Keep on the Borderlands

17

Morning came with a chill wind, and a ruddy glare filled what could be seen of the eastern sky. Eddis woke to the jingle of harnesses and the thud of restless horses stamping their feet. The party returning to the Keep was ready to ride out. Anxious, she thought, and who could blame them? All around her, the armsmen were quietly stowing their belongings and readying their weapons. Blorys, seeing her sit up, brought her a steaming mug and a bowl of porridge, and someone else doused the fire. Eddis managed a smile as she took the food and drink. Blorys looked distracted and worried, but he said nothing while she ate.

“What’s happening? Is Jerdren all right?” she asked finally.

He shrugged “We buried the dead men a little while ago. Mead gave Jers something for the headache last night, and he was fine after that He’s just… well, you know Jers.” He shook himself and smiled warmth kindling his eyes. “Take care today, Eddis.”

“I will.” She hesitated, then took both his hands in hers. “If you swear to do the same.”

“As best I can. Jers may—”

“No,” she said quietly. “Swear you’ll take care of yourself.” Silence. “Blor, he won’t thank you for getting killed trying to protect him.”

He sighed quietly. “I know. It’s just—” He gripped her fingers, then brought one hand up to brush against his lips. “I swear, Eddis.”

Moments later, Panev called them all together. “I have told you a little of the dangers that may await us. Even I cannot be sure what we face, if we enter a temple of evil. Listen to your leaders—and to me—and you may well survive this day. You men who return to the Keep—my blessings and the strength of the gods guide you safely home. You did not expect to battle monsters, and yet you did, and you live to tell the tale.”

He was silent as the Keep men mounted and rode out, then turned to look over the armed company surrounding him. “Kneel, all of you,” he said. “This blessing may give you courage when you most need it.”

He spoke quietly, and even Eddis—who was nearest—heard little of what he said, but she felt calm wash through her, and a sense of rightness.

Hebold came back through the trees as Panev was finishing his prayer. His lips twisted, and he turned away. Dolt, Eddis thought. I don’t believe in the priest’s gods or his religion either, but I’m not fool enough to spurn them. Jerdren got to his feet and strode out of the camp, across the road, and into the brush. The others followed.

They passed the kobolds’ lair, halted abruptly as harsh, wild laughter echoed all around them. Willow and M’Baddah ran that way, slipping from tree to tree, out of sight moments only, before they came walking back. Eddis had nocked an arrow to her string, but her lieutenant’s familiar hand sign told her there was no threat.

Willow beckoned them close and said, “We saw hobgoblins going from the orc caves to their own hold, carrying orc and kobold dead.”

Eddis’ nose wrinkled. “Filling the larder, no doubt. Not our business, if that’s all.”

They were on their way moments later and made the westernmost end of the ravine without further incident.

They paused for breath and to ready their weapons. Eddis gave Flerys a reassuring smile. The child waggled her spear and made M’Baddah’s sign for luck, though Eddis thought the child looked anxious. When they went on, Panev led, Eddis, Willow, and M’Baddah close behind him with their bows ready. Hebold was on their heels, battle-axe in one hand and the hobgoblin dub he’d picked up the night before in the other.

The few trees on the heights here looked frost-burned, blackened leaves hanging lifeless, the trunks thin and twisted. The air was musty and still.

“Wait,” Panev ordered quietly and clambered up a few paces to survey the heights before them. He nodded sharply and gestured for them to come on.

Eddis stared as she came up. There was a true path here, edged in broken stone and worn down into the rock itself. How can that be? she wondered. There’s no trace of a path leading to this place! Magic, she thought unhappily. Her feet tingled as she reluctantly stepped down into the trail.

Panev beckoned Mead to his side, and the two led through a copse of bloated trees and twisting vines. The musty smell increased. Free of the close-growing trees, Eddis could see a cave looming just above them. The odor was much stronger here, borne on chill air that seemed to flow down from the entrance and wrap around them.

The priest nodded, as if satisfied on some count. “Quickly,” he hissed. Mace in one hand, a slender gray wand in the other, he strode through the wide opening and vanished into darkness.

It was deadly quiet in here. What Eddis could see was hard to distinguish—murky, as though the air itself were dark. A few lamps were set in niches, enough she could make out a vast, vaulting roof, veins of black and red stone writhing across the dull surface of the rock from which a wide, long corridor had been hewn. The floor was smooth and clear and faded into gloom, north and south.

