Tymora's Luck - Kate Novak [70]
The adventurers set up camp on the carpet so they could flee quickly if attacked. They shared a meal from Winnie's supplies. Holly insisted that she wasn't very tired and took the first watch along with Emilo.
Joel slept fitfully in the Gehennan heat. He dreamt of the Realms being beset with nothing but bad luck-earthquakes, floods, and fires. Others died all around him, crushed, drowned, and burned, yet he remained unharmed. He realized he must be in a dream. Since he knew he was dreaming, he tried to qualm his fears of the disasters he witnessed. If Selune's suspicions were correct, it was not only Tymora's Luck that was being drained, but Beshaba's as well. Eventually the bad luck would end, too. Yet that thought would not quell Joel's dream fears, and the bard thought he understood why.
When Beshaba and Tymora were salvaged from the poisoned Tyche, perhaps they didn't really each possess a different kind of luck. Perhaps their very nature shaped the luck they had. Even were it within her power, the selfish and vengeful Beshaba would never grant anyone good luck, just as the kind and generous Tymora would never curse someone with misfortune. Now another power, was stealing both Beshaba's and Tymora's Luck. If an evil, selfish god had dominion over good luck, "good" luck would cease to exist.
Just when the bard thought his dreams couldn't get any worse, he dreamt again of the children.
Offstage
Somewhere else in the Prime Material Plane on the world known as Toril in Realmspace, Amber Wyvernspur watched with annoyance as her cousin Cory jumped across the marble tiles of the floor of the family mausoleum. Either Cory was especially lucky from being favored by Tymora or his father had been fool enough to demonstrate the secret pattern to him. A rectangular section of the floor dropped a foot lower than the surrounding floor and slid away, revealing a staircase leading downward.
"We have to hurry," Cory said. "The door doesn't stay open for long."
Tavan and Toran took up the torches they had just lit and took the lead. Cory, Lumen, and Ferrin hurried after them.
"Are there any spiders?" Heather asked uncertainly.
"Giant ones, as big as cats, with furry bodies," Olivia said gleefully. "We'll catch one and make it a pet."
"All right," Heather agreed. She didn't like spiders, but she loved cats.
The two younger girls headed down the stairs, leaving Amber with Pars.
"Pars, you don't have to come if you don't want to," the eldest Wyvernspur child said to her youngest brother.
"I'm not a baby," Pars shouted, and he started down the stairs, backward, so he could negotiate the steep steps without falling.
Amber sighed and followed behind him. The mausoleum had been chill, but on the stairs, warm air rose up from below. The warmth failed to dispel the gooseflesh on Amber's neck and arms.
At the bottom of the stairs the way was blocked with a heavy leaden door, on which was painted the image of a red wyvern. Heather pulled out Uncle Steele's key and turned it in the lock.
"What does that say?" Olivia asked, pointing to words engraved in the stone over the door.
Amber took Tavan's torch and held it up high. " 'None but Wyvernspurs shall pass this door and live,' " she read aloud.
"Neat!" Tavan said as he and his brother pushed open the door.
From the stairs above came a shout, a hoarse, growling war cry.
"What's that?" Ferrin whispered.
Amber looked back up the stairs with alarm. Something outside the mausoleum, something that must have been lurking in the graveyard, had followed them through the secret door. She squinted into the darkness and caught sight of glowing red eyes and the flash of a steel sword. A moment later she was able to make out the outline of a tall, hairy creature with a face like a pig's.
"It's an orc!" Amber shouted, throwing the torch she held at the creature. "Run!" she screamed.
The cousins