Another surge of emotion went through Caina, and she had to look away.
“Indeed,” said Nasser. “I suspect recruiting Master Ciaran may have been one of the wisest decisions I have ever made.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” said Morgant.
“Come,” said Nasser. “Let us try to reach the Tomb before we encounter any more of Kharnaces’s guardians.”
They left the ruined temple behind and returned to the road, the necromantic aura growing stronger with every step.
Chapter 16: An Open Grave
The jungle stopped at the foot of the hill.
Kylon blinked at the eerie sight.
The jungle just…stopped. It was like a line drawn upon a map. On one side was the jungle, lush and green and vibrant. It was quieter than it should have been, but likely the undead baboons had killed all the other animals. Nonetheless, the jungle was alive, filled with vivid greens and reds and yellows.
On the other side of the line was death.
The land at the base of the hill was simply dead. There were no trees, no bushes, no grasses, no flowers, no weeds, no lichen, nothing. Just dead earth that looked as if it would never support a plant again
“Like cropland that’s been farmed to exhaustion,” said Laertes, looking around.
“Or deliberately poisoned,” said Kylon.
“The aura,” said Caina, looking at the jungle. Her face was blank, but her emotions were dark. “It’s stronger here. I think it kills any living thing that gets too close to…to whatever is generating that aura in the Tomb.”
Nasser looked at Annarah. “Are we in danger from it?”
She gestured, whispering under her breath, and her fingers flickered with ghostly white light. “No. Not yet, at least. The aura…the aura is much stronger than when we last visited. But it’s not yet strong enough to kill a living mortal, only plants and animals.”
Kylon nodded and took a few steps closer to the Tomb. A dark archway stood in the face of the hill, elaborate Maatish hieroglyphs carved into frame. Twin statues stood on either side of the doorway, twenty feet high, muscular men in kilts with giant scarabs for heads.
“Anubankh,” said Caina in answer to his silent question. “The Maatish god of…well, we would call it necromancy, but they would call it immortality.”
“I remember,” said Kylon, his memory flickering back to the dark ruins of Caer Magia, to the Great Necromancer Rhames taking up the Ascendant Bloodcrystal.
“Poor choice of a god,” muttered Morgant. “Man with an insect for a head.”
“No stranger than a man with a baboon for a head,” said Laertes. “Though I hope we don’t find scarabs the size of those baboons.”
“Indeed not,” said Nasser. “This is the entrance to the Tomb?”
“Aye, my lord Prince,” said Annarah. “There is a pillared entry hall, and beyond that a domed chamber. Six doors open off from the chamber, and the central one leads to the library where we left the Staff and the Seal.”
“Any defenses?” said Nasser.
“None,” said Annarah. She hesitated. “Though we did not encounter the baboons a century and a half past. And the necromantic aura from the Tomb was not nearly as powerful.”
“Remain vigilant,” said Nasser. “If those nagataaru-infested baboons awakened, then there is no telling what other defenses might have become active.”
“As if we were going to do anything else,” said Morgant.
Nasser did not dignify that with a reply, and they walked into the Tomb of Kharnaces.
###
The chamber beyond the entrance was magnificent.
Caina looked around, ghostsilver dagger in hand, eyes and ears straining to find any sign of foes. Yet she could not help but admire the beauty of the hall. The polished granite floor gleamed beneath her boots, reflecting the bright light from Annarah’s staff. Massive square pillars rose from the floor to the arched ceiling overhead, carved in the likeness of the Maatish gods, muscled men in kilts with the heads of animals – scarabs and baboons and lions and falcons and jackals and others. Hieroglyphs covered the ceiling, shining with a faint light of their own. At first Caina thought that the hieroglyphs had been enspelled, but then she realized they were simply reflecting the light. They had been filled with silver. The overall effect made for a sort of cold, distant beauty.
The air in here was much drier and colder than the jungle outside. Caina’s shirt felt cold and sodden beneath her armor, and she could just imagine the smell when she removed the armor later. She desperately wanted to strip out of her clothes and take a hot bath, but that would have been a bad idea in front of her companions. Stripping off in front of Kylon, though…
She pushed aside the thought with a mixture of sadness and amusement. Even in the midst of deadly danger, the heart wanted what it wanted.
