As he said this, a number of other voices all began speaking at once. It was impossible to tell exactly what they were saying, but they seemed to be generally agreeing with the wraith.
Paul saw no reason for further delay. They had come to destroy Kalmock Tal, not to parley with him. Plus, it was rather obvious that he was completely insane. Which was hardly surprising considering the fact that he was a Madness Wraith. With these thoughts in mind, the paladin charged forward and did his best to stab the living shadow in its undead heart.
“Abomination!” the wraith cried, its insubstantial body avoiding the blade like so much smoke. “How dare you touch her!”
Instantly, a number of other undead appeared within the chamber, each of them speaking rapidly and, in most cases, repetitively. Their forms were white, and somewhat humanoid, although they completely lacked any definite features.
“Specters!” Myra cried as the creatures drifted slowly toward the party members. “Back!”
The maiden slammed her staff on the floor, releasing a wave of black energy that temporarily brought the undead to a halt.
Paul leapt away from the wraith, who seemed unaffected by the former lich's power; deftly dodging its outstretched hand. He lashed out at the creature but, once again, his blow missed its mark, passing right through the body of his foe. The creature moved closer to the young man before successfully taking his throat in its icy grasp.
The paladin could feel his life being drained away as he fought to defend himself; attempting to sever his enemy's shadowy limb. This time his attack was more successful, biting into the monster's momentarily solid arm. Instantly, it released the young man, as golden flames crawled up its shadowy limb.
“Treachery!” the monster cried. “To the walls!”
Paul glanced over his shoulder to see his friends struggling against countless foes. Although they were fighting valiantly, there seemed little chance that they could overcome so many. He reached down, instinctively grabbing the symbol at his chest. Suddenly, Joey screamed in pain as one of the specters managed to touch him.
“Run!” Paul cried, quickly moving back to his companions.
“What?” Alena said, dodging the outstretched hand of a specter, before slicing through it with her blade.
“Run!” the paladin yelled again. “Now!”
His companions quickly obeyed, Joey leading the retreat with the others following quickly behind him and Paul taking up the rear. An army of incorporeal undead, led by Kalmock Tal, pursued the band down the passageway and back into the first chamber they had entered.
“I knew you were scared!” Joey cried triumphantly as they ran toward the corridor that led to the surface.
“Just not a fool!” Paul replied, doing his best to keep the undead at bay with Telseir's blazing blade.
As soon as they passed into the far passage, the paladin turned to face his approaching foes. Kalmock Tal was screaming wildly, and incoherently, as he drew nearer and nearer. The wraith crossed over the black runes that marked the boundary of the desecrated area, his hand reaching out toward the paladin.
“Drop dead!” Paul cried, holding his holy symbol aloft.
A wave of golden light blasted through the chamber. Kalmock Tal screamed in agony as his body burned away to nothing. In the same instant the specters vanished; leaving the catacombs silent and still.
Chapter 11: Peace and War
“Well, that was easy,” Darek said between panted breaths; leaning with his hand against the wall.
“Easier than I feared it would be,” Myra agreed, lowering herself to the floor.
“What did you expect?” Alena asked, smiling widely at Paul as she spoke. “We brought the only paladin in Zanoth with us. If anyone could destroy Kalmock Tal, it was him.”
“I suppose that's true,” the former lich replied with a smile of her own.
“So,” Joey said, turning his eyes to his friend. “That was more of a strategic withdraw than a full blown retreat, eh? Just part of the plan?”
“It was,” the paladin nodded. “Well, by the time we actually started running, it was. I just got to thinking about what Myra had said.”
“About what?”
“Well, first off,” he said, “I was at a huge disadvantage in there. I didn't say much about it at the time, but the place felt like it was pulsating with evil and I knew for a fact my turns wouldn't do much of anything with me standing on that unhallowed ground.”
“That's true,” Myra interjected.
“Then, there was the fact that Kalmock Tal was a wraith,” the young man continued, “and wraiths are more susceptible to turning than other undead. I figured, if we could draw him out, I'd have the upper hand.”
