The Tomb of Horrors (greyhawk)

by Keith Francis Strohm

  The next few moments became a rhythmic exchange of sword blows as Bredeth, Kaerion, Landra, and the last guard dispatched the asps with their blades. Silence descended upon the room once the last serpent had been killed. Kaerion looked over to the corner, breathing heavily, and saw that Majandra and Phathas stood near a smoldering lump of green slime. Gerwyth had maneuvered near the stone wall that the tapestry had previously covered. The elf was running his fingers lightly over the area.

  “There’s something here,” the ranger said. “I think it’s theoutline of a door.” He pressed the stone, and a door swung open. “There’s apassage here! I think we better-”

  Kaerion couldn’t make out the rest, as another loud groaningreverberated throughout the room.

  “Run!” he shouted, not waiting to see if anyone listened, andbolted for the door. Tripping and stumbling as the floor of the chamber once again trembled, Kaerion made it out of the room behind Majandra and Phathas. They stumbled into a small curved passage. Kaerion turned to help the rest of the group escape the trapped room and let out a relieved sigh as the last of the party emerged from the quaking chamber.

  He closed the door and leaned heavily against it while his companions caught their breath. “It… was right… there,” he heard Majandrasay through deep lungfuls of air.

  “What was there?” Bredeth asked.

  The bard held out her hand for a moment while she struggled to regain her composure. Kaerion could see more tears brimming in her almond-shaped eyes. “The warning,” she said at last. “‘Beware of tremblinghands’… It was right there for us in the poem. If only I had-”

  “Don’t,” Phathas scolded the elf in a sharp tone. “There wasno way you could have known what ‘trembling hands’ meant. Remember: despite thehelp we’re receiving from Acererak’s little riddle, its meanings areintentionally left clouded. We’re not supposed to survive this expedition.”

  “I agree,” Kaerion added with a sympathetic squeeze of hershoulder. “You’re being too hard on yourself. And I should know,” he continuedwith a rueful smile, “I’m an expert on such matters.”

  Kaerion was rewarded with a half smile. Gently, he wiped the tears from the bard’s eyes and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Peace,Majandra. We’re almost finished.”

  “Or we will be if you two would stop mooning over eachother,” said Gerwyth, who softened his tone with an exaggerated raising of hispointed eyebrows. “Now let’s get moving. We have a job to do.”

  The group moved out, this time at a slower pace. Though not injured in the trapped chamber, Phathas had still not quite recovered his breath. As a result, it took the party quite a bit of time to navigate the next set of descending stairs.

  The passageway eventually reached a four-way crossroads, and Kaerion soon found himself thankful for the slow pace. Taking one step into the intersection, he turned to check on Phathas’ progress, and the simple maneuversaved his life. The floor beneath his extended foot gave way, opening up into a deep pit. Not quite overbalanced, he hung suspended on the lip of the hole, windmilling his arms before Gerwyth pulled him from the precipice.

  Though not quite as imposing as the pit they had traveled over earlier, this obstacle slowed the party’s progress even more. After a briefconsultation as to the direction they should move, they decided that Majandra, easily the lightest member of the expedition, would jump over the corner of the trap into the passageway. Bredeth would follow, and the two would function as anchors for a safety line of rope tied to the other, less deft members of the party. All in all, the crossing took several minutes.

  Once across, Kaerion paused to light a new torch and surveyed the passageway. Although the tunnel continued off into the darkness, he thought he could see a door at the extreme limit of his vision. Calling the group together, he led the way. As expected, the passage ended in a thick stone door. Used to this procedure by now, Majandra walked toward the door without any prompting and gave it a careful examination.

  “It’s free from any traps I can see,” she said when she hadcompleted her search.

  “That’s comforting,” Bredeth said. “What about the traps youcan’t see?”

  Kaerion could see that the dour noble’s tongue was beginningto erode the bard’s temper. The half-elf’s lips puckered in a sour expression,and Kaerion could almost see the stinging retort forming behind her lips. “IfMajandra hasn’t discovered any traps, that’s good enough for me,” Kaerion saidsimply and opened the door-

  Only to find himself staring at a blank wall.

