Depths of Madness (9 page)

“Sewers,” Twilight said.

“Really old sewers,” Slip corrected. “Even the stink’s gone. Well”—she sniffed the air and coughed—”the stink of the living.”

Indeed, a faint odor of old musk—more dust than rot— adulterated the stale air.

“True enough.” Seeing no ambush or traps, Twilight waved up the others.

If these passages were truly sewers, then no one had used them for scores, if not hundreds of years. Mottled brownish ^ stains striped the walls, as though a great battle had splashed -up a river of putrescence. The ceiling was caked with stains as well. All liquid was gone, leaving no traces but the stains. The dust showed disturbances, as if someone had walked the rooms not long ago.

Twilight pursed her lips in thought, trying to derive clues

as to the nature of their prison. Either they had found an abandoned sector of sewers, cut off from the main system for a long period, or they had found imprisonment in a long abandoned city. A ghost city? But what manner of necropolis included a magically altered, yet very much alive troll guardian?

Taslin and the others examined the hexagonal layout. Six corridors branched from the room, one leading from each corner. Most of the tunnels were blocked by rubble, leaving only two remotely passable. The tunnels were more or less straight, compared to the curving architecture.

Gargan pointed and spoke a word in his deep-throated language.

“What is it?” Twilight asked.

“He means, I believe,” said Taslin. “To point us north.”

Twilight eyed her suspiciously. “How did you—?”

Davoren misinterpreted her question. “What difference does it make which direction is which?” he asked. “Or do you know which way to go, leader?”

“I never said I did,” Twilight replied. “We go east.” She gestured and headed in her chosen direction, moving quickly away from any possible protest.

“Why east?” Liet asked as she strode toward that tunnel.

“Ever onward,” Twilight murmured. “Ever away.”

The others followed, keeping guard. No horrors like the wights lunged from the shadows, but Twilight kept the band on the lookout for ambushes and roving dangers. They reached a second chamber where more tunnels branched out, continuing the bizarre layout of the sewers. Twilight split the group, taking Davoren and Slip while she sent the others under Taslin. Though Twilight was reluctant to show favoritism toward the priestess over the warlock, Taslin was the only one she trusted—and then only halfway.

Working together, stalking cautiously but quickly through the rooms in their immediate vicinity, the adventurers got more of a sense of their surroundings.

It took the entire day.

The sewer system seemed to stretch forever in all directions,

and nowhere could they find a way up or out. Many times, a black disk of metal like a hatch was seen in the ceiling, but they saw no way through. Even Gargan, empowered with flight by Asson’s spell, could not push open the strange panels. The one in the dungeon was likely loose and weak, as though it had been used many times before. Twilight did not doubt that somewhere in these sewers was a ladder to a trapdoor above, or an entrance to stairs, but that seemed less than comforting considering the size of the complex.

In a few places, they found claw and nail marks on the floor and walls, giving evidence that others had occupied this sewer before the seven companions. Twilight redoubled her wariness.

Further complicating matters, Twilight discovered a network of unfinished tunnels that wove in and out of the sewer system. The rough-hewn burrows, over forty hands in diameter, looked like a maze carved by some manner of insects—giant insects.

“Glory be! You could fit ten of me under this!” said Slip, looking up at the ceiling. Then she smiled at Gargan. “And four of him, even!”

“Only half as many,” said Twilight. She winked at Slip. “Of both.”

When the adventurers assembled again in the second main chamber, Twilight assigned Davoren to explain the situation while she lingered at the westernmost tunnel. The warlock enjoyed being in a position of superior knowledge so much that he didn’t seem to notice Twilight was instructing him.

As she leaned against the wall, arms crossed, Liet came up behind her. She noticed that his boots gave a little squeak when he walked.

“Trying to surprise me again,” she said without looking at him.

“I didn’t try the first time—just looking for the pleasure of your company.”

“My company.” Twilight looked at him with her eyes slit. “Is that all?”

“Rule four,” said Liet.

Twilight couldn’t help but roll her eyes at that.

“So what’s the matter, ‘Light?” asked Liet. “Worried about Davoren and Taslin? You handled them quite well, I think—I didn’t think either of them could avoid biting each other for more than five breaths.”

