The party descended the stairs down what would probably be the equivalent of a single floor. Maybe a bit more. They were rough and hewn unevenly, making the party move carefully. Rynn was already at the bottom, where he was staring at a long hallway. He moved quietly down its length, Ranna trailing behind him. It was narrow, and barely wide enough for Khaska as the Maha’i made his way through. Amara couldn’t see much beyond Khaska, the Maha’i’s height interfering and blocking her view. Silently she chewed herself out for going last.

The end of the hallway opened into a room. Rynn glanced in.

Also roughly hewn from stone, the room was about forty feet long. Along the walls were chains and manacles. Instruments of torture lay on shelves, and the ranger didn’t need Ranna’s heightened sense of smell to detect the faint odor of decay. The dominant feature of the room, however, was a stone table. Dark stains fell from its top to the floor, where dried puddle stains darkened the stone. The light shone around the room, illuminating the situation.

“Yup,” whispered Amara, as she took it in, staying behind Khaska, but pushing forward into the room. “Definitely worshippers of the Reaper.”

“I will look for traps,” Khaska said. He said a prayer and a short chant in the Maha’i language.

“You can do that?” asked Jenika.

“It’s a spell,” said Amara. “Find Traps. Otherwise, we would need Orensland back.”

Rynn noticed that as Khaska moved forward into the room his feet made prints in the dust. “Nobody has been here for a while,” said Rynn. “Look how much dust has collected.”

It was true. Looking around, the party noticed that everything in the room was coated in a thin layer of dust. This place had not been disturbed for some time. The dark stains down the sides of the altar were long-since dried blood.

“Door,” whispered Amara, pointing. Khaska had been so focused on the floor he hadn’t yet begun to inspect the walls, but glanced up. On the other side of the room there was, indeed, a door. His Light spell illuminated it. He took a few steps forward, examining it, then beckoned the group forward.

“Well,” he said. “The door has a trap on it. It’s pretty simple, as far as I can tell. It activates something . . .” he followed his magically-enhanced senses up the wall and then around he side of the room. “Ah.” Back at the entrance from the hallway, he glanced up. “Portcullis.”

“So, we open the door, and the portcullis drops down and traps us here?” said Amara. “Lovely.”

Ranna was staring at the door. The hair on her head had risen, and a low growl came from her throat.

“What is it, girl?” Rynn asked. “You smell something?”

Khaska came back over to the door, examining the mechanism he had found attached to one of the hinges. “I know not how to disable such a device,” he said. He glanced up at Rynn and the others. “What should we do?”

There was a low moan from the other side of the door. Ranna dropped to a crouch, baring her teeth. Amara took a step back, and Khaska straightened from his kneeling position. Then there was a bang against it, from the other side, and everybody jumped back. The moaning grew louder, and appeared to be coming from more than one creature. Something began systematically pounding on the door, but the door looked like it would hold. For now.

“Unless there’s some food in there, or another exit, whatever is on the other side of this door hasn’t eaten in a long time,” said Rynn.

“I knew it!” Jenika said. “Now they’re going to eat us!”

“Not unless the door is opened,” said Khaska. “It looks pretty secure to me.”

“So, we either open the door and fight whatever is in there, or just go back,” said Amara, looking around. “Because there are not any other doors or exits that I can see.”

“I doubt that whoever made this place wanted to go through that room with … whatever that thing is,” Jenika replied. “Perhaps there is a secret passageway?”

They searched around the room, all getting slightly unnerved by the banging, but the sorceress was right. There were no other ways in or out of the room.

“Well,” said Rynn, “we’ve come this far. Whatever is on the other side of that door is likely related to our investigation. I say we open it.”

“And get trapped in here?!” Amara blurted out. “No thank you.”

“We can try to jam the portcullis with one of these shelves,” he said. He looked at Khaska. “What do you think?”

The Maha’i cleric was staring at the door. “There is evil in this place. It must be confronted!”

“Not by us!” said Amara. Khaska turned to her. “If you do not desire to help, you may leave. But your powers would be greatly beneficial.”

