Crypt of the shadowking - Mark Anthony [110]
The stone-walled room was filled with guards.
There was not a score of them, but rather five times that number. And all of them were armed. Tyveris could see the stairwell leading up to the tower no more than fifty feet away, but it might as well have been a hundred miles for the sea of guards blocking their way. He looked at Kyana in desperation. The thief shook her head.
"It appears we were expected," was all she said.
* * * * *
Caledan was not certain how far beneath the Old City they had descended, but he knew they must be deep within the heart of the Tor.
Ravendas moved through the rough-hewn tunnel at a swift pace, Snake following subserviently on her heels. Caledan, Estah, Ferret, and Man stumbled along after Ravendas. Their hands were bound tightly behind their backs with leather thongs; their ankles had been hobbled with heavy rope so that they could not run. A dozen cruel-faced Zhentarim warriors trod behind the four, pushing them roughly onward each time one of them hesitated. Behind the warriors walked Morhion, his face as cold as granite.
Without warning the rocky passageway widened, and the odd party of friends and enemies came to an abrupt halt. They stood in a sort of antechamber, a roughly square room perhaps two dozen paces in width. Acrid, smoking torches lined the walls of dark, jagged stone, and piles of rubble littered the corners. However, Caledan barely saw any of this, for instantly his attention was fixed on the door. The portal dominated the far wall of the antechamber. It was a slab of perfect, unblemished onyx, as tall as two men and as wide as six abreast.
“The crypt of the Shadowking," Caledan whispered in awe.
"Indeed," Ravendas purred. "My greatest triumph lies within." She tossed aside her dark robe and stood before the door resplendent in a silken gown as deep and rich in hue as dried blood. "The time has come."
She clapped her hands, and two Zhentarim stepped from a dim alcove Caledan had not noticed. By their deep purple robes and the disturbing, misshapen symbols that hung about their necks, Caledan guessed these Zhents were priests of some sort. Between them stood a small figure clad in a velvet tunic. It was the boy, Kellen.
Caledan felt his throat tighten. The boy looked up at him with his wide, dark-lashed eyes. He knows! Caledan thought suddenly. He was certain of it. For a moment he saw a look of pleading in the boy's deep green eyes. Then Ravendas approached her son and brushed his pale cheek with a solitary finger.
"Your time draws near, my son," Ravendas said in her crystalline voice. Kellen nodded slowly but said nothing. He clutched a set of polished reed pipes tightly in his hands. Mari, Estah, and Ferret regarded the boy with surprise. None of them had known Ravendas had a son. But they still don't know the full truth, Caledan thought bitterly. "There is one last thing," Ravendas said. She stepped forward and reached inside Caledan's leather jerkin, drawing out the set of pipes that he had concealed in an inner pocket. "I know you still have not discovered the secret of the shadow song, but then, I do not care to take unnecessary chances." She dropped the pipes on the stone floor and ground them under her heel until they were nothing more than splinters.
Caledan could not help but wince. That was the first set of pipes he had ever made, and the truest. He had brought them along as a last-ditch hope, in the event he somehow managed to discover the secret of the shadow song.
"You're a fool, Ravendas," Caledan said harshly. "You've always been a fool. You'll do anything for power. But it's a desire that blinds you." He nodded his head toward Snake. "So how do you intend to kill her, Snake?" he asked in a cutting voice. "I suppose you don't need her or the Zhentarim any longer, now that the crypt has been found. Ravendas would just stand