Prince of Ravens

CHAPTER FOUR

The distant tumult of fighting and confusion from the pastures faded away quickly as Jack and Seila made their way into the fungal forest ringing the dark elves’ tower. The shadows beneath the gigantic toadstools seemed to pool around the fugitives as they pressed on deeper into the gloom. Once or twice they heard small slithering movements or tiny clattering sounds, as unseen creatures moved about in the darkness around them. Jack tried hard not to dwell on what manner of creatures might be responsible for the sounds; he doubted that he would like the answer.

Seila’s grip on Jack’s hand tightened, and she pressed herself up close beside him. “Jack, I don’t like this place,” she whispered.

“I know. We won’t linger a moment longer than we must,” he replied softly. He glanced to her pale face and decided that it might be a good idea to distract her from the looming shadows and unsettling sounds around them. “Tell me, do the Norwoods still reside at Sarpentar House?”

She smiled nervously in the gloom. “Yes, it’s my home, but no one’s called it that since my grandmother’s day. Everyone knows the estate as Norwood Manor now. Have you been there?”

“Once,” Jack answered. “Who is the head of the family now?”

“My father, Marden.” Seila’s brow knitted. “He’s been the Lord Norwood for thirty years or more. How long ago did you visit, Jack?”

He paused and motioned her to silence, standing still beneath the great fungal boles, looking and listening for any signs of pursuit. After a moment he nodded. “It seems quiet enough,” he said softly, and drew her onward.

Seila followed close behind him. “You said before you hailed from the Vilhon Reach,” she said. “Is that really true? I thought no one lived there anymore. It’s a terrible plagueland, isn’t it?”

Jack snorted to himself. Seila had a very good memory for detail, it seemed; he would have to be careful about what he said around her. “It seems that I am a man out of my time, so to speak,” he replied. Seeing the girl’s puzzled expression, he continued. “I’m afraid I do not belong to this age. I was magically imprisoned by some unknown enemy during the Year of the Bent Blade-thirteen hundred and seventy-six, by Dalereckoning. Apparently I passed the last hundred years in magical stasis, until Lady Dresimil and her followers stumbled across my prison and released me. I must say, I am so far very disappointed by the future.”

“You are playing games with me.”

“I wish that were so. If I could think of some simple proof of my claims, I would offer it.”

Seila walked beside him in silence for a time, evidently weighing the outrageousness of his story. Jack winced to himself. It might have been better to keep his origins to himself. The tale was simply too much to believe, even if it was the truth. After all, the first ingredient of a sound lie was plausibility-something his story was sorely lacking. He was just about to tell Seila to ignore it all as an odd little jest when she drew a sudden breath and looked at him again.

“There was a rumor in the kitchens a few days ago,” she said. “The drow discovered a swordswoman frozen in stone in the ruins of the ancient city. She’d been that way for decades, maybe even centuries. The diggers and porters say she came to life and fought her way free of the Chumavh holdings. As I heard it, she cut down a dozen drow warriors before escaping into the tunnels.”

“The swordswoman was-is-the Warlord Myrkyssa Jelan.”

“Myrkyssa Jelan? You are joking.”

“I see that her notoriety has endured until the present day.” He snorted softly. “I couldn’t imagine a more pleasant surprise for our pointy-eared friends than setting Myrkyssa Jelan free by mistake.”

“You mean that you were entombed like she was?”

Jack nodded. “Exactly, except that I was unpetrified immediately upon my release from the stone where we’d been imprisoned.”

“Of course,” Seila continued, now speaking more to herself than Jack. “In fact, there were stories in the kitchens that the drow had found another entombed in the ruins-a fool or madman, they said. That must have been you.”

“Fool or madman, indeed. Clearly the tale of my release became confused in the retelling. I dispute both characterizations.”

“You really lived in the time before the Spellplague?” Seila asked. “That is incredible! Unless, of course, it isn’t true, in which case you are the most inventive liar or most lucid madman I’ve ever met. What was it like, then?”

“I’ll be happy to share every recollection I have of what things were like in my day, but it’s hard to know where to begin,” Jack answered. He noticed that the gloom beneath the gigantic mushrooms was lessening; the boles seemed fewer and farther apart. “I haven’t yet seen the world above since my release, so I really don’t know what’s changed. I might as well ask you what it’s like to live in the current day.”

Seila frowned thoughtfully. “I can see where that might be true,” she replied. “Well, Raven’s Bluff in the current day has its flaws, but believe me when I say that it’s better than this place.”