“We should use the other shelves to barricade the door, so the creatures have to clamber over them,” Jenika said as she grabbed one of them.

“Good idea!” While Amara stood in the middle of the room, arms folded, the others began to move the shelves. The sturdiest one they placed under where the portcullis would fall. The others they stacked up against the door. By the time they were on the last one, Amara had joined them.

“I’m going to stand on the other side of the portcullis. I can still use my crossbow and my magic, even if it closes all the way. Also, then I could go bang on the Sparkling Wit’s altar if we need to get out or need help.”

Khaska took a long look at her. “Your logic is sound, but I do hope it is your logic that compels you to these actions.”

“Of course it is.”

Amara stepped back behind where the portcullis would fall. Jenika clambered over the shelves by the door. Khaska drew his scimitar, held his holy symbol up, and said a quick prayer. Rynn looked at the others, then nodded at the monk. Jenika took one deep breath to calm herself, rehearsed her actions in her mind, and then opened the door.

She nimbly dodged over the stacked shelves as the portcullis came crashing down. The wedge did not work, and wood chips flew back at Amara and into the room as the metal grating smashed through the wood shelves. Rynn and Khaska stood at the ready, and a shuffling figure came into view. Several shuffling figures, actually.

Zombies.

There were three of them, all human. One was little more than a child, the other two towering over it. They moaned and reached for the party, but had to get through the barricade first. It was slow going.

Khaska was horrified. He had heard of the undead, and as a cleric had studied about them, but this was his first encounter with these abominations. Who had these people been? What fate had brought them here? Who had turned them? He felt outrage at their fate. He grabbed his holy symbol and chanted a spell, thrusting the symbol in the direction of the zombies.

Holy white light blazed forth from the symbol of Teresh. It raced across the room to hit the three zombies. The young one exploded in a flash of light. The other two held their hands up as if shying away, then turned and shambled away. He dropped his hand, righteous anger coursing through him. He snorted once, his nostrils widening, and he stepped forward.

Past the doors they could see a small circular room, probably about 25 feet in diameter. Along the walls were chains and shackles, and in most of those were various human bodies. One had torn loose from their shackled arms, the body collapsed on the ground while, grotesquely, its arms remained in the shackles. All of the others, though, hung there, limply. Khaska felt he would be sick, both from the smell, and from the disrespect that these people had been afforded in death—which was to say, none.

“What’s going on?” asked Amara. Rynn quickly described what he could see. The two zombies were trying desperately to get through a door on the other side, but it appeared that they could not get through just as they had been unable to get through the door Jenika had opened.

“How long will they run from you?” asked Jenika.

“The Turn Undead will last for one minute. During that time, they will not attack you at all. But I cannot come too close, or the effect will be broken.”

“Well, then,” Rynn said. “We’d best not waste that opportunity.” He moved over the makeshift barricade, sword in hand. Ranna stayed behind, alternatively whimpering and barking. The ranger paused for a moment to see if any of the bodies chained to the wall were also zombies, but none of them moved. Jenika followed him over their barricade, and Khaska came too.

“Wait! Don’t leave me here!” Amara cried out.

“I would not think to do so,” Khaska intoned as he nocked an arrow in his bow.

Rynn and Jenika converged their attacks on one of the zombies. The monk’s hits were not very effective, but Rynn managed to do quite a bit of damage to it. Khaska fired his bow at the other, but its thick skin prevented him from doing damage. The cleric was prepared to turn the creatures again should his spell wear off, but it appeared that they had acted quickly enough that they could keep attacking for a few seconds more. Nonetheless, Khaska was ready to use his holy symbol at a moment’s notice.

His next shot stuck into the zombie’s back, while Rynn’s stabbing motion managed to kill the other. Khaska was content to let the ranger and the monk finish off the other one—he had no wish to fire his bow into melee combat and possibly hit his friends. It took them a few seconds, but eventually it fell to their blows. The zombie collapsed against the door that it had been scrambling at, then fell in a bloody heap.

