by Max Anthony
“I can’t think of a better explanation myself,” replied Viddo. “I think we should take a look to see what lies within.”
They set off across the plaza, using the statues as cover in case there was something malevolent behind one of the windows above, looking for intruders. The carvings were so skilfully made and so lifelike that Rasmus couldn’t imagine that they’d have been copied from anything other than a living version. If he’d been prone to nightmares, the wizard might have found one or two examples of these statues popping up unbidden during his sleeping hours.
Fortunately, Rasmus and Viddo were both made of much sterner stuff and they paid the carvings little heed as they approached the door ahead. The wall of what they believed to be an underground mansion loomed high overhead, six storeys tall and with a perfectly smooth façade. There were not enough statues to provide concealment all the way to the front door, but by the time they got close, the angle from the upper windows was too acute for anyone inside to see the approach of wizard and thief, unless these hypothetical observers decided to lean all the way out in the hope of spotting burglars.
The door was recessed two feet within the arched doorway and the pair pressed themselves as far within as they could. Doors were Viddo’s area of expertise and Rasmus allowed his friend as much room as he was able. The thief ran his fingers carefully over the surface of the door – it was a lighter grey than the rest of the stone they’d seen, and had a faint mottling. There was a stone loop jutting from the surface. It must have taken an enormous amount of effort to carve and evidently served as a means of pushing and pulling the door. There was no sign of a lock.
“No traps,” muttered Viddo. “And it’s not locked.”
“Maybe it is magically locked?” asked Rasmus.
“It may have been at one time, but now it is not. Do magical locks expire?”
“I have no idea,” admitted the wizard. “They last for a very long time. It could be that the magic fades over an extended period – I don’t know for sure. Locking spells aren’t generally a very powerful display of the caster’s art and I must confess I haven’t studied the theory behind them in any great detail.”
Viddo was one of those thieves who actually didn’t like his doors to be already unlocked. Usually, there was nothing sinister to an unlocked door, but it still made him wary, as if it was an invitation to a trap. Also, he enjoyed pitting his wits against the makers of traps and locks and felt cheated if he were denied the chance to defeat his unknown opponents. In the end, he gave this door a gentle push and found that it swung open without effort and without emitting any giveaway squeals or shrieks. It seemed that stone doors had some advantages over their wooden counterparts in this respect at least.
The room behind was long and deep, with a high ceiling and lit with the same green glow as the plaza outside. Viddo made a cursory check for traps, though it wasn’t usual to put such devices in one’s foyer, since it didn’t give a very good impression to guests. On the other hand, he didn’t know if this forgotten race of creatures did anything as familiar as entertaining, hence Viddo thought he’d better check, just in case.
In here there was something they’d not encountered before. There were several items of furniture, made from an attractive marble-like stone. They’d come across furniture before, but it had all been fixed to the floor, as if it were part of the stone left behind when these creatures had made their rooms and dwellings. This room had a low table and two chairs, propped against one wall. Against the other wall were four more chairs, as if the owner of the house hoped to impress new arrivals with the extravagance of his embellishments. Unable to prevent himself, Rasmus sat on one of the chairs, finding it to be as uncomfortable as he thought it might be.
“I’ll bet there wasn’t a single one of these people who wasn’t afflicted by piles,” he whispered, already feeling the chill of the stone seeping through his robes and into his buttocks. He stood up at once, not wishing to do anything that might interfere with his normal regularity, nor indeed to spend any of his precious time thinking about such things.
There were five exits from this large room. Viddo liked to think he had a feel for the best way to proceed in the houses of the wealthy, and headed to the second of the two exits from the left-hand wall. There was another of the stone doors, smaller this time. He pushed it open a crack, before completing the manoeuvre and entering the chamber beyond.
This room was also long and narrow, but lacked furniture. What it did have was writing across one wall, etched into a beautiful sheet of marble. Viddo crossed over to see what it said - he’d seen quite a bit of this script recently and reading it was now almost second nature to him.
“What does it say?” asked Rasmus. Although he was a wizard and theoretically the more academic of the two, he lacked a thief’s innate ability to read unknown languages. Rasmus had occasionally wondered why thieves should have talent in this direction and the best idea he could come up with was that it allowed them to read stolen treasure maps. He was aware that this idea was still a feeble one, but he hadn’t come up with anything better. Whenever he’d asked Viddo about it, the thief had simply shrugged as if to indicate he didn’t have a clue either. All-in-all, Rasmus supposed he was a tiny bit jealous about it.
“It describes the coming of Him Without Name,” said Viddo, his brow furrowed in thought as he looked across at the writings.
“Him Without Name?” asked Rasmus. “That’s about the tenth different description you’ve used for these underground gods. Now I am convinced you are talking nonsense.”
“I may have been a trifle hasty in my earlier theories about the names of the gods, however, while we were in Gargus I spent a fruitful afternoon in the town library, poring over old scrolls and clearing my throat loudly in order to annoy the overbearing librarian.”
“Did you learn something?” asked Rasmus, his interest piqued.