“Maybe something’s watching us,” Twilight said.

Liet’s brow furrowed. “Watching?” He wiggled his fingers. By magic, aye?

Twilight shook her head. She twirled her amulet on its chain. “Not through this,” she said. The sapphire on its silver chain glittered in the torchlight. “With this trinket, I don’t exist. Not here, not in the Realms, not anywhere.”

“Fascinating,” Liet whispered.

Something in his tone made the hairs perk up along Twilight’s spine. There was more to this boy than met the eye. Once again, she wondered how he had frightened that wight. Did Liet have an untapped aptitude for the Weave, or something more?

“Regardless, it seems possible we’re being watched,” said Twilight. “Something or someone has set us up, as though we’re being tested.”

“Set us up?” Liet scrunched his face in confusion.

“Our weapons and equipment, kept in stockpile, behind a simple lock,” said Twilight. “A perfectly balanced group— Davoren and Asson to sling spells, Gargan and you to swing steel, Taslin and Slip to mend wounds, and Slip and myself to scout and open locks. None of us alike, all of us necessary. We overcame the troll without difficulty. Even our escape was too easy. We’re being set up.”

“Aye,” said Liet. “And I suppose the wights were waiting for us as well?”

Twilight nodded and traced her fingers through the dust on the wall. “I am no stranger to running a maze set by someone greater than myself.”

Without realizing it, she had drawn a star on the wall. When she noticed it, she brushed it away.

“And this feels the same. Except.” She touched the amulet again. “Except no wizard can be tracking us.”

“So there must be—” Liet said.

Twilight laid a finger across his lips, silencing him. Her pale eyes flicked back and forth, making sure none of the others were watching or listening.

“Maybe,” said Twilight, “maybe.”

The elf needn’t have worried about the others. The warlock’s muttering and the priestess’s conjured food kept them more than occupied.

Rather, creatures not at all akin to the adventurers were listening, though they were not watching, exactly.

Had the pair looked up, elf and man might have been lucky enough to spot a pair of gray-skinned creatures pressed against the stone. They hung upside down, ears turned to listen to the conversation. Though they couldn’t understand the words, they carefully memorized the sounds—a simple matter, since even their whispers sounded like obnoxious shouts. They recorded inflections of voice, scent, patterns of breathing, even the shape and texture of clothing from the movement of air, all from high above.

The creatures didn’t note faces, not having eyes with which to do so.

The scouts memorized the characteristics of the things until the intruders continued into another series of sewer chambers. The seven had not yet invaded the sacred tunnels, but they had come close.

The sentries waited until the sounds stopped, then scurried back to report.

The Voice of the Great Slitherer would want to hear about this.

The discussion yielded three resolutions. First, they would avoid the rough-hewn tunnels diligently. Second, Gargan would take Twilight’s place at point—the goliath seemed to have a sharp eye. Twilight was not happy about giving up the lead, but

she could stomach it if need be. And third, they would search the sewers again. Perhaps they had missed something.

As they marched through the sewers, following Gargan’s lead, Twilight hung back. Eyes closed, torch shadows dancing about her like amorous flames, she padded along in silence and distraction. Had Taslin or one of the wiser adventurers looked upon her, they might have thought Twilight was praying reverently to a dark deity.

And they would have been wrong.

Damn you, Uncle Nemesis, she thought to him. What is your game this time?

As always, her patron did not answer. She figured he didn’t care even to listen.

I do not know how you found me, or how you have managed all this, she continued mentally. But I tire of it. Can you not give me a moments peace, that I might live on my own without you watching over my shoulder? Did we part on terms that were the least bit ambiguous?

Twilight thought she heard, somewhere in the back of her mind, a snicker.

Very well, you bastard, thought Twilight. Have it your way.

A sound came—a scoff—but this one turned out to be real.

Davoren scowled and gestured at the empty air. The others avoided his hideously scarred face. “Time passes, and we find nothing. Why don’t v/e go down the corridor?”

“If you wish it so, go first,” Taslin snapped. “We shall follow at a safe distance.”

Weakly, Asson coughed and retched. It seemed he had not yet recovered from the wight’s attack. Twilight felt a twinge of sympathy, which surprised her.

