The Doomed Bastards: Reckoning (story complete)

[Lazybones]

Thanks for the posts! This little side-quest will resolve by the end of the week, with a double-length post slated for Friday.

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Chapter 274

THE BREATH OF LIFE


Anku was a brave man, but the sudden appearance of his own face in the visage of an alien creature unnerved him. He was a veteran warrior, but he was also infused with the superstitious dread of his people at spirits and the dark powers of the netherworld, and in this foe he found both in copious quantities.

That vulnerability made him susceptible to the magical power in the creature’s stare, and it darted eagerly forward as the barbarian froze, temporarily paralyzed.

Esir shared his companion’s fear, but the little rogue was much more used to encountering strange and terrible things in the course of looting tombs. He mastered his fear and acted, his hand darting into a leather pouch at his hip. He drew out a long leather whip, which he uncoiled and lashed out with practiced ease. As the long strand flashed in the air, sparkling twists of energy flared around its tip. The whip tore through the creature, but while it failed to get a purchase on its insubstantial form, it was clear from its sudden howl that Esir had managed to hurt it.

It dove for the thief, one of its arms coming down at him like a scythe. For all the seeming mistiness of its form, the concentrated blast of air struck with the force of a battering ram. Esir, however, was already moving, diving forward in a roll that carried him around the creature, already drawing up his whip for another attack. The blast of air from the creature’s strike actually aided him, adding to the momentum of his tumble, and he escaped serious injury.

The last creature flew toward Tammuz, but its gaze attack held no terrors for this man. The mystic calmly lifted a hand and invoked some dread power. Something dark and mysterious flowed through the room, and each of the three creatures shook as black sparks erupted through their bodies. His foe lunged at him in a violent fury, but Tammuz merely withstood the blow, grunting as it lashed a solid blast of wind across his torso.

Anku’s enemy drifted up until the tribesman and the creature were almost touching, face-to-face. The nebulous thing hovered in front of the paralyzed tribesman, and then swept forward, its substance brushing his lips in a twisted mockery of a kiss. As it drew back, tendrils of glowing essence flowed out from the man into the creature, which swelled as it drank deeply from the well of his strength. Anku became pale, but the look of fear in his eyes was replaced by a growing rage, as he fought against the fell power holding him captive.

Esir dodged away from the creature pursuing him. He lashed at it again with his whip, but it was clear that his intent was merely to harry it, to buy time while keeping his distance from the thing. The monster was fast, but the wiry rogue was quicker, and as he ducked under another wind-lash he tumbled back toward his companions. The whip darted out again, this time slicing through the back of the one threatening Anku. The monster, flush with the energy stolen from its victim, barely registered the hit.

The distraction, however momentary, gave Esir’s foe an opportunity that it exploited. It spun and came at him from behind, striking him hard across the shoulders. The rogue rolled with the force of the impact, but as he came back up to his feet, it was clear that he’d felt this latest hit keenly.

Tammuz did not bother to attempt evasions from his foe’s assault. As the creature hissed and raised its arms for another attack, he merely thrust a hand into it, and invoked his power once more. Black bolts flared from his outstretched fingertips, and the monster dissolved with an airy shriek.

Anku’s foe pressed its advantage, seeking to draw more breath from the body of the barbarian. But this time, the creature failed against Anku’s resistance, and as it recoiled from him, he roared a challenge and swept his falchion around in a wild but powerful arc. The blow clove the thing in two, and while it survived the cut the way that a fully physical creature could not, it was clearly weakened, suffering damage that undid the strength it had stolen and then some.

Esir tumbled away as his foe sought him again, keeping away, not letting it get close enough to suck at his breath. It continued to attack him with its wind scythe attack, but the rogue was too fast and too canny to let it get in a second telling hit. And his own blows were doing damage, cutting gashes in its airy form that left trailing bits of mist behind it in its wake.

Anku’s adversary rose up into the air, out of reach of the tribesman. But now that he had his mobility back, he would not be undone. The barbarian crouched and sprang into the air, rising up surprisingly high without magical augment or other artificial aid. The creature clearly had not expected such an assault, and it failed to get away before the barbarian clove it again with his curved blade. This time the creature could not absorb the damage wrought, and it came apart with a soft hiss.