Panev’s lips and hands moved. “As I feared. It is a temple, a cult to worship chaos and death, served by the undead. There are many of the undead both ways,” he said quietly. “A few living, perhaps priests and some guards, but these are few in number. The greater foe in number and evil is that way, which tells me that the priests—and the chief priest—are there.” He pointed north. “None of you,” he added as he gazed around the company, “must touch anything, unless I say it is safe!”

Jerdren nodded. “Pay heed to what he says. We’ll go south first. Make sure there’s none left to attack our rear once we go after these priests.”

Panev drew forth a small, sun-shaped pin and pressed it reverently to his lips before fastening it to his surcoat.

The long south passage took a bend to the right, and just past the bend, the wide corridor split, both passages leading to poorly lit rooms. What they could see of either was empty: no guards, no furniture or furnishings.

Panev indicated the right passage with his wand and quietly said, “There are guards. Undead guards. Be warned.”

To the left, the passage was blocked by a huge fall of stones. Blocked deliberately, Eddis thought, and fought a shiver. Gods, what was so dire that priests who could raise the dead would fear it?

Panev hesitated just short of the left opening to shift his grip on the wand, turned the corner, and strode rapidly into a room lit by guttering torches. Eddis was aware of vast space and a dais at the far end: a throne that glinted red in the dim light. Flerys caught hold of her arm and pointed. Along the walls on either side of the dais, statues of foot soldiers stood or sprawled. She could make out ancient, rusty mail and helms, and here one guard held a heavy, curved sword.

“Gods,” she whispered. “Those aren’t statues! They’re skeletons!”

“Who’d leave bones to guard a throne room?” one of the Keep men murmured.

“They are the enemy,” Panev said sternly. “Fear them, and be wary!”

“But they aren’t moving!” Jerdren whispered in reply.

Kadymus pushed past him, Hebold right on his heels.

“That throne! Look at them jewels!” the youth whispered.

Eddis looked. What she’d taken for fading torchlight shining on metal turned out to be gems—enormous rubies, unless her eyes deceived her.

“Do not touch them!” the priest warned, but Hebold rolled his eyes and passed the little thief at a bound, dagger ready to pry the ruddy stones free.

“Fool of a priest, what’s the danger in a gem?” He chuckled softly as his blade popped one free. “Hah! One of these and a man’s set for life,” he said softly, shoving Kadymus aside as he tried to help.

The breath caught in Eddis’ throat. The skeletons along the south wall were stirring, and a wordless gasp of warning behind her assured her the others were as well.

“Back!” the priest ordered. Kadymus looked up, yelped, and fled the dais. Hebold ignored priest and thief both. He was busily freeing a second stone. The rest of the company backed toward the doorway, Panev setting himself grimly as rearguard against the undead. Bony figures raised their swords and slowly stalked toward him, but two rounded on the barbarian, who suddenly came alert to his peril. He dropped gem and dagger, rolled across the dais as a sword crashed down where his neck had been, leaped to his feet, and swung the battle-axe two-handed, shattering both helm and the skull under it. A second swing and the skeleton broke apart, bones flying and bouncing across the stone floor.

Kadymus yelped as one detached arm clutched at his leg, and he went down. Jerdren swore and grabbed him by the sleeve, dragging him across the floor to relative safety. Hebold snarled curses as the second skeletons blade slashed his hand. He tossed the battle-axe from his right to his left and swung it flat on, slamming the bony guard into the wall. The man looked around wildly, found the company, and ran.

Jerdren pushed past Panev to go to his new ally’s aid, but the priest yanked him back. He was muttering under his breath, and the small, dark wand he held turned briefly a pale green. The remaining skeleton guards backed away from the party and began stalking along the walls. Trying to get around us to flee—or to keep us here, Eddis thought.

“Back!” Mead hissed and pressed past her. She expected one of his fireballs, but the mage threw a day jug of oil into the chamber, splashing many of the skeletons. A burning candle stub followed.

Flames roared high. Dry, rotting doth burst into flames, and several of the nearest undead simply fell over and were consumed. The five still on their feet ran for the doorway, but Hebold and two of the Keep men who carried battering weapons blocked the way and battered them into bone shards and dust.

“Damage,” the priest demanded sternly, and to Eddis’ eyes, he’d grown and changed since entering this cave—turning from mere priest to a deadly force. “Let no cut go untended in such a foul den as this!”