“I can see that,” Joey replied.
“Plus, since I was pretty sure we were all dead if I didn't turn him, I was fairly motivated to succeed; which probably helped me pit my will against his. Oh, and his being completely nuts may have helped as well.”
“It probably didn't hurt,” Myra observed.
“Speaking of which,” the paladin said, “I wonder why he wasn't crazy in my vision, or hallucination, or whatever you want to call it.”
“I would say it was because you were actually struggling against yourself,” the former lich speculated. “You weren't really facing Kalmock Tal; you were facing your own fears. You were struggling to deal with fictitious events that might have driven you crazy if they had been real.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Paul replied.
“Either way,” she said, “I'm honestly a little surprised that you managed to destroy him. He was exceptionally powerful.”
“Well, he didn't look that way when he was burning away to nothing,” Joey asserted. “On the other hand, what happened to all the specters? They didn't seem to do a great deal of burning and screaming themselves. It was just like they vanished.”
“That's because they weren't destroyed,” Myra replied.
“They weren't?”
“No, they weren't,” she asserted. “I'm fairly certain that they're not exactly sane. I suspect Kalmock Tal was the only thing that allowed them to focus on a unified goal. With him gone, they probably had no idea what their purpose was. As a result, they fled before the divine power; each retreating into their own madness.”
“So, this place is still filled with insane dead people?” Joey asked.
“Basically,” she admitted.
“Then, what was the point of all this?!” he exclaimed. “We can't bring a bunch of women and children into a tomb crawling with crazy undead!”
“No, we can't,” she agreed, “but we should easily be able to destroy the specters one by one now that Kalmock Tal is gone.”
“It would be a lot better if Paul could sanctify the catacombs,” Sarrac asserted. “That would not only drive out any remaining specters, it would also keep wandering undead away from the place.”
“I agree,” the paladin nodded. “That would be a lot better. Unfortunately, as I mentioned before, I don't know how to do it.”
“Perhaps I could help with that,” said a friendly voice from just up the passageway.
Every head in the party jerked instantly in the direction of the sound. There before them, stood the ghostly form of what appeared to be a knight in full armor. He seemed to be a fairly young man, well built and handsome. He gazed at the paladin; his arms crossed, a gentle smile on his transparent lips. Paul couldn't exactly place his face, but there was something very familiar about the eyes of the apparition.
“Who or what are you?” Paul said, raising his weapon as he spoke.
His companions quickly followed suit, readying themselves against a possible attack.
“Peace, brother,” the ghost said, lifting its hand. “I'm here to help you, just as you helped me.”
“How did I help you, exactly?”
“I am Kalmock Tal,” the apparition explained. “Long ago known as Cal Morrin.”
“Kalmock Tal?” Joey said exc
itedly, before pointing to Paul. “But, he just killed you! I saw him do it myself!”
“He didn't destroy me,” the ghost replied, “he freed me.”
“You're Cal Morrin?” Alena asked with a hint of disbelief.
“I was before my death,” he replied. “After I fell in battle, my soul was cursed; my spirit bound to Zanoth, my mind trapped in madness. I became Kalmock Tal and, in time, made my way here. I remember very little. However, the moment Paul arrived, I knew another paladin was nearby. I exerted all my strength to ask him for aid.”
“That didn't really come across,” Joey observed.
“I can't speak for the result,” Cal Morrin replied with a wide smile, “only for the intention. But, whatever the case, I suddenly saw a blinding light just ahead of me. Instantly, I realized it was the divine power and did everything I could to embrace it. I felt searing pain, but I was sure it was driving the darkness from my soul.”
“So, you tried to commit the ghost equivalent of suicide?”
“Hardly that,” the ghost chuckled. “I merely did what I could to help the paladin who had come to save me.”
“That's not really why we came,” Darek pointed out. “We didn't even know you were here.”
“The gods did,” Sarrac added.