The body, too, come to think of it.
The deadly throb of the necromantic aura reminded her of the deadly danger.
“If Kharnaces was a heretic,” said Kylon, “a worshipper of the nagataaru, then why he is buried in a tomb adorned with the likenesses of the Maatish gods?” He gestured at the images of the animal-headed men.
“Because he did not build this tomb,” said Annarah, the end of her staff tapping against the smooth floor as she walked. “He was imprisoned here, after he had become one of the Undying and turned against the gods of Maat.”
“Why didn’t they just destroy him?” said Kylon. “A Great Necromancer can be killed. Or…destroyed, rather, if all his canopic jars are found and the mummified organs within destroyed.” He glanced back at Caina. “I’ve seen it happen.”
“I don’t know,” said Annarah.
“Maybe he was too powerful,” said Laertes.
“Doubtful,” said Annarah. “For all his power, the other Great Necromancers would have acted in harmony to remove a heretic from their midst. That was how the Kingdom of the Rising Sun ruled such a vast empire for so long. Once they became Undying, the Great Necromancers rarely quarreled among each other, and usually acted in concert. Kharnaces was the exception rather than the rule.”
Morgant scoffed. “I’d wager they didn’t kill him because he was one of them. If it had been some barbarian slave who worshipped the nagataaru, the Maatish would have nailed him to a post in the desert and let the vultures eat his guts. But Kharnaces was a Great Necromancer. Maybe he was just misguided, yes? So they dumped him here in hopes that he would come to his senses.” He made an expansive gesture with his dagger. “Two thousand years and nothing changes. An emir steals from his fellows, he gets a fine. A slave steals from an emir, they chop off his head as a warning to the others.”
“Bet they regretted that,” said Laertes. “Kharnaces is still here, and they are not.”
Morgant smirked at Caina. “Thanks to you.”
“Me?” said Caina. “The Moroaica burned Maat to ashes two thousand years before I was born. I can take the blame for many things, but not that.”
To her surprised, Annarah smiled. “You did convince the Undying of the Inferno that you were the Moroaica.”
Caina shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
The pillared corridor ended in a high stone archway. Annarah lifted her staff, revealing a massive relief of a falcon holding a solar orb in its talons. The relief had been gilded, and seemed to shimmer like fire in the pyrikon’s white light. Beyond was another hall that stretched away into the darkness beneath the hill. Unlike the first hall, there were no pillars. Rather, there were niches of red granite in the walls, dozens of them, the walls themselves covered with hieroglyphs.
Even with the dark aura throughout the Tomb, Caina still felt the powerful spells waiting in the niches.
“Kylon?” she said.
“I sense it, too,” said Kylon. “I don’t know what it is.”
Annarah cast a spell, the light from the pyrikon flickering. “There are necromantic spells in those niches.” She squinted at them
for a moment. “And…something else. I’m not sure.”
“It feels like a warding spell,” said Caina.
“A ward against what?” said Morgant. “If I take another step, am I going to burst into flames?”
“No,” said Annarah. “No, the spells are centered upon those niches. I think…I think there’s something behind the walls, something that was not active when we last visited. Behind…” Her eyes widened. “Beware! It…”
A grinding noise echoed through the chamber, and suddenly hidden doors opened in six of the niches, revealing small, coffin-sized compartments. Movement flickered in each of the dark spaces behind the hidden doors, and six men stepped into the chamber, moving with the calm, fluid grace of warriors.
Caina’s hand tightened against her ghostsilver dagger.
No. Not men. Corpses.
Six withered corpses stepped into the chamber. Like the baboons, they had been mummified, their skin dried to wrinkled leather, their eyes empty pits, their withered lips drawn back from their teeth. Like the baboons, Caina saw the purple fire of nagataaru dancing within the empty eye sockets. Unlike the baboons, the dead men were armored in shirts of bronze scales that fell to their knees, bronze bracers, and bronze helmets. In their hands they carried a kind of hooked sword called a khopesh, the bronze blade gleaming and bright and sharp. It was odd that the bronze was free of verdigris after so long, but to judge from the spells Caina sensed around the armor and weapons, they had been made stronger and harder through sorcery.
