Third Chapter
"I see no more of them," Kathra said, walking to stand beside the human girl. "Be at ease." She placed a reassuring hand on Neysea's shoulder.
Falhnen had detached the head of the first leech from Targon's leg and was now inspecting the wound.
"I can't feel anything, like it's numb," the ranger informed the healer.
"Yes," Falhnen nodded, using his finger to wipe a clear substance from around the ring of small holes. "It appears that the saliva has some sort of anaesthetising property." He rubbed the goo between his finger and thumb, marvelling at the tingling sensation in his digits. Returning his attention to the human's injury, the half-elf made his diagnosis, "The wound is not deep, or particularly large. If it is not causing you any discomfort I believe that a simple bandage will suffice for the moment."
Targon nodded and retrieved a small roll of cloth from his pack. He leaned facing the wall as the cleric applied the bandage. When Falhnen stood Targon gingerly placed weight on his injured leg, assuring himself that it would not collapsed beneath him.
"Feels odd," the ranger lifted a corner of his mouth. "I hope we're not going to be running any marathons before this numbness wears off."
The party advanced down the passage and entered a large room. Apart from a pipe opening on the wall to the right the room contained nothing of interest. Targon, Neysea and Falhnen were about to follow the path out of the room when Kathra called them back.
"There appears to be water coming from this pipe," the elf stated, walking over to the wall. She leaned closer and flared her nostrils, trying to determine if the water was fresh or spoiled. "I cannot tell if it is drinkable or not, but you could wash yourselves if you wish," she looked at the bespeckled humans and at Falhnen's encrusted hand.
After cleaning up as best they could they continued down the passageway. It lead them straight for some time before again entering a series of alternating corners. As they reached the first corner sharp yaps and barks were clearly heard ahead of them. Drawing weapons, the group advance on the kobolds.
Turning the final corner Targon and Neysea halted at another dead-end, and a very strange sight. One of the small lizard creatures was unsuccessfully attempting to force itself into a small shelf halfway up the wall. It appeared somewhat frightened and yapped incessantly at the party, flailing a curved dagger and looking from them to the ground below it. There, protruding from the mire, a second kobold was laying face down. A large ring of holes around its shoulder and back gave clue to its downfall.
"I guess this one got away in time," Targon said, pointing his sword at the frantic kobold. "Should we kill it?"
"What for? It's done nothing to us," Neysea protested.
"If it is released it may go and assemble more of them, leading them right to us," Falhnen argued.
Neysea looked at the cleric with widened eyes, "You're a man of healing, surely your God would forbid the slaying of any creature in cold blood."
"My Goddess," he emphasised the gender of his deity, "is a Goddess of innovation and good fortune. I would think we were quite fortunate that these kobolds were not given the chance to ambush us, it may anger her if we were to ignore her blessing and release the beast."
The three argued heatedly about the fate of the kobold, which was now dangling quietly with one leg and one arm inside the shelf. None noticed when Kathra began to whisper words of magic. The elf carved intricate patterns in the air in front of her then stepped forward. She extended her arm, pointing her palm directly at the kobold and a long, dart shaped object fired from the mage's hand. It struck the creature through the throat and lodged into the wall behind it. Almost immediately the arrow melted into a thick yellow slime, dissolving stone and flesh as it dripped downward. The kobold flopped into the sewerage amid a small cloud of vapour.
Targon, Neysea and Falhnen gaped at the elf, who shrugged one shoulder and stated firmly, "I do not know why you were arguing about it." She walked past the group and began pushing her foot around the kobold, searching for the dagger it had been waving around.
Neysea turned from the scene in disgust and trudged back around the corner to wait, Targon joined her. Falhnen was about to follow when he noticed something in the shelf that the kobold had been trying to accommodate. Stepping around the mage and the dead kobolds, he looked into the depression and saw some rolled up parchments and a curved dagger. He plucked the parchments out with one hand, shoving them into his pack and then grabbed the dagger, holding it up to the elf. "Is this what you are looking for?" he asked.
Kathra looked up at the half-elf and then at the dagger he was holding. "Indeed," she snatched the weapon off him and walked off to join Targon and Neysea, examining it. Falhnen frowned and followed.