“Right or wrong,” Cal Morrin replied, “that was how I felt at the time. I'm very pleased with the result, one way or the other.”
“How do we know any of this is true?” the ogress asked. “It could all be a trick.”
“It could,” the apparition admitted, “but, if it were, I'd hardly be willing to show Paul how to sanctify this tomb.”
“I suppose that's true,” she ceded.
“Well, then,” Paul said, gazing at the ghost, “how do we get started?”
“First,” Cal Morrin replied with a smile, “we'll need some holy water.”
“That's rather unfortunate,” the young man asserted, “as our only source of that is days from here, at least, and guarded by an undead army.”
“Don't be ridiculous,” the ghost replied. “We have a source not five feet from where I'm standing.”
“And, what is that?” Paul asked, glancing around the corridor.
“You, of course,” Cal Morrin answered. “All you need to do to make water holy is bless it; filling it with divine power.”
“How do I do that?”
“My guess would be that you start with water,” Darek said, handing Paul a flask.
“Then, you bless it,” Nyssa suggested.
“How do I do that?”
“Just ask the gods to bless it for you,” Cal Morrin said encouragingly.
In reply, Paul bowed his head and, in silent prayer, asked for the help he needed. Instantly, he felt power flowing from him into the flask held in his hands.
“Assuming that worked,” the young man said, “what do we do next?”
“First, we need to destroy those runes,” the ghost said, appearing to walk down the corridor toward the desecrated ground.
Paul followed just feet behind.
“Pour some of the water here,” the ghostly paladin instructed, pointing at a section of the floor, “and pray for the corruption to be washed away.”
The young man obeyed, tipping up the flask and allowing a portion of its contents to spill onto the ground. As soon as the water touched the stone floor it began to seethe and boil. Once again, Paul bowed his head; asking this time that area be purified. He opened his eyes to find to find that the liquid, along with the few runes it had touched, had completely evaporated.
“Well done!” Cal Morrin said with a smile. “Now, you just need to keep doing that until all of the dark runes have been removed.”
“That's going to take a while,” Paul replied, before turning his gaze to his companions. “You guys may want to go let Thaelen know we succeeded. It's going to take him a while to break camp and get everyone here. Hopefully, by the time he's managed that, I'll be finished.”
“You want to bring them here tonight?” Joey asked. “The place is still packed with ghosts. No offense, Cal Morrin.”
“None taken,” the apparition laughed. “But, you have nothing more to fear from the dead who haunt these halls. Most of the poor souls trapped here were corrupted by my madness. As long as you avoid the chapel, you'll be in no danger. As soon as Paul has finished purifying this room, he can sanctify it. After that, the spirits couldn't intrude upon you even if they had such a desire.”
“Alright, I guess,” he nodded. “I just hope you two know what you're doing.”
“We do,” Paul replied confidently. “Well, he seems to. Either way, go on. I'm gonna be at this for a while.”
Under the circumstances, they decided it would be best to divide the party into two. Sarrac, Darek, Nyssa, and Joey went to take the news to Thaelen, while Alena and Myra remained behind with Paul. The young man had completed roughly half his task by the time Sarrac's band returned to inform them that Thaelen was on his way. Fortunately, he managed to finish just before they arrived.
“That was a lot more work than I thought it'd be,” Paul said as the last of the black runes evaporated into mist. “I'm exhausted.”
“That's hardly surprising,” the ghost replied. “You've channeled a great deal of divine energy tonight. But, you're not done yet.”
“What's next?”
“First, repeat after me,” he said before beginning to chant softly and slowly.
Paul obeyed. The song was almost like a prayer for protection. It spoke of the fleeting nature of life, of the unnatural state of the undead, and asked that the ground be guarded against the living dead. The young man not only tried to repeat it perfectly, he did his best to commit it fully to memory. He had the sincere belief that it might be useful in the future.
“Excellent,” the apparition said after Paul had repeated it several times in succession. “Now, you merely have to go through the form. Follow me, and do as I do.”
