissure was pitch black within and Vambran was reluctant to use his magic to generate light, but he would never work up the courage to descend without being able to see. He also knew that blindly entering the unknown space might bring him face-to-face with Waukeen in no time.

  Vambran considered how best to mark his passage. Using the trident, he chipped off some of the coral along a flat area that was more or less vertical. The growth broke off in large chunks, exposing a lighter color beneath. The revealed surface didn't appear to be natural rock, but what Vambran believed to be worked stone. Elated, he quickly chiseled away two more identical spots. He carefully rounded all three of them, making sure that they were sizeable enough to be seen from a considerable distance. Then he retreated from his work and looked down on it. From several vantage points, three dots were clearly visible, identical in formation to the three dots he bore on his brow.

  Perfect, the lieutenant thought. They'll figure that out.

  Satisfied that he had left a reasonable trail, Vambran moved down toward the gap in the rock. He sat for a time, trying to build up his courage. He didn't know if his hesitation was a fear of being sucked into a great blackness for a second time that day, or if he felt some sense of trespassing on a scene of ancient death. If the place was truly a portal into the forgotten ruins of Naarkolyth, he might very well be the first human to pass through its halls in over a millennium. The thought was both sobering and exhilarating.

  Sitting on a rock under the ocean wasn't helping anyone on the surface, Vambran convinced himself, and finally, he took hold of his holy coin and muttered a prayer. He worried briefly that the changes in his voice due to his gills might cause the magic to fail. With the final word of the spell, though, his coin glowed with a soft light.

  Before the illumination could attract the attention of predators or enemies nearby, Vambran ducked down and sized up the gap. The passage was wider and the way was easier than he had imagined. He slipped through the opening and found himself in a narrow gash in the rock. He disturbed a few fish and some crabs, which scuttled away at his approach.

  The slit opened downward to the edge of his light and beyond and was so narrow that Vambran would not be able to maneuver much as he descended. He considered giving up and returning to the surface to wait for Serille and Arbeenok to find him, but his curiosity won out. The mercenary allowed himself to drift down through the crevice.

  The rock became smoother as Vambran swam farther down, for no plant or coral could grow upon it without at least feeble light to feed on. The passage he was traversing eventually widened enough to become recognizable as a hallway or tunnel, and the thought sent chills down his spine. He was moving through a corridor that humans had walked hundreds of years earlier.

  After descending into the unadorned passage for a few more moments, Vambran's light suddenly illuminated a dead end. Silt and mud filled the bottom of the shaft and no other passage was visible. Disappointed, Vambran probed the silt with the butt end of the trident, hoping to find an opening, or some clue or secret, that would let him explore farther.

  The lieutenant was on the verge of turning back when something caught his eye. A tiny plume of bubbles streamed forth from the stone wall of the shaft. Vambran got close to the trail of bubbles and peered at the stonework. He wasn't certain, but a very small, very straight crack seemed to run the length of the rock.

  A hidden passage? he wondered.

  Vambran spent several minutes searching and discovered a barely discernable seam that looked like the outline of a hidden door. He tried pushing on the stone in various locations and examined other sections of the wall to locate a lever, stud, or other release mechanism, but his search was in vain.

  Only mildly discouraged, the mercenary again considered returning to the open water to wait for his companions, but then he felt the familiar tingle of magic. Inspiration flowed through him and an understanding he couldn't explain washed through his mind. The lieutenant believed he had the workings of a new arcane power at his fingertips. He simply knew, and though the feeling was startling, it wasn't as unnerving as it had been the first time he had discovered the innate ability.

  Thanking Waukeen for whatever role she had played in the manifestation of his power, Vambran placed his hands on the concealed portal once more and spoke a phrase that simply came to his mind. A low, deep click sounded and the stone shifted beneath his touch, settling slightly. Elated, Vambran started to push against the door to see if it would open, but before he could react, a second click became audible and the door sank away, releasing a great burst of air that buffeted the mercenary.

  At the same moment, a sudden suction took hold of the man, drawing him inextricably downward, into the hole he had created. As his body slid through the ever-widening gap in the stone, his trident wedged across the opening. He dangled for a moment, his iron-tight grip on the haft of the weapon keeping him from being sucked away by the force of the water. Huge bubbles surged upward out of the void beyond the doorway, slamming into Vambran and tossing him about.

  The lieutenant tried to pull himself out, tried to remember a spell that might rescue him, but the pain in his arm and shoulder became too great. With a frantic cry of fear, Vambran lost his grip on his weapon and shot downward into the darkness below.

  For several long moments, no one moved.

  Pilos had trouble believing what he had heard. Arrested?

  Then chaos erupted in the halls of the temple of Waukeen as everyone began talking at once. The Abreeant heard someone shouting behind him, but all he could focus on were the doors to the council chamber, only steps away.