  The curses that followed took the form of several different languages, and Kaerion was surprised to hear the old mage mumble something indignant under his breath. It didn’t make any sense. They had been followingAcererak’s riddle and it had led them true so far. Perhaps they were supposed tohave taken another passage at the intersection. It seemed like the most logical thing to do, but something nagged at the back of his mind.

  The others had already started to head back toward the intersection when he called out. “Hey! Didn’t the riddle say something about afalse door?” he asked.

  As one, the group turned and cast expectant glances at Majandra. Kaerion watched as the bard’s face assumed the slightly distant lookhe had come to associate with her ability to memorize words and information.

  “Yes,” she replied, her voice rising with excitement. “‘Ifyou find the false, you’ll find the true.’ Quick, Gerwyth!” she said in a voiceworthy of a battlefield commander. “Take a look at the wall beyond the falsedoor. You have the sharpest eyes among us.”

  Kaerion watched as the elf gave Majandra an abbreviated bow and walked toward the dead end. The ranger ran his fingers along the surface for a few minutes, peering deeply at the stonework.

  “Sure enough,” he said finally, “there’s a door here.”

  The party let out a sigh of relief. Once more the riddle was guiding them true. Quickly they formed up as Majandra declared the door free from traps and pulled it open. The door grated heavily upon the raised stone of the floor, sending deep echoes down the corridor. Despite the chill, Kaerion felt sweat trickling down the small of his back. With an unconscious movement, he shrugged away the discomfort. They were closer than they had ever been to piercing the heart of this devilish crypt.

  Shouldering his shield, Kaerion raised a flickering torch and walked through the doorway.

  23

  Majandra stared at the room in awe. Around her, to the limitsof the groups torches, stone columns reached up into the darkness, a forest of stonework as far as the eye could see. The party gathered in a knot by the entrance, their combined breathing echoing softly in the shadowy chamber. It had taken several minutes and the loss of three sword blades to gain entrance to this room, but the half-elf was sure they were heading in the right direction.

  This must be the columned hall, she thought, before relaying her surmise to the rest of the group. Around her, she could feel her companions tension like a palpable itch at the base of her neck.

  “If this is the chamber Acererak spoke of, then where is thethrone?” Bredeth asked from somewhere behind her.

  Her response was cut off by the sound of the adamantite door they had walked through only a few minutes ago slamming closed. Majandra spun around at the noise, ready to offer whatever assistance she could, but by the sound of Kaerion’s cursing, she doubted that there was much she could do.

  “It’s jammed shut,” Kaerion said, confirming her fears.

  It took a few moments for Gerwyth and the mage to investigate the sealed portal. After several attempts, both magical and mundane, at prying the door open, they gave up.

  “The door only opens one way,” Phathas informed the group.“It appears that our path has been decided for us.”

  Unwilling to waste energy cursing a situation about which she could do nothing, the bard gave the vast hall another look. Bredeth was right. If they had stumbled upon the columned hall, then they should be within bowshot of Acererak’s throne
. Majandra shook her head in frustration as the chamber’sshadows defeated even the sensitivity of her half-elven eyes.

  Gently, she hummed a succession of notes and sent a trio of bluish-green lights dancing about the hall. Around her, Majandra heard startled exclamations of wonder as her arcane illumination shredded the hall’s stubbornshadows as easily as a vorpal blade cut through bone. Beneath the pulsing glow of her lights, the columned hall’s true scope was revealed. Larger even than theroyal throne room in Rel Mord, Acererak’s hall would have dwarfed even thetallest giant. Row upon row of columns rose up into the chamber’s vaultedheights, each one engraved with symbols and decorative stonework set off with colorful accents and bright jewels that would have made a master artisan cry out in pure delight. From where she stood, Majandra could also make out three simple stone doors spaced evenly across the north wall. The farther corners of the room also contained duplicates of the horrifying devil-face that had been carved into the stone of the tomb’s entrance chamber.

