The Tomb of Horrors

by Keith Francis Strohm - (ebook by Flandrel; Undead)

  The notes of a spell rose from Majandra’s lips, and she cupped her hands, waiting for the release of mystical energy. Absently, she noted that Phathas had moved out from where he had been resting and moved his own hands in the familiar rhythmic gestures of spellcasting. Thus, she was not surprised when the pulsing blue length of her arcane missiles met the blinding electrical force of the mage’s lightning bolt as they reached the creature simultaneously—

  Only to wash over it as if they had never existed.

  “’Ware the monster!” Phathas yelled. “It’s impervious to magic!”

  Majandra cursed as the arch-mage confirmed her fear. Something protected the beast from arcane attack. Most likely this was another of Acererak’s tests.

  “Protect the boy!” she heard Kaerion shout to the three guards who rushed forward to assist him. “I’ll distract the creature from here.”

  As Majandra moved to assist Phathas in retreating from the center of battle, she was pleased to note that the soldiers had obeyed instantly and now surrounded the boy in a ring of steel.

  Two other guards struck at the skeleton from the left side, and as the creature brought one of its scimitars cutting downward, Kaerion leapt up and delivered a double-handed blow to its exposed wrist. Bone chips sprayed in all directions, but Majandra was dismayed to note that the fighter’s attack had little effect on the skeleton. It lashed out with its second scimitar, faster than one would think possible for its size, and the bard cried out as Kaerion sidestepped the attack by inches. The scimitar struck sparks from the stone floor where it rebounded with a screeching crash.

  It was then that Vaxor stepped forward, holy symbol held like a shield above his head. As the cleric walked toward the skeleton, she could hear his baritone rumble like the heart of the earth itself, calling upon the power of Heironeous. His holy symbol pulsed with a golden glow, suffused with the energy of the god.

  The skeleton paused in its attack and turned toward the cleric. To Majandra, it seemed as if the cleric grew taller with every step, his voice deeper. The monster threw up one arm before its face and took a single step backward.

  Suddenly, a cold wind blew through the room, rumbling with the force of a mighty storm. The bard felt the chill pierce through her leather armor and into her skin, like needles of ice. Unbelievably, she saw the incandescence of Vaxor’s holy symbol sputter and die, and she marveled at the silence, knowing that the words to the priest’s prayer had died upon his lips.

  The skeleton threw down its arm and moved forward to attack once again, its mouth opening and closing as it did so. The monster was laughing silently!

  Unwilling to foul up the concerted defense being mustered by her companions in the relatively close quarters of the room, Majandra pulled out the leather bag that held her harp and quickly unwrapped it. Not bothering to tune, she struck a major chord and began to sing an ancient elven battle song, willing the courage and strength in each word and note to find a home in the hearts of her companions.

  Two guards fell quickly beneath the renewed onslaught of the creature, leaving only Bredeth, Kaerion, and Vaxor to face the foe directly. Just as the part of her mind not involved with singing wondered where the ranger could be, an arrow flew out from the crawlway above. She watched as it flew somewhat erratically before striking the creature in the chest and shattering several of its ribs in the process. Another missile followed the first, and this time Majandra saw that the head of this arrow was nothing more than a rounded mass of metal, a flying mace. This one hit the creature near its shoulder, cracking a thick clavicle. Encouraged by the success of Gerwyth’s attack, the bard modulated her song into a major key, and poured the emotions she never had the opportunity to share with Kaerion into the song.

  Several steps away, the inspiration for her current song had readied his shield and, deflecting a swift strike by the skeleton, reached down and grabbed a fallen guard’s warhammer. Striking at the creature’s hips, Bredeth and Vaxor covered Kaerion while he adjusted his new weapon. They moved aside with perfect timing as Kaerion gave an incoherent cry before launching himself at the skeleton. Two mighty swings of the hammer against the creature’s leg shattered its tree-trunk of a femur, and it fell to one bony knee.

  At that moment, Gerwyth loosed two more blunt-arrows. One tore the creatures left arm from its socket, and the other caught it squarely in the jaw, knocking the skeletons skull from its shoulders with a sickening crack. The monster flailed its remaining arm wildly for a few moments before falling to the floor with a loud crash and splintering into multiple pieces.