“Ah, here we are,” Jack murmured. They emerged from the wide belt of fungal forest, several hundred yards inland from the dark lake’s exposed shore.

He paused a long time in the shadows of the titanic mushrooms, peering into the gloom to see what he could of the cavern floor ahead. The once-drowned drow city in which the wild mythal stood seemed to be the main focus of activity; dozens of soft-glowing globes of greenish light illuminated the various worksites where the slaves and servants of House Chumavh toiled in their mysterious tasks. He nodded to himself, building up a picture of the place in his mind’s eye. The ancient ruins and the castle surroundings together made a sort of barbell-shaped footprint of habitation on the floor of the immense cavern, lying with one side pressed up against the sinister lakeshore. As long as they stayed well inland, they should be able to skirt the most heavily trafficked area … but of course they would also be on their own in the weird stone wilderness of the Underdark, where all sorts of terrible monsters might lurk. Best not to share that part with Seila, he decided.

“Which way, Jack?” Seila asked.

“Our route to freedom lies about half a mile in that direction,” Jack said, pointing. “We could follow the drow road and hope to bluff our way past any dark elves or overseers we meet along the way. Or we could strike out across the cavern floor. We’d be much less likely to meet passers-by, but I worry about running into a patrol on the lookout for escaping slaves.” He thought about it for a moment, then made his decision. “Let’s take our chances in the dark.”

Seila shivered, but she nodded. “I am with you.”

He took her hand, and led her out into the cavern floor.

Once they passed out of the shadows of the fungal forest, the ground became more broken and barren. Patches of strange fungi dotted the ground, spikes and clubs and round puffballs that stood two or three feet high and sometimes glowed softly with an evil blue luminescence. Jack gave these places a wide berth. Not only did he want to avoid the light, he simply didn’t like the looks of the subterranean flora; it didn’t seem like anything one would want to get too close to. Rough ridges of rock and sudden winding crevasses made the going more difficult still, but he didn’t mind that as much, because the broken ground would make it that much harder for any watchful eyes to spot the two of them.

Seila stumbled over a stone lost in the gloom at their feet. “I wish we had a little more light,” she whispered.

“It wouldn’t be wise,” Jack replied. “Even a candle flame would give us away. Stay close by me; you’ve been working in a well-lit castle for the last few tendays, but I spent that time out in the gloom of the fields.”

They continued forward, Jack leading Seila more carefully, and came to an area where large stalagmites began to appear on the cavern floor. At the outskirts the stalagmites were only knee-high, but soon human-high pillars began to appear, then mounds the size of houses, and finally huge needle-tipped monoliths that towered a hundred feet or more in height. “I recognize these,” Jack told Seila. “We’re getting close.”

Moving more cautiously, they rounded the base of a grand stalagmite that towered up into the darkness. The faint green witch-light of the dark elves’ floating globes illuminated a wide, level square of polished granite that stood between several more mighty stalagmites. Atop the square rested a circular platform of stone, perhaps twenty feet across. He’d traveled from the dungeons of Sarbreen down into this great cavern by means of this same platform the first (and only) time he’d ventured into the Underdark, held at swordpoint by the Warlord Myrkyssa Jelan and her henchmen. “Good, it’s still here,” Jack breathed.

“What is this place?” Seila asked.

“An elevator, of sorts. I think the dwarves of Sarbreen built it during their city’s heyday so that they could descend to the Underdark when they needed to.” He smiled in the shadows. “Conveniently, it’s waiting for us on this level instead of hovering up at the top of its ascent. Now for the great gamble-does it still function?”

Seila touched his arm. “Jack, look,” she hissed.

He followed her gaze and frowned. Two huge trolls with axes bigger than he was stood off to one side, keeping watch under the supervision of a handful of dark elf guards. “That would seem to suggest the platform is operational,” he muttered to himself. “They wouldn’t bother to guard it otherwise.”

“How do we get by them?” Seila asked.

Jack thought it over for a moment. He could perhaps manage another spell of invisibility, but that of course would only work for one, not two. “A distraction,” he decided. “Wait here, quiet as a mouse. I might be a little while, but I’ll be back.”

“Jack, wait! What are you going to do?” Seila whispered urgently after him, but Jack slipped off into the darkness.

He stole halfway around the platform, using the large stalagmites for cover. Hunting around in the darkness for a few moments, he found several good-sized stones, then crept carefully into position. The plan was still not quite clear in its entirety, but he’d already determined that the trolls were the key part of it; the creatures were legendary for their dim wits and short tempers. He took a moment to scout a path of easy retreat if things went poorly, then settled in to watch the dark elves and their trolls.