“What corridor?” Twilight asked.

In one of the sewer tunnels, they had stopped near a section of wall that had partly collapsed, revealing a tunnel that must have been added to the sewers after their creation. It was small, just too short for Gargan’s twenty-three hands of height. The yawning darkness looked none too inviting.

Twilight froze. They were in a section of the tunnels she

had searched, and she had no memory of this corridor. It wasn’t hidden—how had she overlooked it?

The others seemed oblivious to her pause.

“My reasoning,” Davoren said, “says that the one who built this passage wouldn’t have wanted to wander through these wretched sewers, so there must be a way out nearby.” He sniffed. “And we’ve found nothing on this side, so we should search the other end. Besides”—he plucked the edge of his cloak from the ground—”I cannot abide another moment in this filth.”

Twilight shrugged. “Sounds reasonable,” she said. “Why the argument?”

“More traps than I could disarm at my best,” said Slip. Her fingers shook. “And even more I couldn’t find without my magic. Mostly pressure plates and trip wires, but wards, too. Traps within traps, meant to spring when you try to disarm one or the other. Resetting traps, as well—spring them once and they aren’t done.”

“So try harder,” Davoren said, his voice dripping.

Slip shivered and hid behind Gargan, who looked from her to Davoren. The warlock fell silent. “Besides,” Slip continued. “I… I don’t think we’re supposed to go that way. Maybe someone or other’s meant to be kept in. On the other side, aye?”

“Whoever built that tunnel really, really didn’t want us going down it,” said Liet.

“All the more reason to go,” Twilight said. When the others balked, she flashed a sly smile. “I’ve never been fond of doing another’s will.”

The irony in her voice caused more than one of the others to eye her suspiciously, Taslin in particular. “Your decision then,” the priestess said. “Slip’s skills are insufficient. I hope you know a few things about traps yourself.”

Twilight’s lips twitched up at the left side and she drew her blade. She knelt and studied the darkness for a hundred heartbeats.

“Come now,” growled the warlock. “Are we going to wait in this stinking sewer all the day while you think about it? Just disarm them like a good sneakthief.”

” ‘Twould take two candles,” said Twilight. “To be safe.”

Davoren threw his hands in the air. “Wonderful,” he said. “Waiting for two candles to burn down. We’d be a meal sitting here for some beast that comes along—like that troll—while our fearless leader takes her time for the sake of safety.”

“What have I told you about insults?” Twilight said.

“It’s an insult to call you ‘fearless?’ ” Davoren feigned shock.

Twilight shook her head. “Very well,” she said. “Follow and move as I do. But wait. A four-count should be right.” Brows furrowed. “Four?” Slip asked. “Why not five?” “Why not six?” snapped Davoren.

Twilight shrugged. “Chameleon, I hope you’re enjoying this,” she murmured. No response, as always.

The shadows coalesced around her. Then she ran.

A veritable firestorm of metal shards, swinging blades, and crossbow bolts filled the tunnel. Twilight lunged, danced, and dodged. She rolled under a blade that would have taken her head from her shoulders, sprang to the side between two chopping axes, and stopped short just in time to avoid a pair of darts shooting from either side.

Slip and Liet looked at one another, then charged after her. It took the others another breathless moment before they, too, followed the elf. They ran past as each trap reset itself.

Twilight ran, snaked, and dipped. Here she went low under darts, there she snapped a trip wire with Betrayal. Where she pulled up short, the others froze, and where she ran, the others dashed. More bolts fired out, and she twisted around them. Writing flared along the wall, and a fringe of flames shot out. She dived under the flames and rolled, scant feet from the end of the passage.

A sword swung down from the ceiling. Twilight dodged and hopped, but she sensed an attack from behind. Like a perfect pendulum, the blade scythed for her back.

Unlike a perfect pendulum, however, it wove from side to side. Then it veered to the right—directly at Twilight.

She managed to leap to the left, but not before the trap tore a gouge across her shoulder. She went down hard on her backside, and looked up to see the weapon streaking for her forehead. It would split her neatly in two—at least halfway. The sword probably didn’t reach all the way to the floor.