  Majandra stopped playing at that moment and drew her stinging fingers to her mouth. She was surprised to note the copper-taste of blood in her mouth.

  “Well done, my friends!” Phathas said as he inspected the now lifeless bits of bone that littered the floor of the room. “Well done indeed.”

  Vaxor and Landra were already seeing to the wounded, and the bard was relieved to know that neither of the guards who had fallen was dead. She was doubly relieved to discover that Kaerion’s wounds, while bleeding profusely, were not life threatening.

  “That was fancy shooting, Gerwyth,” Majandra said as she watched a guard bind the tear in Kaerion’s arm with a thin cloth.

  “Thank you,” the ranger replied, dropping down lightly from his perch in the crawlway above. “I had those arrows made special by a master fletcher. They don’t fly worth a damn, but they sure do the job once they hit.” The elf turned to where Phathas and Vaxor stood, conferring. “Well,” he said in loud voice, “I’ve had about enough of this room. I think it’s time we made our way back to the main hall.”

  Majandra agreed wholeheartedly and was collecting her gear for the brief ascent when she heard a small voice from somewhere opposite the crawlway. “Wait, everyone.” it said. “I think I’ve found something. It looks like a trapdoor.”

  The bard looked to the source of the voice and found Adrys standing near the mass of the giant skeleton’s skull. She moved quickly to his side and examined the area he was pointing to. Sure enough, the level plane of the floor was broken by a thin seam, which lay several inches below the surrounding stone.

  “It certainly is a door,” the half-elf said. “It looks as if the force of the skull falling in this area triggered it open. Good eyes, Adrys.”

  It only took a few moments to clear the skull away from the area and finish the job that it had begun. Below her, Majandra could see the uneven stone walls of yet another tunnel.

  “It looks like it’s you and me again, Gerwyth,” Kaerion said as the rest of the group prepared for the descent.

  “I’d like to go, as well,” Bredeth interjected. “You could always use another sword at your backs.”

  Majandra heard the familiar eagerness in the noble’s voice, tinged with a touch of uncertainty at the two companions’ possible response. At least that sounded more like the Bredeth she knew. Idly, she hoped that Kaerion took him up on his offer. The noble was always easier to deal with when he got his way.

  “No problem,” Gerwyth said at last, clapping the noble on the arm. “Another sword could definitely come in handy—especially the way Kaerion swings his around like an apprentice butcher trying to kill turkeys with a meat cleaver.”

  Majandra’s laughter covered the black-maned fighter’s response, but she could see by the man’s rueful smile that he was not offended. Within moments, the three were in the tunnel and out of sight.

  This was, she reflected, the hardest part of adventuring—waiting for someone else to do the job. The fact that this someone else was also someone that she cared for deeply only made it worse. Thus it seemed like ages before she saw the light grow brighter in the tunnel. A moment later, she heard Kaerion’s voice.

  “It’s a safe passage,” he said, his words echoing slightly in the expanse of the tunnel. “But it simply leads back to the hall where we first entered the tomb.”

  She could hear the others cursing at the news and starting to pull their g
ear over to the original crawlway, but she didn’t move. Thus, she was the only one in the treasure room to hear the sound of shouting that echoed faintly down the tunnel.

  “Get Vaxor and the others!” Kaerion said seconds later. “Gerwyth and Bredeth are in trouble!”

  Majandra barely had time to reply before the light receded rapidly down the tunnel, leaving the passage blanketed in darkness.

  * * *

  Kaerion’s breath echoed as he crawled through the narrow tunnel as fast as his armor and gear would allow. Visions of horrifying monsters and gruesome traps filled his mind as he tried to imagine the danger that his friends now found themselves in. He cursed once as the tunnel turned sharply and he scraped the skin of his hand raw on a jagged rock. Another few feet and he was free of the tunnel. Heedless of his protesting muscles, Kaerion drew his sword and charged into the main hall.

  The telltale flicker of torchlight emerged from a shadowy indentation along the east wall—a depression that hadn’t been there when the group had first entered the confines of the tomb. A cry of pain threw all thoughts out of Kaerion’s mind as he ran toward the passageway. The familiar sound of combat spurred him onward. With a rush of speed, he pushed past the splintered remains of a gruesome painting and ran through an open door.