Jerdren turned to stare from the room. “Not yet!” he hissed. “Somethings out there, coming this way!”

The priest’s eyes dosed briefly. “Coming, but not close enough to be a danger.” His dark eyes fixed on Kadymus, smoldered as they picked out Hebold. “I warned you. But take the gems, if you wish. Nothing will challenge you for them now.” He strode over to stamp out the few remaining flames.

“Don’t doubt that I will,” Hebold replied stiffly. “Priest.”

The word sounded like a curse, and Jerdren spoke quietly but urgently against the man’s ear. Hebold nodded, then turned away to scoop up his dagger, so he could free the other stone. He shoved the last in his belt and brought up his chin to meet Eddis’ glare with a challenging stare of his own.

She turned away as if disinterested, then froze. Something was moving out in the hall—close by. Uneven footsteps. Lame guards? she wondered.

What came into sight didn’t look lame so much as corpselike. A zombie, she realized, and swallowed hard. The reek of long-dead bodies filled the chamber. Eight of the foul undead approached slowly, bulging eyes or empty eye sockets fixed on the invaders. They carried no weapons that she could see. She set an arrow to her string and moved offside to get a clear shot. M’Baddah thrust Flerys behind him as he put himself against her left shoulder and drew back on his own bow. Her arrow slammed into the nearest zombie with a nasty squelching sound. M’Baddah’s went clear through its neck and into the shoulder of the one behind. Neither seemed affected.

More arrows: Between them, Willow and M’Baddah had neutralized three, but they were both running out of the magic arrows. Jerdren caught up a spear and swung it at a shuffling corpse. The zombie’s head went flying, and the body collapsed.

“They die like the skeletons!” Jerdren shouted. “Take ’em apart and they’re worthless!” He darted forward, Keep men following, maces and axes swinging.

One cried out and fell. A zombie had him by the ankle. Another man hacked the arm from its body and kicked at it. Blorys hauled the man to his feet and passed him back to Mead. Hebold slammed his heavy axe into one fallen zombie, cutting it nearly in half. Another man cried out in horror and pain.

Sudden silence.

The hall reeked of long-dead flesh, and the floor was slick with black, oily fluid that seeped from severed limbs and heads. Most of Eddis’ arrows were worthless—coated in foul ooze, broken, or the fletches soaked. M’Baddah and Willow retrieved what they could but finally gave up in disgust. Eddis held her breath as they edged past the horrid mess and into the open.

“So far, so good,” Jerdren said as the priest came up to join him.

Panev pointed across the hall. “The other undead at this end of the temple are in that chamber,” he said quietly. “They are bound to that chamber, or the noise of battle would have brought them out to aid their fellows just now.” He eyed Jerdren, glanced at Eddis. “We can leave them alone for now. But if we did, their high priest could summon them against us.”

“We fight them, then,” Jerdren said with satisfaction.

“We fight,” Panev said. “Though I will turn them, if I can. Wait, all of you, until I order an attack.”

His black gaze rested on Hebold, who rolled his eyes and shrugged.

“It is seldom given to a man of my calling to turn the undead—but perhaps the gods of order will aid me in this. When we are done there, I will help Mead with the wounded.”

Eddis thrust herself forward. “You who’ve been hurt—stay out of this fray, and watch our backs.”

Panev beckoned as he strode into the room. Zombies—eight more of them—came to staggering life as he entered the chamber. Eddis moved to M’Baddah’s side and drew back her bowstring.

Her lieutenant hadn’t been quick enough to get Flerys behind him this time—or more likely, the smell of rot and decay from the hall behind them had already affected the girl. She stumbled away from him, clutching her stomach, and vomited. M’Whan snatched at her arm and dragged her back to the nearest wall, where he thrust her into Mead’s grasp.

Eddis and M’Baddah shot and shot again, moved sideways as one, the way he’d taught her. But the two zombies stalking them seemed unfazed by the arrows. One of the spearmen came from somewhere to bury his weapon into the nearest, angling up from the base of its neck and into the skull. The head popped off, and the body went down like a sack of pudding. The undead at its side pawed at the man but slid in Flerys’ mess and fell on its back. Hebold was there with his axe before it could rise, and across the chamber, Jerdren came darting up behind two more undead, beheading them both in one mighty swing.

