Kentril suddenly recalled the pursuing phantoms. He glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see them even nowemerging from the alley, only to find his party seemingly abandoned by their terrifying companions.
"They have ended the hunt," declared the necromancer, expression guarded. "They have led us to where we must go."
Captain Dumon examined again the high, twisting stairway leading up to the huge, barred gate and the murky, winged forms atop the wall who seemed to stare down at the newcomers. "We go up there?"
"At the moment," Zayl remarked, "it would seem better than returning to our friends. Do not doubt that if we turn back, they will come again… and this time, they may do more than follow."
"Of course we should go up!" Tsin nearly spat. He jabbed the staff in the direction of the fabled palace. "In there, Juris Khan's master spellwork was completed by the combined efforts of his priests and wizards! In there, the greatest of the magebooks will be found—and much gold, of course!"
Only the Vizjerei seemed at all interested in the pursuit of power and treasure. Kentril and his surviving men had lost their lust for riches, at least for the moment. Not a soldier there wanted more than to be far from the shadowed kingdom, even if it meant leaving without the smallest coin.
But no choice had been given them. They had been led to this stairway, and the mercenary captain knew that it had indeed not been by accident.
"Up we go," he growled. "Keep those torches well lit."
As they reluctantly began the climb, Kentril noticed that something else had changed with the vanishing of their unearthly pursuers. No longer did he hear the unnerving music or even the laughter. Ureh had fallen as silent as death.
Up they slowly struggled, the stairway so steep, so awkward, that Kentril wondered how anyone could have made the journey often. Here and there, parts of steps had givenway, making the trek even more troublesome. The torches helped little to guide them, the flames seeming to be dulled somehow by the intense shade. Kentril had seen pitch—black nights brighter than this day. Why, he wondered, had he not noticed how dark it had been on the previous excursions into the ruins? Why did it seem so different now?
Up and up the band climbed. The stairway seemed twice as long as it should have been. After what felt like a thousand steps, Kentril noted the ragged breathing—his own included—and called for a brief rest. Even Tsin, who so desired to reach the palace, did not argue.
Zayl, looking far less worn than the rest, sat down a few paces above, hand once more on the bulging pouch. Eyes closed, he sniffed the air, as if seeking something.
The necromancer opened his eyes quickly when Kentril approached him. Once more, the hand slipped away, and the cloak obscured the pouch. "Captain Dumon."
"A word with you, Zayl?"
"I am at your service."
Squatting down near the spellcaster, Kentril commented, "You evidently know a lot about this place. You know more even than old Tsin, and he's been obsessed with this region all his life."
"He has been obsessed all his life, but I have lived near it all mine, captain."
"A point well taken, Zayl. How much do you know? When you saw this" — Captain Dumon indicated the palace—"you reacted with some surprise, but not nearly as much as me. This wasn't here, necromancer! This hill, yes, but this palace of marble, it wasn't!"
"And in a realm with ties to Heaven itself, this surprises you?"
Kentril snorted. "For an earthly Heaven, Ureh's shown me only blood."
Zayl's left eyebrow arched. "You have a very sharp sense, Captain Dumon, and an innate knowledge of the world I suspect would surprise even me."
"I ask you again, necromancer, what do you know about this palace?"
"Only that, as the Vizjerei indicated" — the pale figure pronounced the one word with something akin to disgust—"it was the place where the spell unfolded, where the path to Heaven was opened. It does not surprise me to find that the home of Juris Khan would not follow mortal dictates even now. It was touched by forces beyond our ken, and even a few centuries would not lessen their effect upon it."
The words did Kentril little good. He tried a different tack. "I want to know what's in that pouch."
"As I said, a keepsake."
"And for what reason are you keeping it? It seems very precious to you."
Zayl stood, his face unemotional. In a louder voice, he asked, "Is it not time we pushed on, captain? We have a bit of a climb still."
"He's right, Dumon," muttered Tsin from farther down. "Time is wasting."
Zayl started up without another word. Kentril gritted his teeth, then reluctantly nodded to the others to continue the climb. The time would come when the spellcaster told him the truth, the captain swore to himself… provided that they survived this madness, of course.
Curiously, from that point on, the remainder of the trek went much swifter. The walled domain of the great and long—absent Juris Khan grew larger and larger with each passing step. Before very long, the high gates finally beckoned to the climbers.
"Ugly beasts," Albord grunted, eyeing the two winged gargoyles. Up close, they had manlike bodies but with leonine tendencies and beaked faces reminiscent of vultures. Their paws ended in curved talons like those of eagles or hawks. Wide, inhuman orbs glared down at any who stood directly before the barred entrance.
"This is the home of the most pious of the pious?" Kentril remarked.
"Gargoyles are often considered the guardians against Hell," Zayl explained. "These obviously impress upon the visitor that only the good of heart will cross into the palace."
"Does that mean we got to wait out here, cap'n?" someone in the rear called.
"We all go in, or none of us goes in." Kentril studied the barred gateway. "If we get in at all."
In answer, Zayl reached forward to check. At the slightest touch of his hand, the massive door swung wide open.
"Shall we enter?" he politely asked the mercenaries.
The captain fought down a shiver. In opening, the ancient gate had been perfectly silent, as if freshly oiled.
Zayl took a step forward, then, when nothing happened, he continued on to the palace grounds. Emboldened by the necromancer's success, Captain Dumon followed him, then signaled his men to come one by one.
Albord crossed next, to be followed by Jodas and the rest. The more nothing happened to the first through, the easier the minds of those following became. One man even jested with the gargoyles, insisting that they reminded him of a former wife. For the first time since the city had awakened, the mood became somewhat relaxed.
Tsin stood back, watching each mercenary enter. When the last had passed through the gate, he tightened his grip on the staff and strode forward with all the arrogance of a conqueror.
From above the entrance, the gargoyles suddenly howled to life.
Wings outspread, the beaked creatures reared up, stony orbs glaring at the Vizjerei. Talons stretched forth. Tsin immediately retreated.
The gargoyles instantly returned to their still positions.
"The guardians are wise—eyed," murmured Zayl from behind Kentril.
Ignoring him, the captain stepped to the gate, looking over each gargoyle in turn. Had he not seen it himself, hewould have thought someone had made the incident up over a few mugs of strong ale. Reaching up with his sword, he tapped lightly on one figure, hearing only the sound of metal against solid rock.