Before Lithome's men could make good on their threat, the empty corridor
behind them suddenly collapsed. Out of the dust strode a massive troll, its
face shrouded by the hood of its great black cloak. The master thief spun
on his heels and sent a dagger spinning across the room at the hulking
beast. The jeweled knife bit into the scaly hide of the giant troll, but
the monster paid it no more heed than a man would an annoying gnat.
"Don't just stand there," Lithome hissed at his men, "kill it!"
The six junior guild thieves obeyed Lithome's orders without hesitation, a testament to his prestige, if not his judgement. In mere moments, the troll ripped each of them to shreds. Enraged, Lithome leapt at the inhuman beast which had dismembered his bodyguards. The handsome thief managed to score a pair of hits with his rapier, but the troll answered with a vicious backhand slash of its claws. Lithome's abdomen was ripped open at the waist, and he slumped to the floor without another word.
The entire hall was splattered with the blood of Lithome and his men. The troll stepped towards the three who yet lived. It raised one stony fist in menace, clutching a huge spiked club. Shespi cried out in horror. But Mheren and Poiniard raised their swords.
"Aia ven guintui," Mheren cried, as she moved to the attack, Monarchal a humming blur in her hand.
Poiniard scowled. He could have sworn he'd just heard a voice telling him that Mheren's words meant 'back beyond the Veil.' But that would be crazy. He shrugged it off, thinking the stress and fear were overcoming his senses. But then he realized that Wyrding was in his hand, and that Mheren was bravely fighting a troll by herself. Quite foolishly, he charged to her aid.
With a sickening thunk, the troll hit the floor, dead. Poiniard looked across the thing's body, and saw Mheren standing there, sword in hand. Her chest was heaving from the exertion of battle, and her sheer gown was soaked with sweat and dust. It had a few new rips in it.
"We'll have to find another way out, and quickly," Mheren said, tugging up the shoulder strap of her gown. "Lady Shespi, can you get us down to the catacombs?
Shespi was pale and badly shaken by the carnage, but she managed to nod. She pointed down the hallway, past the ruined stones and the corpses of men and troll. "That way," she whispered. "Past the Unopenable Doors."
Mheren nodded, and led the way. Poiniard followed behind, supporting the dazed Lady Shespi, and carrying his heavy pack. He decided not to sheathe Wyrding, though. The cold steel of his sword's hilt gave him the strength to walk to the ancient rune-covered doors. Mheren looked back, wondering why he had stopped.
"Hey, what about that?" Poiniard asked, setting down his pack and looking at the doors to the legendary treasure trove.
"You can't be serious," Shespi said.
"If the Guild is about to fall, we need to at least save its treasures- you said so yourself."
"We don't have time for this," Shespi said, genuine fear in her eyes. "No one can open those doors."
Mheren smiled. "Poiniard can."
Poiniard grinned at the swordswoman. "You don't mind if I have a go?"
Poiniard held Wyrding with a steady two-handed grip. Facing the great doors, he wondered at the wisdom of his decision. The Doors Which Could Not Be Opened dated back to the time of the Great Kingdom, when battling wizards had rended the land. Perhaps such things were better left alone. But the glyphs on the portal seemed to glimmer and twist before his sight. The young thief glanced at his sword, wondering if he could rely on Wyrding. He chose one of the locks on the rune-covered doors and shrugged. "Well, if I fail, I won't be the first."
The lock sprang open at the touch of the steel point. Behind him, Shespi gasped. Poiniard grinned, and touched Wyrding to another lock, and another. Soon, they had all sprung open. He turned and beamed at Mheren. "I did it!"
Mheren nodded. "Yes, but we don't have much time."
Poiniard turned back to the doors. Shespi came up beside him. She was breathing heavily, and gingerly touched a fingertip to the magical door. "Well, aren't you going to open it?"
The great doors swung open silently with but the slightest touch. Shespi eagerly brushed past Poiniard in her haste to enter the mysterious chamber. Even Mheren was interested to see what lay within.
"It's nothing but an empty vault!" Poiniard exclaimed.
"Leave it to wizards to pull a hoax like this," Shespi muttered.
"Wait," Mheren said, pointing. "Look!"
In the center of the chamber, a small object was floating in midair. The three adventurers stepped cautiously into the vault, and stood around the thing. It appeared to be a small grey stone.
Shespi reached out a hand, but Mheren cut her off. "I'll take this. It's probably an Elfstone."
Shespi's eyes widened. "One of the magic gems they fought over in the Magewars?"
"It looks dormant," Mheren said, "but with wizardry, you can't rely on appearances." She was about to tuck the stone into her pouch, then realized she wasn't wearing her usual equipment. Frowning, Mheren tucked the ancient artifact into the bodice of her dress. "Check around for anything else, then we have to go."
========================================================================
"That is the entrance to the catacombs," Shespi said.
"That steel grate?" Poiniard asked, scratching his head.
Shespi frowned. "You're getting awfully pretentious, Journeyman Poiniard. Were you expecting a red carpet?"
"Open it, Poin," Mheren said. "We're wasting time."
Lifting the hatch revealed an ominous stone shaft descending straight down into the gloom. A ladder of iron rungs set into the stonework seemed the only way down. A horrible stench assailed them from below.
"Foul things lurk in these sewers," Shespi said. "No thief has gone down here in years, not since Feldrick Fivecoins went down there and never returned. The ways are treacherous, the passageways like a maze. There are said to be hidden traps and secret doors, too, so we'll have to be careful."