Ranna was pacing at the entrance, whining. She kept digging her nose down towards the ground, wiping at it with her paw. Khaska snorted once. “I have smelled death before, but not like this. We should get these people down. It is not proper.”

“I’m a little more worried about what else might be down here,” Rynn said. “First things first.”

“Besides,” Jenika replied, looking at the manacles holding the bodies in place. “I don’t think any of us can pick locks.”

“Hello! What’s going on?” Amara’s voice wafted into the circular room. Khaska gave a small smile to the other two, then stepped out.

“All is well.”

“Is it safe?”

“For the time. There were three zombies in the next room, but they have been dealt with.”

Rynn came out as well, a rag over his mouth, as he breathed heavily, trying to flush the smell out of his nose. Jenika came as well, slightly more stoic, but a little pale even in the light of the sunrod and Khaska’s Light spell.

“Come, let’s lift the portcullis,” the ranger said. “Unless you would like to get left behind again?”

Amara shot him a withering glance. “If someone raised the dead, but just three zombies, then they’re not that powerful of a spellcaster.”

“Perhaps they were using a lesser spell,” Khaska said. He put his shield down and together the four of them lifted the portcullis up with a bit of strain. It landed with a soft thud once Amara was through and they let it go.

“Shall we proceed?” the cleric said. “I would like to, what is the phrase? ‘Get to the basement?’”

“The bottom,” said Amara, looking into the circular room. “Get to the bottom of this.”

Khaska cast his Find Traps spell again, but found nothing in the room. The door was locked, but the group was smarter than the zombies (“I would hope we’re smarter than them,” muttered Amara), and bypassing it was not difficult.

Rynn took the lead again. It took a small bit of coaxing to get Ranna to go through the room with the dead bodies, but she came. Past the circular room there was another hallway, but this one was not very long and ended at another door. Rynn came creeping through, sunrod held in front of him, and opened the door slowly. The next room was another large chamber. This one was dominated by one thing only … a large obsidian statue straight ahead. It was a gaunt, skeletal figure wielding a scythe, and cloaked in robes. Two torches on either side lit the room. Amara, upon entering, noted they were likely everburning torches, an eternal vigilance kept in this room to this statue of the Reaper. In front of the statue was a bowl, much like the ones above in the Shrine. It, however, was filled with dark stains, but also dried. To its left was another exit, and by the torchlight they could see stairs ascending.

Rynn peered into the bowl slowly, then backed up. “Also dry,” he glanced around. “But the dust hasn’t collected in this room like the last one.”

“Does that mean it’s been used more recently?” Amara asked, whispering so quietly she could barely be heard. She had not fully entered the room yet.

“Maybe,” he responded.

“I see no other exits,” Khaska said. “And I detect no other traps.”

Jenika ghosted over to the stairway and glanced around the side. “I can’t see very far. Bring the sunrod over here.” The three of them moved towards it cautiously, moving quietly. Amara finally stepped into the room, staring and (though she wouldn’t ever admit it) even trembling at the sight of the statue of the Reaper.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The door slammed shut behind her, and a bar fell into place. Amara heard chanting practically next to her and she jumped back, whirling towards the door. But as she did so, she felt the air thicken around her. It became difficult to breathe, though not impossible, but her arms were frozen at her side and she could not speak. Panic swept over her as a figure materialized just a few feet away.

Therylassa brandished a sickle at the other three. “Your deaths will make fitting tributes to the Reaper.” Then she again began to chant a spell.

Quick as thought, Jenika leapt into action and charged the evil cleric, arms wide, attempting to grapple the elf. Therylassa tried to dodge, but was unable to. She was able, however, to throw the monk back, hissing at her and finishing her spell.

The two clerics completed their spells at the same, time, Khaska casting Bless on himself and his allies, and Therylassa finishing some dark incantation. Khaska felt his mind grow clouded with fear, but he was able to focus and, with a quick mental prayer, continue forward unaffected by the curse.

