Blorys swore weakly. Eddis helped him up.
“This has to end. Now,” she said flatly.
Blorys nodded. He was short of breath, but his eyes were dark furies.
“We end this. If we can,” he added.
The two ran forward, swords high, and brought them down across the priest’s neck. Blorys’ sword rebounded with a loud dang. Eddis’ slashed through flesh, and the priest howled, staggered back, breaking away from Panev, who staggered and nearly fell on his face. The foul priest spun around, eyes glittering with hate, the mace a blur as he swung at Eddis, but she darted back out of reach, and Panev’s mace slammed down on the priest’s exposed head.
Eddis ducked as somewhere behind her Willow urgently shouted, “Arrow!”
One of the black-fletched magic arrows sang across the chamber and buried itself deep in the priest’s eye. He fell to his knees.
Horribly, Eddis realized, he wasn’t yet dead. But as he strove to rise, Blorys lunged, stabbing through his throat as Panev brought the mace down two-handed.
The snake released Mead, vanishing in a roil of oily black smoke. The elf came slowly across the room as Panev gazed down at the fallen priest, mace ready to strike if he moved again, but the man’s blood no longer flowed, and his eye stared glassily, unseeing at the ceiling. Panev staggered back into the wall, eyes half-closed, his breathing shallow.
Mead felt in his pouch for a healing potion and came up with a small, dark bottle. “A good thing you aren’t much hurt, priest. I’m running low.”
“It scarcely matters how I fare, if he is dead,” the priest replied.
“But others depend on us to escape this place,” Mead reminded him.
The priest took the little bottle and drank down the contents.
“That’s him?” Jerdren peered around the doorway. “That’s… that’s it?”
Panev nodded.
“Anything here we dare take?”
The priest shrugged. “I am too worn to dare trust my own thoughts about that. Mead?”
The mage shook his head. “I used my last reveal spell. Still …” He drew a slender scroll from his pouch, unfurled the thing and read it under his breath. “It is safe now. Search for things of value if you wish, but do not touch that priest or any scroll or bottle.”
“Good. Because we need to…” Jerdren frowned, turned.
“Where’s Kadymus? He’s the one who wanted to search this room!”
M’Baddah leaned against the doorway, Flerys holding him upright. The outlander reeked of things long dead, and his armor was black-splashed.
“The thief? He ran past me, a little while ago. I heard him say something about gold, a statue of a golden beast. One of the guards got between us about then, and I lost sight of him.”
“How long has he been gone?” Jerdren asked.
“Saw him go,” Flerys told her. “Just when Eddis went in here. Little sneak went out past the long doth.”
“He’s lost, if that is so,” Panev said. When Jerdren moved to go after the youth, the priest caught his sleeve. “Search for him, if you will, but there are still undead here. Perhaps this death has released such slaves and unmade them, but I cannot tell, for I am worn.” He turned abruptly and left the chamber.
Jerdren shook his head, then turned away, joining Hebold as the man searched through a deep coffer. Two of the Keep men crowded in to help, but after a few moments, they gave up.
“Too many hiding places here,” Jerdren said. “Panev’s right. This place doesn’t feel any safer, even with that one dead. Let’s go.”
Panev, the cut on his face healing at what Eddis thought to be unnerving speed, stepped aside as Mead splattered oil around the chamber and tossed in a guttering torch. Flames exploded, licked at the dead priest, and roared up from the bedding as the elf mage shoved the door closed.
It was quiet here once again: no guards, and no sign of Kadymus, though Eddis wondered if there were fewer stones on the great throne. Any thief who’d try to cut-purse a swordswoman in a village tavern isn’t bright enough to leave cursed gems alone.
Sun gleamed pale in the west. They rested a few moments, then set out for level ground.
“Stay alert,” Jerdren warned as he waited for the last ones to join them—Blorys, Panev, and Hebold. The priest looked less grim than he had in a long while, but the supposed hero was muttering to himself, eyes flickering from his two-handed sword to Jerdren, Eddis, the priest, and back again. Blor met Eddis’ eyes and smiled. She smiled back.
Hebold abruptly sheathed his sword and drew a long-bladed dagger, turning it in his hands as he strode down the shelf. He hauled Blorys off balance, fingers gripping his hair, the knife pressed against the young man’s throat.
“Hebold, what’re you doing?” Jerdren said, bewildered. “That’s my brother! Don’t—!”
“Brother!” Hebold spat. “I saw you both drooling over the rubies I pried from that throne. You want ’em, don’t you?”
“I don’t—!” Blorys managed, then fell silent as the blade moved slightly.
“I know you all took things in that cave, gold and gems! You hid ’em from me when I wasn’t looking!” Hebold shouted. “I’ll have all of it now, every last single penny! Or this man dies, and he won’t go easy!”
Eddis took a step toward them. Hebold grinned at her mirthlessly, and the tip of his knife broke skin. Blood seeped down Blorys’ throat.
“Don’t hurt him,” she said, her throat tight and dry. “He’s no threat to you, Hebold.”
“He may not be. But you—!” His eyes gleamed and he licked his lips. “One more order from you—one more word!—and you’re dead, woman! But I’ll kill him, no matter what!”
Eddis gazed into Blorys’ eyes, then met Hebold’s mad glare squarely. “Why kill him? I’m the one you hate—aren’t I? You’d like to cut my throat, but you won’t. Because you’re afraid. Aren’t you?”
“Eddis, no!” Blorys croaked.
Hebold’s arm slacked a little, and he looked confused, angry, nervous all at once. The men around her seemed frozen, except for Jerdren. She could sense him moving cautiously up alongside her. Hebold gave him a mad glare, and he stopped. Behind the barbarian, Eddis realized something was moving. Flerys, spear in hand, edged up a slow, cautious step at a time.
If Hebold knew she was there… He’d never get the chance, Eddis thought in sudden fury.
“You want orders, you barbarian bastard? I’ll give you orders!” she snarled. “Drop that blade and turn him loose, or I’ll gut you where you stand!”
Hebold stared, astonished, eyes shifting from her to Jerdren and back again. He bellowed in surprise as the girl’s spear bit into the back of his knee, and he spun around to slap her down, but Flerys had let go the shaft and fled into M’Baddah’s arms. Blorys surged against the man’s grip and half-spun out of it. Hebold came back around, dagger swinging. The point sank into Blorys’ shoulder. He sagged as the barbarian laughed and threw a second blade at Eddis, but she’d dropped flat.
Behind her, Jerdren choked and went down. Hebold staggered back, his wounded leg collapsing under him. M’Baddah, Willow, and M’Whan finished him off.
“Oh, gods.” Eddis scrambled to her feet and ran to Blorys. There was blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were clear. “Blor—gods, don’t move, Blor! Panev can—”
She turned. The priest was bent over Jerdren, who lay flat and still two paces away. She touched Blorys’ face gently.
“Wait, just wait. Promise me!”
He nodded, and his eyes sagged shut, but he was still breathing. Eddis’ legs gave way. She crawled over to Jerdren on her hands and knees, swallowed dread.
Bloody froth covered the man’s chin. Hebold’s dagger protruded from his belly, just below his short leather armor.