A few more steps carried him into the center of the chamber. What he saw nearly took his breath away. Kaerion stood, not upon the familiar gray stone that had made up most of the tomb, but on top of a floor composed of a semi-precious material-agate from the look of it-crafted and polished togleaming perfection. A granite sarcophagus rested on the floor against the far wall, and even from his position Kaerion could see the slant and whorl of ancient glyphs inscribed about its surface. In front of the burial mound stood an oversized bronze urn. The unmistakable flash of gold filigree caught his eye as the object’s decorative swirls reflected the light. Kaerion watched warily asa thin stream of bluish-gray smoke issued forth from a vent near the urn’s brassstopper.
“Will you look at that,” a voice from behind him said.Kaerion looked at the speaker and was surprised to find himself regarding Landra. The guard captain had moved forward with the rest of the party and stopped in the chamber’s center. She gazed intently at the two massive ironchests that sat to either side of the sarcophagus.
“This must be Acererak’s treasury,” Landra said in a hushedvoice. If this were any other place at any other time, Kaerion might have smiled. This was the first time he had seen the veteran awed by anything.
“Be careful about what you touch,” Phathas wheezed. “I don’tthink we’ve reached the heart of this tomb yet.”
Concerned but mindful of the mage’s pride, Kaerion watched asthe old wizard walked unsteadily toward the sarcophagus and lifted his staff above its granite lid Phathas muttered a few words and then took a step back, a look of surprise stamped clearly upon his wizened face. “Nothing!” the mageexclaimed.
“There are no spells on the sarcophagus?” Gerwyth asked as hewalked gracefully up to the man.
“No. I mean that I felt nothing,” the mage explained in atone so exasperated that Kaerion winced in sympathy for his friend’s innocentquestion. “My spell didn’t work!” Phathas began to cast another spell. Againnothing happened. “It appears that something is interfering with my magic,” theold man said. “What about you Majandra?”
It only took a few moments for the bard to determine that she too was affected by this strange occurrence. “Well,” she said in a tone sosimilar to Phathas’ earlier exclamation that Kaerion had to fight off the urgeto smile, “whatever wards are blocking our magic don’t seem to be affecting thetomb itself.” The bard pointed to the wall sconces.
“Shouldn’t we open the sarcophagus?” Bredeth asked. “It mightbe Acererak’s final resting place.”
“No,” Kaerion found himself saying. “Acererak is close, buthe isn’t here.”
The others looked at him, but he merely shrugged. He didn’tknow how he knew, but he did. He could feel the evil wizard’s presence like acanker in his mind. He’d felt it before-briefly, when they had first entered theVast Swamp. There, however, it had been merely a trickle of premonition. Here, close to the heart of Acererak’s damned crypt, the force of it nearly made himill. He hadn’t felt such things since Dorakaa-and the implications of that werealmost more terrifying than the palpable sense of Acererak’s presence.
“Anyway,” Majandra said, interrupting his thoughts, “with thewards in this room counteracting our magic, it’s too dangerous to go foolingabout with things. We might activate a trap we have no power to overcome.”Kaerion watched as the half-elf’s gaze raked the room. “Besides,” she continued,“there is still more to Acererak’s riddle, and I think that something is in thisroom. It’s-”
“The statues,” Gerwyth finished, sounding very pleased withhimself. Kaerion sighed as his friend pointed to the hulking iron statues that guarded each corner of the room. The metal figures stood over eight feet tall, and each wielded a vicious-looking black iron weapon. Turning to face Majandra, the ranger composed his features in a mock imitation of the half-elf. “‘Theiron men of visage grim do more than meets the viewer’s eyes,’” he intonedominously, and then stuck his tongue out at the bard. “And you thought no oneever listened to what you had to say.”
Majandra offered the elf her most dazzling smile, and Kaerion found himself once more feeling uncomfortably jealous. Concentrate on the matter at hand, he chided himself. “Let’s spread out and search those statues,” he saidto the rest of the group. “And be careful not to spring any traps!”