The drow-a young officer and three warriors-sat a short distance from the trolls, quietly conversing in their own language. One of the trolls dozed, seated with its back against a boulder, while the other was idly picking at something objectionable in its nether regions. Jack waited until none of the dark elves were looking, then he threw one of his stones at the dozing troll. It was a hard, accurate throw; it caught the big monster in its mouth, perhaps even cracking a tooth.

“Owww!” the troll roared. It clapped a huge hand to its mouth and glared at the other troll. “You hitted me wid a rock!”

“Did not,” the second troll retorted angrily.

“Did, too!” The first troll seized the stone Jack had thrown and hurled it at its fellow. The small rock bounced off the innocent troll’s shoulder, but not without provoking another yelp of pain. Both trolls scrambled to their feet, reaching for their axes.

“Stop that at once!” the dark elf captain barked at the trolls. The drow took two steps toward the tall monsters, hand on his swordhilt, icy menace in his face. The trolls cringed and subsided, apparently cowed for the moment. Jack scowled in the darkness. The monsters were supposed to be engaged in a furious brawl at this juncture, but instead they slowly took their seats again, glaring at each other.

A little more provocation, Jack decided. Perhaps something a little more incriminating might work? He waited a short time, until the dark elves returned to their conversation and the trolls became bored again. Then he crept forward with all the stealth and care he could muster, reaching around within arm’s reach of the nearer troll to set a couple of his throwing-stones right under its long, gangly hand. Retreating back to his original position with a sigh of relief, he hefted his last stone and waited for the right moment. The first troll started to drowse again, the dark elves weren’t looking … Jack hurled his stone over the second troll’s shoulder, this time winging the rock into the dozing troll’s left eye.

The second troll caught a glimpse of the stone sailing by, and started to wheel around, looking for the thrower, but the first troll leaped to its feet with a roar of pure fury. “Owww! You hitted me again!”

“I not throw no rocks!” the second troll snarled back.

“Lying meat-bag!” the injured troll howled, a hand on one eye. He pointed accusingly with his other hand. “You got rocks right there!’

“I not throw any rocks!” the innocent troll roared in anger, any curiosity about the true origin of the rocks momentarily forgotten. But the first troll had had all it could take; it leaped upon its fellow with tooth and claw, and a trollish brawl broke out. The monsters pummeled, bit, and raked at each other with berserk fury. The dark elves drew their swords with various oaths and exclamations, and rushed over to break up the fight.

Jack hurried away from his hiding place as the dark elves waded in to separate the battling monsters, and quickly circled back to where he’d left Seila. She was staring at the furious brawl on the far side of the platform, and started when he hurried up beside her. “Was that your doing?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m afraid I was the one throwing rocks,” he admitted. “Now, follow me! Quick and quiet, and mind your step. We wouldn’t want to give ourselves away with a stumble or a kicked pebble.”

Together they moved out into the open, stealing swiftly across the granite square to the round platform at its center. Jack crouched low and drew Seila down beside him, trying hard to make himself as small as possible. Neither the drow nor their trolls seemed to take any notice; the monsters still roared and tore at each other, while the dark elves had their backs to the elevator platform, whipping and stabbing at the battling trolls. Motioning for Seila to remain still and silent, Jack started looking for a means to operate the stone disk. He remembered watching the wizard Yu Wei touching the heel of his staff to the surface … there. A faint rune was inscribed in the exact center of the stone platform. Jack knelt down and touched it with his fingertips, wondering if he would have to speak some magical command to make the platform work. But it seemed that his touch was enough-with a small grating of stone, the platform shuddered and began to levitate up from its resting place.

The stone rose several feet from its place before the dark elves noticed its silent ascent. Then one of the warriors glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of the stone disk rising into the air. “The elevator!” he shouted in alarm.

The dark elf in command of the post whirled, turning his back on the brawling trolls. His eyes met Jack’s; the drow was a slight, young-looking fellow even by elven standards, his helmet and breastplate embellished with the silver trim of a captain. “Thralls trying to escape!” he snarled. “Stop them!”

