While his companions were pursuing the kidnapped girl underground, Drake followed his own pursuit of the Maid Carissa on the surface. The Constable’s townhouse was not far from Khundari Square, where the snatch had occurred, and a five minute dash through the relatively quiet streets of this fashionable side of town found him outside the shuttered and silent mansion.

While he paused in the street, considering how best to continue (should he try and break in, just knock on the door, create some elaborate diversion?), he heard a sudden hiss from behind him. Whirling around, he was confronted by two Hand of Vengeance mercs, motioning him from a doorway across the street.

Rigan and Justav were part of the round-the-clock watch that Colith One-eye had put on the Ser Danyes’ residence since the Hand had arrived in the city. They recognized Drake, and wanted to know what he was doing, trying to blow their cover?

Once he had explained the situation, they immediately fell in to plotting with him on how best to proceed. But before any decision could be reached an armed & armored figure was seen hurrying up the street and going straight to the door of the townhouse. His pounding soon brought a response, and he quickly slipped in through the narrowly opened door.

It was less than 10 minutes later when the door opened again and both the man and Ser Danyes himself emerged and set off down the street at a brisk pace. The Constable wore a cloak of dark green silk, pulling the hood up over his head and concealing his face. It took no time for Drake to decide to follow the pair. Sending Rigan to seek out Colith and bring him and the Hand back to the townhouse, he took Justav with him to act as a relay.

For 15 minutes they followed the Constable and his henchman through the streets of the city. Although less trafficked than usual, due to the Summer Fair, there were enough people on the streets to make avoiding detection easy, despite Ser Danyes’ constant looking from side to side…

They eventually arrived in a more commercial, and much less genteel, part of town, near the city walls along the river docks. There, the two men entered a moderately sized two-story warehouse. The sign out front said Kardeth & Son, Bonded Merchantyler.

After watching outside for a few minutes, Drake and Justav decided their only course was to follow them in, pretending to want warehouse space if necessary. Inside they found a mostly empty space, only a few crates and barrels scattered about, and no sign of the Constable or his minion. The only person seemed to be a guard, who politely inquired after their business.

A few minutes of question brought only bland, generic responses and the suggestion that they seek out Master Kardeth at his home office. Finally Drake had had enough and decided to attack the fellow, subdue him, and search the premises.

Unfortunately, being Drake, his attack fell a little short of success, and the guard managed to grapple him into a choke hold. With Drake holding him back, struggling to break the grip, the man seemed determined to reach a pulley on the nearby wall.

Luckily for Drake, he had Justav with him, who managed to knock the watchman senseless with his sword pommel just before he could grasp the pull. Nothing was said as they tied the fellow to a post… Drake trusts no unfortunate stories will be making the rounds in the Company…

Uncertain if the pull worked an alarm or a secret door, the two decided to search the building before doing anything rash, a rare show of good sense. Twenty minutes of careful poking about finally bore fruit in one of the four smaller rooms that lined the back wall.

The last one was an office, with desk, chair, and bookcase, and it was here that Drake discovered a secret door behind the latter. How jejune, but sometimes the classics work best. One he figured out how to open it, he sent Justav running back to the Constable’s townhouse, there to rendezvous with Rigan and Colith and company and direct them back here.

As he took a torch and descended the narrow stone stairs into darkness, he wondered what the hell he was doing…

♦ ♦ ♦

Elsewhere, and somewhat earlier, with the secret door in the sewers pried open, the rest of the Hand of Fortune began their own decent further into the depths below the city. With two torches to light the way, Devrik led them into a passage that slowly widened to 10 feet, with a flat ceiling 8 feet above them. More room than the 6-foot barrel ceilings of the sewers, and definitely drier, but creepier, somehow, with stonework that was cruder, simpler than the sewers, if not seemingly much older.

For some fifty feet they could sense the passage gradually sloping down-ward, until ended in a flight of very steep stairs. Pausing, nothing could be heard or seen from the depths, so Devrik continued on, Erol and Vulk at his back with torches, and Mariala bringing up the rear.

At the bottom of the long flight, an archway opened into a semicircular room some 30 feet across at the widest point. The style of stonework here was obviously much older than anything they’d seen so far, with bold, almost brutal lines. Mariala would later recognize the architectural style of the Necromancer. Another archway could be made out across the room, and two to either side.

But Devrik, Erol and Vulk barely had time to register that much, when a skittering and sudden hissing told them they were not alone. Mariala was still on the last few steps when a pack of taloxta, the much feared Eaters of Eyes that had just a month earlier almost cost Devrik an eye, and maybe his life, leapt out of the darkness and on to their prey.