“Back!” That was Mead, who thrust Flerys back at M’Baddah and strode forward, unstoppering a gourd of oil as he walked. He whipped the thing back and forth, then backed away himself as he tossed a lit candle stub into the spill of liquid. Fire roared up. The three zombies still on their feet went up like torches.

Mead was already back in the short, broad corridor. “There is no one and nothing out there just now. Catch your breath, all of you, drink water—no, not here, out in the passage, where the air is cleaner. Let me know which of you was wounded in that fray. We cannot afford to lose anyone here.”

Eddis hugged Flerys close as they left the chamber. The child was pale, and her lips trembled.

“Here,” the swordswoman whispered. “Eat a little of the travel bread, it won’t hurt your stomach.”

“I’m sorry.” The girl’s eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You couldn’t help it. It’s all right, Flerys. I almost got sick in there myself. A little bread and a drink of water. You’ll be fine.”

Flerys took the wafer and tucked a bite of it in her cheek, sipped water, and leaned back against the wall, spear clutched to her body.

Mead’s voice roused Eddis. “Anyone so much as touched by those foul creatures, come to me or Panev now and let us heal you.”

Hebold sighed heavily. The mage eyed him with disdain.

“Of course, a man like you bears his wounds bravely, but the least touch from these undead may turn you into one of them. Do you want that, hero?”

Time passed. It was deathly quiet here. Eddis thought she heard something like a distant flute once, but when she held her breath to listen closely, there was nothing.

“So.” Jerdren came up quietly behind her. “What next?

The priest answered for her, as he pointed north. “There are men. Fewer than we but strong in evil. We must be careful.”

Jerdren smiled grimly and got to his feet. “I can deal with men.”

Back past the entry and a like distance on, the passage ended in a door ahead and a door on their right. Panev brought out a stubby black wand and gazed at it, then turned to look from one door to the other. He nodded toward the one straight ahead, but as Jerdren and Hebold surged that way, the priest blocked their way.

“There are priests within,” he murmured. “Four priests. Trust nothing they say or do!”

Hebold shrugged and slammed into the door. The panel gave way. Four hooded, red-robed men snatched up weapons and ran to put themselves between the invaders and two other priests who had been reading a text.

Mead fired a glowing dart across the chamber into the nearest standing priest. The fellows hood smoldered, and he flung his mace aside to beat at the thick doth. Mead jumped back, M’Baddah and Willow brushed him aside and blocked the entry, firing two swift arrows each. M’Baddah’s bounced off the robed being with a dang. Willow’s lodged deep in the hood, and the unseen priest sagged and fell across the table. Hebold and Jerdren charged into the room then, as outlander and elf swung away from the doorway. Two Keep men followed, bearing down on the priest with the still-smoking hood.

Eddis and Flerys stayed in the hall, the swordswoman with her blade out and her free arm around Flerys, her eyes searching both corridors. Panev said noise would bring the undead down on us, she thought. If this isn’t noise, I don’t know what is.

It was abruptly quiet back in that chamber, all at once. Someone was moaning in pain. A sword clanged into something hard and metal, and the moaning stopped. Eddis looked that way. Blood splashed the far wall, and all four hooded men lay still.

“It’s all right, child,” she told Flerys. “We’ve won again.” She hoped. There were men down in there—one she could see with a long dagger sticking out of his neck, his eyes open and vacant.

Panev walked around the chamber, spoke a blessing over their dead. “Everyone out,” he said tersely, and began pouring oil on the bodies. When Hebold protested the waste of oil and time, the priest gave him a chill look. “Would you be foolish enough to leave a body in this unholy place?” Without waiting for a reply, the priest strode on down the west-facing passage.

At its end, he paused once more. There was a chamber to their left. Eddis could just make out a large, red stone block that might be an altar and farther in, a great tapestry that covered most of the wall behind it. She shuddered and turned away.

Panev led them past the room, then paused. “There is a door ahead—perhaps two doors. Men are there, and evil surrounds and fills them. The gods grant us courage.”

Jerdren nodded grimly and led the company on.

Another dosed door. Hebold broke this in and threw himself at those inside. M’Baddah fired his remaining magic arrows, and the battle was quickly over. Hebold came back into the open, bleeding from a head cut, which he grudgingly let Panev heal.