The two humans were discussing what options they had when the elves rejoined the party. They all agreed that, unless they had missed another false wall, the only location that remained unexplored was back on the other side of the door that they had, to this point, decided not to enter. Travelling back past the wall that Neysea had lowered, the group found the door before them for a third time.
Looking back at his companions Targon assured himself that they were prepared to continue then reached up and pressed the blue gem-like button on the frame of the door. The button immediately commanded the iron barricade into the ceiling, revealing the path ahead.
They followed the passageway for some time before it opened into another room. Rectangular and of similar size to most of the other rooms in the sewer, this chamber had a simple yet significant variation.
"Look! A ladder down!" Neysea shouted excitedly, sloshing over to the apparatus.
"You mean to go deeper into this filth?" asked Falhnen, looking from Neysea to Targon.
"Have we found Xanathar yet?" Kathra replied, sparing the humans the effort of answering. She too walked over to the ladder.
"As deep as necessary," sighed Targon, following the women.
The opening through which the ladder passed had been encircled with a ring of small bricks to prevent the sewerage, at its current level, from flowing down through the hole. Peering over the edge, each party member could easily make out the sickly green colour of more sewerage on the floor below.
"Who goes first?" Kathra questioned. "There may be more kobolds waiting below, they must surely be alerted to our presence by now."
"I will," Targon volunteered. "Then you," he pointed at Falhnen and then Kathra, "and then you. Neysea, you watch our backs."
Nodding, Neysea unsheathed her sword and turned to watch the entrance of the room. Targon stepped onto the ring of bricks, reached out and took hold of the iron rungs. Placing his feet on the ladder he assured himself that his leg would be able to sustain a good deal of his weight, even though feeling was starting to return to the limb he was unsure. Satisfied, he proceeded to climb down, flashing a quick glance at Neysea's back and then looking below him to watch for any danger. Jumping the last few feet the ranger quickly turned and drew his sword, extending his left arm to steady himself on the greasy stone floor.
"It's clear!" Targon shouted from below, the words echoing slightly around the room.
Falhnen promptly stepped out onto the ladder and climbed down, Kathra following a few rungs above. Once the two spell casters had arrived at the bottom, they stepped away from the ladder to give Neysea room to descend. Looking up through the hole the three waited, but the girl did not appear.
Suddenly splashes could be heard from above and small drops of slime rained down onto Falhnen and Targon. Kathra, having lost interest in the wait, had walked away to inspect the immediate area. Targon opened his mouth to call to Neysea, cut off when the girl cried out in fear and surprise. The ranger instantly jumped at the ladder and began to climb.
"I'm alright!" shouted Neysea before Targon had ascended more than a few rungs.
He paused in mid climb, shouting back, "Are you sure?"
"Yes," Neysea answered, her face peered over the edge above, "thank you. I'm coming down now." She ducked out of sight again.
Targon stood back upon the stone floor, though he remained holding the ladder should he be required to rush back up again. He frowned as a full minute passed and Neysea still had not emerged over the lip above. Thirty more seconds, he told himself.
He relaxed a little when he heard the girl grunting and struggling somewhat more passively. She reappeared again, more fully, as she grasped the ladder, the exertion forcing more grunts and breaths from her.
A scuffing noise preceded a sudden profanity from Neysea; followed by, "Watch out!" More shuffling and a few clangs forced Targon to quickly relinquish his current position with widened eyes. A heartbeat later and the ranger would have been collected by the large, round shield that dropped swiftly out of the bottom of the hole.
"Sorry," Neysea called down, "I thought that I had tied it better than that."
"We will rest here for a spell," King Teirgoh said as the last dwarf filed into the room. He pulled an ornate lever on the wall and the stone double door ground to a close from the walls to each side. "Unless the spiders have learned to open doors we should not be harassed." The last was said more to himself, as the small army of dwarves had already vaulted into action.
The dwarven King leaned back against the wall under the lever and wiped a grubby sleeve across his brow. He admired the efficient and spirited way that his kin assembled the makeshift camp. Days of trudging through knee-deep sewerage had begun to dampen the enthusiasm of even the King himself, though he would never allow it to show. The band had started to lose hope of ever finding the ancestral ruins under Waterdeep until the dank, foetid sewer system had given way to the musty, carved stone passageways that they now travelled. The dwarves had instantly recognised the intricate workmanship of their ancestors - the tight fitting stones, some larger than a full grown dwarf, the way that traces of pure silver had been designed into the masonry so that the light from a few strategically placed torches would be reflected to fill entire corridors and rooms.
