Pool of Radiance_ Ruins of Myth Drannor - Carrie Bebris [18]
“It sounds like our first step is visiting this Room of Words,” Corran said. “If we’re lucky, we’ll find the band’s killers there searching for the ring’s enabling word and we can get the ring back from them.”
No, if we’re lucky, they will be long gone and we’ll have to abandon this futile quest and go home, Kestrel wanted to say. Luck, however, didn’t seem to be on her side these past few days.
“How do we get to the House of Gems?” Ghleanna asked.
“Through the dwarven dungeons,” Beriand responded. “They connect to an isolated tower in the House of Gems. The tower is sealed from the outside, so the dungeons are the only way in. I must warn you, though-the undercity corridors are filled with orcs and undead. In fact, so many of the creatures were using the dungeons as a highway to this part of the city that I sealed the entrance. Rest here for the night to refresh your strength before challenging their numbers.”
“In the morning, we will direct you to the doors,” said Faeril. “Beriand sealed them with the Glyph of Mystra. Before you leave, study the book lying open on the altar. It contains the Word of Mystra, a command so powerful that it can be learned only through study, not by simply hearing it. Knowing the Word of Mystra will grant you entry through any portal marked with the goddess’s symbol. Doors marked with other glyphs, however, require different words of opening.”
Words of opening. The Mythal. Magical gates. The Ring of Calling. As Kestrel lay on her cot that night, her head swam with it all. This morning, her sole thought had been leaving Phlan. Well, she’d left it all right-and now only hoped to get back alive. How had everything spun out of her control so quickly?
Damn Nat’s firewine!
CHAPTER THREE
At sunrise, supplied with directions and rations from the clerics, the foursome left the elven shelter and hiked to the entrance of the dwarven undercity. Dawn proved a good time to travel the city’s surface-the sunlight chased away undead wanderers, while the hour was too early for much activity on the part of humanoids. The few orcs they did spot en route were easily avoided.
The daylight, however, did little to lift the pall that lay over the ruined city. An aura of tarnished greatness hung about Myth Drannor, its former dignity reduced to rubble along with its structures. Everywhere Kestrel looked, flawed beauty met her gaze: crumbling arches, cracked columns, decapitated statues, dead or dying trees. The tales she’d heard of the fallen elven capital had described treasure there for the taking by anyone brave enough to face its new denizens. However, even to her rogue’s sensibilities, looting this city seemed less like robbing from the rich than stealing from a cripple.
The party spotted the double doors inscribed with Mystra’s star symbol. They approached slowly, this time anticipating the thunderous Word of Opening rending the air.
“Aodhfionn!”
The command, as yesterday spoken by the mysterious otherworldly voice, roared like the surf pounding on the shore. Kestrel started at the force as vibrations echoed in the air. Hinges too long in need of oil protested strenuously. The doors to the undercity swung open to reveal a dark corridor.
Smooth, perfectly planed rock walls lined the ten-foot-wide opening. Within, narrower passages broke off in three directions. Lit torches punctuated the walls at fixed intervals, confirming that some sort of humanoid occupants passed through regularly. When she’d heard these dungeons were of dwarven construction, Kestrel had feared she and the others would have to stoop to move through them. Fortunately,