The warrior who’d noticed the elevator turned a look of black ire on Jack and Seila, an ugly scowl creasing his handsome features. Jack reached for the short sword at his belt, hoping that he’d have to deal with only the one guard and that he’d be able to best a dark elf swordsman in his half-starved, half-exhausted condition. The drow took two quick steps toward the platform, preparing to spring aboard-but suddenly the brawling trolls fell off-balance. One threw the other stumbling across the guardpost, and the dark elf scrambling for the platform barely leaped out of the way as the huge monster reeled past him. The other two drow warriors dodged around the two trolls and lunged for the platform, but the levitating disk had climbed just enough to rise out of easy reach. One leaped to catch the edge, and even got his hand over the lip, but his leather gauntlet slipped from his hand; with a curse he dropped back down to the ground.

“That was close,” Seila whispered.

“Exactly as I intended,” Jack replied with a confident smile.

He straightened up as the dark elves and their trolls disappeared beneath the platform edge, sheathing his sword, then cautiously moved to the edge of the platform to see whether any of the drow pursued them. The dark elf soldiers peered up at the platform rising away from them. “There he is!” one shouted, raising a small crossbow. The drow loosed a bolt up at Jack, who pulled back his head just in time as the missile hissed through the air.

“Please extend my regrets to Lady Dresimil,” Jack called down to them. “I have just remembered pressing business elsewhere, and I am afraid I must cut short my visit.” He withdrew a couple more steps from the edge, hand on the hilt of the battered old sword he’d taken from Malmor’s quarters just in case any drow suddenly found a way to reach the ascending platform. He was only a middling swordsman, and he wouldn’t have cared to face a skilled drow warrior in a fair fight … but fortunately it seemed that none of the dark elves could catch them.

“Dear Selune, I thought they’d trapped us for a moment,” Seila said.

“I was not concerned,” Jack answered with confidence. He risked another peek over a different part of the platform’s edge and saw one of the soldiers running off toward the barracks and defenses by the lakeshore. No doubt the fellow intended to report the escape.

“That is unfortunate,” he muttered. If he remembered right, the stone disk took a good fifteen or twenty minutes to ascend and descend; that meant there would be a party of drow soldiers not much more than half an hour behind them when they reached the dungeons above. “We’d better assume that our captors will pursue with alacrity. I sincerely hope that Sarbreen is more or less the way I left it; we won’t want to dilly-dally with the drow at our heels.”

Seila allowed herself to sink to the disk’s surface, slumping in exhaustion and relief. After a moment she looked back up to him. “How far does this … elevator-disk … ascend? What will we find above?”

“It’s a thousand feet or more. If you are nervous about heights, you will want to stay right here in the center of the platform.” Jack moved back to the center of the disk, and seated himself beside the girl. “As far as what awaits above, we’ll find out soon enough.”

Darkness pressed in around them as the disk rose steadily into the upper airs of the tremendous cavern, leaving behind the dim witch-lights of the drow post below. A cold wind sank past the platform as they rose, moaning softly and catching at Jack’s battered cloak and threadbare clothes; the stone disk trembled slightly in the stronger gusts, leaving Jack with the very unpleasant image of the whole thing suddenly flipping over in some unseen eddy of swirling winds.

Seila shivered in the icy breeze, and Jack took the liberty of putting an arm over her shoulder and spreading his borrowed cloak to cover them both as they huddled in the center of the platform. “For warmth,” he explained.

She raised an eyebrow, but pressed herself close to his side-easily the most pleasant arrangement Jack had experienced since awaking on the stone plaza of the wild mythal. After a moment, she spoke. “How did you come to be imprisoned all these years?” she asked.

“That very question has vexed me for something like seven or eight tendays now,” Jack answered; he had lost track of how much time had passed since he awoke at the foot of the mythal. “I cannot recall how I came to be in the mythal stone. I remember leaving my house in Mortonbrace, dressed quite splendidly for the occasion of a debutante ball at Daradusk Hall”-a ball that he was not strictly invited to, but Seila didn’t need to know that, of course-“and climbing into a hired coach. That was a fine summer evening in the Year of the Bent Blade. Then my memory is simply blank for what does not seem a very long time, until I was rudely roused by Dresimil Chumavh and her lackeys. I was wearing nothing but a pair of plain breeches; I suppose I should thank my enemy for at least sparing my modesty.”

“So that is why you said you don’t know who imprisoned you. Do you think your mind was affected by some enchantment, or is your lack of memory simply the result of being entombed for so long?”

Jack gave a small shrug. “I intend to investigate that question at my earliest convenience … well, just as soon as I devour a meal fit for a king, soak in a warm tub for at least half a day, burn these foul rags and dress myself in good clean clothes, and sleep for a tenday. Of course, I am penniless at the moment, which may make it difficult to sample each of those pleasures.”