  Arrested?

  "Edilus, no!" Horial shouted, and Pilos whirled around to witness the growing commotion.

  The druid had jerked his scimitar free and was menacing a tightening circle of temple guards, all of whom had a distinct advantage with the longer reach of their half-spears. Horial was trying to push past one of the guards, to stop Edilus before he drew blood. Somehow, he managed to convince the druid to lower his weapon. Adyan stood with his hands up, unthreatening, but Pilos could see that the sergeant's jaw was clenched, for the scar along his chin was flexing. Grolo stood beside Adyan, jabbing his stubby finger into the ch
est of another guard, who was arguing right back.

  Pilos had never seen so much uproar within the confines of the temple, then he realized that it had begun prior to their arrival.

  A guard attempted to take hold of the young priest by both arms and Pilos spun around, jerking his hands free. "No!" he said, shouting to be heard. "I must see the high priests, immediately!"

  The guard was shaking his head and held one hand on his weapon as he advanced toward Pilos again. "They are in emergency session and are not to be disturbed," the soldier said. "Now don't make this harder than it already is."

  Emergency session? Pilos wondered, his mind awhirl with confusion and fear. "Why?" he asked the man, even as he relented and allowed the guard to begin locking manacles onto his wrists.

  "Trying to decide what to do about the plague, of course," the guard answered, sounding surprised.

  Pilos's mind reeled. "Plague?" he blurted out. "When? Where?"

  The guard spun the priest around and stared at him. "You haven't heard? There's a plague in Reth. Zombies are walking the streets. The Generon is calling for immediate troop relocations. The temple's sending every last able-bodied mercenary and priest it can spare."

  "No," Pilos said, piecing it together. Lavant is behind this. He can't truly mean to… "No!" he shouted. "I demand the right of immediate sentencing!" The din was too loud, though. The hall was packed with priests and soldiers and each one was shouting, arguing. No one could hear him. He screamed at the top of his lungs. "I demand right of immediate sentencing! I want to be heard in a Truth Inquiry!"

  The guard facing the Abreeant stared, awestruck.

  The sounds of arguing faded, replaced by urgent shushing noises and whispered explanations, until everyone had gone so still that Pilos imagined he might have been able to hear a mouse squeak. Everyone looked at him.

  "I demand right of immediate sentencing," the Abreeant repeated, "to be heard in a Truth Inquiry!"

  "Pilos," Horial said behind him. "Are you sure?"

  Pilos nodded. "The truth will come out," he said. "I have faith in the will of Waukeen."

  Several people began to talk again, but in muted voices. What the young priest had demanded had not been requested in many years. For Pilos, should the Inquiry find him guilty, the sentence would be immediate death.

  Shrugging as if absolving himself of the foolishness of his prisoner, the guard who had restrained Pilos turned and opened the twin doors into the council chamber. He strode forward and Pilos followed. The high priests nearest the door turned and looked, many of them visibly annoyed.

  "We gave strict instructions not to be disturbed," one of them said. "What is the meaning of this intrusion?"

  The guard bowed. "My apologies, Grand Trabbar Perolin, but this priest has demanded right of immediate sentencing in accordance with a Truth Inquiry."

  There were numerous gasps throughout the chamber. Pilos looked straight ahead, ignoring them all. All, except for Grand Syndar Lavant, who sat regally upon a central chair, leading the discussion. When the fat priest spotted the Abreeant watching him, a strange, cold look came over his face.

  "There must be some mistake," Grand Trabbar Perolin said, sounding doubtful. "Young Pilos, are you certain this is what you want? You understand what you're asking for, correct?"

  Pilos merely nodded, never taking his eyes from Lavant. He began to quote. "Upon hearing of a demand for immediate sentencing, the high priests of Waukeen have before them two paths. They may either dispense justice for the perceived crime without an investigation, or they may suggest a Truth Inquiry be held on the spot. If one submits to such an inquiry and is found to be guilty-or worse yet, lying-the sentence is death," he said, reciting the dictums of the temple from his youngest days of lessons within its confines. "I want to be heard in Truth Inquiry," he repeated. "I have faith in the will of Waukeen to clear my name, and those of my fellow prisoners."

  Lavant stood up. "This is the young priest who has been charged with treasonous crimes against the entire temple," he said, his tone deprecating. "And this is nothing more than a ploy to stall the inevitable. It is fortunate he turned himself in. But I see no reason to waste the council's time in deliberations. We know what he has been involved in, and we have more pressing matters to attend to."

  As outside, the murmurs of many voices began to fill the chamber. Pilos could hear some of the high priests arguing in favor of Lavant's suggestion, while others railed against the notion of denying a Truth Inquiry when one had been demanded. By right, Pilos deserved to be heard.

