Read Online Ruins of Myth Drannor by Carrie Bebris - Free Book Online

sixteen years of constant wear.
    “Ozama’s spell kept me safe from the ravages of time and enemies,” Jarial said. “Though I did begin to fear I would go mad. At first, of course, I pondered the riddle every waking moment. When no solution came to me, I shouted myself hoarse calling for help. That attracted the attention of some of the undercity’s more unpleasant residents, who offered no aid but found it entertaining to come in here and torment me.”
    Jarial’s little-used voice sounded scratchy. The poor man was probably parched. Corran offered him some water, which the mage accepted gratefully.
    “You’re a sorcerer,” Kestrel prodded. “Couldn’t you use magic to free yourself?”
    “Believe me, I tried! After going through all the spells I knew, I started devising new ones.” Jarial smiled ruefully. “Though I had the satisfaction of using some of my mocking antagonists for target practice, I still couldn’t gain my freedom.” He continued kneading the muscles of his legs, trying to rub life back into them.
    “After giving up on using sorcery to free myself, I spent probably another year just saying aloud every word I could possibly think of, hoping to accidentally stumble on the answer. Obviously, that strategy proved ineffective as well. Eventually, I stopped bothering to even use magic to light this room. I’d just consigned myself to spending eternity here, alone in the darkness with only my own thoughts for company.” The lonely sorcerer tried again to rise, but his legs remained too weak to support him.
    “Here, drink this.” Ghleanna offered him a small vial of bluish liquid, one of the potions they had found on Athan’s band. Faeril had identified it as a healing potion made of blueglow moss, a local plant renowned for its curative properties but now in short supply. “You’ll never manage to massage away years of disuse.”
    Jarial swallowed the dose and within minutes was able to walk around the chamber. When his stride had steadied, he held the foursome in his gaze. “I can’t thank you enough,” he said. “What quest brings you to these dungeons? You must let me aid you.”
    Kestrel laughed humorlessly. He was welcome to take her place.

    The band, now five in number, continued through the maze of passages. Jarial thought he remembered the location of a stairway that led up into the hill of the acropolis, so at his suggestion the party backtracked to a previous fork and headed down a different corridor.
    A few yards down, light spilled out of a doorway. Within, they heard sounds of shuffling and sporadic muttering as if someone were talking to himself. Kestrel snuck ahead and peered inside.
    Nottle the peddler bent over an open trunk, rummaging through its contents. “An’ what’s this? Ah, yes! Dwarven weapons always fetch a good price.”
    Kestrel blinked. The peddler was foraging through the dungeons as casually as if he were shopping in Phlan’s marketplace. Was the little guy trying to get himself killed? She motioned to the others to join her, then entered the chamber. Engrossed in his scavenging, the halfling didn’t even notice her.
    “Nottle, what are you doing here?”
    “Yiaah!” The peddler jumped about a foot. The short sword he’d been holding clattered back into the chest. “Jeepers! Ye scared me!”
    “Worse things than us could stroll into this room,” Kestrel said as her companions entered. “How did you get in here?”
    “I saw ye folks unseal the door, and I follow’d ye in. Them elven clerics mean well an’ all, but thanks t’ them I ain’t been able to git in here fer weeks—all the good stuff’s nearly gone.”
    The paladin shook his head in disbelief. “You’re telling us this whole dungeon complex has been plundered in a matter of weeks?” Corran asked. “By whom?”
    “Everyone!” Nottle retrieved the short sword he’d dropped and added it to the collection of booty he evidently intended to abscond with. “Since them horrible phaerimm and alhoon have been run outta this part o’the city,