The Verdant Passage

ELEVEN UNDER TYR

Ktandeo tapped the bench with his cane. “Sit.”

Sadira obeyed immediately, but Agis ignored the command and remained standing. The three of them were gathered around the stone bench in the back of the Drunken Giant wineshop. They had drawn the shimmering curtain of lizard scales for privacy.

“At last, we meet formally,” Agis said, holding both hands palms up in a formal gesture of greeting. “I am Agis of Ast-”

“I know who you are,” Ktandeo said, pointing to the bench. “Now sit.”

Sadira pulled Agis down next to her, anxious to avoid angering her contact any further. She and the noble had been trying to see Ktandeo since Agis’s conversation with Tithian. After two days of the pair making nuisances of themselves in the wineshop, the old man had finally come.

As soon as the senator touched the stone, Ktandeo scowled at the sorceress. “I’m certain you know what you’ve done.”

Sadira was not sure whether he was referring to her efforts to arrange a meeting with Rikus or to bringing Agis to the rendezvous point, but she nodded anyway. To the Veiled Alliance, both were grave offenses. “When you hear what Agis has to say, you’ll be glad I did.”

“You’d better hope that’s so,” Ktandeo replied. “Otherwise-”

Agis interrupted the old man’s threat. “Something terrible is about to happen in Tyr, and only you can stop it.”

Before Ktandeo could reply, the red-bearded barman slipped past the curtain with a carafe of thick red wine and three mugs. Agis reached into his purse and withdrew several coins, but the old man laid his cane across the noble’s wrist.

“I wouldn’t drink what your coins buy,” the sorcerer said.

“You can drink what Agis offers you,” Sadira snapped, laying a hand on the senator’s firmly muscled knee. During the last two days, the sorceress and the noble had not spent more than ten minutes apart, and she had come to know him well. “He’s a better man than his peers.”

“Is my hearing bad?” Ktandeo asked, sticking a thick finger into his ear as if to clean it. “I could have sworn I just heard a woman who kills templars defending a slave-holder’s reputation.”

Sadira’s cheeks reddened. “The men I killed were petty, murderous scum, and they would have been the same whether they were free or slave,” she said. “Agis is a good man, and being born into a corrupt nobility doesn’t change that.”

“Whether he’s noble or slave is all the same to me,” said the barman, holding out his hand. “His money is what matters.”

Agis dropped a few coins into the server’s hand. The barman examined the coins briefly, then returned a small bronze disk to Agis. “If you think I’ll take this instead of good Tyrian currency, you’re mistaken. That’s no coin I’ve ever seen.”

Agis slipped the disk into his robe pocket with an air of chagrin, then retrieved two proper coins to replace it. “I’ve no idea how it came to be in my purse. Please accept my apologies.”

As the burly man left, Ktandeo raised an eyebrow in Sadira’s direction. “Didn’t you storm out of here the other night because you love that gladiator?”

“What if I did?” Sadira demanded.

Ktandeo waved his cane in Agis’s direction. “You’re talking as though you care for this one, too.”

“I might,” Sadira answered, giving Agis a warm smile. He returned her gesture by looking slightly distressed. “What’s wrong with that?”

Sadira understood why Agis and her contact seemed disturbed, but she did not share their prudish attitudes. Nothing in her background had taught her to consider romance an exclusive commitment. Tithian had used her mother as breeding stock, and Catalyna, the woman who had taught her the art of seduction, had warned the young sorceress against becoming attached to a single man.

“Perhaps we can discuss my visit with the high templar?” Agis suggested.

“That’s what you came here for,” Ktandeo grumbled, eyeing Sadira coldly. “And it had better be important.”

As Agis recounted his meeting with Tithian, Ktandeo grumbled about the liberties Sadira had taken by recruiting the noble in the Alliance’s name. He frowned at her when Agis revealed that the high templar knew the Veiled Ones wanted to meet with Rikus. However, when the senator described the pyramid and balls he had seen in Tithian’s memory, Ktandeo’s mood changed from one of petulance to one of apprehensive distraction.

“Tithian knows too much about what you two have been doing,” Ktandeo said, his eyes thoughtfully fixed on the pommel of his cane.

“There’s no doubt Tithian has a spy close to one of us,” Agis said.