Four each attacked the three men, clawing and biting and trying to gouge out an eye. Devrik was grimly pleased with the effectiveness of his new 3/4-helm, bought for just such an occasion – though they ripped and tore at his clothing and armor, none of the little bastards caused a scratch.

Vulk was less lucky, taking some hits to his neck, shoulder and upper arm, though none were serious. He managed to cripple one of the little killers, hamstringing it’s left leg, leaving it running in circles on the floor, and Mariala cast a Firenerve spell on another.

Erol was the one who came closest to disaster in the encounter, when the initial rush allowed one of the raptors to strike at his face with it’s claws, barely missing his eye and leaving a nasty gash down his left cheek.

Once over the initial shock, the group rallied and managed to beat off the rest of the tiny monsters, although Devrik’s method was the most spectacular – grabbing a seed fire from Erol’s torch, he stepped aside and cast a Fireball spell, slamming it down on his own thigh. This engulfed both him and his attackers, stunning or killing all of them and doing no real damage to his well-armored self.

Once the rest of the attacking beasties were dispatched, and the stunned or wounded ones crushed, stabbed or otherwise sent out of this world (Devrik took great joy in running his sword through their eyes), there was time to look around.

The switch which released the taloxta was concealed, although not hidden, to the right of the door, and it was obvious that Jarath had pulled it as he passed through, opening the four small grates that covered the openings into the creature’s lair. But which way had he taken Carissa from here?

It was about 15 feet down the central passage that Mariala caught a flash of something on the floor – a very distinctive button from one of maid Carissa’s dresses. Mariala knew the dress, and estimated she had 15 buttons in total… if she was being clever, and leaving a trail, tracking her might be easier than they’d expected.

They continued on, passing branching passageways, as the corridor curved gently to the right. But at each possible juncture, they found another button some 10 feet into one of them, and they made good time, even if it wasn’t fast enough for Devrik.

In about 15 minutes, after another set of stairs, less steep and long, the group came to a long corridor, at the end of which was a set of double doors, made of age-blackened ironwood, with crusted hinges and hardware. The doors were slightly ajar, and a faint light could be seen from within, and voices could be heard, raised in argument.

Erol snuck forward to peer in and listen. He could see a large room, and in his line of sight two men, a large table with alchemical looking beakers and jars, and a large iron grate in the floor. A third man, unseen to the left of the other two, was speaking, chastising one of the two.

This turned out to be the Constable of Dür, chastising his lieutenant Jarath Pudos for bringing “the girl” to their lair. Pudos had understood his boss to have said that the missing girl could be a great advantage to them, and when the opportunity had arisen to seize her from the crowd, he’d taken it.

But Ser Danyes angrily explained that what he had meant was, with almost all of the Earl’s men and retainers out searching, and the man himself distracted and fearful, this was the perfect time to attempt one final assassination. Nothing fancy or baroque this time, just send in men to kill him and burn his evidence of the Constable’s skimming. He had just been sending out his hit squad when Ferdak had arrived with Jarath’s message and had pulled him away to this distraction.

The second man, who was named as Darith, was soft spoken and suggested that the girl might yet prove useful to them. He said it was a shame that this matter of his skimming should be distracting from the real business of the Vortex, and suggested that he would be saddened if the Constable were to be seen by their mutual masters as more liability than asset.

At this point the group had heard enough, once Erol had relayed it to them, and they decided to act. Mariala was the first through the door this time, hurling one of the flash grenades that she had taken from Ser Andro into the group of four men (which included the previously unseen Ferdak, to the left of the Constable). When this had blinded the miscreants, the others would rush past her and fall upon them like wolves!

Sadly, the plan sputtered out as the crystal globe smashed to the stone floor and went “pfffft” with barely a glow to mark its passing. It did achieve the result of surprising the gathered men, but unblinded they had time to react before the fighters could close on them.

Ser Danyes retreated to an alcove in the rear corner of the room, where Carissa was chained to the post of a bunkbed, the mage Darith stepped back, shielded by his lab table and equipment, mumbling and gesturing, and the two fighters, Jarath and Ferdak leapt forward to the attack.

Devrik successfully cast Gorten’s Brand on his sword, and with a single thrust dispatched the hapless Ferdak to the Void with a smoking hole in his chest… perhaps the poor man had been hampered by the push cart partially blocking his path. Although it seemed to pose little problem to Devrik…

Meanwhile, Erol engaged with jarath, who proved to be a skilled and dangerous opponent. Although Erol’s trident did manage to find one of the few unarmored points on the man, he still suffered several serious blows himself.