The ghost moved to the edge of the room along the wall, placed his arms across his chest, and began chanting loudly; stepping in time to the song, and raising and lowering his head as he moved. Paul quickly followed his example. The moment he took his first step, he could feel the divine power flowing through him. It completely surrounded him and seemed to cover the floor, the walls, and even the ceiling.
As they moved slowly through the chamber, Paul felt as if his blood was on fire. Waves of weariness and nausea struck him, but still he continued. Being able to wield the power of the gods was certainly a blessing, the young man thought, but it wasn't always easy and was occasionally even painful. It was with internal prayers of thanks that he finally completed the circle, ending just where he had begun.
“You did well, Paul,” Cal Morrin said. “I know that wasn't easy.”
“No, it wasn't,” the young man agreed, sinking to the floor and resting his head in his hands. “So, if this room is sanctified now...”
“Which it is,” the ghost interrupted.
“How can you be standing in it?” he continued. “You're a ghost.”
“I am,” the dead paladin nodded, “but, that doesn't matter. Sanctified ground only affects the wicked. It's impossible for evil incorporeal undead to enter sanctified areas and even those with physical bodies find it difficult. In fact, depending on the power of whoever blessed the ground, they'll burst into flames if they set foot on it.”
“I've seen that before,” Paul replied. “But either way, it doesn't affect you?”
“It doesn't affect righteous undead,” the apparition explained. “Especially not the ghosts of paladins and priests.”
“Righteous undead?” the young man chuckled. “That's a phrase I never expected to hear anyone use. Still, I see what you mean. Anything else I should know?”
“Yes,” Cal Morrin asserted. “This isn't permanent. It would have been if we'd have been able to draw a line of silver dust around the area, but we weren't. So, you'll have to do it again in a few mont
hs’ time.”
“How few?”
“I wouldn’t wait more than three, just to be on the safe side.”
“Alright,” the young man replied, turning his gaze to the ghost. “Another question...”
The apparition had vanished.
“Cal Morrin,” Paul called out, raising his voice. “Cal Morrin.”
“Is he gone?” Myra asked, stepping within the sanctified chamber.
“I guess so,” the young man replied. “I mean; how can you tell? He's a ghost.”
“He was,” she asserted. “Who knows if he still is?”
“What do you mean?”
“Remember what I told you?” she said. “Ghosts are the spirits of the dead trapped in Zanoth for one reason or another. Cal Morrin was bound to this world as Kalmock Tal, but you freed him. For that, he owed you a debt. Maybe now he's repaid you and gone on to meet his reward.”
“So, we'll never see him again?”
“I wouldn't say that,” the maiden replied. “Never is a long time. Personally, I hope to end up wherever paladins go in the afterlife.”
“I actually meant: we'll never see him in Zanoth again?”
“Who knows?” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “Either way, that doesn't matter at the moment. What does matter is that this place is safe.”
“Yes, it is,” Paul replied. “So we may as well build a fire and start getting the women and children inside.”
“Are you sure about a fire?”
“We can have a small one,” he said. “It'll warm the room up a bit and the ceiling is high enough that I don't think we'll need to worry much about smoke. Besides, the kids may not be thrilled about sleeping in a tomb in the first place. I’m sure not going to ask 'em to do it without a fire.”
“That's a point,” the maiden admitted.
Minutes later, a small fire was burning away in the very center of the chamber; banishing the shadows from its furthest recesses and driving the chill quickly from the air. In the light of the little blaze, Paul could see that a great deal of craftsmanship had gone into cutting the room from the living rock. The ceiling was vaulted like that of a cathedral, the stone shaped into beautiful arches. All along the walls were more carvings like those they had seen along the various corridors, but these were on a grander scale; some of them reaching from the very top of the wall to the floor below. Sadly, most of them had also fallen victim to the rage of the undead and were damaged and defaced in one way or another.
The Fortress of Donmar (The Tales of Zanoth Book 2) Page 19