“It’s your manservant, Agis. I’m sure of it,” Sadira added.

The noble disguised his reaction to the statement by lifting his mug and taking a swallow of wine. This was one area where they were not in complete agreement. When Agis had gone to meet Tithian two days ago, Caro had excused himself on the pretense of relieving his bladder. He had not returned until just before Agis left the stadium. Even then, Sadira had been suspicious of the dwarf’s prolonged absence. When she had heard about the interruption that ruined the assault on the high templar’s mind, she had immediately concluded that the dwarf was a spy and pulled Agis aside to warn him.

“The dwarf who was with you at the slave auction?” Ktandeo demanded.

Agis put his wine aside with a sour face. “When you look at what Tithian knows and what Caro could have told him, it seems likely,” Agis said. “I still find it difficult to accept. Caro’s been loyal to my family for two hundred years.”

“You’re overestimating the strength of a slave’s loyalty,” Sadira said.

“Perhaps, but Caro’s focus is serving the Asticles family. Do you know what it would mean if he betrayed me?”

“Eternal damnation seems a high price to pay for betrayal,” Ktandeo agreed. “Still, Athas is full of dwarven banshees, and we have no way of knowing what Tithian may have offered him. I hope you had enough sense not to tell your servant where you are now.”

Agis nodded. “I sent him home the same day of my meeting with Tithian. He hasn’t seen us since.”

“Let’s hope so,” Ktandeo answered. He stared at his cane’s pommel. “What you saw in Tithian’s memory is worrisome.” He looked to Sadira. “I owe you an apology, my dear. You were right-nothing is more important than killing Kalak, and as soon as possible.”

“Why?” Sadira and Agis asked the question simultaneously.

Ktandeo raised his hand and shook his head. “Let us pray you never learn the answer,” he said, switching his gaze to Agis. “Now, what do you make of Tithian’s proposal? Surely you don’t think the high templar can be trusted?”

“Only to do what is best for himself,” Agis replied. “But I do think he’s sincere about working with you.”

“Then you’re a fool,” answered Ktandeo.

“Perhaps not,” Agis countered. “Kalak has put Tithian in a hopeless situation. He has no choice except to turn to the king’s enemies for help.”

Sadira added, “At the same time, he warned Agis to watch himself, so-”

A handful of muffled cries sounded in the plaza outside the wineshop, interrupting Sadira. Though the curtain remained drawn, it was not thick enough to muffle the panicked voices. The half-elf was rising to investigate the noise when the barman stuck his head around the edge of the curtain. In his hand, he held the satchel in which Sadira had been carrying her spellbook when Radurak captured her.

“Templars!” the barman hissed. He shoved the satchel into her hands and left.

Sadira turned to Ktandeo. “Where did he get this?” she gasped, slinging it over her shoulder. She was so delighted to have it back that she was hardly concerned about the templars.

“From Radurak, of course,” the old man answered curtly. “There’s no time to discuss that now. Tithian’s offer was bait, and you two swallowed it!”

The sorcerer tipped the stone bench onto its side. Beneath it, a cobweb-filled stairway descended into the murky earth at a precariously steep angle. To Sadira’s elven vision, the first few feet of the stone stairs were outlined in blue tones emitted by the cool rock. Beyond that, the passage was as dark to her as it was to her human companions.

“Where does this go?” Agis demanded.

Before anyone could answer, the harsh, demanding voice of a templar sounded outside the curtain. Without waiting for Ktandeo’s command, the half-elf took Agis’s hand and led him into the stairwell. As the old sorcerer followed, he pulled the bench back into place, plunging the stairwell into darkness. The red hues of her companions’ warm bodies and the blue hues of the cold stone provided all the illumination Sadira needed, but she knew her human friends would be completely blind in the darkness.

“I can cast a light spell,” she whispered.

“Absolutely not!” came the old man’s reply. “Go!” The half-elf started down the stairs, guiding Agis by the hand. Ktandeo followed a step behind, his cane quietly tapping each stair before he stepped on it. As they descended, the silky filaments of the cobwebs slipped over Sadira’s bare shoulders like a gossamer shawl, sending shivers of trepidation down her spine. Several times, imagining that something had crawled beneath her chemise, she had to stifle the urge to slap at her back.