Rynn was hacking and slashing at Therylassa, but seemed unable to get past her defenses. Ranna also began to attack, growling and snapping at the elf’s legs. The distinct clang of metal sounded as Rynn’s sword hit her arm. “It’s glamered!” he cried out.

Jenika jumped in again, again trying to grapple with the elf, and this time managed to grab onto the cleric. Together they went down in a heap. “Reaper give me strength!” Therylassa cried. “You will … “ She was cut off as Jenika jammed her head into the ground. Ranna tried to clamp down on one of the cleric’s legs, but Therylassa managed to kick her off.

Khaska was about to cast a spell, but then realized that Jenika had the situation well in hand and simply charged in with his scimitar. He slashed down at the cleric, and was rewarded with a cry of pain and the sensation of his scimitar biting into flesh. Just then, however, Therylassa managed to break free of Jenika.

Jenika immediately jumped back on the cleric, and again the two were tangled together. “Reaper consume your flesh!” Therylassa spat at the monk.

Amara shouted in exasperation as she finally broke free of the spell and wheeled towards them, hands up. A Ray of Frost went wide, however, coating the wall behind the grappling women in a small patch of ice.

Rynn and Ranna were both attacking in tandem, the ranger and his wolf companion seeming to be working better as a team, the half-elf slicing at Therylassa’s chest, and the wolf savaging one of her legs. Khaska’s scimitar blow went wide, however, sparks flying from the ground where he hit.

As the monk and the cleric rolled over each other, Rynn managed to get a vicious strike in on Therylassa. Blood sprayed from the wound across the floor, and she cried out in pain. But just one moment later the cleric again managed to heave the monk off of her. Jenika was fed up and simply moved in, her fists moving like lightning, but the cleric managed to dodge the blows, and swung her sickle in a vicious arc that caught Jenika and sent her spinning, just as another Ray of Frost hit her from Amara. Khaska managed, however, to land a deep blow in. His scimitar bit into Therylassa’s side, and the evil cleric staggered at the blow. But, yet again, she seemed to get a second wind, and took another swipe at Jenika, managing to catch one of the monk’s arms as the monk landed two blows to Therylassa’s face.

Amara stepped forward—now that Jenika was no longer grappling with the cleric, the sorceress could use some of her more potent spells. She raised her hands and fire poured forth from her Burning Hands. She deliberately aimed it so that it would not hit her companions, and was overjoyed to see the flames wash over the elf. But though Therylassa merely grunted and bore the pain, nimbly dodging a portion of the fire, a scream of pain echoed in the room. Somebody else had been hit by the spell!

“There’s somebody else here! They’re invisible!” Amara shouted.

The sorceress poured fire again at the evil cleric, and this time Therylassa was unable to move out of the way as the fire enveloped her. The smell of burning flesh filled the room. Rynn grabbed a wand from his pack and managed to touch Jenika with it. The monk felt much better, but stayed back to catch her breath. Rynn and Khaska reconverged on the cleric, just as she finished casting a healing spell on herself—just in time as Khaska’s scimitar caught her across the face, sending a spray of blood across the room. Undeterred, the cleric laughed and ran past them to strike yet again at Jenika, the sickle biting deep.

Jenika fell to the ground, bleeding out.

Amara blasted Therylassa yet again, but stepped a bit too close. The cleric managed to get back at the sorceress, carving a vicious gash out of Amara’s arm. Rynn managed to land a blow on her from behind. Therylassa made a perfunctory swipe at him, but missed. The evil cleric backed away, momentarily free from being surrounded by the group. Ranna closed in from the right side, teeth barred, a low growl in her throat. There was a lull in the combat. Therylassa smiled, wiping the blood from her face with her hand.

“You enjoy this,” Khaska said.

“I serve the God of Death. Even if you kill me, the Reaper’s designs are still accomplished. You cannot win!”

With that, the cleric sprang forward, rushing straight at Amara. Ranna followed right behind, snapping ineffectually at Therylassa’s legs. Flames from the sorceress’ hands blasted the dark cleric with fire again, but Therylassa burst through the spell to again strike Amara, who collapsed to the ground.