Yes, they were definitely getting closer to the forgotten city. Teirgoh had long been curious about finding the ruins beneath the City of Splendours, but had also recognised the fact that a successful attempt would require much deliberation and planning. He had initially decided that a small band of no more than twenty of the very best dwarven warriors that Waterdeep had to offer would be far more practical than the hundreds who had partitioned the King to allow them to follow him. The King's initial figure increased until Teirgoh could no longer choose from the fifty remaining warriors, his own son Keirgar among them.
These dwarves, both male and female, were supported by Teirgoh's most trusted advisor and close friend, the cleric Uldred the Wise and also a human wizard named Indigo Daurant, for the blue-violet robes he insisted on wearing.
Teirgoh watched the wizard through his bushy eyebrows. Daurant had secluded himself as best he could within the confines of a room filled with bustling dwarves, sitting cross-legged and leaning over a tome of some kind. Probably his book of spells, Teirgoh thought, unable to suppress a shiver. The King had never trusted the magic of wizards, too unpredictable. He would never have allowed the human to accompany his expedition if Uldred had not persuaded him, "The unpredictable nature of a mage's spells may be useful in the unpredictable passages under the city."
Grudgingly accepting the wisdom of the cleric's words, Teirgoh had allowed Daurant to travel with them, though he was never clear on the human's motivation. Research and study were about all the King could extract from the mage, eventually figuring that perhaps he did not want to know any more than what he was told anyway.
The human had certainly proven his worth thus far, seeming to go out of his way to demonstrate his usefulness. Teirgoh had long lost count of the number of adversaries that had fallen to fire, ice and acid before an axe or hammer could be raised.
"Sire," the King was snapped from his reverie by a stately looking dwarf, "the camp has been established, as requested."
"Thank you Armun, we will rest here for six hours before continuing," Teirgoh replied then glanced around. The only entrances to the room were the sliding stone door they had entered and another in the wall opposite. "Armun," the king said as the dwarf turned to take his leave, "a watch will not be required, tell every dwarf to get some rest."
"Where did you get this?" Targon asked Neysea once she had stepped away from the ladder. He walked over and plucked the shield out of the clinging muck, turning it this way and that so he could get a better look at it.
Neysea twitched her head back and to the left, indicating the level above. "From up there. Some more of those huge leeches attacked me and I stood on it while I was moving around. I found these too," she reached into her pack and withdrew three arrows, handing them to the ranger. "They might be more useful to you and I owe you an arrow," she smiled, then frowned, "though you don't have your bow."
Targon accepted the projectiles and passed the shield back to Neysea. He grinned a little foolishly. "I know, I didn't think that the confines of the sewer would make it a very valuable weapon. It would have only gotten in the way. Thank you for the arrows however, they won't be wasted." He removed his sword sheath from his back and untied several leather straps from around it. Pulling gently, he twisted what appeared to be the outside of the case until the scabbard was a rough 'X' shape. The new shape was fixed by retying the straps. He then slid the apparatus onto his shoulders until it fit comfortably in the centre of his back. Reaching over his shoulder in a well-practised motion, Targon placed the arrows into the second section of his scabbard – the ranger's quiver.
"You are bleeding," Falhnen crouched beside Neysea and reached out to pluck at the blood dotted cloth around her leg. Her mention of attack had induced an automated appraisal response from the cleric.
"I'm alright," Neysea skipped away from the half-elf's hands. "It was nothing, really."
"Are you sure?" Falhnen looked up at the girl.
"Yes, it's not even numb." She bounced a few times on each leg, hoping that would be enough to convince the cleric.
A loud, exaggerated clearing of the throat interrupted the byplay. Targon, Neysea and Falhnen looked toward the sound to see Kathra leaning against the wall in front of another large, iron door. Noticing their eyes on her, the elf smiled back for a moment then gave them a look of pure innocence, as if she had no idea from where the sound had originated.
