"What sorcery is this?" wondered Ember, leaning close.
"Better ask, 'what wizardry,' " said Nebin.
Ember rolled her eyes, though she knew no one could see her.
Nebin continued, "I expect it is a relic of the ancient city. It's said that the ancient city housed a race of wizards. Well, best to fight wizardry with the same."
Ember saw Nebin melt out of the mist as he moved to stand next to her and the face. She couldn't decide what race the carving portrayed, if it was intended to portray any. Nebin frowned, then fumbled in his pockets. He pulled a kerchief from his coat, considered it for a moment, then handed it to Ember and instructed her to stuff it into the stone mouth. The spewing vapor ceased.
"A finer application of wizardry I've never seen," noted Hennet. "Perhaps with your next spell you can open the door?"
Nebin chuckled. He reached for the door ring and pulled. The door didn't budge, but a stony cough issued from the carved face. The kerchief popped from the mouth, propelled by a puff of greenish gas.
"Uh…" stammered the gnome, stumbling backward.
Ember grabbed Nebin around the waist and hauled him toward the entrance. Hennet followed, nearly as quickly. Brek Gorunn appeared a few moments later.
The dwarf sneezed and coughed a few times and said, "I got a whiff of it. Nasty. Poisonous, I expect. Best stay away until it clears."
"If it does," Nebin said darkly.
"It's an old trap," said the dwarf, "and spent, now that we've set it off. I'm sure the poison is weakened from the ages. Otherwise we would be short one gnome."
Nebin darted a look back into the hazy room. Ember could see the curl of greenish mist slowly expanding and diluting into the fog. Nebin shivered.
When Brek Gorunn decided all was clear, they cautiously returned to the door. As the dwarf said, there was no hint of the green gas. Better yet, the blue haze was lifting. The carved face seemed completely quiescent, as if some final bit of elan was now absent. Nebin gave it a tentative tap. Everyone breathed easier after a few seconds of no response.
This time, Ember and Brek tried the door together while Nebin hung back. The door still held fast.
"Put your shoulder into it, Ember," Brek Gorunn advised uselessly.
The tendons in her legs and back trembled, then with a snap! the door burst open.
Beyond, the lantern revealed a mist-free room. A mosaic of dark tile covered the floor and walls, though many tiles were cracked and broken. The faintest glitter of light edged the tiles, giving them a greenish tinge. Ember was pretty sure it wasn't a reflection cast by the lantern-it was a fell light all their own. Apart from the suspicious glow and scattered, broken tiles, the room was empty. Opposite their doorway stood a single, dark aperture. Bold runes were inscribed all around it.
Seeing the runes, Nebin tried to squeeze past the dwarf and enter the room. Brek Gorunn held him back.
"Hold on! Don't be foolish. Where there is one trap, there can be two, or more."
"I don't like the look of those tiles," Hennet concurred. "They have a cursed light about them, or I'm no mage."
Nebin seemed to restrain a comeback. Ember supposed it was because Hennet clutched the Golden Wand, proof positive that he knew a thing or two about magic.
Experimentally, Brek Gorunn closed the lantern's cover. A pale, green glow suffused the room, outlining each tile. Wordlessly he uncovered the lantern again.
"But we must go forward. W-we have no other route," sputtered Nebin.
Brek Gorunn paused on the threshold and squinted toward the far hallway.
"You can just read the runes from here," he said. "It looks to me like an archaic variant of the common tongue."
Nebin moved to stand next to Brek, his eyes narrowed in concentration.
The gnome said, "They state, 'Pass and Prosper if Ye be Reverent. Pass and Perish if Ye Profane Nerull.'"
Brek Gorunn spat. "How can you profane the blasphemous?"
Nebin shrugged.
Ember edged forward. She knew that of them all, she was the swiftest and most capable of escaping a purely mechanical trap, if indeed the tiles represented danger. The choice was hers to make. She entered the chamber, walking lightly, and passed unhindered across the tiled floor, right up to the rune-scribed archway. She looked back, allowing a smile to touch her lips.
"Seems safe enough."
Hennet let out a breath. He and the others entered without mishap, until they all stood by the archway. The corridor was visible beyond. Except for the ominous runes, nothing would have checked their passage into the innocuous walkway.
"Brek Gorunn asked a good question," mused Hennet. "Its counterpoint would be how do you revere a god of death?"
"I don't want to guess," said Ember.
The dwarf said, "I'll guess. Even without holy indoctrination, I could tell you that the act of murder is a reverent deed to this unholy deity of death." The dwarf spat once more.
"We're not going to kill someone just to get past the archway," exclaimed Ember.
She was prepared to sacrifice a lot, but not an innocent life.
Hennet nodded. "There has to be another way to the temple. How are all the cultists getting in and out?"
Brek shook his head. "If we wanted to come in the front door, we wouldn't be here in the first place."
"I have an idea," said Nebin, still studying the runes. He pulled a small dagger from his belt and looked at the others. "A violent death, of the sort we can assume this nasty death god prefers, produces blood. Maybe a drop would do as well as a bucket."
Nebin winced as he pricked a finger with his dagger. Blood beaded on his fingertip. The gnome flicked the drop, painting a copper-size portion on the glowing tiles red. The blood trembled, then was sucked into the stone, leaving not a trace.
The glimmer in the tiles faded. Something clicked, muffled by the walls. All was quiet once more.
"Well, I've either deactivated, or activated something. Who wants to go first?" asked Nebin.
Ember advanced, ready to jump back at the first sign of trouble. Again, she came to no harm. She motioned the others to follow, but not before giving the gnome a grateful look.
"You are wise beyond your size, Nebin."
The gnome nodded, accepting the compliment as his due. She shrugged and turned back to face front. Ember enjoyed giving the wizard compliments, if only to see him preen after each one.
They passed down the corridor, and the trap, if any, failed to materialize. On they traveled, descending farther as they went. The subterranean dark weighed on Ember. She sensed a similar depression in Hennet and Nebin, but not Brek Gorunn. She supposed the dwarf preferred the bosom of the earth to the open skies.
Soon Ember noticed that the stone walls of the passage were cracked. Seeping moisture widened some of the cracks over the years, forming gaping holes. They passed skull-carved balusters, looming in the swaying lantern's light. Their footsteps echoed as they walked, leaping ahead, then following behind. Again the corridor emptied into a chamber, much larger than the others. Shapes were revealed in the vast room; pale domes, biers, and carved sarcophagi with images of men long dead. Ember couldn't begin to estimate the size of the room, but the absolute stillness of the air and the hollow echoes from their small movements revealed that it was at least several hundred feet wide, if not more.
"This doesn't seem a particularly safe route," quavered Nebin. "Those are sarcophagi. You know, with dead people in them."
His words echoed with ominous portent. Quiet followed.
Ember realized the gnome was right. This was a sort of mausoleum. And it was old, probably older than any structure she had ever been inside.