Another chamber, more priest-clad enemies who grimly swung maces. Two Keep men went down under the attack. Eddis leaped back as a priest evaded Hebold’s axe and pelted straight for her, hand snatching at her. Blorys’ sword came down across the robed back, and Flerys lunged, spear stabbing deeply into the hood. The enemy sagged, dragging the spear from the girl’s hands. Blorys pulled it free, and she snatched it up.

Another hooded man burst free, and his mace knocked Blorys to his knees. Eddis jammed her blade two-handed into thick cloth. The weapon felt sluggish, her arms weak, and the point seemed to hesitate just short of flesh.

“Foul thing!” she yelled and used her legs to drive the sword in. The man wailed, staggered back into the wall, and slid down it.

More dead men, more injured, and another room ablaze. Where does it end? Eddis thought wearily. Panev looked as exhausted as she felt.

“Undead hold the way against us, up there,” he said. “We will avoid them, if we can.” His eyes kindled. “The center of evil is here—so close!”

“Let’s get ’em, then!” Hebold snarled, but Jerdren pressed him back.

“Wait,” he said. “Any other place, I’d be with you, friend. Here, we let this priest guide us.” He caught Eddis’ eye and managed a faint, wry grin. “Didn’t you tell me once that dead men don’t kill anything?”

“Hah,” Hebold retorted but stayed where he was.

“Rest, all of you,” Panev said. “Our greatest challenge lies ahead. And I warn each of you—touch nothing! We approach the heart of evil, and the thing that catches your eye may draw you from us and turn you into its slave. Do not let any creature touch you or hold your gaze. And let no priest escape!”

“Great. So, if he’s that powerful, how does a mere man like me kill him?” Hebold asked He scowled at his broken battle-axe and tossed it aside.

“The priest who controls this place is still mortal, though harder to kill than most men.” Panev paced while the others drank water or checked their weapons, then led them swiftly on.

All at once, the passage widened into a chamber, a dark void at their left. Panev drew them close to hiss, “There are undead waiting beyond the wall, to our right. Keep still if we are to avoid them!”

They moved slowly and cautiously now, easing into the large, open room. Light flared. Black candles burst into flame, illuminating the chamber suddenly and painfully. Panev ripped a scroll tube from his pack, though he did not yet open it.

The wall ahead glowed as if covered with fresh blood, then seemed to shift and change. Eddis hastily turned away.

It’s a temple! she realized as her eyes adjusted. There a black stone dais, here benches and pews for worshippers. The vast dais took up much of the room and was topped by chairs of the same stone grouped about an enormous throne. Gems glittered—the dais and the chairs were covered in them. Kadymus gasped then spun away, hands clasped together behind his back. Even Hebold seemed subdued.

As they passed a great iron bell, Hebold’s face lit up, and he tapped Mead’s arm, pointing at something Eddis couldn’t see. The mage shrugged, brought up the wand he was carrying, and finally nodded. Hebold grinned hugely, sheathed his sword, and scooped up a pair of heavy mallets, knocking them together with a dull dank. Mead gestured urgently for silence and hurried to catch up with the priest, who had reached the far end of the room.

A long purple drape covered the wall. It shifted, colors swirling wildly, curious writing and symbols filling the space.

Panev drew Eddis and Jerdren close and whispered, “There are small passages beyond the doth and three undead at guard. Beyond that is a small room where the priest dwells. He is the one I seek, the one we must defeat if this place is to be taken back from chaos.”

Jerdren nodded and signed for Willow and M’Baddah to stay with him.

Eddis glanced at Blorys, who waited only long enough to see that Hebold wasn’t on his brother’s heels.

“Gods, Blor,” she whispered. “What are we doing here?”

“The best we can,” he whispered back. “Remember your pledge to me!”

She nodded. “Remember yours.”

His eyes warmed. Panev laid a hand on her shoulder in passing, and her heart lifted briefly. When he pressed the drape aside, she followed close on his heels, sword in one hand, dagger in the other.

Her nose wrinkled as they came into the passage behind the drape. There wasn’t much room for maneuvering here. Too much fancy and luxurious furnishing—couches, carpets, odd bits of statuary here and there—and not enough bare floor. The space reeked of long-dead flesh. Zombies. She could see one now, shuffling toward her, sword in its rotting hand.

A loud dang brought her around. Hebold had leaped to the attack, beating down a zombie with his long-handled bell mallets. M’Baddah pinned another to the wall with his sword, ducking back as the thing continued to swipe at him, but M’Whan charged in to behead the thing with a two-handed swipe of his sword.

