They bypassed a chamber whose ceiling was upheld by statues carved to resemble giant men bearing a great burden. They walked along a hall where corroded metal plates in the ceiling buzzed and gleamed as they passed, but which offered no other clue as to their purpose. They walked through a tiny waterfall that issued from a shaft far above, and drained away through a side passage that led steeply down, possibly to join some sunless sea of myth. Or so Hennet liked to imagine.
Even now they walked a passage hung with the tatters of time-lost tapestries, Brek in front holding the gleaming lantern aloft. A garble of whispered voices issued from the very stone beneath their feet. When they first heard the noises, the company stopped and thoroughly investigated, but could find no inherent threat. Thus, they walked on, despite the susurrus of voices speaking in tongues long dead on the surface.
For a long stretch-since the Test of Wit in fact-nothing assailed their passage. Such was the sorcerer's thought when they came to a side door along the passage. Bones of some past traveler lay strewn before the door. Here he had apparently met his end. The catacombs were moist and given to rot, and the traveler's possessions were decomposed, but a dagger still glinted, untouched by time. The nearby door was rent and notched, as if the traveler had spent his last hours desperately trying to force his way through. If so, he had failed in that attempt and died far from light and hope.
Nebin ventured, "Why do you suppose he wanted to pass this door? Is our way the same, to reach the revived temple?"
Brek Gorunn looked at the door, then forward down the hall they had been traversing, and said, "My gut tells me this door is not our path. But it conceals something, or so this poor fellow believed."
"We should open the door ourselves, to see what we can see," broke in Hennet. This was exactly the sort of thing he loved. "Perhaps a treasury, or a library filled with the lore of times forgotten?"
He threw in the library in an attempt to get Nebin interested.
"Or a demon bound with spells of somnolence, until disturbed," said Brek Gorunn. "It may be both, or neither, but it is not our quest. Later, we may return when other needs are met. It would be foolhardy to turn aside now, wasting our strength when we will soon have such need of it."
"Brek Gorunn is right, Hennet," said Ember. She put a hand on his shoulder as if commiserating. Her touch was enough to convince him.
Besides, he realized the wisdom of Brek's words. "At least let's gather this poor fellows belongings," he said. "We might learn something of his purpose."
So saying, he retrieved the dagger. He turned it over in his hands, and the others drew close. Beautiful, he thought. The handle was carved to resemble a unicorn, and the blade, its horn. Its ageless appearance suggested preservation only magic could explain. Testing that hypothesis was easy enough-Hennet concentrated on the dagger and felt the answering pulse of enchantment. It wasn't an overpowering response, but it was definite.
The sorcerer looked up to his companions and said, "This dagger is magical."
A harsh voice from farther up the hallway said, "Then hand it over!"
Hennet started, nearly dropping the dagger, as the others whirled around. Farther up along the passage, a band of men appeared, unshuttering their lamps and drawing their swords.
There were perhaps half a dozen of them. The four in the front, three humans and a halfling, waved swords as they came on, two by two down the corridor. Two elves in the rear held cocked bows.
Another man, better dressed than the others and standing behind the elves, called out, "The dagger, and your other valuables. We're the Raiding Lions. I'm Jeelsen. If you've heard of us, you know that we are merciful to those who surrender up their wealth to us when asked."
Brek Gorunn cursed, "By Moradin's overflowing tankard, what are you doing down here?"
Nebin called out, "Actually, we haven't heard of you, Jellyfish!"
Hennet elbowed the gnome in the ribs, hard.
"The name," screamed the brigand, "is Jeelsen! If you haven't heard of us, then know now that while we are merciful to some, to those who give us trouble we are bloodthirsty to the last. Which shall we visit on you? Mercy, or death? Either way, we'll have your valuables. Surrender now and live!"
Brek muttered, "There must be other entrances to the catacombs besides the one we used."
Hennet could only agree. At least, none of those menacing them in the narrow hall carried overt Nerullan symbology.
Nebin whispered, "Who does this poser think he's fooling? Hennet, ensorcel him, I'll take out the rest."
Ember raised an eyebrow. Hennet knew why; it wasn't like the gnome to be so brash. Hennet studied his friend, and saw the way he possessively clutched his spellbook.
Brek Gorunn said, "Those archers can do much damage from a distance, while the swordsmen hold us off. Perhaps we should pay their toll."
Ember looked at the dwarf, then at Hennet and Nebin, and said, "I'm not about to give them Loku's Bracers, the relics of my vanquished chapter. Without our equipment, we would have to turn back from our quest, and there's no way out behind us. I'm with Nebin. We must fight."
Hennet, never one to back down from a challenge, nodded grimly.
Jeelsen, seeing their impromptu conference, apparently misread their hesitation.
He yelled, "Yes, yes, you know I speak the truth. Save yourselves some trouble. Am I answered?"
Nebin shouted, "You are!"
The gnome flicked a scroll from his belt and began incanting. Brek unlimbered a crossbow and scrambled to fit a bolt and pull back the crank.
He yelled, "Watch those archers! I'll peg the swordsmen."
Hennet's blood beat in his ears. Brek and Ember took the front rank in the narrow corridor, while he and Nebin stood behind.
Hennet yelled, "You picked your victims badly this time!"
Actually he had no illusions about his own power and his inexperience in the world, but perhaps his bold speech, backed up by aggressive action, would give the bandits pause. He called up his own power. Magic was in his blood, and he loved wielding it. Giving it a shape and a name, he let go a glittering, ruby ray toward Jeelsen.
Ember leaped forward, directly toward the swordsmen. Hennet tensed, then gasped in surprise as she deftly tumble-rolled past them, avoiding their sudden, wild swings. Arrows from the bow-armed elves whined past her spinning form to snap against the wall and floor. Then she was past them, too. Before Hennet quite knew how, she stood next to Jeelsen. The bandit leader recoiled in surprise.
That was when Hennet's magical bolts struck the bandit leader, sending him gasping and reeling backward. Ember followed up, unleashing a spinning kick that knocked Jeelsen flat. Twin streamers of smoke rose from his clothing where Hennet's spell had hit him.
Nebin finished his incantation, and the two swordsmen at the front collapsed to the floor, asleep. The four left on their feet wavered.
Brek Gorunn, who had finally finished cocking his crossbow, pointed at the leading swordsman and said, "Run."
The archers and swordsmen, seeing Jeelsen prostrate and smoking, ran back down the corridor the way they came. Jeelsen, despite his pain, called after them to no effect. Ember nudged him with her foot, as if to remind the bandit leader of her presence.
Jeelsen suddenly changed tactics, exclaiming, "Mercy! We made a grave error. Oh, yes, most grave. We didn't know…we didn't realize you were so powerful…please, mercy!"
Ember nudged the man with her foot again. Hennet saw that by the way she clenched her jaw, she was restraining herself from delivering a stronger blow.