  "I have evidence that reveals corruption in the temple," Pilos said, loudly enough that the Grand Trabbar Perolin caught his words.

  Suddenly, a ripple of "Shhh!" and "Be silent! Let him speak!" spread through the chamber. When the room had quieted, the Grand Trabbar asked in a hesitant tone, "What did you say?"

  "I have evidence of corruption within this very chamber," Pilos answered. "Testimony from myself, as well as several others, that all of you will very much wish to hear."

  "Are we to let this whelp of an Abreeant come in here and spread his lies? He has already demonstrated that he is capable of grand subterfuge, sneaking into the Shining Lord's palace uninvited, associating with known criminals, and attempting to escape custody in the company of outlaws to all of Arrabar. What value is there in letting him further deceive us?"

  "You know the laws, Lavant," Perolin said. "It's his right to call for it."

  Again a murmuring arose, but Pilos shouted before it could grow too loud, "And you're the center of the rot in this temple!"

  A heartbeat of muffled words followed, then utter silence. In the next instant the chamber exploded in voices, all of them clamoring for a hundred different things. Through the cacophony of shouting, Lavant stared daggers at Pilos.

  CHAPTER 13

  Vambran clunked against the sides of another narrow passageway as water washed him down into the depths of the world. He tumbled and bounced and was forced to tuck his head between his arms to avoid being knocked unconscious. When he finally slowed, drifting in an open space with water still churning and tossing about, he uncoiled himself and risked a glance.

  The lieutenant appeared to be in a void, his glowing coin the only light. The illumination formed a bright bubble around him, allowing him to see the disturbed sediment in the water, but nothing visible lay beyond the range of the light. Vambran had no idea what place he was in. He felt exposed to unseen enemies by his glowing light. He wondered if things swam beneath him, detecting the light and rushing forward to attack him.

  Vambran had to fight a panicked urge to douse his light, to cancel the magic so he wouldn't feel so much like a target. But he didn't want to be in utter darkness, with no idea where he was and no idea how to get out. He calmed his fears, used his soldier's training to force himself to focus on the elements he could control.

  If it's so dark, I must be inside something, he mused. There must be walls. A roof, at least.

  The mercenary oriented himself and determined which way was up, then began to swim in that direction, slowly. He had no wish to strike against rock without warning. As he swam, he tried to control his terror.

  If I sank down here, I can swim back out, he reasoned.

  If you can find your way out, a little voice told him.

  I will.

  Suddenly, Vambran's head broke through the surface. He coughed for a moment as his body tried to adjust to air after so long underwater. Water flowed from his lungs, spilling out of the gills the necklace had magically produced, and at last, he could draw in a solid breath.

  The air was terribly cold, so cold in fact that Vambran could see his breath in the dim light of his coin. It smelled stale, musty. Old.

  Knowing that he must be inside a sealed area for air to still be present, Vambran held his light up, as high as he could reach, hoping to catch a glimpse of a ceiling overhead. He could not.

  Well, then, I guess I'd better start swimming, the lieutenant dec
ided. Somewhere around here there must be walls, something that's keeping the air trapped inside.

  Vambran tried to select the direction that would lead him toward the opening he had tumbled in through, but he had become so disoriented that he had no clue. He paddled along slowly, again not wishing for his face to meet stone. Even so, he was startled when something solid appeared in his view.

  It was a wall, not just of rock, but of worked stone blocks. The seams of the blocks were slanted, angling sharply, giving him the impression that the wall was tilted, cocked to one side. He began to follow the wall, swimming in the direction that the seams angled upward, hoping that he might find the bottom of something and perhaps dry land beyond.

  When his feet brushed against something, Vambran yelped and flailed, certain that some creature had nudged past him, menacing his toes. But then his foot struck again and he realized it was a surface, a smooth stone surface, and a moment later, he was ascending a steep, paved slope. Wet and naked, he was keenly aware of the cold air.

  The incline was sharp enough that Vambran had difficulty walking up. More than once he nearly lost his balance, but he hunched forward and picked his way with care, following the wall, which seemed to have a gentle curve to it.

  All at once, Vambran found himself at the edge of the slope, reaching up and grasping for a handhold to pull himself the last few feet. Beyond was more blackness.

  He shivered in the cold, wondering what was beyond his puny little light.

  I need more illumination, Vambran thought. To the Hells with it, he decided.

  The mercenary spoke the familiar magical phrase aloud and pointed his finger upward and ahead, A searing, bright flash of light shot forth from his fingertip and raced ahead. For the first few seconds, Vambran simply could not see, for the brightness of the flare hurt his eyes. But as his eyes adjusted, he began looking around, and what he saw amazed him.