  The broad swoosh of wings alerted him to danger just moments before a black shadow loomed overhead. With a cry, Kaerion dived forward, rolling hard across his wounded arm. Three arrows hissed out of the corner of the room, striking his mysterious opponent. As he raised his own blade, the blood-red torchlight revealed a familiar figure. Above him, suspended by the awkward flapping of its stone wings, hung the gargoyle whose statue loomed in another part of the tomb. Only now the four-armed monstrosity was not an artists representation. It was all too real.

  Holding his shield at an angle to protect his left side, Kaerion darted in for a quick slash with his sword. His opponent opened its stony mouth wide, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth, as it brought the gray bulk of its left leg forward to block the attack. Kaerion fell back hastily as the gargoyle sprang forward and cut at him with four swift slashes of its hooked claws. He managed to deflect two with a sweeping move of his shield, but the third attack caught him a glancing blow near his neck, knocking him slightly off balance. He spun, letting his momentum carry him away from the creature, putting him out of range of its final attack, which would have caught him square in the chest.

  A shout from the corner of the room distracted the creature enough for Kaerion to widen the gap between them. Seconds later, another arrow came winging out of the darkness, this time its steel head pulsed with a red glow. The magic shaft caught the gargoyle on its wingtip. The beast let out a hollow-throated howl of protest and flew back up into the shadows of the room.

  “Gerwyth,” Kaerion shouted between great gulping breaths of air, “what happened here?” Desperately, Kaerion searched the ceiling, watching warily for another attack.

  “I’m not sure,” came the ranger’s reply. “I was waiting for Bredeth at the mouth of the tunnel, when all of a sudden I heard a cracking sound. By the time I saw the shattered plaster near the entrance of the tomb, our young friend had already thrown open the door. Within seconds I heard his cry for help and called for you before I came running.”

  Kaerion nodded. “Where is our noble warrior?” he asked, catching sight of the elf as he nocked yet another arrow to his bow.

  “I’m right here,” said a voice roughened with pain.

  Kaerion spun at the sound, catching sight of Bredeth’s stumbling form. The nobles armor was dented and torn in several places, and blood streamed freely from his open wounds. A gleam of light caught Kaerion’s eye as he ran to the hurt nobleman. With a gasp of surprise, Kaerion noted the thick leather collar, studded with a cluster of blue gems, clutched tightly in Bredeth’s left hand.

  “I pulled this off the creature’s neck before it sliced into me,” Bredeth said before slumping heavily against the raven-haired fighter. “Do you think Majandra would approve?”

  Kaerion had no time to reply. The air above his head swirled with the flapping of stone wings.

  “Incoming!” Gerwyth shouted, moments before the gargoyle fell like a terrible missile out of the ceiling’s shadows. More concerned with Bredeth’s safety than his comfort, Kaerion pushed the wounded nobleman to the floor and stepped back sharply. Razor-sharp claws sliced the air just inches from his face, but not before Gerwyth’s arrow struck the creature sharply in its back.

  Taking advantage of its momentary disorientation, Kaerion planted his feet and swung his blade in a deadly arc, twisting his hips to add more power to the blow. His sword met the creature’s stone skin with the force of a hammer striking an anvil, and Kaerion nearly lost his grip on the blade. Bits of stone cracked and fell from the monster’s hide, and it roared in pain. Withdrawing the blade, Kaerion gave silent thanks to Phathas, who had imbued the blade with magic after their battle with the demon in Rel Mord.

  Wounded as it was, the gargoyle was still a severe threat. It lashed out twice with its upper claws, catching Kaerion across the face and at the juncture of shoulder and neck. It was, however, the monsters lower claws that did the real damage. Forced to raise his shield to block an attack from the beast’s claw-tipped leg, Kaerion was unprepared for the twin thrust of its hands as they raked the unprotected length of his chest. Kaerion’s armor shredded into thin strips beneath the force of the gargoyle’s strikes. He fell back, unable to muster an effective defense against the evil creature’s tremendous strength and speed.