"The child is fine, can we continue this errand and be done with it?" Kathra asked as the other three walked up to her.
The only path available to the adventurers lay beyond the rusted iron door ahead of them. No button, lever or switch to open the door was visible.
"Fine," Targon agreed, "but how do we get past this door?"
Kathra smiled a knowing smile at the ranger and pushed off the wall. Stepping aside, she revealed a tarnished silver lock that had been built into the stone. Targon opened his mouth to speak again and the elf raised her hand, a tarnished silver key dangling from one of her slender fingers.
"It had been attached to the ladder," she explained blithely. "I am surprised that you missed it, ranger."
Targon bared his teeth. "I was concentrating on securing the area, mage," he hissed and snatched the key off the elf.
Kathra stood aside and let the ranger step up to the wall. He pushed the key into the lock and turned it. They each looked toward the door as it slowly rose into the stone above their heads.
Leaving the others to walk over the threshold, Targon remained at the lock to retrieve the key. He turned it in the opposite direction, frowning when a snap from within the lock trapped the key in place. Wiggling the metal shaft, the ranger attempted to force the key free of the latch, giving up after a few seconds of failure for fear that the actions may cause the door to close with the key frozen as it was.
Taking a deep breath, Targon dropped his hand from the key and walked to join the rest of the party. "Don't say a word," he warned Kathra, who was smiling at him with more than a little amusement in her eyes.
Beyond the door lay a short passage that ended at another of the rusted iron gates. Part way down the wall to their right an inscription had been roughly chiselled into the stone; a large square button had also been positioned between the words and the door. A small alcove and refuse tunnel opposite the inscription was all that interrupted the stonework of the wall to their left.
Kathra stood before the words in the wall, the glowing fungus had not overgrown much of the chiselling, indicating that they had been carved out in the not too distant past. She brushed a hand across some of the more obscured lettering. "This is written in Common," she informed the group. Then read aloud, "Only the Strong Shall Pass. It is crude, but I believe that is what it says."
"Do kobolds speak Common?" Neysea asked.
Kathra shook her head, "No, I have never heard of such a thing." She looked at Targon, pursing her lips in thought. "We should remain vigilant from this point."
"What do you mean we must separate?" Anya half shouted, staring into Kirath's dark blue eyes. "You're the one that's been dragging us through this misbegotten cloaca of Waterdeep and now you want to just leave us? You're out of your mind! What about the rest of my payment? You think I came all this way for a few lousy dragons? That wouldn't even cover the stupor I'd have to drink myself into just to forget your half-bred face." She placed a hand on the hilt of her sword and advanced a step toward the half-elf, careful to find the line between conveying her intent and openly provoking hostility. She knew that Kirath was a wizard of some power, if she failed in her killing blow then he would snuff out her life like so many tavern candles. As much as she wanted her money from the man, she valued her own life more.
Ileira gasped and placed a hand to her mouth at the affront to Kirath's heritage. Being a binding of the human and elf race herself she always felt a pang of regret every time she heard the fact used as an insult. She remained quiet, hesitant to get involved in the heated conversation.
Kirath casually stared back at Anya through slightly drooped eyelids, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth as the woman stopped her advance. He knew she was afraid of him, they all were. They build a facade of comradeship, pretending to be his friend as long as his spells were useful to them. None of them trusted him, he could sense their fear whenever he caught them looking at him and it thrilled him. He felt it again now, the barely perceptible shiver tingling up his spine and over his scalp. The racial insults stopped being a concern for the wizard decades ago when he began to consider himself as neither human nor elf. To Kirath the traits passed down by his parents were something to be drawn from and exploited rather than cherished or tolerated. His elf blood had given him access to power beyond that of a mere human, whilst his human mind was far more open, impatient and manipulative than that of any elf.
He let his gaze wander over the woman standing before him, her hand on her sword as if she would strike him down should he blink his eyes in a manner she disliked. Not unattractive at all, for a pure-bred human. Tall, lean and athletic, her striking red hair had been tied into a thick topknot that tumbled down the back of her head. If it weren't for the slight scar running down her right cheek to the tip of her cleft chin he might even have given her the opportunity to take him at some point in their endeavour. Of course he always preferred the fairer, more petite elven women, but he had made exceptions in the past. Though he could feel her discomfort at his presence, Kirath allowed himself to feel a small amount of deference toward the woman who now regarded him so defiantly.