Worse than the cobwebs was the thick layer of dust covering the stairs. With each step, small puffs billowed up to tickle her nose and throat, vexing her with the urge to sneeze and cough. The dust was so deep that the edges of the stairs were slick and treacherous. Several times, Sadira slipped. Only the strong grip of Agis’s warm hand prevented her from tumbling into the murkiness.

After many moments of hurried descent, they reached the bottom of the stairwell. Then the passage changed into a corridor, which ended almost immediately at a stone wall. Sadira turned around, conscious of a musty smell and the refreshing coolness of subterranean air.

“We’re at the bottom,” she whispered. A loud clunk echoed from the upper end of the stairs. Far above, a narrow shaft of light poured into the stairwell. A black-robed templar appeared at the entrance.

“Go on,” Agis whispered.

“It’s a dead end,” Sadira replied.

“Wrong,” Ktandeo hissed. “Be quiet while I take care of our friends.”

The old man calmly waited as the templars lit torches and began descending the stairs. The heat of the small flames overpowered Sadira’s elven vision with painful white light, but her eyes quickly adjusted back to normal.

As the first templar reached the halfway point, a crooked smile crossed Ktandeo’s lips. “Cover your ears.”

The old man pointed the tip of his cane up the stairwell and uttered a single word, “Nok.” A deep red light blossomed in the heart of the glassy pommel.

Sadira gasped as a strange tingle stirred deep inside her belly. The half-elf clasped her hands over her ears just as Ktandeo whispered, “Ghostfire.”

A tremendous blast slammed through the corridor. Dust and stone chips showered down on the trio, and the air itself beat against them. A geyser of nebulous light shot up the stairwell. At first it merely washed over the men on the stairs, illuminating their frightened faces in a roiling, ruby-hued stream. For more than a second, the astonished templars remained motionless inside the crimson ray, their mouths gaping open and their hands clutching their short swords.

The spell began to fade. The skin of those caught within its beam grew ashen and flaky. Flesh poured off their bodies in a fine powder, and screams filled the stairwell. Some men tried to flee up the stairs, and others charged downward. Their efforts did little good, for as the light grew dimmer, their hair, eyes, and even their entrails turned to ash. By the time the stairwell returned to darkness and Sadira was once again relying on her elven vision, all that remained of the templars was a mass of charred bones clattering down the steps.

“The cane drew its energy through us!” Agis gasped.

“What kind of magic is that?” Sadira demanded. Ktandeo had never told her it was possible to draw magical energy from animal life.

Ktandeo let out a fatigued gasp. He reached out for Agis’s shoulder, but could not find it in the darkness. Sadira stepped past the noble and slipped her shoulder under the old man’s arm. To her eyes, the color of his body had faded from deep red to pink. Ktandeo’s magic had apparently drawn most of its energy from the old man himself.

Supporting himself on Sadira’s shoulder, the sorcerer staggered to the end of the corridor and tapped his cane against a stone. “Push there,” he gasped.

With her free arm, Sadira guided Agis forward, and he gave the stone a shove. A door-sized slab pivoted open in front of them as more templars stepped into the top of the stairwell. The king’s men descended rapidly, cursing and kicking at the bones of their dead fellows.

“Take them alive!” yelled a commanding voice.

Sadira prodded Agis through the door. “We should have killed Caro when we had the chance.”

“This only proves it wasn’t him,” objected Agis. “He doesn’t know where we are.

“Quiet!” Ktandeo gasped, pushing Sadira through the doors. Once they were clear, Sadira quickly inspected their dark surroundings while Agis closed the door. Ahead lay a silent cavern smelling of mildew and decay. It was filled with the round, cool-blue shapes of rocky pillars rising more than ten feet ovehead to disappear into a yellowish mass of gauzy filament that hung from the ceiling.

“Nok,” Ktandeo said again, speaking the word that activated his cane, then named the spell he wished to use. “Forestlight.”

The pommel of his cane began to glow. Sadira blinked, and then she saw that the obsidian ball was surrounded by a small circle of eerie violet light. She felt a faint tingle in her gut as the cane drew energy from her.

Muffled voices began to sound through the stone slab at their backs. Ktandeo led them away, moving at a painfully slow pace. Sadira knew he would never be able to outrun the templars. Fortunately, the trio had already traveled many yards into the pillar forest by the time the hidden door behind them began to scrape open.