“If the extinction of his own followers be the Reaper’s goal, may it be accomplished!” said Khaska as he and Rynn continued to swing at her. Rynn’s sword grated on the armor. Khaska cried out as he swung his scimitar, and as Therylassa turned to him he landed a solid blow on her head. She was unprotected, and the force of his swing brought her down to the ground.

And there on the ground she remained.

Rynn sagged a bit, sucking in air, but he didn’t stay resting for more than the length of a breath before he and Khaska were looking around some sign of the other person. They didn’t see one, but Ranna began to growl, and both of them heard the flap of shoes near the stairway that led up from the room, followed by the sound of scrambling on the stairs.

“Ranna, get after him!” Rynn said, pointing up the stairs. “Go on!” The wolf, just stared at Rynn for a moment, then turned back to Therylassa, growling. The ranger’s training and bond with the wolf not yet solidified enough for obeying this command.

Khaska moved over to cast a spell on Jenika. “Go! I’ll finish healing them!” Jenika was immediately awake and bounded to her feet as Khaska’s divine magic healed her. She relaxed at seeing the comatose form of Therylassa.

Rynn bared his teeth in frustration for a moment at Ranna, then turned towards the stairs, but paused. “Do you want the healing wand?”

“Please,” the cleric responded, holding his hand out.

Rynn gave it to him, then whirled and ran up the stairs. “Come on, girl!” Ranna followed him this time.

It took two castings from the wand to get Amara on her feet. All the while Kirza was squawking and fluttering around her mistress.

Khaska moved over to the fallen evil cleric, glancing at his two companions. They were shaken and bruised, their injuries not fully healed. “I will stabilize her,” he said. He reached a hand out, but by then, it was too late. Therylassa had bled out. She was dead.

The Maha’i reached out to gently close her eyes. “And thus your service is repaid.” He straightened. “We should assist Rynn. He is chasing the other who was in the room with us. Come.”

----------------------------------------

Rynn and Ranna burst through the entryway at the top of the stairs. They emerged from behind a bookcase into a room. It looked like somebody’s quarters-a quick glance noted a desk, chair, the bookcase (which was on tracks, like the statue had been), and a bed that was meticulously made. The only other door in the room was slightly open, leading somewhere he couldn’t see.

The ranger glanced around, senses alert, hoping for some sign that the invisible assailant was in the room. He sensed nothing. Ranna seemed unperturbed, though, and somehow he just knew that his companion did not think their quarry was in the room with them. Without even speaking to her, he moved for the door. She followed after, responding unconsciously to his desire to continue onward. He opened the door a bit further and poked his head out. It was a hallway, but as he glanced to his left, he didn’t see any sign of passage. He swung his head to the right, around the door, and caught the eye of a Halfling woman standing there, just a few feet from the door.

“Hey, what . . .” The Halfling looked up at him. “What are you doing in Thery’s quarters?” Ranna poked her head around, to look at the Halfling. The short woman, grabbed the door and swung it open. “Thery?” She glanced down at the sword in Rynn’s hand, blood running down it. She screamed, bringing her hands to her mouth, and quickly backed away.

Rynn quickly wiped his blade and sheathed it. “Please calm yourself. Don’t rush to conclusions.” He glanced down at Ranna, who, without being prompted to, began to sniff the ground. The sound of footsteps running up the stairs sounded from behind him, and he turned to see Khaska emerge from the secret passageway, followed by Jenika and Amara.

“We’re searching for the other,” Rynn said. “He eludes us for now.” Ranna had moved out into the hallway and the Halfling had backed away from the wolf as she sniffed the ground. Rynn himself emerged into the hallway, looking around for any signs of the other person. Khaska came out and then saw the Halfling. Another door opened, and a human in full plate emerged, took one look at the situation, and reached down to touch the Halfling protectively.

“What is going on?” he demanded roughly.

“They just came from Thery’s room!” the Halfling wailed. “I think they killed her.”