Vulk cast his serpent staff down and sent it to attack the mage, while he himself moved forward to engage the man with his sword. Unfortunately, about this time, the machinations of the slight wizard became clear, as vines suddenly began to shoot up from the three drains in the room: nine from the large central grate, and three each from the two smaller ones to the sides and in back of our heros.

The thick, tough and very fast moving vines whipped around the room, striking at each of the fighters, although Mariala remained out of reach in the doorway. While they managed to dodge many of the twisting vegetables, Erol soon had one wrapped around his thigh, while Vulk had one around both thigh and chest.

Devrik managed to hold off the first wave of vines, but was soon ensnared at his left hand . And each time one of the companions managed to burn off or sever a vine, two more would start to rapidly grow from the wound… the more they killed , the more they had to fight!

Mariala attempted to take out the Constable from across the room with her Firenerve spell, having already wisely cast Resistance on herself, but even as she stepped into the room to do it, she felt a heavy, oppressive weight in her mind… her spell achieved nothing. She now suspected there was a dampening field of some sort in effect in the room, probably negating other convocations of magic aside from Darith’s own. And if it was a Sanctum, then it would be enhancing his own magics…

Devrik turned his attentions to Jarath, who now had both of the group’s best fighters pressing him, but he held his own, even wounding Devrik, however slightly, in the neck. Erol’s erratic temporal ability kept him in the fight, even as Darith managed to turn Vuilk’s snake back on him, forcing the cantor to revert it to staff form, as more vines attacked him.

Despite the powerful shielding effects of his holy defenses, Vulk found himself hard pressed by the vines, and unable to move closer to engage the enemy mage directly. Mariala was soon busy defending herself from the vines, now that she was in the room. Ser Danyes simply held his hostage before him and watch the battle with avid, smug eyes.

And it seemed he might have good reason to be smug. For the next action that his T’ara Kül ally took was to cast a spell over the room that tried to put everyone but himself to sleep. And it succeeded devastatingly well… Although Carissa and the Constable, while they felt the pull of sleep, managed to resist it, as did Erol, Devrik, Mariala and Vulk all dropped like stones. As Vulk fell his torch dropped from his grasp and landed amidst the bubbling alchemical glassware around the lab table, causing one of the vessels to burst into flame. A sea of flaming liquid began to spread over a quarter of the room, blocking the rear exit.

The fallen were quickly bound by more vines; only Erol was left to battle Jarath. Things looked grim. But it was at this moment that Drake, having followed the Constable’s trail from the warehouse, burst in upon the scene. He immediately leapt over Mariala’s prone form to come to Erol’s aid. He instantly swung at Jarath, and struck a mighty blow to the villain’s sword arm – the man’s sword spun from his grasp, clattering to the stone floor, and he staggered back, clutching his arm as blood oozed between his fingers.

Seeing Jarath apparently on the ropes, and confident Erol could finish off the wounded man, Drake decided to take the fight to what was obviously a wizard cowering beyond the now-burning and tilted table, near the back wall. Leaping across the table in an amazing acrobatic move, he hurled himself through the smoke toward the dim shape. The force of his impact sent them both crashing against the table against the back wall, overturning more lab equipment. The mage seemed unfazed, however, even as Drake seized his robes and prepared to smite him. The man just smiled and  raised his hands to grasp at Drake in return…

…and the world went black.

Erol just had time to gasp in dismay as he saw Drake stiffen in the grasp of Darith, a gray wave washing over him almost faster than the eye could see. The form of his friend seemed turned to stone! Daith struggled for a moment to rip his robes from Drake’s now frozen grasp, and then he was moving away from the encroaching flames.

But Erol’s shock at this sudden reverse just lent fury to his trident, once again time seemed to slow down, and he struck a vicious blow to Jarath, wounding him again, even as the man scrambled to regain his sword, left-handed. Jarath staggered up and back, as the color drained further from his face, apparently as determined as ever to continue the battle.

More of the damn vines prevented Erol from following up with a killing blow, as they succeeded in grasping his sword arm and both legs at the groin, squeezing the hell out of his poor balls. But using the torch he freed his arm and, though he took a bit of burn damage to the crotch, he emulated Devrik and used the flame to free his legs (or, more pressingly, his balls).

By that time Jarath had shaken off the initial shock of his latest wounds, and was moving in for the attack once again; Erol met this assault with a flurry of jabs, and Jarath found himself impaled on the trident, a look of surprise on his face. This time he dropped to the ground, blood gushing, as his life ebbed away.