Anku’s leap off the stairs carried him out far over the chamber, but the ten-foot fall he faced was not a difficulty for him. Esir glanced up and altered the trajectory of his latest tumble, drawing the creature almost to the spot where his companion landed. The monster realized too late that it had been outmaneuvered, and before it could escape it, too, was struck by blade and whip, and it dissolved into nothing.

Tammuz walked down the stairs slowly to join the others. The three men stood there, alert for any further attacks, but nothing further stirred from the dark openings scattered around the perimeter of the vault.

“What were those things?” Esir asked.

“They are called breathdrinkers,” Tammuz said. Anku frowned, checking his falchion, but the creatures had left no mark or ichor upon the blade. “It is fortuitous that you had magical weapons; I doubt that normal blades would have affected such.”

“Fortuitous as well, that we had your power against them,” Esir said.

Tammuz turned to the nearest of the dark passages. “We should press on.”

The tomb robber held up his hand. “Nay, we should pause a moment, take our rest, eat something. There is no rush; we should be fresh when we confront further trials. I suggest up there, on the ledge; it gives us a commanding vista over the chamber.”

The others agreed, and they returned to the ledge. Anku broke out a wheel of traveler’s bread and a smaller disk of hard cheese, which he shared around. Tammuz offered to treat the effects of the drain suffered by the tribesman, but the man demurred. He finished his meal in a few bites, and then excused himself to attend to personal functions, moving to the far end of the ledge as a courtesy to his companions.

Esir watched Tammuz with a keen eye as the other man washed his cheese down with water from his goatskin bag. He indicated the tribesman with a slight inclination of his head. “He is troubled, not so much by your power, but by what he sees as his own failure in the battle,” Esir said, his voice quiet so as not to carry over to his companion.

“The creatures used magic; there is no fault. Had our luck been poor, you or I could just as easily been affected.”

Esir nodded, and popped a hunk of bread into his mouth. “Your accent, it is very good,” he finally said.

Tammuz’s look sharpened, but he did not respond.

“I normally do not seek to intrude into the privacy of others,” the thief said. “Especially an employer. But the tomb of Amar-Sina... that is an atypical matter. One must know what one is dealing with, in such a circumstance. You understand?”

“I imagine it would be difficult to slip something past you.”

Esir smiled as he cut off another piece of cheese with his knife. “I am not only known for my plundering of tombs; I am also widely renown as one of the great liars of this age.”

“A useful skill.”

“Indeed.” He popped the cheese into his mouth. “Do not fault your disguise; it is very good. But you rely overly much on magic, to my thinking. A little powder on the skin, some crushed abrath reeds—for the scent, you see—that would be more effective and less susceptible to detection.”

“I take it you can pierce illusions, then?”

The rogue nodded, and tapped the patch covering his left eye. “I cannot use it all the time, or it gives me truly fearsome headaches.”

“A valuable item.”

“Indeed,” he said again. “So, man of... Camar?” He waited for Tammuz’s nod, which came after a moment’s pause. “So, what brings you to this place? Not simple treasure, I assume.”

Tammuz finished the last of his bread, which gave him a moment to consider before he spoke. “I seek the Tears of the Gods.”

Esir rubbed his chin. “Ah. So they are not legends, then.”

“No more than the tomb of Amar-Sina.”

The thief smiled. “Indeed, indeed. Precious, those stones would be. Priceless?”

“There are very few things in this world that one cannot put a price upon.”

The thief chuckled. “Well said.”

“You have been very frank with me, so I will be equally forthright. I did not lie when I spoke of the treasure to be found here. You and your companion will find the prizes well in excess of our initial agreement, or I will make up the difference myself. But the Tears, those come with me. I do not seek to challenge your honor with this statement, but this must be known, up front.”

Esir finished the last morsel of food, and licked his fingertips. “So long as there is enough wealth to go around, good sir, then you will find my friend and I boon companions. And I suspect that there will be more dangers ahead, deadly trials that will be hazardous enough without us looking over our shoulders.”

Tammuz nodded, and looked up as Anku came back over to them. “Are you ready?” the tribesman asked them.

“Are we?” Esir asked, looking to Tammuz. The mystic nodded. “Then let us be on our way,” the thief said, springing to his feet, brushing his hands to clear away the last remnants of their meal.