  But it was the silver throne sitting atop a flawless ebony dais in the center of the southern wall that truly captured her attention. Moving carefully toward the object of her interest, she could see that the throne was composed of the same obsidian as the dais itself. Silver inlay glinted masterfully from every possible angle of the throne, and upon the edge of its back and along its wide armrests, ivory-carved skulls leered back at her.

  It was Gerwyth who first saw the crown and scepter lying crosswise on the seat of the throne. Majandra caught sight of the glinting, jewel-encrusted crown after the elf’s exclamation. The others had spread out tosearch the rest of the room, but she called them back with a shout. “The throneis the key!” she explained as her companions drew closer to the throne.

  Phathas waved a single hand before the throne and Majandra was forced to step back at the blast of bright light that pulsated from the crown and scepter. “Magic,” he warned as the group drew closer. Carefullychecking the steps up to the dais for traps, the half-elf was relieved to signal that all was clear.

  Kaerion and Bredeth had begun to ascend the ebony steps when Majandra heard a muffled curse behind her. Turning, she saw that the last remaining guard, a brown-haired woman named Keeryn, had brushed against one of the hall’s columns as she was approaching the throne, and now hung suspended inthe air about ten feet off of the ground. As Majandra rushed to her, the guard floated higher into the air.

  “Phathas!” the half-elf called to the mage. “Help!”

  By the time the mage, Landra, and Gerwyth joined her, Keeryn had floated nearly thirty feet into the air. By now, the guard’s concerned lookhad transformed to one of alarm, and Majandra could see the color draining from her face.

  “Try and hold on to something!” she called out to theunfortunate woman, but as the guard hastened to obey her, she began to drift toward the far corner of the room.

  “She’s heading for the devil mouth!” Landra cried out asKeeryn, clearly frantic now, reached wildly at every column she passed.

  “Gerwyth, I need your help!” the half-elf said, trying hardto keep herself beneath the trapped guard, but Keeryn had begun to pick up speed and was only about fifteen feet from the devil’s stone mouth.

  To her relief, Majandra saw that the ranger had strung a thin rope to the shaft of one of his arrows and now aimed carefully for the wall near Keeryn. The shaft impacted hard against the thick stone, sending up a sharp cloud of dust as its glowing head bit deeply into the rock. Keeryn was close to the carved stone face when she reached out and grabbed the rope, stopping her forward motion. Majandra’s relief was shortlived, however, as the guard gave astrangled cry. A deep blue glow emanated from the devil face, surrounding the trapped woman. The half-elf watched in horror as the glow deepened, suddenly exploding into cobalt brilliance, and when Majandra could see once more, Keeryn was gone.

  Numbness swept over the bard, and a familiar ache that she had come to associate with this evil place. She had little time to reflect on their loss, however, as Bredeth gave a sudden shout. The half-elf looked in his direction, terrified of what she might see. To her relief, both Kaerion and the young noble were still alive-though Bredeth held the gleaming scepter gingerlyin his hand. Both of them stood gaping at the throne, which had begun to sink beneath the dais.

  “There’s a passageway beneath the throne!” Kaerion shouted.

  Wiping the burgeoning tears from her eyes, Majandra walked toward them, wondering just how many of them would have to die before they reached their goal.

  Durgoth watched the Nyrondese from the shadows of the stair’slanding, a cruel smile playing upon his face. The fools had no idea how close they were to their doom-not even that overly perceptive elf. Only Bredeth, theirunwilling accomplice, seemed to sense the presence of his party. The young fool kept glancing behind him, peering into the darkness. Having witnessed the power of the link forged into being between the nobleman and Durgoth’s pet sorcerer,he didn’t doubt that the pitiful man could in fact detect their presence. He wasconfident, however, in Sydra’s ability to silence the man’s tongue.

  Beside him, wrapped in deep shadows like a cloak, Eltanel observed their enemies with a practiced eye. “Should we attack now, blessedone?” the thief asked, his voice barely a whisper. “They are completely unawareof us. It wouldn’t take much for us to kill them now.”

  Durgoth shook his head, belatedly realizing that the thief could see his reaction. “No, Eltanel,” he whispered. “I need them alive just alittle while longer.”

