The Companions of Tartiël (44 page)

“All right, Jeff,” Dingo said, turning to me. “Back to you and Warteär Nomen in the hallway. What are you doing?”

I sighed, thinking and glancing down at the battle grid. We weren’t using it, but it helped me concentrate. “I take a step back and watch Warteär Nomen for a second. What’s he doing?”

“Well, he straightens as you back off, flicking away the bit of Kaiyr’s blood he has on his rapier. How are you looking?”

Glancing down at my sheet, I tipped my head from side to side. “Not perfect, but not bad, either. I’m still above half health.”

“Warteär Nomen levels his rapier at you.
You have had your chance, elf. You are clever, but I shall kill you here, now.
What are you going to do?” He picked up his d20 in anticipation of the coming battle.

I frowned. It was obvious that this guy could tear Kaiyr a new one at any time; while Warteär Nomen had been able to whittle away nearly half of Kaiyr’s hit points, I had only inflicted superficial wounds; even that last one hadn’t fazed the guy—whatever he was. I held out my hand to the side, toward Xavier. “Xavier.
PHB
^[39]
, please.” He passed it over, and I thumbed through it to
Chapter 8: Combat
.

It had occurred to me earlier in the campaign that I had already used several different alternate attack options, and each time they had been wildly successful: I had grappled the wererat in the first game session and the evil conjurer who had captured Luna. I had disarmed one of the “elves” outside of Andorra, as well as divested Sayel of nearly all her weapons. And lastly, I had used the sunder action on Wild’s oil flask-filled backpack when he, under the effects of Sayel’s ring, had tried to set fire to the wooden airship. Why stop now?

I already had an idea forming in my head after Warteär Nomen let Kaiyr take a few steps back. Grappling this creature would have been suicide, and with his seemingly much higher attack bonus, disarming him would have been difficult at best. I was now more concerned with just getting Kaiyr out of the crumbling temple.

Finding what I was looking for, I picked up my capricious aqua d20 that had served me well in these alternate attack rolls. The look on Dingo’s face was absolutely priceless as he realized exactly what chapter I was using.

“Oh, no,” he said, “what are you trying to do
this
time?”

“I think you mean, ‘what are you
going
to do,’ Dingo,” I corrected him. “I’m making an overrun attempt.”

Sighing, he motioned for me to commence. “All right. How’s it work?”

I glanced down at Xavier’s
Player’s Handbook
. “Uh, well, I’m making this as part of a charge. Since I’m ten feet away from Warteär Nomen, I can do it.” I paused to read how it worked. “Okay, I start by charging.” I got out two figurines and placed them on the grid to facilitate the process. “I then enter his square, provoking an attack of opportunity. If he hits, my attempt fails—oh, wait, no, that’s only for disarm. So, go ahead and make Warteär’s AoO.”

Dingo rolled, getting a result of 5 on the die. Even with Warteär’s astronomical attack bonus, it wasn’t enough to hit Kaiyr’s Armor Class of 25. “All right, a miss. What’s next?”

“Well, it looks like Warteär Nomen has the choice to either just let me by or try to stop me. If he lets me by, I just continue my move. If he stops me, I get to try and knock him prone, and if I fail, he can trip me back.”

Dingo nodded. “He’s going to stop you.”

I closed my eyes. “I had a feeling he’d do that.” I looked at Matt and Xavier, both of them leaning closer to witness the outcome that could seal Kaiyr’s fate here and now. “All right. I make a Strength check, opposed by his Strength or Dexterity, whichever’s higher.” I tossed my d20 in the air and caught it. “Me and my whopping plus-one Strength modifier.”

Dingo chuckled and loaded his guns. “All right. Warteär’s Strength is higher. Roll ‘em.”

I dropped my d20 onto my desk. It clattered dangerously close to the edge, and it threatened to fall on the floor and necessitate a reroll, but it didn’t quite go over the edge. “All right!” I said. “Kaiyr rolls an eighteen, plus one for a total of nineteen!” Xavier and Matt let out relieved laughs, but then we all quieted, looking over at Dingo’s d20.

“Well,” he said slowly, “I rolled a twelve. I’ll tell you now that Warteär Nomen’s Strength modifier is plus six. That makes eighteen. You knock him prone.” He spread his hands in a gesture of surrender.