A detailed search of the chamber below turned up two exits from the vault; a third passage was blocked by rubble just a short distance down its length. After a few moments of investigation, Esir suggested the tunnel to their left, and the companions set out again. Their awareness was sharpened by the memory of the traps they had encountered above, and of their battle with the breathdrinkers. Esir’s instincts served them well once more, as he detected another trap just a short distance down the tunnel. This one had a number of interlocking triggers set into the floor and the surrounding walls, and it took them a good half hour to make it safely past, with Esir marking a safe route on the flagstones using a bit of chalk. At one point, he hammered a pair of spikes into cracks in the walls, creating a step and handhold that they used to bypass a wide stretch of trapped floor. Anku and Esir could have perhaps leapt across the dangerous trigger, but Tammuz lacked that degree of agility.

“Let us hope that we are not compelled to return this way in a great rush,” the thief said, as they made their way past the threatened zone.

The tunnel continued for almost a hundred feet, then bent sharply to the right. They passed through an empty room that Esir scanned carefully for traps, before directing them to proceed. The passage continued on the far side, and ultimately deposited them on the edge of another, significantly larger chamber. This place had a floor several feet lower than the passage, accessed by a series of broad stone steps. Another similar exit was visible to their left, but it seemed as though their destination lay ahead, on the other side of the room.

The far side of the room was dominated by a large mural that covered much of the wall. Tammuz held his light aloft as they approached; the scene was still discernable despite its obvious age. Crafted of colored tiles set into the stone, it showed several scenes of men engaged in a variety of scenes. The men were dark-skinned and muscular, clad in skirts that covered them from navel to knee. The mural was a history of sorts, showing those men building cities, engaging in wars, and worshipping ancient gods. Over them all, rising up onto the slanted ceiling above, was the god-ruler, the emperor Amar-Sina, seated on a throne that resembled a giant ziggurat. The ceiling portion of the mural had lost the most tiles, and parts of the emperor’s body were covered with gray patches, as though he’d suffered from a pox.

The mural overlooked a broad arch in the far wall that sheltered a deep alcove. A pair of pillars of weathered stone flanked the alcove, and they could just see the outline of broad steps, twenty feet wide, leading up into another area deep within. The steps led up to a pair of massive stone doors that stood slightly ajar.

The three just stared at the scene for several long, quiet moments. The reality of the place seemed to strike them in its full impression then.

Anku finally moved forward, bits of fragmented tile crunching under his boots.

Esir sniffed the air, and frowned.

Tammuz merely waited.

A sound echoed back from the alcove. It came from beyond the stone doors. A creak of metal, that grew louder, closer.

Anku’s falchion came into his hands; the tribesman fell into a wary stance.

Esir shot a glance at Tammuz. “Another guardian?”

The mystic did not reply, his attention focused on the doors. His hands wove a pattern before him, as syllables of magic seeped from his lips.

They did not have long to wait. Mere seconds passed before the source of the noise appeared at the doors. A bulky head poked through the opening, followed by a long, sinuous body.

It was a serpent. But that was where any reference to the natural world ended. It was made of bronze, a massive, deadly construct, its body formed of segmented metal that echoed oddly the scales of the real creature it imitated. Its jaws sprang widely open, and as they watched, flaring sparks of electrical energy arced between the long, nasty fangs set around the rim of that opening.

“By all the gods,” Esir whispered, as the unliving guardian slithered forward to greet them.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 275

THE BRONZE SERPENT


Anku did not wait for the creature to close with them. The barbarian tribesman lifted his curved sword and charged, letting out a guttural roar of challenge as the battle-rage of his people filled him with strength. The soft heels of his light boots barely scuffed on the stone, as he rushed the bronze serpent with catlike speed and grace.

The serpent, however, was surprisingly fast for a beast of its size. The blunt head shot down at the onrushing tribesman, its fangs lashing out like twin daggers. Anku sprang and darted under its reach, narrowly avoiding its attack of opportunity. He arrested his leap with an outstretched hand and came up a mere stride from the creature’s long body. Before it could react, he smashed his falchion into a junction of two of the metal’s snake’s segments, intending to sever it in twain.

The blow was powerful, but the monster’s durability was in more than the mere metal that comprised its body. Steel, even magical steel, could not cut the bronze, and while the blow opened a small crack in its body, that was all it accomplished.