Amara scoffed, but before the sorceress could say anything Khaska stepped forward, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. He noticed that the cleric had on a tabard with the symbol of the Valorous Knight. “I am Khaska Nzaidullek Mawkhavi Tereshkven of the Maha’i. I serve Teresh, known as the Dawnfather. My companions and I are friends of the Knights of the Silver Dragons, and have been sent by them to investigate a … hunch.”

The human placed his hand on his longsword. “What hunch would that be.”

“I regret to inform you that it is no longer a hunch. We discovered that Therylassa was secretly a cleric of the Reaper, and the door we just came through in her quarters leads down to the shrine where she would perform her infernal acts. Because we found her, she attempted to kill us; we were obligated to fight back, and she died in the battle. I do not wish for you to see the scene, but if you do not trust me, I can show you your lady.”

“Thery was no such thing!” The Halfling screamed. By now several others had appeared. Khaska thought they were in the quarters of the different clerics who lived and served at this shrine. They must have traversed most of the length of the building while underground.

“I assure you,” said Amara, “she was. Jenika and I have the scars to prove it now.” It was true, the too women looked a little worse for wear. The cleric of the Valorous Knight glanced at another of the clerics. “Go, get the city watch.” The half-elf bowed and left quickly. Another cleric muttered some words, and stepped forward, scanning them. Khaska was easily able to identify the spell—Detect Evil. “We are not evil. And I speak the truth.” He stepped forward, directly in front of the cleric who had just cast the spell.

The man glanced him over, then turned, clearly looking at Rynn, who was still looking around, and then at the women. He frowned. “One of you is.” He stepped forward. Amara cringed, but then, looked the man right in the eye. “Evil clings to this one. She serves the dark gods.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic, Makmor,” the Valorous Knight’s cleric said. But then he drew his sword. “Show me this secret chamber.” Khaska nodded, and then proceeded to show the man the way. As he passed Amara, he stared at her, but then moved past.

Jenika was also looking intently at Amara, but Rynn was still in the hallway, looking for sign of the other person, but unfortunately he could not find any. No piece of robe, no singed hair, nothing. Ranna also came up empty in her search, looking up at her master and whining a little.

One look at the underground chamber was all it took for the cleric to be convinced. “Archpaladin have mercy on us!” he muttered. “All this time.” He slammed his sword into its sheath. “We must report this to the city watch!”

“And to the Knights,” Khaska said. “They will be expecting our report sometime today.”

Jenika still hadn’t said anything to Amara by the time Khaska and the other cleric returned. The cleric spoke to the gathering crowd. “We should close the shrine down until further notice,” he said. “What they have spoken is true; there is a shrine to the Reaper hidden beneath our building.” Gasps went up.

“There is yet another who we fought down there,” said Rynn. “I chased him . . .”

“Or her,” Amara snapped.

Rynn continued, barely pausing, “up here, but my wolf and I cannot find a trace of their trail.”

Amara pushed into the hallway. “Looks like there’s another evil cleric to be found.”

“But you yourself serve not the good gods,” the Halfling said to her, staring her down.

Amara stared right back. “I don’t serve any gods.” Then, turning dismissively, pivoted away from him. Her eyes swept the gathered crowd, looking at them one at a time. It was then she noticed the cleric of the Laughing God standing in the back—the one who had been in the front room when they had first arrived. His hair was wet, and he had changed his clothes.

“Hey!” She yelled, and then pointed at him. “It was you that my spell hit down there!”

The man grew a look of panic, and then turned and bolted.

Rynn didn’t hesitate. He bolted after the man, and Ranna lunged after, her speed eclipsing that of her master as they dodged through the clerics. “Out of the way!” he shouted, and the gathered crowd, mostly having just stepped out of private officers or rooms, jumped to the sides of the hallway. Amara and Jenika were hot on Rynn’s heels, followed by the cleric of the Valorous Knight. Khaska raised his holy symbol and shouted a spell, his words, even in Maha’i, echoing with forceful command down the hallway.