The old sorcerer ran the palm of his hand over his cane’s pommel, and the violet light faded away. Behind them, the torchlit forms of templars began to pour into the cavern.

“You’re our eyes now,” Ktandeo whispered, pulling Sadira to the front of the party. “I’ll hold your hand. Agis, you hold my cane. Keep an eye on what’s happening behind us.”

Sadira glanced over her shoulder and saw that the number of templars gathering outside the door had risen to more than a dozen. “Where are we going?”

Grasping her by the shoulders, Ktandeo oriented her so that she faced exactly the same direction as him. “Straight ahead. Count fifty pillars and stop.”

The half-elf took her master’s hand and started walking at the fastest pace she judged Ktandeo could endure.

A templar’s strident voice echoed through the quiet cavern. “They went this way! Ten silver for every man here if we catch them alive. Ten lashes if they escape!”

“Agis?” Sadira asked, continuing forward. She did not look back, for she did not want her elven vision washed out by the heat of the templars’ torches.

“They’re following our path,” he reported.

“Run!” Ktandeo hissed.

“But-”

“Do it!” he ordered.

Holding Ktandeo’s hand, Sadira set off at a jog, her steps falling silently on the cold stone floor. Behind her, the old sorcerer stumbIed and scraped along, his breath coming in unsteady, rasping wheezes. Agis brought up the rear, his footfalls muffled and steady. Though their passage could hardly be called hushed, the half-elf did not worry. Their pursuers were making so much noise that she and her friends could have spoken aloud without concern.

After Sadira passed the correct number of pillars, she stopped. “This is it,” she said. “How close are they, Agis?”

“Three city blocks. Maybe less,” he answered. “It’s hard to tell.”

“How are they following us?” Sadira asked. “Cilops?”

“I don’t see any sign of handlers or animals,” Agis said, scraping his foot along the rocky floor.

The old sorcerer hefted his walking stick. “Let’s see if I can’t slow them down a bit.”

Fearing Ktandeo was too weak to use the cane again, Sadira pushed it down. “Allow me.”

Kneeling at the base of the pillar, the sorceress fetched a piece of charcoal from the shoulder satchel that held her spellbook, then traced a series of flame-shaped runes at the bottom of the column.

“We’d better hurry. They’re running hard,” Agis advised. “I can almost see their faces. They must be only a block or two back by now.”

Sadira pointed at the ceiling and summoned the energy she needed for the spell. To her surprise, a large circle of the gauzy filament overhead shriveled up and turned black. The filament had to be some sort of strange plant. Thankful that Ktandeo could not see what she had done, Sadira spoke her incantation and rose.

Agis whispered, “They’ll see us soon.”

“I’m ready,” Sadira answered, also whispering. “Now where, Ktandeo?”

“Twenty pillars to the right,” the old man gasped.

“Let’s go.” Agis said.

Sadira took Ktandeo’s hand and led him away. They had traveled only six pillars when a templar cried out, “I see them!”

“I hope your spell works,” Ktandeo huffed.

“You’ll be proud,” Sadira promised, continuing forward.

A few seconds later, a loud crack echoed behind them. Sadira looked over her shoulders and saw a pillar of golden, fluidlike flame consume the leader of the templar column. The man screamed and whirled in a wild dance of agony, throwing great globes of golden flame all around.

The commander shouted orders for the rear of the column to circle around and take the lead. As the templars obeyed, more sprays of flame erupted from the base of the pillar, shooting directly for the nearest men. More templars burst into flame. Within moments the cavern was glowing with golden light and echoing with anguished screams. The templars fell into complete disarray.

“Let’s go,” Agis said. “Their confusion won’t last forever.”

“Wait a moment,” Sadira replied, motioning her companions to hide behind a pillar.

She pointed a hand upward and summoned the energy for another spell. Again, a circle of the gauzy flora overhead shriveled and turned black. This time, the small skeleton of some long-dead cavern animal tumbled from the ceiling and landed at Ktandeo’s feet. The thing had a flat, circular skull with four eye sockets and six legs.

Ktandeo’s eyes went from the skeleton to the ceiling, then the old man gasped. “Look what you did.”

Sadira cringed at the reprimand, knowing it would eventually result in a long lecture, then cast her spell. A glimmering yellow light, resembling a distant torch, appeared amidst the pillars to the right of the templars. It slowly began to drift away.