It took a short while for the group to examine each of the statues. Only one, the image of a hulking fighter wielding a spike-studded mace, looked different enough to warrant further investigation. After carefully checking it for traps, Majandra signaled to Kaerion, Gerwyth, and Bredeth. The three of them each grabbed a portion of the statue and pushed. Within moments, they all heard a loud scraping sound as the mass of black iron moved slowly backward, revealing a chute that spiraled down into darkness.
Kaerion clapped his two assistants on the shoulders heartily as they rested from their recent exertions. Though the elf offered him his usual smirk, Kaerion could see that something was troubling Bredeth. The young noble’sface was twisted into a grimace. “What bothers you, Bredeth?” he asked. For amoment, Kaerion didn’t think that the nobleman would answer, but eventually theman’s face composed itself.
“N-nothing, Kaerion,” Bredeth said. “I… I think I mighthave twisted something in my back.”
Kaerion nodded. He didn’t quite believe the young man, but hewasn’t willing to pry. Whatever troubled the nobleman, he’d share it when he wasready. Kaerion’s experience had taught him that lesson.
“Well, then,” Kaerion said, “I’ll go down first. When Isignal that everything is safe, I want the rest of you to come down slowly. Is that clear?”
There was no dissent as the fighter sheathed his sword and crawled feet first into the stone shaft. Before he slipped down into the darkness, he gave Majandra a crooked smile. The bard smiled in return and said nothing-but Kaerion heard everything he needed to hear in that silence.
With a final wave of his hand, he slid down the chute.
The stone door sank noiselessly into the floor, revealing a dust-filled room beyond.
“Congratulate yourselves while you can,” Durgoth said,feeling a frisson of anticipation work its way up his spine as the Nyrondese slapped each other heartily on the back. After a few unsuccessful attempts at opening the door, Majandra had tried the first key-successfully. That woman wasas intelligent as she was beautiful. Briefly, he remembered catching sight of her in Sydra’s scrying, and he also remembered what he had planned for her.
Durgoth pushed his excitement away and concentrated on following the Nyrondese silently. At his command, the sorcereress had cloaked all of them with an invisibility spell. Though he couldn’t see them, he knewthat his followers lurked somewhere behind him, ready to attack when the time was right.
He entered the chamber protected by the sinking door just a few moments after his enemies. The nearness of Acererak’s spirit nearly crushedhis mind. The protective wards he had woven like a castle wall around him were fraying and ready to split.
Swirling dust caught his attention as the Nyrondese party fanned out to explore the room. Within moments the dust had formed into the semblance of a man and approached the tomb’s defilers. Looking at the creaturethrough senses that were stretched to their breaking point beneath the dark wizard’s metaphysical assault, it was clear that the mystic construct offered noreal danger. The true presence of Acererak lingered somewhere within this room, cleverly hidden.
Phathas too must have realized this, for the mage commanded the rest of his party to ignore the insubstantial creature. Instead, he ordered the bard to place a cylindrical key within the indentation that marked the center of this high-peaked vault Durgoth watched as the fiery-haired half-elf carefully inserted the key and turned it three times. The floor trembled mightily.
Durgoth watched in amazement as the south section of the room rose into the air, disgorging centuries of dust and powdered stone. He fell back quickly as his enemies each backed away from the moving floor. When the dust cleared, he co
uld see a vault, composed entirely of silver, now filled the latter half of the room. Beyond that door he could sense Acererak’s spiritrising in power, eager to be set free upon the world once again.
After a brief hesitation, the elf walked up to the door, grabbed the inset ring in the vault’s center, and pulled. The vault door swungopen slowly, revealing a veritable king’s ransom in treasure. The glitter ofgems, jewelry, and countless thousands of coins mesmerized the eye as light entered the vault’s interior for the first time in innumerable centuries.Durgoth nearly jumped as he heard a slow whistle of appreciation behind him. He cast an angry glance at his followers, knowing that they couldn’t see him, butwishing that he could kill them all now. Thankfully, the Nyrondese were engrossed in their own examination of Acererak’s burial vault and hadn’tdetected them-yet.