The third turned from her and staggered toward Mead, giggling madly, but the mage snatched up a spear from one of the Keep men. The creature veered away, right into Jerdren’s reach, and he smashed it down, bones and black fluid spilling over the tiled floor as he reversed his grip on his sword and beat at the thing with the heavy hilt.

Another door loomed. To Eddis’ surprise, it opened easily when Mead pressed his spear against the latch. A small chamber was beyond, nearly as obstructed with furnishings as the last space had been.

“Great,” she murmured sourly. “No room to fight… now what?”

Panev strode past her, Mead on his heels. The priest’s scroll crackled as he read the spell aloud—odd words that echoed in her mind and made her skin crawl.

The words meant something to his enemy, clearly. Wild, deep laughter filled the room. Eddis shuddered.

“Why do you invade my private sanctum, priest of Law?” a voice demanded from the shadows “What fool are you, to invoke a spell of lawful holding, here? Do you think me a weakling that I will fall to such simple words as that?”

“Foul creature of chaos!” Panev replied, “I knew you would turn that spell! Because you turned it, you have torn down the wall you built against lawful spells such as mine, and now you are open to both my magic and the weapons my allies bear! You cannot overcome us, dark one! Die, you and your undead servants! Sink into darkness forever!”

Eddis stopped just inside the doorway, fingers clutching her bow and her sword. The priest who strode into the open was tall and thin, clad in red and black. But as Panev spoke, the least wind soughed through the chamber, and the other’s robe shifted, revealing a gleam of mail under it.

His eyes were black, luminous, eager pinpoints. After one glance, the swordswoman knew she dared not look on his face again. Blorys was a sudden, comforting presence against her left arm, his sword in his left hand, throwing-dagger held by the point in his right.

The evil priest darted aside to snatch up a staff, lips moving. Mead raised his hands to begin a spell, then went flat as the priest launched the staff at him. Eddis ran to help him up, then jerked away as the weapon clattered to the floor, writhed, and became a serpent. It twined around the elf mage.

“Get away from it, woman!” Panev ordered her sternly and began to pray aloud. A snake grew between his hands, twisting and hissing. With a shout of triumph, Panev cast it at the dark priest, but the dread creature dapped his hands together, and the snake was unmade in a coil of black smoke just short of his feet.

Teeth gleaming in the gloom, the dark one drew a bludgeon from his robes. Panev pressed Eddis aside and brought up his mace.

The two priests swung furiously at each other, but their blows missed. The dark priest spat words and darted forward to backhand Panev out of his way. Blood ran down Panev’s cheek from a long, narrow cut, as though he’d been knifed. He gritted his teeth and swung the mace again, this time catching his opponent’s weapon firmly against the head of his own. Eddis waited for an opening and threw one of her daggers. The blade sliced through the red cloak but clanged off metal and fell useless to the floor.

Blorys’ sword ripped at the priest’s neck, and blood followed.

“Look!” he shouted above the din. “He isn’t proof to a blade!”

Eddis laughed wildly and stabbed. The man now bled from several wounds, but nothing seemed to slow him, and Panev could make no headway. The evil priest shouted, and the sound ground against Eddis’ skin like sharp-edged stones. Blorys gasped and went down. Eddis cursed furiously and set herself between him and the evil one.

Behind them, sounds of fighting ceased. Eddis hoped, but didn’t dare look to see which side had won. Slowly, Panev was gaining the upper hand. A finger’s worth at a time, he pressed the evil priest back, but every step took them both closer to Mead, who stood helpless, eyes black with fury as he remained bound in a serpent’s coils.

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.

“All… right,” he whispered and tried to smile as she leaned over him. His eyes shifted, flicked over his fallen brother, then met Panev’s squarely. “Priest,” he said. “I remember what… you did for Willow. That… box of powder?” He swallowed, raised his voice a little. “I know you can heal us both. I’m… not as bad off as Blor, though. Take care of… of him first, will you?”

Eddis’ throat closed. “Jers!” Her voice wouldn’t rise above a whisper. “Gods, no, don’t do this!” His fingers gripped her hand, his eyes warning, and she fell silent.

“Do it, Priest,” Jerdren said, “before… one of us…dies…”

Panev gripped Jerdren’s fingers and signed a blessing over him.

“That’s right,” Jerdren whispered. “Go. Save him. I… can wait.”

