Almost unaware of her surroundings, Ellery was shaken from her turmoil by the shout of Athrogate.
"That's the priest!" the dwarf yelled, and he charged back out of the room.
Jarlaxle moved near to Ellery and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"You are needed elsewhere," the dark elf bade her. "There is nothing more you can do here."
She offered the drow a blank look.
"Go with Athrogate," said Jarlaxle. "There is work to be done and quickly."
Hardly thinking, Ellery staggered out of the room. "I will see to Mariabronne," Jarlaxle assured her as she stumbled back up the corridor.
True to his word, the drow was with the ranger as soon as Ellery was out of sight. He pulled out a wand and cast a quick divination spell.
He was surprised and disappointed at how little magic registered on a man of Mariabronne's reputation. The man's sword, Bayurel, was of course enchanted, as was his armor, but none of it strongly. He wore a single magical ring, but a cursory glance told Jarlaxle that he possessed at least a dozen rings of greater enchantment—and so he shook his head and decided that pilfering the obvious ring wasn't worth the risk.
One thing did catch his attention, however, and as soon as he opened Mariabronne's small belt pouch, a smile widened on Jarlaxle's face.
"Obsidian steed," he remarked, pulling forth the small black equine figurine. A quick inspection revealed its command words.
Jarlaxle crossed the ranger's arms over his chest and placed Bayurel in the appropriate position atop him. He felt a moment of regret. He had heard much of Mariabronne the Rover during his short time in the Bloodstone Lands, and he knew that he had become party to a momentous event. The shock of the man's death would resonate in Vaasa and Damara for a long time to come, and it occurred to Jarlaxle that it truly was an important loss.
He gave a quick salute to the dead hero and acknowledged the sadness of his passing.
Of course, it wasn't enough of a regret for Jarlaxle to put back the obsidian steed.
"Aw, what'd ye do?" Athrogate asked Pratcus as soon as he came upon the dying priest.
Pinned to the corridor wall, his chest shattered and torn, Pratcus could only stare numbly at his counterpart.
Athrogate grabbed the spike and tried to pull it back, but he couldn't get a handhold. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, both of them knew, as did Ellery when she moved in behind the black-bearded dwarf.
"Bah, ye go to Moradin's Halls, then," Athrogate said. He pulled a skin from around his neck and held it up to the priest. "A bit o' the gutbuster," he explained, referring to that most potent of dwarven liquid spirits. "It'll help ye get there and put ye in a good mood for talking with the boss."
"Hurts," Pratcus gasped. He sipped at the skin, and even managed a thankful nod as the fiery liquid burned down his throat.
Then he was dead.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CLEARING THE PATH
Leaning on each other for much-needed support, Arrayan and Olgerkhan inched down the staircase. Entreri came up and moved between them, pushing Olgerkhan more tightly against the railing and forcing the half-orc to grab on with both his hands.
Entreri turned to Arrayan, who was holding on to him and swaying unsteadily. He shifted to put his shoulder back behind her, then in a single move swept her up into his arms. With a glance at Olgerkhan to make sure that the buffoon wouldn't come tumbling behind him, the assassin started away.
Arrayan brought a hand up against his face and he looked down at her, into her eyes.
"You saved me," she said, her voice barely audible. "All of us."
Entreri felt a rush of warm blood in his face. For just a brief moment, he saw the image of Dwahvel's face superimposed over the similar features of Arrayan. He felt warm indeed, and it occurred to him that he should just keep walking, away from the group, taking Arrayan far away from all of it.
His sensibilities, so entrenched and pragmatic after spending almost the entirety of his life in a desperate attempt at survival, tried to question, tried to illustrate the illogic of it all. But for the first time in three decades, those practical sensibilities had no voice in the thoughts of Artemis Entreri.
"Thank you," Arrayan whispered, and her hand traced the outline of his cheek and lips.
The lump in his throat was too large for Entreri to respond, other than with a quick nod.
"That'll hold, but not for long," Athrogate announced, coming to the railing of the balcony overlooking the keep's main floor. From below, the dwarf's six remaining companions glanced up at him and at the continuing pounding and scratching on the door behind him. "More gargoyles than mummies," Athrogate explained. "Gargoyles don't hit as hard."
"The room is far from secure," put in Canthan, who still stood by the open book. "They will find a way in. Let us be on our way."
"Destroy the book?" Olgerkhan asked.
"Would that I could."
"Take it with us, then?" Arrayan asked, and the horror in her voice revealed much.
Canthan snickered at her.
"Then what?" Ellery chimed in, the first words she had spoken in some time, and with a shaky voice. "We came here for a purpose, and that seems clear before us. Are we to run away without completing—"
"I said nothing about running away, my dear Commander Ellery," Canthan interrupted. "But we should be gone from this particular room."
"With the book," Ellery reasoned.
"Not possible," Canthan informed her.
"Bah! I'll tear it out o' the ground!" said Athrogate, and he scrambled up on the railing and hopped down to the stairs.
"The book is protected," said Canthan. "It is but a conduit in any case. We'll not destroy it, or claim it, until the source of its power is no more."
"And that source is?" Olgerkhan asked, and neither Canthan nor Jarlaxle missed the way the half-orc stiffened with the question.
"That is what we must discern," the wizard replied.
Jarlaxle was unconvinced, for Canthan's gaze drifted over Arrayan as he spoke. The drow knew the wizard had long ago «discerned» the source, as had Jarlaxle and Entreri. A glance at his assassin friend, the man's face rigid and cold and glaring hard Canthan's way told Jarlaxle that Entreri was catching on as well and that he wasn't very happy about the conclusions Canthan had obviously drawn.
"Then where do we start?" Ellery asked.
"Down, I sense," said Canthan.
Jarlaxle recognized that the man was bluffing, partially at least, though the drow wasn't quite certain of why. In truth, Jarlaxle wasn't so sure that Canthan's guess was off the mark. Certainly part of the source for the construction was standing right beside him in the form of a half-orc woman. But that was a small part, Jarlaxle knew, as if Arrayan had been the initial flare to send a gnomish fire-rocket skyward before the main explosion filled the night sky with its bright-burning embers.
"The castle must have a king," the drow remarked, and he believed that, though he sensed clearly that Canthan believed it to be a queen instead—and one standing not so far away.
It wasn't the time and place to confront the wizard openly, Jarlaxle realized. The pounding on the door continued from above, and the volume of the scratching on the keep's main doors, just past Canthan and the book, led Jarlaxle to believe that scores of undead monstrosities had risen against them.
The room was no sanctuary and would soon enough become a crypt.
Jarlaxle will peruse the book and you will guard him, Canthan's magical sending echoed in Ellery's head. When we are long gone, you will do as you were trained to do. As you promised you could do.