“Do not worry about that, Jack. If we reach the surface, I believe I can arrange all those things for you. The hospitality of Norwood Manor is yours.”

“As my social calendar is a century out of date, I gratefully accept.” Jack glanced up; there was a gleam of dim light above them, steadily growing brighter. They were drawing near to the lower levels of the dungeon of Sarbreen, which meant that Raven’s Bluff was only a few hundred rather perilous yards farther. “With a little luck, we’ll be back in the streets of the city in less than an hour. Strange to think that Chumavhraele and Raven’s Bluff could coexist in such proximity, isn’t it?”

Seila frowned in the gloom. “Coexist? Hardly! The drow are a blight on the city. They don’t come to the surface, of course, but they have spies and agents everywhere. Slavery, smuggling, trade in drugs like kammarth or ziran, they’re at the bottom of at all.”

“Indeed? Why doesn’t the Lord Mayor do something about them?”

“No one seems to know what to do. My father’s been urging the Lord Mayor to act, but other lords and merchants and guildmasters are afraid to provoke the drow, while some don’t seem to care at all.”

Jack found that interesting; he wondered how many of the city fathers who didn’t seem to care were actually profiting by allowing affairs to continue in their current state. If the dark elves didn’t come to the surface themselves, they had to be working through human intermediaries to catch their slaves and peddle their illicit wares. It seemed that civic corruption was every bit as widespread as it had been in his own time, if not more so. The thought was a little comforting in its own way; there would be opportunities for a clever, resourceful fellow such as himself in the world above, including plenty of wealthy people who deserved to be separated from their ill-gotten gains.

“I think we’re near the top,” Seila said, interrupting his thoughts.

Jack glanced up again, and saw that the dim beacon overhead was indeed drawing near. “So we are. The platform stops at a small landing in the ceiling of this great cavern. We’ll leave the elevator there, and make our way through Sarbreen.”

“I’ve heard that Sarbreen is full of monsters,” Seila said.

“It was in my day. I’m afraid this part of my plan relies on luck; I’m hoping we can creep past anything dangerous without attracting notice.” They climbed to their feet, crouching low to make themselves just a little harder to see as the ancient dwarven elevator ascended into its upper landing. “Ah, there we go. Quiet now, dear Seila. The disk may carry us into danger.”

Just as Jack remembered, the disk came to a stop hovering in mid-air in the upper end of a narrow crevasse. A wide ledge of even stone with a dark doorway marked the place where the dwarves of old Sarbreen had carved their way into the uppermost reaches of the titanic cavern below their buried city. A single lamp of yellow crystal was fixed to the wall like an odd little porchlight. Whatever magic it held still endured after all the years, casting a warm golden glow over the landing. Between the stone ledge and the floating disk a battered wooden pier or walkway leaned out over the dreadful drop; the walkway creaked softly and swayed in the strong draft flowing down to the depths below.

Seila eyed the catwalk nervously. “The bridge doesn’t inspire confidence,” she said.

“That is our path,” Jack replied. “Remember, the dark elves use this elevator enough to keep a watch posted below; I’m sure it’s perfectly safe. Would you prefer that I go ahead to test it, or should I follow behind to steady you?”

“I’m not quite that frail, thank you. After you, Jack.”

Jack walked to the edge of the disk, trying not to dwell on the way it bobbed gently in the air currents. It’s just like stepping from a boat onto a dock, he told himself. Gingerly he tapped his toe on the other side of the foot-wide gap of darkness between the stone platform and its wooden dock, then leaned across to put more weight on the ramp. It seemed steady enough, so he stepped all the way across and trusted his whole weight to the ancient woodwork. It creaked, but held. “Well, that wasn’t so bad,” he said.

He turned and held out his hand for Seila, who started to step over the gap-just as the platform gave a small lurch and started to sink again. Caught in mid-stride over the unthinkable drop, Seila gave a small cry and flailed for balance, but Jack quickly seized her arm and pulled her up to the old wooden ramp. They retreated to the safety of the stone ledge, and stood trembling by the dark doorway as the elevator platform descended out of sight.

“It dropped out from under me,” Seila said, gulping for breath.