His anger dissipated as he watched Bredeth jerk violently forward, like a rag doll responding to the commands of a cruel owner. The prophecy had been explicit about the steps needed to summon Acererak and retrieve the key. Durgoth had made sure that Sydra knew what she needed to have Bredeth do once they had stumbled upon the wizard’s crypt.
Durgoth smiled as the noble’s companions called out to him.Heedless of their cries, the young man reached out and touched the top of a small skull that lay in the back of the tomb. Durgoth fell to his knees as he felt Acererak’s spirit respond to the touch and phase into this plane ofexistence. Waves of dark energy filled the room, and the last of Durgoth’sspiritual defenses crumbled.
“Now!” he shouted to his followers-and watched calmly astheir shimmering forms winked into existence moments before they reached the confused knot of Nyrondese nobles.
The battle had begun.
Kaerion spun at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, hastily raising his shield as shadowy figures appeared out of nowhere. Among them, he recognized the familiar shape of a red-cloaked man, moving with unearthly speed toward him. Anger warred with disbelief. Their attackers from Rel Mord had returned. But how?
He didn’t have time to answer. The robed figure leapt theremaining few feet between them and aimed a vicious kick at Kaerion’s head.Kaerion brought up his shield, blocking the kick, but the force of the blow knocked his shield a few inches to the left, offering the monk’s follow-throughpunch no resistance. Kaerion rolled with the blow, letting some of its force dissipate as his momentum carried him toward the vault’s far wall.
The monk continued forward, pressing the attack. Though Kaerion was armored and relatively unhurt, he still had difficulty parrying the flurry of kicks and strikes the pock-faced man was delivering. Desperately, he ducked beneath a roundhouse kick and sliced viciously with his sword. Obviously surprised by the maneuver, his opponent didn’t quite dance out of the way intime. Kaerion’s blade cut deeply into the man’s calf.
Kaerion would have pressed his sudden advantage, but he stumbled as an explosive wave of frost-chilled air enveloped the room. At the same time, needles of hot fire stabbed into his brain. He tried to close himself off to the agony, to find a center of focus in the maelstrom of pain, but he was unsuccessful. The fetid presence of Acererak pressed in on him. He could feel the corruption that was the ancient wizard’s spirit surrounding him-a miasma ofpollution and evil that sucked the air from his lungs. He knew that Bredeth’shasty actions had somehow summoned the creature back from beyond the grave.
Kaerion forced open eyes that he did not remember closing, trying to blink away the pain-wrought tears that threatened to blind him. He scanned the immediate area for his opponent, wondering why the monk hadn’tfinished him off when he had the chance. He found the man standing completely still, gazing up above Kaerion’s right shoulder. Carefully, lest it prove sometrick, Kaerion looked in the same direction.
Bands of ice pressed round his heart at what he saw.
Behind him, floating idly in the air, a bleached white skull, a terrifying intelligence alight in its ruby eyes, gazed upon the scene of battle. The skull’s eyes pulsed with an unearthly glow, and Kaerion saw thewicked delight shining in their depths. This perception was heightened by the row of diamonds inset into the creature’s jaw, forming an array of teeth thatwere exposed in such a way as to resemble a cruel smile.
From the waves of pure evil that flowed from this thing, Kaerion knew that the skull must be the focal point for Acererak’s spirit Itcontinued to survey the battle that still raged around it. As if searching for something, Kaerion thought, but what?
Dimly, Kaerion saw Majandra, Gerwyth, and Landra battling a hulking figure that lashed out with large, misshapen fists. Kaerion cried out as he saw, in the light of the party’s torches, that they battled nothing less thana golem. Its disfigured mass made each of them look like a small child in comparison. Gerwyth ducked underneath a powerful swing and sliced the creature’schest twice with his gleaming short swords, while the light of Majandra’s spellsslammed into its puckered flesh. Landra aimed a devastating blow at the monster’s neck that might have had an effect if the golem hadn’t knocked theblade aside as if it were a gnat and launched the veteran against the wall.