Anku staggered back, his arms trembling from the backlash of his hit. The snake, quick to recover from its initial lunge, twisted and snapped at him again.

“Anku, look out!” Esir warned.

The barbarian crouched and leapt once more, intending to vault the serpent’s body and come up on its other side. But this time he was just a shade too slow, and one long fang snared Anku’s shoulder, tearing his zurqa and snagging on the light shirt of mail links he wore underneath. The tribesman cried out in pain as the metal snake bit down, driving the fang through his body, while a surge of electrical energy shot through him, causing his arms and legs to spasm uncontrollably.

Esir glanced back at Tammuz, but the mystic was still lost in his incantation, preparing some spell that would hopefully disable or destroy the serpent. The tomb-raider was not without courage, but he knew his strengths, and close-fighting was not one of them. He lashed at it with his whip, hoping to distract it. He scored a hit, but not only did he fail to note any damage from the hit, the injury that Anku had inflicted upon it earlier flashed with white sparks, and the gap in the bronze closed. The thief’s eyes widened as he realized that far from hurting it, he may have actually benefited the creature.

Anku had recovered enough to grab onto the snake’s head with his muscled hands, trying to pry its jaw open. He’d dropped his sword when the snake had grappled him, and his feet kicked empty air several feet above the ground, giving him little leverage against it. But the snake was obviously quite strong, and he was unable to so much as budge its grip upon him. Anku’s face twisted into a paroxysm of agony as it sent another jolt of energy through his body. Blood was pouring down the man’s body from the vicious wound in his shoulder, but he refused to give up, fumbling at his belt for his pick. Meanwhile, the snake began to coil its long body around the man’s torso, rapidly enfolding him in a crushing grip that would soon grind the hapless warrior’s bones into powder.

A flash of red smoke and a hissing noise announced the completion of Tammuz’s ritual invocation. The brief eruption faded quickly, revealing a huge, hulking horror. It was an ape, easily eight feet tall, with a monstrous visage and an extra set of arms jutting from its torso. It was covered dirty white fur streaked with crimson, making it look like it was covered in blood.

The fiendish girallon fixed at once upon the snake, and charged forward at it. The serpent, engaged with Anku, was not able to defend itself adequately as the ape smashed into it, attacking with all four of its huge claws. It got a good grip with two claws about six feet below its neck and twisted. Metal groaned as the bronze bent under the strain of the ape’s incredible strength, and tiny flashes of energy flared around the abused joints in its body. The ape, not quite done, even tried to bite the serpent’s body, but it only suffered a shattered tooth from the attempt.

The violent and furious assault finally accomplished what Anku had been unable to do on his own. The snake’s jaws opened wide and it tossed its captive aside, focusing on the dangerous threat posed by this new adversary. The ape saw those deadly fangs coming down and it tried to intercept it, seizing the construct’s jaws in its uppermost pair of claws. For a moment abyssal muscles contended successfully against the serpent’s artificial strength; the snake’s body creaked with the effort, and the eight hundred pounds of summoned creature was driven back, a foot, then two, its hind claws scratching deep on the stone. The ape’s lower claws tried to grab onto the neck of the snake lower down, but with the bulk of the girallon’s attention focused on the head, they could not find a secure purchase. Then, when it looked as though the two had come to a stalemate, the snake’s tail whipped around, smashing hard into the girallon’s lower body. The blow distracted the ape for just a second, but it was enough for the snake to tear free and slam its jaw down onto the girallon’s shoulder.

The girallon’s roar of pain shook the chamber with its intensity.

Esir had circled around the melee, doing his best to avoid getting killed by the thrashings of the snake or its adversary. Tammuz reached Anku just as he did.

The barbarian had fallen against one of the pillars fronting the alcove, where he lay coughing up blood. His zurqa had been torn away, and there was a long rip in the mail shirt underneath, revealing the ugly, gaping wound in his shoulder. The man’s flesh had been blackened where the energy discharge from the monster had poured into him, and while the wound had been cauterized shut, it was clear from the way that bright red blood continued to burst from his mouth that his lung had been punctured. He was obviously dying, but his hand continued to fumble on the handle of his pick, and his legs continued to scratch at the ground, trying to get enough leverage to push him back up.