  At that moment, twin bolts of energy flew from the open doorway, catching the creature in the face. It screeched once and turned to face this new threat. Grievously wounded, Kaerion withdrew, confident that the flares and flashes of arcane energy he saw emanating from the doorway would keep the gargoyle busy for the moment. Reaching a sure hand into a pouch at his belt, Kaerion withdrew a vial of green liquid. With one swift motion, he uncorked the container and brought it to his mouth, swallowing the sweet-tasting potion inside. Immediately, the pain of his wounds receded and some measure of strength flowed back into his limbs. Smiling in anticipation, Kaerion withdrew another glass container and prepared to quaff its contents.

  A muffled explosion caught the fighter’s attention. To the left of the entranceway, he saw that Vaxor had called upon Heironeous for help—and the god had answered. Three arrowhawks appeared in a blaze of light and circled the gargoyle, their powerful wings and arrow-like bodies offering them greater maneuverability. Two opened their sharp beaks and shot a ray of energy at the gargoyle. The beast evaded the first blast with a sweep of its wings, but ran headlong into the other mystic bolt. The third arrowhawk, however, misjudged its flight and flew too close to the gargoyle. Angered by the wounds it was receiving, the stone-skinned monster concentrated its attacks on the hapless creature. It disappeared in a flash of light, its last sound a screech of pain.

  Energized by his brief respite and the application of the healing potion, Kaerion raised his sword and swallowed the second potion. Time seemed to slow as the magical liquid took effect, and the fighter could feel his blood quickening. He gave another cry before launching himself into battle, delighted at the speed in which his feet carried him. Within moments, he had delivered two swift cuts to the gargoyle’s side. The beast, in turn, lashed out at the circling arrowhawks with its upper claws and then spun toward Kaerion, intent on disemboweling him with its remaining attacks.

  Kaerion’s magically enhanced reflexes acknowledged the danger and wove a seamless defense. His blade flashed in the torchlight, knocking back each of the gargoyle’s attacks. Obviously enraged by its ability to harm him, the monster ignored the attacking arrowhawks that darted in and out of its reach, concentrating all of its attention on Kaerion. Secure in his ability to parry the gargoyle’s claws, the fighter was caught unawares as it lashed out, grabbing hold of him with implacable strength and launching itself higher in the air. Briefly, Kaerion caught
sight of his companions nearly thirty feet below, as he hurtled toward the far wall of the room. Just before it seemed as if the gargoyle would slam itself against the wall, it let out a deafening roar and released its grip on Kaerion. Gracelessly, the fighter plunged downward, striking the wall with bone jarring force before crashing to the ground. His sword flew from fingers suddenly gone nerveless and skidded several feet away.

  Above, the gargoyle had completed its turn and now flew right at him, claws extended for a final attack. Out of the corner of his eye, Kaerion saw Adrys huddled behind a thin pillar of stone. For just a moment, he wondered how the boy had slipped past the guards to get this far into the room, but his speculation disappeared as the gargoyles shadow loomed larger.

  “Adrys!” he shouted as loud as his stunned body would allow. “Throw me my sword, lad—and hurry.”

  Moving swiftly, the boy stood over the sword and looked at the fallen fighter.

  “Quickly, lad!” Kaerion shouted again. “I don’t have much time.” A quick glance in the air confirmed his fears. The gargoyle would reach him in seconds.

  An evil smile creased Adrys’ face as he bent to pick up the sword—

  And threw it even farther away. “It’s time for you to die,” the boy said in a voice too innocent for such words, and then melted into the shadows.

  Shock and desperation warred within Kaerion’s breast. He was going to die now. Betrayed by a child even as he himself had betrayed a child. There was a certain rightness to this act, a testament to the simple and brutal poetry of Heironeous’ justice.

  The razor claws of the gargoyle descended upon him like an executioners axe—

  Only to be met by the bulk of Vaxor’s body as the cleric threw himself between the monster and its intended target. Horrified, Kaerion watched as the beast’s diamond-sharp claws ripped through armor and skin, slicing open the priest’s belly. Defiantly, Vaxor brought his own sword slashing against the creature’s neck, the movement pulling apart the remaining string of muscle that kept his entrails inside his body. Blood and organs spilled out onto the floor as the force of the noble’s final attack severed the monster’s stone head from its body. Bereft of its head, the rest of the monster shattered into a thousand pieces.