For the next few moments, Sadira held her breath and hoped the simple conjuration would be enough to fool the templars. She had intended to enhance the deception by adding ghostly voices to the phantom torch, but that was out of the question now that Ktandeo had seen how delicate the strange plantlife on the ceiling was.

At last, a templar noticed the light. “What’s that?” he cried, barely making his voice heard above the general clamor.

Sadira gestured at the light, and it danced away as if running. The templars followed, screaming orders at each other and leaving their burning companions behind to die.

“Now we can go,” Sadira said.

She led her companions forward until she had counted twenty pillars, as Ktandeo had instructed. “Now where?” she asked. The templars were no more than distant voices of turmoil, and Sadira was once again relying on her elven vision to see in the dark.

“Turn half a step to the left,” Ktandeo panted, barely able to speak.

“I think we can rest for a minute,” Agis said, supporting the old man. “We seem to have lost them.”

“What are all these strange columns for?” Sadira asked, inspecting the pillar closest to her. It had a woodlike grain, but the thing felt like solid rock.

“I assume you’re looking at the pilings,” Agis replied, blindly facing Sadira’s voice. “Those are the foundations of the city. This is UnderTyr.”

“Tyr is built on pillars?” Sadira asked. “Why?”

“According to legend, Tyr once sat in the middle of a vast swamp-”

“That’s more than legend,” Ktandeo said weakly, his voice lacking its customary strength. “But we have more important things to discuss-such as the destruction Sadira’s spellcasting caused.”

“What was I supposed to do, let them catch us?” she demanded.

“Yes,” Ktandeo answered, fixing his eyes on the darkness over Sadira’s head. “You must maintain the Balance at all costs. Once you become like the sorcerer-king and his minions, there’s no coming back to our way.”

“I thought you said killing Kalak was more important than-”

A pair of fine-featured men with the arched brows and slender features of half-elves jumped from behind the pillar at Ktandeo’s back. Both wore the heavy cassocks of templars. One of them stood nearly as tall as a full elf, and the other had an unusually stocky build.

“Behind you!” Sadira yelled, grabbing Ktandeo and pulling him toward her. “Templars!”

The tall half-elf tossed a rope net in her direction. The square mesh settled over her shoulders before she could react. Immediately the templar cinched the drawline, and the bottom of the net contracted, pinning her arms against her body.

Ktandeo activated his cane’s violet light.

Though she had little chance of freeing herself, Sadira continued to struggle, hoping to keep the tall half-elf busy.

“Commander!” cried one of the half-elves. “Over here!”

Ktandeo raised his arms to use his magic, but the stocky templar called the king’s name and pointed a finger at the old sorcerer, casting a spell of his own. Ktandeo’s hands grew stiff, and his incantation came out in a jumble of meaningless phrases. The sorcerer tried to shrug off the templar’s magic, but could do no better than to move at half the speed of everyone else.

Agis drew his steel dagger. He sent the stocky half-elf reeling with a kick to the stomach, then stepped toward Sadira and slashed the rope holding her prisoner.

The tall templar dropped the net and backed away before Agis could strike again. The noble whirled on the other ambusher, catching the stocky half-elf just as he was recovering from the first kick and reaching for his sword. Agis drew his dagger across the man’s throat before the man’s weapon left the scabbard.

The effects of the enchantment upon Ktandeo ended. He took two steps forward and stumbled over the half-elf Agis had just killed. The old man fell to the ground in a heap.

By the time Agis turned to face the tail half-elf again, the templar had fled into the dark. Instead of attacking, the noble finished cutting the sorceress free.

“We’d better move,” Ktandeo groaned, slowly returning to his feet. “Look.”

He pointed back the way they had come. Sadira could already see torches moving in their direction.

“How are we going to escape?” she asked.

“Follow me,” Ktandeo said.

Wheezing and gasping, the old man led the way at a slow run, lighting their path with his glowing cane. The templar commander’s harsh voice echoed behind the trio as he shouted orders to his subordinates. Each time, the voice was louder.

“Maybe you should darken your cane, Ktandeo,” Sadira suggested. “It’s making us easy to follow.”