Esir fumbled for a healing potion, but Tammuz was quicker, falling into a crouch beside the stricken tribesman. Ignoring the violence taking place behind him, the man uttered a brief incantation in a low voice. Esir, with his sharp ears, heard part of it: “Dagos defaeca, malum seca...” A flickering glow appeared around the mystic’s hand, and as he seized the injured warrior’s shoulder, not quite roughly nor in a gentle manner, that energy seeped into Anku’s body.

The effect was remarkable. As a man in a risky profession, Esir had naturally witnessed magical healing on multiple occasions, and in fact he carried a variety of curative balms, serums, and elixirs secreted about his person. But he’d never seen healing like this before. Anku’s eyes shot open, and the barbarian’s body convulsed once, and then, just like that, was whole. Esir blinked as he realized that the wound in the man’s shoulder was just gone.

Their attention was drawn around by a last desperate roar, as the girallon went limp, its body crushed within the bronze serpent’s coils, its neck locked in its jaws. As it expired the summoned monster dissolved back into a red mist, which vanished in seconds.

“My sword...” Anku said, casting around for the blade even as he pulled himself to his feet.

“Use your pick,” Tammuz commanded. “That black metal is adamantine; it should prove more effective.”

The barbarian nodded and took up the weapon as the snake’s head revolved around to face them once more. Wary now, Anku waited for the beast to come to them, using the adjacent pillar to offer some degree of cover.

Esir and Tammuz fell back. The thief looked down at his whip. “My weapon is useless... worse than useless, it heals the thing.”

“Trust in the gods,” Tammuz said. The pair watched as the serpent lunged again at Anku, but the barbarian darted behind the pillar at the last instant, avoiding the lunge. The impact of the snake’s blunt head ripped out a considerable chunk of stone, sending a plume of debris across the floor of the chamber. Anku came around the far side of the pillar and struck the serpent’s body with his pick. True to Tammuz’s advice the head of the weapon bit into the serpent’s body, releasing a geyser of electrical sparks. Anku ripped the weapon free and dove forward as the construct’s head came around the pillar, seeking the flesh of its tormentor.

“Anku, get free!” Tammuz shouted. The barbarian heard over the noise made by the serpent, and leapt forward even as the snake lunged after him.

“Pyrotatus!” the mystic shouted, lifting a fist into the air in an invocation of power. A column of fire exploded down from the ceiling, driving into the center of the bronze serpent’s body. The inferno engulfed the creature, overcoming its magical defenses to ravage its metallic body. As the flames died, the serpent fell to the ground in a loud clatter, its joints fused by the heat of the blast. Steam rose from cracks where the bronze had faltered, and the air above it wavered as heat continued to radiate from its body.

The companions gathered and watched the sundered construct in silence. Finally, Tammuz gestured toward the opened doors.

“Come, gentlemen, our fortune awaits.”

Behind him, Esir and Anku exchanged another meaningful look. But they followed the mystic, Anku recovering his falchion as they departed the chamber.

 

[Neverwinter Knight]

They don't have a choice...they will turn on Varo and pay the price.

 

[Moonshade]

Lazybones, I've been reading your Shackled City story. I'm loving the main characters, particularly Zenna and Mole, and Hodge and Beorna have made great additions to the group (go kickass dwarves!). I've looked at the first page of The Doomed Bastards and while it's probably going to take quite a while before I'll be following its most recent updates, it's nice to know I've got more of your writing to look forward to once I'm done with Shackled City! IMO, your style has the best of both worlds for this kind of fiction: I have a good idea of what's happening in D&D terms, but the writing is also so smooth and descriptive that it feels like a story and not just a bare-bones summary of a gaming session.

 

[Lazybones]

Thanks, Moonshade! I hope you enjoy the tales of the poor DBs as well.

And here is the lengthy post I promised for today. Next week we'll find out what happened to the other Bastards since leaving Rappan Athuk.

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Chapter 276

LOOT


Anku laughed as he cracked the top of the clay pot he was carrying, and a flood of silver coins spilled out. The barbarian balanced the heavy container to stop the coins from falling out, but at least fifty had slipped out, clinking on the stone floor as they bounced and rolled across the room.