“The dark elves must have summoned it to its lower landing,” Jack replied. He belatedly realized that he’d just assumed that the disk had to complete its ascent before returning to the lower landing, and tried not to dwell on what would have happened if he’d been wrong about that. “I expect it will be back soon enough with angry dark elf warriors aboard.” He glanced at the old wooden ramp again, and briefly considered sabotaging it in some way to delay their pursuers. Even the fierce drow might be daunted by a ten-foot leap to reach the ledge, if the ramp could be removed in its entirety … but that would take quite a bit of work. He settled for wrenching one timber handrail out of place, and heaved it over the edge.

“What was that for?” asked Seila.

“Well, with luck, that board will fall a thousand feet or so and find a dark elf’s pointy head,” Jack answered. “Failing that, I hope it might make them pause and wonder if we will drop more debris on them as they ascend, or whether the ramp has been sabotaged. Now, let’s see what waits for us in Sarbreen.”

Seila reached up and took the ancient glowing crystal out of its place by the doorway. Its glow dimmed, but it still threw off enough light to see by. Jack took her hand again, and led the way into the doorway. They found themselves in a long, straight tunnel with a smooth floor of joined stone blocks, which was much as Jack remembered it. A walk of eighty or ninety yards brought them to a circular doorway at the end of the passage.

He motioned for Seila to shield her crystal lamp, hoping to avoid giving off any more light than they absolutely had to, and turned his attention to the round stone plug. There was no handle or mechanism in sight, but Jack remembered this door well. He whispered the words of an opening spell, and reached out to rest his palm on the cold stone. For a moment, nothing happened, and he wondered for one terrible instant if their drow pursuers would find them here in half an hour or so, stymied by the door. Then the stone seemed to grow misty and fade into nothingness, creating a doorway to a wide, dark space beyond. Jack hurried forward and peered out into the great hall beyond the vanished door; nothing was waiting to eat him, at least not right away.

“Come on,” he whispered to Seila, motioning for her to follow. Together they advanced through the doorway into a striking chamber. The room was the size of a king’s banquet hall, with shadowed galleries ringing its walls and an arched ceiling high overhead. He turned and looked behind them; the round doorway they’d come through was part of a colossal frieze on the chamber’s rear wall. A coiling dragon of stone, easily forty feet tall, was carved into the chamber wall, posed in such a way that its foreclaws appeared to grasp a mighty orb or pearl-the round aperture they’d just emerged from.

Jack turned Seila to see the great image behind them. She gasped in wonder. “My friend Ilyth called this the Stone Dragon of Sarbreen,” he said softly. A pang of loss touched him in the center of his chest; Ilyth must be in her grave fifty years or more by now. Seila reminded him of her, when he thought about it. “We are standing in the Hall of the Dragon, the meeting-place of Sarbreen’s nobles and guildmasters.”

“It’s magnificent,” the noblewoman said. “I never knew anything like this was just below my feet.”

“Most sane and well-balanced people are naturally ignorant of what lies in the dungeons below the city,” said Jack. “Adventurers, on the other hand, are familiar with a number of such landmarks, although I hasten to add that dungeon-delving was something I indulged in only under the most unusual circumstances. Remind me to tell you about my discovery of the Guilders’ Vault someday; it’s quite a story. Now, let’s be on our way. This is no good place to linger.”

He led her down the length of the Hall of the Dragon toward another shadowed archway at the foot of the hall. Near the middle of the room they passed two broken skeletons, still dressed in the torn remnants of mail and leather. A sword snapped cleanly in two gleamed on the floor just beyond the outstretched fingers of one of the old bodies. Jack hurried Seila past the two corpses, trying not to think too hard on the question of what ripped open armor of mail and plate and broke the bones of the men inside. Most likely the skeletons had been lying in that spot for years, but it was far from a certainty. Sarbreen’s dungeons had their share of small scavengers that could strip a corpse to bare bone in a matter of days.

The archway at the far end of the hall led into the bottom of a great shaft or well. Old stone steps climbed upward out of sight, spiraling up the wall of the shaft. “This part is quite a climb,” he said softly. “Keep your shoulder to the wall in case the steps prove dangerous. And be ready to cover that crystal light when I tell you to.”

Seila nodded in reply, and they began to climb the stairs. Jack lost count after fifty or so, but the steps continued to wind up and up long past that place, until his legs trembled and ached and he panted for breath in the cold, dank air. After all, rediscovering how to work magic did nothing to make up for tendays and tendays of meager rations and exhausting labor. Seila was breathing hard behind him, but she seemed to be standing up to the effort quite well; she was far from frail, and Jack guessed that slaves in the kitchens found ways to eat better than those condemned to work in the quarries and fields. Finally, when he felt as if he couldn’t make himself climb one more step, he glimpsed the end of the stairs. Slowly they clambered out onto level ground again, and found themselves standing in an alcove in the side of a long, broad passageway. Archways and chambers beckoned in several directions.