She drew the cowl of her shadow-cloak over her head, and the dead men raised their swords.
“Defend yourselves!” said Nasser, and the warriors charged.
###
Kylon rushed into the fray, valikon ready in his right hand.
The undead warriors raced to meet him.
He sensed the nagataaru within their mummified flesh. The nagataaru within the baboons, for all their malevolence, had been comparatively weak. These nagataaru were far stronger. Not as strong as the dark spirit within the Red Huntress, but strong nonetheless. Additionally, the necromantic spells upon them were more powerful than those upon the mummified baboons. A single wound from the valikon would not be enough to dispatch them.
Kylon swung the valikon at the nearest undead warrior, and the creature reacted with catlike quickness. Its khopesh parried Kylon’s blow. The ghostsilver valikon was far stronger and lighter than the bronze khopesh, but the spells upon the dead warrior’s blade allow it to hold against the valikon’s keen edge. Kylon disengaged, bringing the valikon around for another strike with all the speed his air sorcery granted him. The undead warrior pursued him, and another joined the first creature, both attacking with the kind of harmony displayed by veteran warriors. Even with his air sorcery, staying ahead of them was difficult.
Annarah raised her staff and struck the end against the ground, shouting in Iramisian. Power surged through the air, and white light radiated from the staff as the pyrikon’s length burned with white fire. A sphere of white light expanded out from her, passing through the others and slamming into the undead warriors. The spell had been powerful enough to banish the nagataaru inhabiting the baboons, but these nagataaru were stronger. Nevertheless, the Words of Lore knocked the creatures back, stunning them for a moment.
A moment was all that Kylon needed.
He attacked again, swinging the valikon with every bit of physical and arcane strength he possessed. The sword blurred before him in a sheet of white fire, and the nearest warrior’s head fell to the floor with a clang of the bronze helm. The valikon shuddered in Kylon’s hands as it unraveled the necromancy upon the dead thing, and the purple fire flickered and went out as the corpse fell apart.
Nearby, Morgant dueled one of the undead warriors. The spells upon their armor and weapons seemed sufficient to block the edge of his black dagger. Morgant did not let that slow him down. He parried the blows of the bronze khopesh with his crimson scimitar, his dagger landing hits upon the warrior’s unprotected upper arms. Nasser and Laertes fought to protect Annarah as she cast more spells, hurling shafts of white fire at the nagataaru. Caina was…
Where was Caina?
In the flickering light and resultant swirling shadows of Annarah’s spells, Kylon had lost track of her. While she had her cowl up, he couldn’t sense her presence…
Another of the undead things came at him, swinging its khopesh. Kylon parried, the force of the blow knocking him back. Whatever spells Kharnaces had used to raise the corpses had given them inhuman strength. Kylon parried again, dodging a thrust and sidestepping to avoid a slash of the khopesh.
Something moved in the shadows behind the warrior, and suddenly Caina was there, dropping to one knee as she drove her ghostsilver dagger into the back of the undead warrior’s right thigh. She ripped the dagger down the back of its leg, tearing a smoking, sizzling wound into the mummified flesh. It would have hamstrung a living man. The undead warrior spun, lashing at Caina with its free hand, and she rolled away, still clutching the dagger, and jumped back to her feet.
She had given the undead warrior an instant of distraction, and Kylon seized it. The valikon swept down, severing the damaged leg at the knee. The warrior collapsed, and before it could rise again he took off its head. The corpse unraveled into a heap of bones and bronze armor, and Kylon ran to aid the others against the warriors circling around Annarah’s light.
Morgant still dueled the undead warrior, while the other three corpses attacked Laertes and Nasser. Something glowed with lines of sullen light at Morgant’s feet, and Kylon saw cuts where Morgant had slashed his dagger into the stone floor. Had the old assassin suddenly become clumsy? Yet Kylon saw the glow from the red gem in the dagger’s pommel and understood. Morgant had been storing up heat in the dagger.