“It’s not my cane they’ve been following so far,” he huffed. The sorcerer braced his hands on his knees and looked ahead, to where the forest of pilings ended. From there the ground sloped down at a steep angle. “Besides, we’re almost safe.”

Ktandeo took a deep breath, then led them down a bank to a small cobblestone courtyard. Although she was surprised to see such a thing under the city, Sadira had no time to puzzle over its origin. As they crossed the courtyard, she kept her attention focused over her shoulder, glancing at the ground only occasionally to look for obstacles. By the time they reached the other side of the small courtyard, the first templars were standing at the top of the embankment. They were close enough that she could distinguish between the ones who had mustaches or beards and those who did not. Many of them had stopped pursuing and were staring over her head with their jaws drooping open.

Sadira looked forward and saw the reason for their shock. Ktandeo’s cane was illuminating the facade of an immense building of granite block, the likes of which she had never seen before. A great apron of stairs led up to several pairs of ornate doors, each set into a high arch covered by a gabled porch. Beautiful windows of colored glass adorned the gables, each depicting a tall man with the head of an eagle, a huge pair of leathery wings, and the lower body of a coiled serpent.

“What is this place?” Sadira asked, awestruck.

“It’s the Crimson Shrine,” Ktandeo wheezed, slowly climbing the stairs. “A temple of the ancients.”

Sadira and Agis froze, for such places were rumored to be the homes of wraiths and ghosts.

“Beneath Tyr?” Agis asked.

“Before Tyr was a swamp, it was a sacred wood,” Ktandeo replied, not bothering to turn as he spoke. “That was two thousand years ago. The city was built around this temple.”

On the far side of the courtyard, the templar commander barked, “Don’t waste time gaping! If they get inside, I’ll send you in after them!”

Sadira and Agis started after the old man. “How do you know all this?” Agis asked.

“I’ve spoken with those who inhabit the temple,” the old man answered, reaching the top of the stairs.

As Sadira stepped to Ktandeo’s side, the purple light of his cane illuminated the wall high above them. Four pairs of tall, dagger-shaped windows flanked a statue depicting the eagle-headed figure in flight. In the windows the figure was shown in flight, too, and from a bucket carried beneath its arm, it was sprinkling rain over a green forest.

As she studied the wall, Sadira glimpsed a black, man-shaped shadow passing behind one of the dagger-shaped windows. It peered down at Sadira and her companions, setting the slave girl’s heart to pounding with fear.

“You aren’t thinking of taking us in there?” she asked.

“The pure of heart have nothing to fear in the Crimson Shrine,” Ktandeo said.

Agis followed the sorcerer toward the door, but Sadira did not move. “What do you mean by ‘pure of heart’?”

Ktandeo pointed his cane at the square below. “You can face the crimson knights or Kalak’s mindbenders. Only you know which choice to make.”

Seeing that a dozen of the king’s bureaucrats had already moved halfway across the courtyard, Sadira said, “I’ll try the knights.”

Ktandeo motioned for Agis to open the doors of the temple. The noble obeyed, then stepped backward in alarm. “By Ral!”

In the doorway stood a wraith dressed head to foot in steel armor. Its visor was open, revealing two red eyes that looked out from a mass of churning darkness. Over its breastplate hung a pearly tabard decorated with the eagle-headed figure so prominently depicted in the temple’s facade, and from the crown of its helm rose a fantastic red plume. The wraith held a tall halberd, and its burning eyes were fixed on Agis.

Beyond the guard lay a cavernous room lit by a thousand candles flickering with a brilliant red flame. It seemed that every inch of the church had been carved with bas reliefs of fantastic creatures.

“It’s amazing!” Agis gasped. “What keeps all those candles lit, magic?”

“There is no magic in this temple,” Ktandeo said. “Faith keeps the candles burning.”

Sadira cast an anxious eye behind them. The twelve templars had reached the bottom of the stairs. On the far side of the square, the templar commander was shouting orders to the rest of his men, sending them along the edge of the embankment to encircle the area.

“If we’re going inside, let’s do it,” she said.

Ktandeo slipped past the wraith and entered the temple, the violet glow of his cane dying as he crossed the threshold. The area outside the door grew dim but did not fall entirely dark. The light of the shrine’s candles illuminated the entire stairway.

Agis motioned for Sadira to enter next, but she shook her head. “You first,” she said.