“By the gods, man, why must you make such a clatter!” Esir said. He hurried over with a small canvas sack, which he held under the barbarian’s pot. Anku carefully tipped the pot, dumping hundreds of the coins into the sack. The ancient coins were thin and irregular by modern standards, but the contents of the pot still appeared to greatly exceed the capacity of the sack. Yet the cascade of silver vanished into the bag swiftly, and barely caused the canvas to bulge as they settled.

“Here, help me gather up this mess you made,” the thief said, collecting the nearest of the scattered coins.

“Bah, you scrabble about on the floor,” the tribesman said, flashing a wry grin. “I think I saw another of those containers in the alcove here.” He headed over to the far side of the room, and started digging around in the debris of ancient tools, weapons, pots and other accountrements that had long since decayed beyond practical use.

Not far away, along the near wall, Tammuz dug through the insides of a stone tomb. They had already cleared out the six sarcophagi along the perimeter of the room, but the mystic was giving them a closer examination, searching for hidden objects or secret panels. They had been wary of traps or undead guardians when they’d opened the sealed stone blocks, but inside there had only been the mummified skeletons of those laid to rest here, covered in the ruined remains of once-fine clothes and armor. Now, all that was left was junk, claimed by the advancing hand of time.

This was the last of four burial chambers that they had cleared out, each richer than the last. All of the weapons, armor, and other useful goods were decrepit and useless, but they had found valuables that retained their worth to the tomb raiders. Ancient coins, stamped with the faded visage of a ruler dead for millennia. Semi-precious stones, inlaid into the hilts of rusted weapons or crumbled armor. Jeweled artifacts such as bracers, anklets, belts, and torcs, constructed in crude fashion by contemporary standards, but prized for the copper, silver, and gold from which they had been made.

The haul thus far had been in bits and pieces rather than a deluge, and Esir’s spacious bag of holding had not had difficulty absorbing the entire quantity of the treasure. Neither he nor Anku complained; the increasing frequency of valuable loot the deeper they continued into the tomb only presaged the greater treasures further on. Thus far the tombs they had found had only housed elite soldiers, councilors, and extended kin of the long-dead emperor. The bones of the fallen prince himself, and his immediate family, had to reside somewhere ahead.

Tammuz’s probing fingers found something, caught in a narrow crevice in the bottom of the tomb. Shifting the mummy, he was able to dig his treasure free. As he lifted it into view, he sucked in a breath.

It was a gemstone, a crystal about as wide and maybe half the length of his little finger. It was a long oval, tapered to a point on one end. As the light of his torch played upon it, the stone came alive in a glimmer of reflections, the brightness shining on hundreds if not thousands of tiny facets in the gem. It was beautiful, and with the light gathering upon the myriad facets, almost hypnotic to look upon.

Esir and Anku had noticed the mystic’s discovery and come over to join him. “So, you have found one of the Tears?” the thief said.

“Yes,” Tammuz said, closing his hand around the gem and placing it in his pouch. “Yes, although it is a very small one. According to my sources, the more potent stones approach the size of a closed fist.”

“They are magic?” Anku asked.

“Of a sort,” the mystic explained. “They are more accurately conduits for certain kinds of energy, and are capable of absorbing and storing a great deal of power within their matrices.”

“And the gods looked down at what their creations had wrought, and their tears fell hard upon the earth,” Esir said, his voice strangely distant.

Tammuz looked intently at him. “The old gods had good reasons for their grief,” he said.

“The new ones, as well,” the thief returned.

Tammuz looked thoughtful. “Yes. Yes.” He turned to Anku. “Did you recover all of your treasure?”

“Yeah, that last pot was cracked, empty. I’m ready to move on, if you are.”

“We’re getting close to the Emperor’s tomb, aren’t we?” Esir asked. Both men looked at Tammuz.

“I do not know the precise layout of the tomb,” the mystic said. “But I suspect that you are correct.”

That revelation made them all somewhat somber, as they departed the tomb and continued deeper into the complex. They were still alert for traps, with Esir clearing the ground ahead of them before every single step forward. They did not encounter more such obstacles, but they did find a mortared wall that required Anku’s pick for them to progress further. They made their way through several empty vaults and passed a few side passages that Tammuz led them past without stopping. The mystic seemed to be guided by instinct, and the other two men felt a building anticipation that only grew with each empty chamber they passed.