"Of course you will be paid in full, hireling." Kirath replied with just enough vehemence to put the woman in her place. "I am a man of my word. Two thousand gold open returning to the City, as agreed. But truly my dear, what we are here for is worth a thousand times that," he continued a little more softly. "If you will beg my indulgences for just a while longer I am sure of it. I can feel it."
Anya couldn't help but raise her eyebrows at the value the half-elf was suggesting. Two million gold coins? She knew he was lying, but couldn't shake the niggling doubt at the back of her mind. Maybe he is sincere, or maybe she was just too trusting. In her thirty-two years she had lived a good life as a mercenary and, thanks to several very lucrative contracts over the recent past, she was able to be a lot more particular about the offers she accepted. Was she really here for the money or was she just getting bored with semi-retirement? Not rich by any means, she figured that she had enough stowed away to support her lifestyle of drunken debauchery interspersed with caravan protection jobs for a few years yet, even if she had not accepted the half-elf's offer.
"Very well Kirath," Anya said with finality, relaxing her sword arm. "But know that I have been cheated before. Temporarily."
The half-elf smiled warmly, spreading his arms. "Then it is settled." Fumbling around inside his grey robe he produced three small trinkets. Smiling again he gave one to each of this three companions; Anya, Ileira and Tyrra. "These will allow me to find your location should you discover something of worth to me. You need not do a thing, I have calibrated each of them to respond to the proximity of the magic that I seek. Should just one of you complete this task, all will be rewarded. You are free to return or continue, though I would ask you to consider that retreating to the surface exponentially reduces the chance of any of us acquiring that which we are here for."
"You assume that we would even be able to find our way back to the surface," Tyrra asserted. "We must have been travelling this place for days now. The turns have been endless, the passages deceptive. You have considered your time and place well Kirath." The elven woman had been leaning back against one of the sewer walls during the exchange between Anya and Kirath, one of her booted feet flush against the wall beneath her rump. She idly pocketed Kirath's bauble and tested the blade she had been honing by running her thumb along its length. "You've considered it very well in fact. We are likely as close to Skullport as we are to Waterdeep. Just how long have you been planning this?"
"My good friend," the half-elf began, "I genuinely expected us all to be dancing until our feet gave and drinking to our successes in The Cyclops at this very moment. Yes, I suppose it is true that I have always considered this eventuality," he nodded sadly, "and I regret that time has forced me to play this particular hand. But unfortunately I must insist that we divide our efforts in order to search more thoroughly. There is simply no alternative, if you still desire your fee be paid in full."
Tyrra pushed herself off the wall and sheathed the sword in one graceful motion. She looked at each of her companions, Anya and Ileira both in the same pocket as herself. Kirath was the only reason that any of them were here. Tyrra thought back to the night she had observed the half-elf moving amongst the patrons in the crowded Dancing Cyclops inn. The elf did not recall seeing Kirath enter, being too engrossed in her third mug of potent dwarf spirits, but she eventually noticed the grey robed half-elf bending low to utter a few words at one table before quickly moving to the next. Blinking heavily Tyrra pushed her mug away and frowned. Twice more the strange behaviour continued across the tables. Each time the half-elf left a table Tyrra could see his face become more flustered, his movements more desperate. After the next table full of patrons shook their heads and laughed the half-elf scowled openly, stood and walked over to a window. Bashing his fists against the sill he leaned out and took a deep, steadying breath. A heartbeat later he turned to face the common room once more, studying the people at each table individually. Tyrra saw the man look directly at her and quickly diverted her eyes back to the mug on the table in front of her. The elf let a few seconds pass before inconspicuously stretching her arms over her head and rubbing her chin against her shoulder in an effort to see without being observed. The half-elf had gone. Tyrra lowered her hands back to the mug and frowned deeply, searching the inn for the now familiar face.
"My good friend," the grey robed half-elf appeared beside her smiling warmly, his dark blue eyes twinkling in the firelight. Gold trim flickered as if flames had been woven through his robe. "I do believe that we could be mutually beneficial to each other."