The noble stepped toward the door with his customary confidence and poise. As his foot crossed the threshold, the wraith struck him across the brow with the butt of its halberd.

“No!” Its deep voice echoed far into the pylon forest. Agis let out a surprised cry, then stumbled backward holding his bleeding brow.

“Cursed nobles!” Ktandeo growled, half-stepping out of the door.

“Why won’t it let him in?” Sadira demanded, addressing her question half to her master and half to the ghostly guard.

“Because he owns slaves, perhaps, or for some other vice,” the old sorcerer said, raising his cane and pointing the tip toward the twelve templars on the stairs. “Get down, both of you.”

As Sadira and Agis obeyed, Ktandeo uttered, “Nok! Quietstorm!”

Sadira felt her stomach tense, then a beam of white light silently shot from the cane’s tip. It illuminated the face of the closest templar. The man’s torch went out, and he quietly crumpled to the ground in a lifeless heap. A second bolt of light shot from the cane, and Sadira felt more energy being drained from her body. Another templar fell dead. A third flash followed, and then a fourth and a fifth. Each time, another torch went out, another templar died, and Sadira felt a little weaker.

By the time the cane flared the twelfth time, Sadira lay on the stones gasping for breath and fighting to keep from retching. When she could finally lift her head again, she saw that Ktandeo still stood bathed in light from the interior of temple. He was hunched over and struggling to support himself by hanging onto the door. Agis lay to her right, holding his bleeding head and drawing slow, even breaths.

“You chided me for killing a little ceiling moss?” she gasped.

Ktandeo looked up, seeming immeasurably old and feeble. His whole body heaved with the simple effort of breathing.

“I have taken nothing that cannot be replenished,” the sorcerer wheezed. “What you did destroyed-” He broke into a fit of coughing. When he finished, he said, “You know the difference. Now come. If we close the door, perhaps Agis can sneak away in the darkness.”

Agis nodded. “Go on,” he said. “My strength is coming back. I’ll be fine. Even if they capture me, I doubt Tithian will let them do me any harm.”

“I’m not taking that chance,” Sadira insisted, her strength also returning. “We have to change the guard’s mind and get Agis inside.”

“The guard has no mind to change,” Ktandeo answered weakly. “All it has is faith in its god’s teachings, and those teachings prohibit Agis from entering this temple.”

On the far side of the courtyard, another half-dozen templars started down the steep bank. Agis rose and started to leave, but Sadira caught his arm.

“The god can’t still be alive! Kalak would never stand for that beneath his own city,” Sadira objected. “The guard has nothing to lose by making an exception.”

“You don’t understand,” Ktandeo said, pulling himself completely upright. “The gods of the ancients aren’t sorcerer-kings. They were much more powerful, and those who worshiped them did so with all their hearts-not the way the templars worship Kalak.”

“What happened to these ancient gods?” Agis asked.

Ktandeo shook his head. “Like all glories of the past, they faded away. No one knows why.”

Sadira pulled Agis toward the doorway. “I don’t care about the decree of some dead god or a wraith’s blind faith in it.”

Ktandeo blocked her way. “To let Agis in, the guard must break its faith,” the old man said, his voice growing stronger. He pointed toward the interior of the shrine. “Every time a crimson knight breaks its faith, a candle goes out. Does it look like many lights have died in the last two-thousand years?”

Sadira did not have time to study the room, but at first glance she did not see any unlit candles.

“If you must stay with Agis, then stay with him,” Ktandeo said, pulling the door closed until only a silver of red light escaped the temple. “Leave me here and go. I’ll be safe until my strength returns, and you two will stand a better chance of escaping without me.”

“Where will I find you again?” Sadira asked.

“I’ll find you,” Ktandeo answered, motioning them away. He kept the door cracked open so he could watch them leave.

Sadira took Agis’s hand and fled down the left side of the temple’s stairs. It appeared that the line of templars ahead of them was fairly spread out. She hoped to sneak through one of the dark places between their glowing torches.

The commander’s voice suddenly rang across the square. “They’ve changed directions!” he called. “They’re moving toward the left side of the square!”

The six templars in the square adjusted their approach accordingly.

“How can he track us from up there?” Agis asked, frustrated. “It’s as if he can smell us!”