“I did, or at least there were texts in that library that gave hints and suggestions. The history of northern Frodgia goes back thousands of years, seemingly long before the first humans arrived. Written records are patchy and incomplete at best, but there is a common theme running through all the sources. Early man did not have it easy here, from what I have read. There was mention of wars lasting for hundreds of years, though there was little information on the foes, other than that they worshipped a god whose name no-one dared to speak.”
“And what did Him Without Name want, as if I couldn’t already guess?”
“Death, of course. The total extinction of life,” said Viddo.
“Since we are still here and very much alive, did you discover how this god was thwarted in his ambitions?”
“I only had a couple of hours spare,” said Viddo. “And I was aware that I was already running late for my agreed meeting with you, therefore I wasn’t able to study the texts in any great detail. There’re usually heroes involved, or an object of great power.”
Rasmus remained silent, though impatiently so, while Viddo continued reading. The wizard paced about the room quietly, keeping his eyes and ears open in case this house was still occupied.
“Maybe we should search the place thoroughly before we spend any time on these writings,” he offered at last.
Viddo looked up. His expression wasn’t quite one of worry, but it was getting there. “There’s nothing like myths of a death god to stir the imagination,” he said. “See these words here? Each one is stamped with a time. The dates mean nothing to me, but the numbers increase as you read along. It appears that Him Without Name was defeated at one point, but his followers haven’t given up. Quite the opposite, in fact, going by this writing.”
Rasmus crossed over and looked at the etchings in the stone. “These marks could be fifty thousand years old,” he said. “It is likely that they bear no relevance to anything now.”
“I would normally agree with your assessment,” said Viddo. “Yet we have seen evidence of worship in the temples we discovered on our earlier tr
avels, and evidence that these undead are either descendants of the original worshippers or, in fact, the original worshippers themselves, raised from death to continue in their service.”
“That huge chamber we found with the ghouls – there was much sign of recent killing in there,” said Rasmus, starting to share his friend’s concern.
“There might be nothing in it. There may be no death god at all and the denizens we’ve found may simply be warlike and bloodthirsty, seeking a reason to murder – an excuse to kill, as if one were ever needed.”
“Whatever the truth of it, I do not feel reassured. Each piece of information we discover seems to form part of an incomplete, yet inconceivable whole.”
“Come on, let’s search the rest of this mansion,” said Viddo. As if a switch had been flicked, the thief perked up when thoughts of plunderable wealth sprang unbidden into his head.
Catching his mood, Rasmus also cheered up. “We have an inexperienced young warrior to rescue and it would be a shame if we didn’t steal from as many of the death god’s servants as possible in the process.”
Normally, Viddo preferred the word ‘appropriation’ to describe the activities wherein he’d relieve others of their goods. When the owners of these goods worshipped a vile death god, it was more satisfying to refer to it as stealing.
They continued further into the house, creeping as silently as they were able in order to maximise their chances of surprising any hostile occupants. The house was wide and deep, making it a veritable maze of rooms and chambers. There was a lot of stone furniture to be found and some of the walls were decorated in slabs of the same marble, carved with detailed bas-reliefs. These slabs were flush to the wall and suspended by a method that neither man could fathom. Some were carved to depict images of passages and tunnels. Others showed what looked like underground rivers. The majority of them dealt with the subject of death. There were scenes of torture and mutilation, with cruel-faced humanoids dismembering each other with a variety of serrated weapons.
“A pleasant folk,” whispered Rasmus, stopping briefly in front of one particularly gruesome image.
Viddo didn’t respond, since he’d just spotted a flight of steps in the next room. They were wide and steep, without any form of railing to assist the climber. He waved Rasmus over, shaking the wizard from his reverie in front of the carving.
“Should we go up?” he asked. “Or are we getting distracted from our task of finding Jera?”
“We are probably in danger of being distracted,” Rasmus admitted. “If the front door had been locked I would have suggested we leave the place. Since it was open, there’s as good a chance that Jera came this way as any other way.”
There was logic of a sort in his words, and Viddo nodded agreement. He climbed the steps quickly and easily. When he was near to the top, he slowed down and looked cautiously through the opening in the ceiling where the stairs entered the floor above. There was a landing, with more doors leading away.
Viddo was just about to beckon Rasmus to follow, when he saw something out of his periphery. At least he thought he saw something – it was no more than a hint of movement through a distant doorway. Viddo could hear even the quietest of sounds, but he usually had to be listening carefully for them. He’d heard nothing at all, which made him doubt the evidence from his eyes. Years of experience had taught him never to dismiss even the smallest hints of danger – especially in a place as perilous as this one. He faced Rasmus and put a finger over his mouth to indicate it was a time for silence.
Viddo completed his ascent and moved swiftly in the direction of the movement. There were no doors in any of the doorways here, as if the owner had run out of the means to pay for them once the ground floor had been finished. He listened for a few seconds, wondering if he heard the light patter of distant feet. He blew out his breath in a gust, aware that the place might be starting to get to him,
“I thought I saw something,” he whispered to Rasmus.
“Jera?” the wizard asked.