Erol instantly bent to try and wake Devrik, noting that the vines that had bound his friends had begun to slowly blacken and turn to foul-smelling mush. It took only an instant to rouse his friend, and Devrik surged to his feet, feeling for his throwing spear at his back.

His first semi-coherent thought, seeing the petrified form of Drake through the increasingly smoky air, was “How long was I out? When did they have time to carve a statue of Drake?”

His next was focused on Ser Danyes, who had moved forward to stand next to Darith, hold Carissa before him as a shield, his dagger at her throat. He prepared to throw his spear, trusting to his aim to miss the girl and take out the man, before the flames could engulf them all. He stood on the edge of panic, his pyrophobia threatening to seize control; only the danger to Carissa kept him in the burning room.

“Stand down, both of you,” cried the Constable of Dür. “Drop your weapons or the girl dies.”

“She’s your only leverage,” Erol retorted. “Kill her and you follow next.”

“Perhaps,” Danyes sneered. “But I doubt you’d care to explain to her father how you got her killed.”

Erol ignored that and turned to try and wake Mariala, despite the Constable’s barked order to desist. At that moment Devrik’s eyes, already white rimmed in fear, widened a bit more as he saw a blade drop from Carissa’s sleeve and into her hand. With a determined and fierce grimace, she jammed the blade into her captor’s right thigh, making him scream in shrill agony.

His grip loosened, she dropped to her knees and scrambled away from him, even as Devrik loosed his spear at the man’s heart. But in the smoke, confusion, and most of all fear of the flames, his aim was wide and the Constable shivered at the wind of its passage by his head.

As Erol leapt forward to engage Ser Danyes, who drew his own sword, Darith leaned in, grasping his esrtswhile ally by the shoulder and the left wrist, and spoke briefly into his ear. The Constable seemed confused for an instant, but managed to block Erol’s first blow. Darith faded back into the smoke, and it seemed to him Erol that he slipped into the very stone of the wall. In any case, with the next eddy of smoke, the mage was gone.

Ser Danyes was a competent enough swordsman, but against Erol, even wounded and bleeding in half a dozen places, he stood little chance. When he suffered a wound to his arm that caused him to drop his sword, he decided discretion was indeed the better part of valor, and he yielded.

He was noble, after all, and what did they have on him? He might yet save his life, maybe even his position… he did have a great many powerful connections, many of whom owed him favors. And many more with vulnerabilities they would not want exposed… yes, better to take the affronted nobleman pose, and bluff it out to the end!

Erol looked around for Devrik, but found both him and Carissa gone. As soon as Devrik had snatched her from the floor, his instincts had taken over and he had fled the flames as quickly as possible. The smoke, the heat, the flickering light, it all brought back the terrifying memories of his childhood, when he had struggled to save his stepmother and brother from the inferno of their home, an inferno he had created, however unintentionally…

Carissa had pounded on him and yelled at him, trying to get him to go back and save Mariala, and the rest, but he stumbled on in the dark until the air cleared and the coolness soothed his jagged nerves. As his breathing slowly calmed, and he regained control, Carissa sat next to him and patted his arm, telling him it was OK.

As he was preparing to stand up and try to find the way out of the catacombs with no light, they heard the sounds of approaching people and saw the glow of a torch. In a moment they were joined by the rest of the Hand of Fortune, including Drake’s petrified body, which was being hauled in a push cart by Vulk.

“I can’t wait to show Drake this statue they made of him,” he explained to Devrik, who was equally puzzled at the strange artifact. “He’ll be amazed!”

“Er, that is Drake,” Erol offered, limping up, supported by Mariala, who had draped his arm over her shoulder and had hold of his belt. “He was turned to stone by that damned warlock… he showed up after you’d all fallen asleep… not sure how he found us…”

“What?!” screeched Vulk. “And you just left him there? If I hadn’t gone back in to get my staff, he’d still be in there!”

“Well, he didn’t seem to be bothered by the flames,” Erol explained. “I figured we’d come back for him later… and the fire was already dying out…”

They had continued trudging along, slowly, during this argument, and were drawing up to the side passage that had been cut into the older tunnel. From that tunnel they now suddenly heard the sound of many feet, and exhausted as they were, they drew weapons and prepared to fight.

But it was Colith and a squad of Hand of Vengeance mercenaries, led by Rigan and Justav. Colith was overjoyed to see them, with both Carissa and Ser Danyes in train, and better yet, Danyes in chains. But when his eye fell on the petrified form of his brother, he fell back, stricken. He turned to Vulk for answers and was horrified to learn what had happened.

“Yet one more thing to add to your butchers bill, you bastard,” he grated into the Constable’s ear as he hustled him up the passage toward the light of both day and justice.