Even as Kylon ran forward, Morgant stabbed the dagger with a flick of his wrist, the tip biting through the leathery skin on the warrior’s right forearm. It was enough for the dagger. The undead warrior erupted into flames as the dagger poured its stored heat into the mummified flesh, and Morgant jumped away as the burning corpse lunged at him. Like the baboons, the warrior went up like kindling in a blast furnace, and the undead thing collapsed into a pile of burning bones.
Morgant ran to join the others, and Kylon followed. Even as he did, Nasser punched with his left fist, driving through both the helmet and the face of the nearest undead warrior. Nasser shouted with effort and wrenched his arm back, and the movement ripped off the undead warrior’s head, its damaged skull and helmet still attached to his fist. The remaining two warriors rushed at Annarah, and she slammed her staff against the floor again. White fire burst out from the pyrikon, staggering the nagataaru within the mummified corpses, and Laertes bashed the nearest one across the face with his shield, dust and bone chips flying in all directions. Kylon struck with the valikon and chopped off the creature’s head.
Caina appeared behind the final creature, ripping open its leg with her ghostsilver dagger. The nagataaru-possessed corpse whirled. Caina started to dodge, but its arm slammed into her chest and knocked her back, and she hit the ground with a grunt of pain. The corpse stalked after her, and Kylon turned to strike, but Morgant and Nasser attacked first. Morgant’s dagger took off its damaged leg at the knee, and Nasser pounded his gloved left fist into the creature’s head with three rapid blows. The helmet crumpled, the skull crumbling into dust, and the final corpse fell.
Kylon went to one knee next to Caina.
“Fine,” she coughed. “I’m fine.” He helped her to sit up. “Most of the force of the blow missed me. Gods, can those things hit hard.” Kylon held out a hand, and she gripped it and he pulled her to her feet. Her eyes flashed, and she started to say something, but she blinked and looked away.
“Harder foes than the baboons,” said Laertes, brushing some corpse dust from his shield.
“These nagataaru were stronger,” said Kylon, looking away from Caina.
“And the necromantic spells upon th
em more potent,” said Caina, frowning down at the ancient corpses. “We…”
“Don’t move,” said Annarah.
Kylon froze, as did the others.
“Why?” said Morgant, glancing around. “Is the floor trapped?”
“I don’t think so,” said Annarah. “But the spells upon those niches in the wall.” She pointed her staff at one of the emptied niches, letting the light fall upon it. Kylon shuddered to think of the nagataaru standing in the black silence for centuries, waiting for prey to come within reach. “I think they awaken when a living mortal comes too close.”
“I could probably get past them with my shadow-cloak,” said Caina.
“And face the remaining dangers of the Tomb alone?” said Nasser. “That is unwise.”
“Then how do we pass this corridor?” said Laertes. “Could you break the spells upon the corpses, my lady?”
“I could,” said Annarah, “but it would take hours for each one. By the time I finished, Murat would have taken his vessel back to Rumarah. There are dozens of them, which also means we cannot awaken them and fight our way through.” She tapped her fingers against the pyrikon for a moment, thinking. “But I believe there is another way. Gather close around me, please. I wish to try something.”
Kylon and the others obeyed. Annarah raised her staff, and it folded and collapsed, shrinking back to a bronze bracelet upon her wrist. As it did, parts of the bracelet unfolded, climbing up her hand with slender filaments of metal. The filaments formed bronze rings around her fingers, connected to the main bracelet by delicate chains. Annarah flexed her fingers a few times and nodded. As she did, Kylon heard a faint buzzing, rattling sound from the bracelet and the rings.
“It’s done that before,” said Kylon. “When we were hiding from the Sifter in Istarinmul.”
“This form of the pyrikon will let us move undetected past the nagataaru?” said Nasser.
“I fear not,” said Annarah. “That would be convenient. No. Only Ciaran’s shadow-cloak has the power to obscure the vision of the nagataaru entirely. I suspect the nagataaru in those niches are in a…stupor, let us say, from long inactivity.”
Ghost in the Seal (Ghost Exile #6) Page 22