"But the trolls won't be able to track us down there," Mheren said.
"I wonder why," Poiniard said, grimacing at the foul smell.
"Don't just stand there," Lithome hissed at his men, "kill it!"
The six junior guild thieves obeyed Lithome's orders without hesitation, a testament to his prestige, if not his judgement. In mere moments, the troll ripped each of them to shreds. Enraged, Lithome leapt at the inhuman beast which had dismembered his bodyguards. The handsome thief managed to score a pair of hits with his rapier, but the troll answered with a vicious backhand slash of its claws. Lithome's abdomen was ripped open at the waist, and he slumped to the floor without another word.
The entire hall was splattered with the blood of Lithome and his men. The troll stepped towards the three who yet lived. It raised one stony fist in menace, clutching a huge spiked club. Shespi cried out in horror. But Mheren and Poiniard raised their swords.
"Aia ven guintui," Mheren cried, as she moved to the attack, Monarchal a humming blur in her hand.
Poiniard scowled. He could have sworn he'd just heard a voice telling him that Mheren's words meant 'back beyond the Veil.' But that would be crazy. He shrugged it off, thinking the stress and fear were overcoming his senses. But then he realized that Wyrding was in his hand, and that Mheren was bravely fighting a troll by herself. Quite foolishly, he charged to her aid.
With a sickening thunk, the troll hit the floor, dead. Poiniard looked across the thing's body, and saw Mheren standing there, sword in hand. Her chest was heaving from the exertion of battle, and her sheer gown was soaked with sweat and dust. It had a few new rips in it.
"We'll have to find another way out, and quickly," Mheren said, tugging up the shoulder strap of her gown. "Lady Shespi, can you get us down to the catacombs?
Shespi was pale and badly shaken by the carnage, but she managed to nod. She pointed down the hallway, past the ruined stones and the corpses of men and troll. "That way," she whispered. "Past the Unopenable Doors."
Mheren nodded, and led the way. Poiniard followed behind, supporting the dazed Lady Shespi, and carrying his heavy pack. He decided not to sheathe Wyrding, though. The cold steel of his sword's hilt gave him the strength to walk to the ancient rune-covered doors. Mheren looked back, wondering why he had stopped.
"Hey, what about that?" Poiniard asked, setting down his pack and looking at the doors to the legendary treasure trove.
"You can't be serious," Shespi said.
"If the Guild is about to fall, we need to at least save its treasures- you said so yourself."
"We don't have time for this," Shespi said, genuine fear in her eyes. "No one can open those doors."
Mheren smiled. "Poiniard can."
Poiniard grinned at the swordswoman. "You don't mind if I have a go?"
Poiniard held Wyrding with a steady two-handed grip. Facing the great doors, he wondered at the wisdom of his decision. The Doors Which Could Not Be Opened dated back to the time of the Great Kingdom, when battling wizards had rended the land. Perhaps such things were better left alone. But the glyphs on the portal seemed to glimmer and twist before his sight. The young thief glanced at his sword, wondering if he could rely on Wyrding. He chose one of the locks on the rune-covered doors and shrugged. "Well, if I fail, I won't be the first."
The lock sprang open at the touch of the steel point. Behind him, Shespi gasped. Poiniard grinned, and touched Wyrding to another lock, and another. Soon, they had all sprung open. He turned and beamed at Mheren. "I did it!"
Mheren nodded. "Yes, but we don't have much time."
Poiniard turned back to the doors. Shespi came up beside him. She was breathing heavily, and gingerly touched a fingertip to the magical door. "Well, aren't you going to open it?"
The great doors swung open silently with but the slightest touch. Shespi eagerly brushed past Poiniard in her haste to enter the mysterious chamber. Even Mheren was interested to see what lay within.
"It's nothing but an empty vault!" Poiniard exclaimed.
"Leave it to wizards to pull a hoax like this," Shespi muttered.
"Wait," Mheren said, pointing. "Look!"
In the center of the chamber, a small object was floating in midair. The three adventurers stepped cautiously into the vault, and stood around the thing. It appeared to be a small grey stone.
Shespi reached out a hand, but Mheren cut her off. "I'll take this. It's probably an Elfstone."
Shespi's eyes widened. "One of the magic gems they fought over in the Magewars?"
"It looks dormant," Mheren said, "but with wizardry, you can't rely on appearances." She was about to tuck the stone into her pouch, then realized she wasn't wearing her usual equipment. Frowning, Mheren tucked the ancient artifact into the bodice of her dress. "Check around for anything else, then we have to go."
========================================================================
"That is the entrance to the catacombs," Shespi said.
"That steel grate?" Poiniard asked, scratching his head.
Shespi frowned. "You're getting awfully pretentious, Journeyman Poiniard. Were you expecting a red carpet?"
"Open it, Poin," Mheren said. "We're wasting time."
Lifting the hatch revealed an ominous stone shaft descending straight down into the gloom. A ladder of iron rungs set into the stonework seemed the only way down. A horrible stench assailed them from below.
"Foul things lurk in these sewers," Shespi said. "No thief has gone down here in years, not since Feldrick Fivecoins went down there and never returned. The ways are treacherous, the passageways like a maze. There are said to be hidden traps and secret doors, too, so we'll have to be careful."
"But the trolls won't be able to track us down there," Mheren said.
"I wonder why," Poiniard said, grimacing at the foul smell.