“Not smell us, but feel us!” Sadira exclaimed, suddenly realizing how the templars had tracked them both to the Drunken Giant and through the dark caverns of UnderTyr.

“What?” Agis asked. “What do you mean?”

“Magically! He can feel where we are by using magic,” Sadira answered. “Do you still have that bronze disk you tried to give the barman?”

“Yes, right here.” He placed the token in the half-elf’s hand.

Sadira smiled in the darkness. “This is what’s leading them to us,” she said, reversing their course and leading Agis back up the stairs. If she was correct about the bronze disk, she thought it would be possible to virtually guarantee their escape.

“Caro must have slipped it into your purse before you sent him home the other day,” Sadira whispered as they reached the top of the stairs. “The templars tracked us to the Drunken Giant with it, then waited for Ktandeo to show up before springing their trap. With this little trinket to help them keep track of us, they could afford to be patient.”

On the far side of the square, the commander yelled a curse, then cried, “They’ve reversed directions! They’re heading toward the temple doors!”

The six templars in the square turned back toward the center of the shrine. Fortunately, the six men’s little detour had delayed their progress, and they were only halfway across the square.

“Dozens of men went in and out of the wineshop every day,” Agis objected. “How would the templars know which one was your contact?”

“Caro again,” Sadira answered, working her way back toward the sliver of red light where Ktandeo still held the temple door cracked open. “He was there when you bought me at Radurak’s auction. He would have been able to describe Ktandeo from that incident.”

Ahead of her, the flickering shaft of light widened as the door opened. Ktandeo stuck his head outside. “I’ll cover your escape, Sadira,” he called in a throaty rasp. In the dim red glow shining from the doorway, the sorceress saw him point his cane at the six templars in the square. “Run.”

“Wait-”

In the same instant that Sadira spoke, Ktandeo activated his cane, then called, “Groundflame!”

A glob of fluorescing green gas spewed from the cane and wafted over the center of the square. The templars stopped moving as the cloud descended in their midst. The stones began to sizzle, and the glowing haze spread out across the square like a ground fog. In the blink of an eye, it changed color to vibrant blue. There was a blinding flash, and the templars screamed once. When Sadira’s vision cleared again, the square was completely dark.

Ktandeo groaned and grasped at the door to keep from slumping to the ground. The sorceress moved to catch him, but a tremendous thunderclap reverberated off the cavern’s rocky ceiling and floor. A bolt of lighting flashed across the courtyard and slammed into the open door.

“Ktandeo!” Sadira shrieked, momentarily blinded.

As her vision cleared, the sorceress saw that the bolt had not even scorched the church door. She dared to hope Ktandeo had escaped injury, then she saw the old man’s crumpled figure lying between the double door.

Sadira rushed forward and snatched his cane from where it had fallen. As she kneeled at the old man’s side, she saw warm blood streaming from his ears and mouth. Though the lightning bolt had not even scorched the temple’s door, it had slammed the door into Ktandeo, crushing his ribs.

The sorceress slipped the cane into her master’s hand. “Will this help?” she asked. Tears began running down her cheeks and dripping onto the old man’s face.

Ktandeo pushed the cane away. “No, that wand only takes life.” He suffered a fit of violent coughing and spewed up a gob of bright red fluid. When he could finally speak again, he said, “Sadira, you must go to Nok.”

“Nok?” she asked. “Where-”

The old man grasped her wrist. “Listen! Take my cane, go to Nok in the halfling forests. Get the spear and kill Kalak. Tithian betrayed you, but the danger he showed Agis is real.”

“What about that danger?” Sadira asked. “Tell me.”

“Nok, he will-” He fell into another fit of coughing, and Sadira waited patiently for him to stop. She did not even try to suggest that the old man would survive. The lie would have been obvious to both of them, and she would not insult the man who had taught her magic that way.

When Ktandeo stopped coughing, he motioned her close to him. “You’ll learn the answer there,” he said. “There is one other thing I must tell you, Sadira.”

She leaned over to hear his final words. “Yes.”

“Be careful,” he said, gesturing toward the satchel that contained her spellbook. “If the templars hadn’t come, I wouldn’t have given that back to you. You’re walking too close to the edge. Step off, and you will fall so far you’ll never see the light again.”

With that, he gave one last cough and closed his eyes forever.