He had to do something, but trapped between the awful presence of the skull and the coiled power of the monk, Kaerion felt a moment of indecisiveness. If he attacked the skull, surely the monk would strike at his back. Yet, he couldn’t allow the demi-lich to perpetrate whatever foul plan ithad in mind. And where in the Nine Hells was Bredeth? Kaerion hadn’t seen thenobleman since he had ignored the party’s warnings and touched the skull.Wherever he was, Kaerion thought angrily, he’d better appear soon. Hiscompanions couldn’t stand against that golem too much longer without some aid.
Just then, he felt a warning tingle flash down his back. Turning slightly, he saw that the skull had fixed its gaze upon Phathas, who was currently unleashing spell after spell, with surprising speed, at the blond-haired sorceress who had attacked them in Rel Mord.
“Phathas, look out!” Kaerion shouted, and had to duck as themonk sprang back into action.
Without turning his back upon his arcane adversary, Phathas looked in the fighter’s direction. The mage held one hand forward, summoningblue-tinged energy that streaked toward the sorceress, while he raised his staff in the air with his other hand and shouted a single word. A bubble of white force cocooned around the ancient mage. Kaerion winced as he saw a ray of pure darkness shoot out from the ruby eye of Acererak’s skull. The two opposingforces met with an explosion that rocked the room. Looking past his opponent, Kaerion watched in horror as the mage’s shield collapsed under the assault. Tohis relief, however, the mage emerged unscathed.
“The skull, Kaerion!” Phathas shouted. “You must destroy theskull! It’s the key to Acererak’s power!”
Kaerion nodded in understanding. He feinted high with his sword and then reversed the attack, stabbing at the monk’s thigh. Quicker than atiger, the man jumped back, offering Kaerion an opening.
Time slowed as the fighter placed both hands upon the hilt of his sword and, turning hard along his center, using the movement of his hips to add force to the blow, brought his blade down along the side of Acererak’sskull.
The blade shattered, exploding into a host of small metal needles that shot across the room.
Kaerion fell back, weaponless except for the familiar weight of Galadorn, which he could not draw. The monk moved forward, a cruel smile upon his face. “Let’s see how good you are without your little weapons,” hechallenged.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kaerion saw Phathas raise his staff, ready to come to his aid. The mage stumbled forward, however, a look of surprise and pain upon his face, before he fell to the ground with a sword lodged in his back. Kaerion cried out as he saw Bredeth, a look of horror drawn across his noble features, bend down and pick up the sword that he had just plunged into the back of his own companion. Bloodied sword now raised in the air, the nobleman screamed once and brought his other hand to his head.
“Get out of my mind!” he shouted fiercely.
Kaerion
couldn’t see any more as he thrust his shield up toblock two kicks that would have surely connected with his head. Concentrating, mostly unsuccessfully, on avoiding the blows that rained down upon him, it wasn’t until he heard another scream, this time coming from Majandra, that hespared a glance from his opponent.
And stopped dead in his tracks.
The bard stood transfixed by a black beam, a look of agony upon her face. Within moments, her body began to dissolve. Kaerion shouted once and then sprang into action, hoping to get past his red-robed opponent. A palm strike to his neck blasted all feeling from his body. Kaerion’s limbs would nolonger obey him. He was forced to watch in horror as the black beam consumed Majandra.
In moments, there was nothing left of her at all.
“No!” Kaerion screamed, a wave of despair washing over him. Ithad happened again. He had failed, and people who he cared about had died. The rest of his friends were dying even now, and he couldn’t do anything about it.
Some protector, a voice in his head whispered. Anger,fear, and grief threatened to overwhelm him, but the voice offered release. You know where there is safety, it said in a honeyed tone. You know where you can find peace.
Images flashed through his head: A dark hole, covered in shadow-the slime-covered wall of a dungeon. Darkness called out to him, wantedto wrap him in its arms. He could feel the pain easing as it drew near. He wanted to go to it-to lose himself in its endless embrace.
Yes, the voice said. Here there is freedom from yourburdens. You can forget your pain.
The Tomb of Horrors (greyhawk) Page 27