“Where are we now?” Seila whispered.

“A region of the old dwarven city known as the Armory,” Jack replied between breaths. He leaned forward, massaging his trembling legs with his hands as he rested for a moment and tried to remember his bearings. “Sarbreen’s weaponsmiths and armorers lived and worked in this area. We’re not very far from the surface.” Seila started to ask another question, but he motioned her to silence, and calmed his breathing to listen for any signs of pursuit.

At first he heard nothing, which was more or less what he expected; he didn’t really believe that the drow could have overtaken them yet. The dungeon’s depths were eerily still, with a near-complete absence of sound that seemed almost pregnant with menace. Then he caught a soft clicking sound from the passage to his left, with a sort of dull scraping thump.

Seila heard it as well. “Jack-” she whispered.

“Hide the light,” he hissed, drawing her quickly to the right. He pulled her across the hallway and ducked into another archway as Seila hurriedly swaddled the old rock-crystal from the landing in the folds of her tunic. Darkness settled around them, relieved by only the merest hint of a dull warm glow shining through the cloth. Jack held his breath, hoping that whatever was passing by would keep on its way. The clicking came closer, now accompanied by a strange creaking sound. Then the sounds stopped. Peering down the hallway from their hiding place, Jack realized he could make out several dim violet lights gleaming in the shadows, hovering near the passage ceiling. The faint lights swayed slowly from side to side, moving in unison, then more came into view … eyes! Jack realized. Four eyes, and they’re looking right at us.

With a sudden loud clacking and an eager roar, something barreled down the hallway toward the two humans. Jack pulled Seila back into the passage behind him, and discovered a floor strewn with rubble that shifted and clattered under his feet. The girl stumbled on the uneven ground, but even as their unknown assailant lunged closer, she yanked out the cloaked crystal-lamp and revealed its full strength. “Get back!” she shouted-either advising Jack to flee or trying to scare off the monster closing in on them.

The lamp was not terribly bright, but in the near-blackness of the dungeon hallway, it was as dazzling as a careless glance at the sun. Jack caught a glimpse of giant mandibles and huge armored claws, an apelike body covered in plates of chitin, and two pairs of eyes reflecting golden light. “Oh, damn it all,” he muttered. “An umber hulk. Why not?”

He almost jerked Seila out of her shoes as he sprinted away, fleeing across the rubble-strewn chamber. He had never seen an umber hulk before, but he’d heard plenty of stories from battered adventurers recounting the terrors of Sarbreen in taprooms and alehouses. “Try not to look it in the eye,” he said over his shoulder. “It can knock you senseless or mesmerize you with its gaze!”

“I’m more worried about its gigantic claws and fangs, thank you,” Seila cried.

They fled from one chamber to another, darting across room after rubble-filled room while the massive umber hulk crashed along through the stonework and debris behind them like a living avalanche. Jack didn’t remember this part of Sarbreen all that well, but he tried to head in the general direction of the dungeon entrance he knew was somewhere nearby. He took a wrong turn that very nearly proved lethal, ducking into a blind alcove where he expected a passageway. The monster roared and smashed one huge armored claw at its small prey; Jack leaped aside, and instead of crushing him the blow hammered into the stone wall with such force that the polished stone blocks dressing the walls bounced out of place and fell in a shower of dust and stone.

The hulk roared again as heavy stone blocks pummeled its carapace, and then it retreated. “Come on!” Jack shouted to Seila. He took one step to flee while the monster was on its heels, but the noblewoman stood stock-still, gazing up at the monster’s glimmering eyes with a blank expression. Jack swore viciously, realizing that she’d been disoriented by the hulk’s confusing gaze. Turning his back on the massive creature so that he wouldn’t catch even an inadvertent glimpse of all four eyes at close range, he shoved her headlong through a narrow gap in the masonry wall and scrambled after just as the next huge claw hammered down in the spot where he’d been standing.

The monster screeched in anger at their escape and began tearing at the wall with such force that rock and rubble flew from its claws. It would only be a moment before it forced its way after them; Jack dragged Seila to her feet and ran through the next doorway. He found himself in a small, twisting passage linking the weaponsmiths’ halls and workshops, and darted away from the crashing and roaring of the huge creature behind them. By a stroke of great good fortune he’d found a hallway that was somewhat too small for the monster pursuing them. The umber hulk had to crouch and twist to ram itself into the passageway, flailing great chunks of masonry out of its way as it sought to widen the opening.