“I have no idea. We should find out by going through these rooms and searching for the source of the movement.”
The plan was a simple one and easily executed. With Viddo in the lead, they crossed room after room, looking for anything that might live here. Rasmus had his cosh in hand and Viddo carried his crossbow at the ready.
The first floor was more sparsely furnished and decorated than the floor below. There was the occasional chair and a few items that looked like desks. A few carvings adorned the walls, but in nothing like the numbers they had seen before. Rasmus had a sudden thought and pulled Viddo to a halt.
“This place reminds me of a wizard tower,” he whispered. “I have seen many practitioners of magic who have built themselves a place to live, away from the hustle and bustle of the towns and cities. These towers are invariably stocked with the choicest items on the lowest floors, with all the other floors being empty apart from the top floor where the wizard resides.”
“That seems like a peculiar arrangement,” said Viddo. “Why on earth would this be so?”
“I imagine that the wizard gets bored with the task of furnishing their home not long after picking the settees for downstairs. Every wizard I’ve ever met wants to live on the top floor, so that will be as opulently appointed as the ground floor. It sounds stupid, but I can only tell you what I have observed.”
“We should beware of the possibility that an undead mage lurks on the floors above us?”
“It’s something to think about,” said Rasmus. “I am poorly equipped to deal with another wizard at the moment. I have no wards or protections with which to defend myself.”
“You said you’ve got a few juicy little numbers in your arsenal, didn’t you?”
Rasmus looked pained at the thought of having to waste something decent on what would probably turn out to be a medium-strength opponent at best. “Yes, I still have those spells and hope that I shall not be required to waste them.”
“It is not waste if the magic is put to good use,” lectured Viddo. “Why hoard these things unnecessarily?”
“Habit,” said Rasmus. “It’s something we’re all taught during our training. To stop us throwing fireballs here, there and everywhere, when words might lead to a more peaceful solution to a problem.”
“It’s never stopped you, has it?”
“It is not wise to confront a wizard with his own foibles,” muttered Rasmus, though he had no intention of taking any action beyond moaning about it.
They climbed to the second floor and then to the third. The rooms here were completely empty, either of movement, furniture or cheery scenes of mass brutality.
“Why not just build it smaller?” asked Viddo, beginning a familiar subject. “It would be ready to move into a lot quicker and you’d waste a lot less money on buying stuff to fill it.”
“It wouldn’t look as imposing if you lived in a house as small as your neighbour’s lesser abode. It’s all about the image.”
“I didn’t see any neighbours, did you?” asked Viddo rhetorically. “A few two-storey dwellings just along the corridor, with hardly a single piece of furniture in the whole village, let alone a piece of fancy marble.”
“Yes, yes,” said Rasmus. “Regardless of your flippancy, the point still stands.”
The internal layout of the house did not deviate much between each floor and they soon found their way to the fourth floor. Rasmus could see that Viddo was taking great care to check for traps and also to listen out for the unexpected.
The steps to the final floor were in the expected location, but they were placed behind an enclosed stairwell, with a stone door at the bottom. Viddo crossed to the door and pulled at the handle.
“Locked,” he said, examining the surface in more detail. The surface was featureless apart from the handle. There was no sign of a lock into which a pick could be inserted.
“Can you get it open?” asked Rasmus quietly.
Before Viddo could answer, the pro
blem was taken out of their hands. Something on the other side pushed and the door began to swing outwards.
7
Viddo reacted first – he grabbed the edge of the door and hauled it fully open. He wasn’t sure if he could have got the door unlocked and didn’t want to risk whoever was on the other side closing it and locking it again quickly.
There was a figure on the other side – grey skinned and broad, wearing tattered robes of faded purple. Rasmus caught a glimpse of the creature’s face – whatever it was, it was definitely dead, with the face mostly rotted away and one eye missing. Its teeth were visible through the receding skin of the lips, giving it the appearance of having an evil, knowing leer. That leer remained even when it received a fist in the face, delivered by Viddo’s quick arm.
“Ouch you bastards!” said Viddo, discovering that punching bone was as likely to hurt his own hand as it was the recipient of the punch.
The creature flinched under the force of the strike, taken by surprise. Rasmus stepped closer and thundered a hefty crack against its forearm with his cosh. An unpleasant feeling vibrated through the weapon, as if he’d just hit a waterlogged tree stump with it.
The creature didn’t make any sound that indicated it was in pain, but it spoke once – a quick, single syllable in a language that Viddo didn’t understand. Rasmus certainly understood it and felt the effects of a powerful death magic assail him. A lesser wizard would have died at once, but there was no mage greater in power than Rasmus, even if a few might have considered themselves his equal. His innate resistance to magic deflected the spell and left him unharmed, but with the knowledge that the creature they faced was not to be taken lightly.
Rasmus answered the death spell with one of the most powerful ones he retained in his memory – a spell of singular destruction, which should have destroyed all but the strongest of adversaries, either alive or undead. The spell landed on the creature, but it simply vanished before their eyes as its magic wards teleported it to a place of safety.