Matt, Xavier, and I all erupted into hoots of victory, followed by a round of high-fives, in which Dingo was included as he congratulated me on the clever—and more than a bit lucky—use of oft-forgotten rules. “Ha!” I said, “Chapter eight wins the day yet again! Kaiyr clotheslines the freakishly strong elf-dude!”

*

Kaiyr did not stop to count his blessings as he plowed by Warteär Nomen, knocking his opponent to the ground. His forearm throbbed angrily from having slammed into the creature’s neck. He could tell that the ploy had only worked because whoever this was—whatever it was—had not been expecting the sudden change of pace.

Dashing through the ruined temple, Kaiyr dodged around fallen debris. Most of the roof had already caved in, letting in the prying sunlight to illuminate the destruction for all to see.

He made it to the entrance, the whole area eerily silent as though even the gods were shocked at what had transpired here. “Master Caineye, are you…” Kaiyr said, trailing off when he saw the forces amassed in front of the temple’s steps. Mounted knights, more than a hundred of them, had stopped not twenty feet from the marble stairs leading up to the double doors. “This is….”

A voice in the crowd caught Kaiyr’s attention. “Master Kaiyr!” Wild shouted, waving frantically. He was barely visible on the back of his little pony, but he steered his mount toward the front of the others. “We’ve come to help!”

Kaiyr scanned the crowd. The surviving elves from this temple were being cared for by the clergy members from Alduros Hol’s temple. “I… see,” he said, sighing and releasing his soulblade, which he had unconsciously manifested when he first saw the numerous riders, their shields and standards proclaiming them to be paladins in the service of Alduros Hol. “I owe you my thanks, Master Wild.”

Wild shook his head. “Don’t thank me. Thank Father Coëty,” he said as one of the knights dismounted and strode forward to greet the blademaster and druid. Neither Kaiyr nor Caineye missed the meaningful glance Wild threw their way.

Just then, Warteär Nomen burst from the ruined temple. Father Coëty stopped in his tracks and half-drew his sword, while many of the other riders also drew their weapons; some even loosed a few arrows at the creature, who contemptuously batted them aside with one hand.

Kaiyr’s soulblade appeared in his hand, and he stepped around Caineye to put himself between Warteär Nomen and his comrade. But the elf-like creature, it seemed, had had enough for one day. “I will deal with you later,” it promised the blademaster. It slid its rapier back into its sheath and took one step away from Kaiyr, vanishing into thin air.

“Teleportation,” the blademaster grunted in annoyance, letting his weapon fade from his grasp. Turning back to the amassed paladins and clerics, Kaiyr frowned at their sudden appearance and reaction to Warteär Nomen. None of the clerics at this temple had had time to sound a call for help. And, while it was certainly possible that some magical alarm had been tripped, Alduros Hol was not the first name that came to Kaiyr’s mind when it came to other religions sending aid to a temple of Arvanos Sinterian. More concerning was the sluggish reaction to Warteär Nomen’s appearance.

Out of more than just curiosity, Kaiyr sent a silent mental command to one of the amulets around his neck, the one that could detect evil presences. The entire company lit up to Kaiyr’s magical senses, and he lost his breath. Glancing over at Caineye, he then watched as Coëty put away his weapon and ascended the stairs to the temple, smiling serenely.

Then Kaiyr remembered the amulets given to them by the Terth’Kaftineya; both he and Caineye still wore them. Sending another thought, this time to this other amulet, Kaiyr sent a silent message directly into the druid’s mind.
It would seem that I must be the bearer of ill news, Master Caineye…

XXXVI.

It was late in the evening when Kaiyr and Caineye arrived at the temple of Alduros Hol. The two of them had, in Solaria’s presence, decided that Wild was in too deep, and together, the pair of them would extract him from the temple, forcibly if need be.

Even a temple built into a tree would require more exits than merely the front entrance
, Kaiyr whispered to Caineye through their paired amulets.
There is little security, fortunately. They must be confident that they remain undiscovered.

Let them believe that
, Caineye growled back; Kaiyr could see the druid scowling in the shadows.
Let them believe that until the moment they repay their debts for desecrating holy ground.
He glanced back the way they had come; he had left Vinto to guard Solaria, but he still worried about both of them.

Kaiyr closed his eyes, sighing. Then, refocusing and moving around to the back of the temple, he responded,
My sentiments mirror yours.
He led the way through a small copse of trees, one of many in a vast park just behind the temple.