They emerged in a larger hallway, near a great gate of iron that had been twisted and pulled from its place hundreds of years earlier. Scores of ancient, yellowing skeletons, some still dressed in the rusting remnants of their armor, were scattered around the floor-defenders of Sarbreen who had fallen defending the iron gate. “I know where we are,” Jack said to Seila.

She was coming out of the stupor the umber hulk’s gaze had inflicted upon her; she shook her head vigorously, as if to clear the cobwebs from her thoughts. “Go, go!” she cried. “It’s still behind us!”

Together they ducked under the twisted remnants of the mighty doors and ran down the hallway beyond. Several dark doorways and passages branched off to either side, but Jack ignored them. At the third doorway on their left, he turned and found a dusty old stairway climbing up into the gloom. Without hesitation he led Seila up the steps, taking them two at a time, until he came to an old wooden trapdoor at the top. Jack pushed, but found the trapdoor too heavy to move. “This may prove unfortunate,” he said aloud. “Quickly, Seila-put your shoulder to the door. Together, on three-one, two, three!”

Jack and Seila threw themselves up at the trapdoor, straining with all their might. The door rose a little and stopped, seemingly blocked or held … and then something above gave way with a crash, and the trapdoor flew open. They scrambled up into a dusty old warehouse full of small barrels, casks, and heavy sacks of burlap. Jack saw that a rusty iron clasp with a bolt had secured the trapdoor from above; he and Seila had pushed hard enough to strip the bolts securing the clasp to the door, at which point the whole thing had flown open. Quickly he slammed the trapdoor shut again, and began stacking heavy barrels on top of it.

“You don’t think that thing will follow us all the way up here?” Seila asked.

“I have no idea, but the drow might,” Jack replied. Seila joined him in rearranging the casks and crates stored in the warehouse, until the trapdoor was virtually buried beneath them. Then Jack looked around for an egress, and spotted a bolted door on the other side of the room. He gestured to Seila; they hurried over, drew the bolt, and threw open the door to find a small city alleyway on the other side.

They emerged from the cluttered warehouse into a gray, foggy morning. It was probably fortunate that it wasn’t broad daylight; even the gray gloom of early morning seemed overwhelmingly bright to Jack, and he had to shade his eyes with his hands and squint to keep from being blinded outright. He took a deep breath and tasted the myriad familiar odors of the city: The damp salty smell of the sea, the acrid smoke of countless cooking fires, the reek of furnaces and kilns, the delightful aroma of bread baking and meats sizzling, even the earthy stink of dung and refuse clinging to the gutters and outhouses. Not all of it was pleasant, but it was vital and alive, and the happy clamor of his city waking to a new day was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

He caught Seila’s hand and squeezed her fingers in his, grinning like an idiot. She was beaming, too, standing with her eyes closed and face uplifted to the damp gray sky. “I never thought I would see daylight again,” she said. “Oh, Jack, how can I ever thank you?”

An idea or two came to mind immediately, but he decided it would be unchivalrous to mention them. Instead he gave her a small bow and said, “You mentioned the hospitality of your father’s table. That would be an excellent start. After that, a very long soak in a hot bath, and perhaps a change of clothing.”

An avid light came into Seila’s eyes at the mention of a hearty meal and a warm bath. “The sooner, the better,” she agreed. “Now where in Raven’s Bluff are we?”

Jack looked around, taking in his surroundings. None of the buildings seemed familiar … but the shape of the street was much as he remembered. “This is Olorin’s Lane, isn’t it? In Burnt Gables?”

Seila smiled at him. “There you go again. The neighborhood is called Sindlecross these days.”

“Ah, well. I hope you’ll forgive a gap of a hundred years.” Jack grinned at her, finding himself almost giddy from relief. Escaping captivity and torment in the hands of the drow, surviving the monster-haunted halls of Sarbreen, and rescuing a noble-born lass in the bargain … this was shaping up as one of his greatest exploits. “Clearly, I have much to relearn about Raven’s Bluff.”

Seila reached out and grasped Jack’s hand. “Leave that to me,” she said. “You’ve rescued me from toil and misery in the Underdark, Jack. Showing you around Raven’s Bluff is the least I can do.”

Together, they ventured out into morning.