Eddis’ eyes filled with tears. Jerdren clung to her fingers. “You can’t do this,” she choked out.

“Shhh.” His eyes flicked warningly toward his brother. She could see the priest sprinkling his powder around the knife, remembered the man’s words as he brought Willow back from near death. Panev could use this cure on one man only. Her tears spilled over and fell on Jerdren’s face. He laid his free hand gently against her cheek.

“Don’t cry, Eddis. You’re… my kind of warrior, remember?” He coughed and brought up a smile. “Tough, skilled. And so… so beautiful. Did I ever tell you that? So… gods’ blessed beautiful.” He swallowed, grimaced as pain knifed through him. “Take… care of him for me.”

She brushed her lips against his fingers as they slipped from her hand, as the breath eased out of him on a long, quiet sigh. Eddis closed his eyes, dashed tears aside with the back of her hand, and let M’Baddah help her up and hold her. Flerys clasped her close, tears plowing a muddy path down her face.

The priest staggered up. “The man will live. He will sleep for some hours, though. Those of you with the strength for it, carry him.” He made another sign of blessing over the still Jerdren. “And his brother. We will not leave such a hero behind.”

“What about ’im?” Flerys demanded, black eyes fixed on Hebold.

Eddis stroked the girl’s hair. Her eyes were hard.

“We leave him where he fell, child. He’s got everything he deserved.”

Ten days later, Eddis sat cross-legged and barefoot in the open doorway of the small, private sleeping room of the Keep’s inn, staring blankly at the paving stones, fingers absently working through a long strand of dean hair. Even that seemed too much of an effort all at once, and her hands fell to her lap.

They’d been welcomed as heroes, and Jerdren had been given a hero’s funeral pyre. Not one of them could enter the tavern or walk into the open without folk cheering them or asking about their great adventures. The castellan had brought out the treasure they’d sent ahead, and with the rest they’d brought in, each of them was wealthier than they could have imagined, even after shares were set aside for the families of men who’d died out there.

“Adventures,” the swordswoman muttered. She felt old and used, too tired and disinterested to even rise from the floor, though her back was beginning to ache and one foot had gone to sleep. “Heroes,” she said bitterly. “We had luck and skill, and even then…”

Even then, they hadn’t finished the job—not the way she and Jerdren had planned. There were hobgoblins and goblins still alive, including their chiefs. Possibly these would scatter, now that the priest was dead and his temple and chapel burned. The minotaur might keep to his maze and be no threat to those who traveled the road. It didn’t matter, she thought. I won’t go back there again.

Just now, she wasn’t certain she’d go back out to guarding caravans. People here were friendly, but she didn’t feel like one of them. Nothing in the realm called her back there, and now M’Baddah was talking about returning to his homeland. M’Whan would go, of course. She wasn’t surprised when Flerys decided she wanted to go with them.

“She’s a good child, and I’ll miss her, but M’Baddah’s better for her than I would ever be.”

Eddis knew he’d stay if she decided to go back to the road. He’d welcome her if she chose to travel with him. It was too much effort to think about, at the moment.

One good thing had come out of all this: Flerys. It was hard to remember the wild, filthy creature who called itself Blot. Now the girl walked confidently about the Keep. She kept the golden earrings Jerdren had told her to take from the bugbear chieftain’s wife, wearing them on a chain around her neck since they were much too large for her ears.

“I’ll wear them and remember him that way,” she said.

Odd, Eddis thought. Other than that brief kindness, Jerdren had paid little heed to the child.

Blorys—she hadn’t seen him in days. Not since Jerdren’s funeral. I should find him, tell him… She couldn’t complete the thought. Tell him she was sorry his beloved brother had chosen to die, so he could live? Her throat tightened.

To her surprise, most of the Keep men had quietly returned to their companies, and those she saw seemed little changed by what had happened.

Willow and Mead had left hours earlier, stopping to talk to her on their way out. Willow had been sympathetic. Mead tried to talk her into sense. It didn’t matter.

“If I hadn’t dropped when he threw that second knife, Jerdren would still be—” She swallowed hard, shook her head.

“Don’t think that.” Blorys’ voice.

She started, blotted her eyes and looked up, then away.

“Eddis…”

She shook her head again, and this time he dropped down next to her.

“Mead told me. I… gods, I should have come to see you before now. I didn’t know you thought…” His voice tightened. “It’s not your fault. How can you think that?”