It was well-hidden, but the elven blademaster’s propensity for uncovering the hidden led them to discover a postern gate recessed into the wood of the great tree. The roots had grown around the sturdy, wooden door, and vines had crawled up to cover the entrance, but a hidden space such as this was obvious to an elf who had grown up surrounded by such natural phenomena.

“It is locked,” Kaiyr whispered to Caineye upon trying the door’s handle. “Or, if not locked, then held fast by the roots having grown around it. It seems as though this gate has not been used in quite some time.”

Caineye, crouching next to the blademaster, squinted in the darkness; his human eyes could barely make out the handle built into the door. “What do we do? I can’t pick locks. Can you?”

“No,” Kaiyr replied, but at that moment, a sudden calmness overcame him, and he knew the answer to their problem. “However, in my battle yesterday with Warteär Nomen, I discovered the blademasters’ secret to cutting through even the hardest materials. I have already told you of my experience penetrating that creature’s defenses and skin, and of my troubles in doing so. But at the very last, I managed to land a more telling blow. I believe I can apply the same principle to this situation, Master Caineye.”

The druid shrugged and gestured Kaiyr forward. “If you believe it will work, then by all means. But… can you do it quietly?”

Kaiyr had already manifested his soulblade and stepped forward to face the door head-on. He paused to look over his shoulder and raise an eyebrow. “Verily not. Stand back.”

Caineye sighed in exasperation at the circumstances, but he could see no other way into the temple except for the front door or through a few windows higher up. So, he quieted his breathing and watched the blademaster.

Kaiyr held his soulblade vertically from a position just below his right shoulder. He could only barely remember exactly how he had focused his energy so perfectly in that one cut against Warteär Nomen. But the single thread of memory was enough for the intelligent and wise blademaster, and he followed that thread to its core, finding within himself the focus balanced gently on the knife’s edge of his mind.

The blademaster’s soulblade flickered and faded to nothing more than a single mote of golden light that floated serenely around his hand. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, and in the dim luminance of the stars, even Caineye could see the flash of cyan light in Kaiyr’s reflective eyes at the blademaster’s sudden burst of focus. He sliced from the ground in a graceful arc seemingly made of moonlight that ended high overhead. His strike evoked from his soulblade a brief, keening screech of blade through wood, followed by a clarion ringing that faded when Kaiyr released his spiritual weapon.

Silently, the door swung open slightly on its hinges. Caineye, unable to see the door well in the darkness, shrugged and stepped up next to the blademaster, who put his hand on the bark of the tree and whispered, “I am sorry.”

Puzzled, Caineye touched the bark next to where Kaiyr had touched it, cursing silently and yanking his hand back. “It’s hot,” he said in wonder, sucking on one burned finger.

Turning around, Kaiyr bowed slightly, acknowledging the obvious comment with more grace than it was due. “Of course. Come.”

They stepped inside a perfectly dark hallway, Caineye pausing as he peered into the gloom.
I can’t see a thing. I will need to light the way
, he told Kaiyr, remembering to use the amulet now that they were inside the base of their enemies.

Kaiyr, too, stopped.
I would be much obliged. Let me close the door first so we do not attract undue attention from outside.

When it was done, Caineye murmured a brief incantation and touched his shield. It flared into life with light like a torch, only it did not flicker as a flame would have. “By the Warden’s staff,” he whispered upon seeing the destruction Kaiyr’s soulblade had wrought. The weapon had sliced cleanly through the entire door three inches from the jamb.

Farther inside, the two of them could hear voices emanating from behind what must have been a heavy door; their passage went unnoticed, and it seemed as though Kaiyr had been right. Nobody had used this corridor in a long time, and the only prints in the settled dust belonged to the two intruders.

Damn
, Caineye said telepathically as the two of them arrived at the end of the hall. In their path stood an eight-foot-diameter stone slab.
End of the path. Maybe you could cut through it like with the other door?

Kaiyr shook his head, inspecting the stone door’s side. It sat in a slight recession set into the living wood. With his keen eyes and Caineye’s magical light, the elf could accurately judge the depth of the channel, and thus the thickness of this door.
Even if I could, it would take me several minutes to cut through this. It is more than a span thick. The noise would attract every cleric in this corrupt temple.