  Which was a shame, he thought, for the thief had been correct. Ever since the Nyrondese had dropped into the passage beneath the throne, they had given little thought to their own protection. Durgoth and his followers had been only tens of feet away when that damned bard had scooped up a large cylindrical key from the steps leading farther down.

  Now, the fools stood before a set of imposing doors over twenty feet high. Even from here Durgoth could see that the portal was composed entirely of silver, catching the torchlight and sending shimmering waves of illumination cascading throughout the room. Beyond that door, however, the cleric could sense a brooding presence. It beat against his mind even now, threatening to rip away thought and sanity in a wave of darkness. Durgoth steeled himself against its power, recalling a defensive spell, and managed a small smile as the pressure in his head receded.

  A cry of pain from the assembled Nyrondese drew his attention. The fire-haired bard stood to the left of her oafish warrior, who had fallen to his knees. In the fighter’s right hand, Durgoth could see thecylindrical key, still glowing from whatever spell had activated when he had pressed it to the door.

  “I’m all right,” he heard the man say as he rose unsteadilyto his feet, “but I don’t think this is the right key.”

  “Perhaps we should use the first key we found in thepreparation room?” This came from the elf.

  The bard shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said.

  Durgoth ground his teeth in frustration. It was impossible to imagine how these fools had managed to penetrate so far into the tomb. He watched the assembled Nyrondese as they debated their next course of action, and he was almost as surprised as they when Bredeth gave a cry of anger and swung his blade at the door. The door gave out a sonorous peal when the sword rebounded off its face.

  And then it began to bleed. At first, the deep crimson liquid trickled from the spot of contact, but it soon increased its flow until a steady stream of blood shot out from the door. Durgoth watched as the party recovered from its initial shock, but it soon became clear that, despite their efforts to staunch the bizarre wound, the blood would continue to stream out of the door. Already, it covered the steps and pooled thinly around the cleric’s feet.

  They were arguing now, heatedly trying to determine their next move. This time, Durgoth found himself fighting the urge to order an attack, but he needed them to bypass the tomb’s remaining traps and summon thepresence of Acererak. Once that had been accomplished, he
would kill each one of them with impunity.

  “Enough, all of you!” shouted the bard, and to Durgoth’sgreat surprise, they all listened. “I think I’ve found out how to bypass thisdoor,” she said. “Acererak’s riddle speaks of the throne that’s key and keyed.Well, we know that the throne itself was keyed. Bredeth used the scepter to unlock the passage beneath it.” She cast a grateful glance at the young noble.“What if the scepter is also the key for this door?”

  “You speak wisdom,” the decrepit mage responded, turning tothe rest of the group. Durgoth, still hiding in the shadows, shook his head. A part of him longed to snap the patronizing nobleman’s brittle neck. Only a fewmore minutes, he thought, and I can rid myself of all of them.

  “What side of the scepter did you use to unlock the throne?”the wizard asked.

  “The side with the silver knob,” the young man responded.

  The mage nodded and took the scepter from the bard. Durgoth watched as the old man placed the implement’s gold ball against a depression inthe doors. There was a moment of complete silence. The stream of blood slowed to a trickle and finally stopped.

  Durgoth watched with barely contained excitement as the doors swung silently open. He crept to the back of the passage where the remainder of his followers waited expectantly. In a short while, his quest would be complete. Years of patient struggle and endless plotting would finally pay off.

  And the killing would begin.

  24

  Kaerion entered the imposing chamber with his sword drawn,ready for an attack-and nearly dropped the weapon as a bright wave ofillumination assaulted his eyes. Blinking hard to adjust his vision, he called out a warning to the rest of the party. They entered slowly, cautious of the dangers that might lay hidden in this room.

  Unlike the halls within the rest of the tomb, this square chamber contained elaborately crafted gold sconces spaced regularly along the walls. A bright yellow flame burned hotly within each of the gilded holders. Like the ceiling in the foyer from whence the party had come, polished silver covered the roof of this room, reflecting and magnifying the light from each sconce so intensely that it took Kaerion a few moments to realize that the flames burned with an unearthly power. They neither flickered nor reacted to the passage of the party in any way.