“He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“He’s dead because he chose to let me live. If you’re placing blame, lay it on Hebold. Black hells, lay it on Jers for taking the man into that temple with us.” The man’s voice was suddenly tight. “You can’t just sit here, brooding on it. Jers would hate it.”

She frowned, puzzled.

“I saw how he looked at you, Eddis. I know how he felt, because I feel the—never mind.” He got to his feet, reached down and waited until she finally took his hand to let him pull her up. “I know my brother. Wherever he is now, he knows he died doing something heroic and tragic at the same time.” He managed a faint smile. His eyes shone with unshed tears. “I’d like him alive again, so I could strangle him just for that. But it won’t help anything, and it won’t change anything.”

“I—” She tried to smile at the awful joke, bit back a sob. “He was the most annoying, frustrating, crazy—! And I hate that he’s done this to you.”

“What?” Blorys asked quietly. “Left me? Left me in his debt? Stepped aside with a noble bow to leave the field to me? I’m angry with him right now, but that’s grief. He’d have been angry if our places had been changed that afternoon. There was no easy way out of this one, Eddis. No way out at all.”

She shook her head. “What do you mean, the field?”

“I know how he felt about you, Eddis. We both did. I still do. I know it’s hardly the time to talk about it. But, if you’ll listen to me for a little, an idea I had… Well, maybe we’ll have the time, later. To decide, anyway.”

He folded his arms, leaned against the wall.

“I’m done with the road and guarding caravans. Too many memories in that, and the gods know I don’t need the coin. I can’t go back to our home village. I’d be stifled in a fortnight. And you?”

He let the question hang. She shrugged.

“M’Baddah’s restless,” she said after a moment. “Wondering what’s happened to his homeland, thinking that if things are still bad for his people, he might be able to help shift the balance. M’Whan will go with his father, of course. And Flerys—”

“I thought the child was staying with you.”

She smiled faintly. “She sleeps here. Finally understands propriety, at least in a place like the Keep. But no, she’s bonded with M’Baddah, and he’s very fond of her. I’m… I’m glad for the child. She’ll be happy with him, and safe, I think.”

Silence, but a comfortable one. Eddis looked up to see Blorys watching her, his eyes warm. “You said you had a plan?”

He blinked. “Oh—oh, that. Yes. Panev is readying to journey on east, and he’s looking for an escort. I know,” he added with a small laugh as she shook her head. “No more guarding, I said, and I mean it. But this would be one way only, and for my own purposes. You know that the realm used to trade with the lands to the east.”

“Of course. Trading silks and other rare fabrics. It always sounded to me like the kind of fable that grows up when the truth has been lost.”

“Sounds it, but I spoke with Ferec yesterday. The old records from Macsen’s days show that silk and emeralds were traded here, and fine pottery. Maybe those people have fallen on hard times as well. If we went there, we’d know, wouldn’t we?”

Silence.

“Think of it. Not the wealth, we both have plenty of that. But new lands, new faces. Maybe a chance to begin trade for the Keep once again, now that the road’s fairly clear.”

He stood, gripped her shoulder gently. “I need to go see to the horses. Decide whether to sell Jerdren’s gelding or keep him as a pack animal.”

Silence.

“I won’t press you for an answer now, Eddis. Think about it, though. Please?”

She nodded.

“Don’t rush it. We have time.” He hesitated a brief moment, then turned and left.

Eddis gazed down at her hands. The room felt empty without him. Time. Jerdren thought he had all the time there was—until it was too late. She jumped to her feet, leaned out the doorway. Blor was already out of sight, then she saw him striding toward the smithy’s.

“Blorys! Blor!” Her voice echoed, and he turned around as she ran toward him. “I… you don’t need to wait. It’s all right.” The rest of the words wouldn’t come.

He took her hand in both his. “You’ll come with me? Friends? I won’t ask more.”

“No,” she said. “I know what I want.” Her face felt flushed. “Besides, you’re good at guarding my side.”

He smiled and leaned forward to kiss her. “Four horses, then,” he said. “Unless you think we can manage with one packhorse between us.”

She smiled back. “Four. Just make sure that you don’t get me one named Feather!”

She turned and ran back to her room, her heart suddenly much lighter. East might be an error, or guarding that grim priest once again might be. It might be a serious mistake getting anywhere near those caves again, however briefly. But they’d come through all right. The two of them. Wherever they finally chose to go.