The cleric of the Laughing God froze in place as Khaska’s spell worked on him. Hold Person, the same spell Therylassa had used on Amara. The man was unable to continue his flight and within moments was surrounded.

Rynn moved in front of him, his sword drawn, cutting off his escape route. Ranna crouched down beside the ranger, teeth bared and slightly growling. Jenika stood next to him and cracked her knuckles. Amara just smirked but held her hands in preparation for a spell.

The cleric of the Valorous Knight drew his sword. “Best not to run, Cerlis. You won’t escape now.”

The man’s eyes darted to and fro, looking at the people now surrounding him. As Khaska approached, the man managed to break free of the spell, but didn’t try to flee. “The authorities are on their way,” the Maha’i said. “You should confess to them, lest you compound your sins.”

“Come,” the cleric of the Valorous Knight said. “Let us move to the front room and wait for the authorities there.”

“I’d really rather not do that until he’s been arrested,” Amara said. “He may try to flee again.”

“Then we will wait here.”

The cleric of the Valorous Knight looked from Cerlis to the party, one at a time. “Forgive my harsh words and mistrust earlier, friends. I am Arthur Claymore.”

The city watch officials appeared a few minutes later. Their officer was shown the secret shrine and listened to the tale of the party. Cerlis was arrested on the spot, and Arthur opened Cerlis’ private room at the request of the officer. Inside they found the clothes he had been wearing, scorched and singed from Amara’s Burning Hands spell, as well as a wand of healing just lying on the bed. On inspection, it was shown that a wand was missing from the shrine’s storage.

“He shouldn’t have that wand,” Arthur said. “We’re supposed to use them only for emergencies if we have no remaining spells.”

“I’m sure that he felt it was an emergency,” Amara said. “After all, we had just discovered their secret lair, and attacked Therylassa. He must have snuck down with her and used it to heal her while he was invisible.”

“Cerlis was not a high-ranking cleric here,” Arthur said, glancing at the city watch officer. “He had recently come to apprentice under Therylassa, even though they ostensibly served different gods. He was undisciplined and spent most of his time drinking and sleeping with women-ostensibly as an homage to his deity. I kept asking if he could be sent somewhere else, but Therylassa insisted he could change.”

“We will get to the bottom of this,” the city watch officer said. “I’m sure my superiors will want to have a long chat with Mr. Cerlis.”

“He may be using a spell to hide his true nature,” Khaska said. “Such a spell will wear off every day and must be recast if the deception is to be maintained.”

“We will watch for that. But I am going to leave some of my men. None of you here are to leave the shrine.” He looked around, suspiciously. “There may be others in hiding as well.”

“Including us?” Amara’s voice was indignant.

“I can vouch for them,” said Natalya, who had come on the scene with the soldiers. “They are not part of our organization.”

“Yes,” said Arthur. “They should be allowed to depart.”

There was some haggling over that, but eventually the officer agreed that the party was allowed to leave. With that, several of the city watch departed with Cerlis in chains, hands bound to prevent him from casting spells, a gag in his mouth. The officer stayed to set up the remaining soldiers.

Khaska turned to Arthur. “What now?”

Arthur’s face was grim. “I wish to close the shrine for now and pray for forgiveness. I’m sure the city watch will want to come investigate further.” He sighed. “That we did our business atop a shrine of the Reaper and in the presence of the Death God’s clerics … I feel we have all failed our own God in some way.” He turned and left.

Many of the other clerics also vanished into the various rooms in the hallway. Most were obviously shell-shocked. Natalya thanked them, grimly. As they left, yet more soldiers were arriving on the scene, including one liason from the Knights. They were asked about their involvement again, but let go as the officer explained the situation.

Khaska immediately wanted to go to the Knights to fully report. Amara was ambivalent about doing so, and the cleric gave her a long, hard, look before nodding. He went off on his own. Rynn decided to follow him, leaving Jenika and Amara alone. Amara took one look at Jenika, then turned on her heel. “I’ve had quite enough this morning from this adventure. I’m going to report to Master Hiddel, and then go to take a nap!”