The tunnel abruptly gave way to another set of stairs, which broadened as they descended until they were in a long gallery of sorts. They could each feel a sense of cold oppressiveness now; they had to be far beneath the surface of the earth, with all of the descents they had made since entering the timb.

The stairs ended but the hall continued, with two rows of pillars running down the center, supporting the vaulted ceiling twenty feet above. Tammuz’s torch indicated deep alcoves to either side between the pillars, but the mystic left them unmolested. There were objects in those alcoves, vague forms as the light passed them quickly by, but Esir and Anku stayed with the priest. They could always come back, once the greatest treasures had been looted. The pair were taking on the airs of a diner who snubs his nose at a rich buffet, in favor of the finest morsels said to be at the high table. They had already recovered a small fortune in Esir’s magical bag, but since entering the tomb, each had developed escalating expectations at what the private hoard of an emperor’s tomb would contain.

Finally, they came to a broad but relativately low stone arch that marked an end to the hall. Anku’s head nearly brushed the stone as he followed Tammuz through; his skin tingled slightly as he made his way into the chamber beyond.

Esir felt it too. “A ward?”

Tammuz did not turn back toward them. “Be wary. Do not touch anything unless I say it is safe.” There had been a subtle shift in the man’s demeanor since the last tomb, and now it was he who took the lead, as they moved further into the room beyond the arch.

The immediate area was crowded, with pillars half again as thick as the ones in the outer hall holding up a low ceiling. But after about thirty feet, the space opened up once more into a large chamber, almost cavernous in its scope.

The place was impressive. Huge stone forms had been carved into the walls, rising to support the ceiling some thirty feet above. There were almost a dozen of them, quiet stone guardians carved with skirts and breastplates in an archaic style. Their faces were not quite human, but even with Tammuz’s torch held high they could not quite discern their precise identity.

The statues ringed a huge stone bier in the center of the room, accessed by a series of stone steps that faced them. Upon the bier was another tomb, this one carved in great detail with scenes that formed several parallel rows around the perimeter of the container.

Tammuz started toward the stairs, but he was distracted by Esir’s sudden exclamation.

“Here! Over here!”

The three of them rushed over to where the thief had indicated. Tammuz’s light indicated another small arch on the far side of the room, near the huge leg of one of the statues. As the torchlight spread through the opening into the space beyond, it shone brightly on the familiar sheen of gold.

“A fortune...”

Even though they could only see part of the room beyond the arch, one look was enough to prove the truth of the tomb raider’s exclamation. The light revealed considerable mounds of precious objects, overwhelmingly gold, but leavened with items of brass, silver, and platinum, most generously encrusted with precious gemstones. These objects were neither crude nor small, and included objects both practical and decorative to suit almost any function one could imagine. It was as if someone had taken the contents of a lavish palace, transformed them into solid gold, and pressed them into the confines of the small room beyond the arch.

“Forgive me for ever doubting you, priest,” Esir said, his voice almost breaking with the raw greed that filled him. He started forward, arms outstretched, Anku just as wide-eyed a step behind.

“Stop!”

Both men seemed to come out of a haze as Tammuz’s command echoed off the walls of the crypt. Anku frowned as he turned around, and Esir’s expression was even darker.

“What is it, priest?”

“That archway is warded with powerful magic.” Tammuz stepped forward, and the other two parted to make way. He walked up to the very edge of the arch, but no closer. He muttered words of magic, and stared into the opening, ignoring the incredible treasure to focus on small details, from the grain of the stone to the faint specks of dust that floated in the air. Esir came up behind him, and conducted his own examination, without disturbing the priest.

“Well?” Anku finally asked.

Tammuz let out a breath. “I am sorry. The ward is incredibly potent, and bound to the very fabric of this place.”

“What are you saying?” Esir asked. “That we should just give up that loot, because you cannot bypass the ward?”

But Tammuz had already grown distracted; he turned and headed for the great stone tomb in the middle of the room once more. “Perhaps later, I can prepare magic to evade the ward,” he said over his shoulder.

Anku growled something, but Esir forestalled him with a raised hand. The two followed the man, as he ascended the bier and approached the tomb. They watched as he scanned the stone box, which was large enough to hold the remains of ten men. They knew who was held inside, however, even before Tammuz touched the full-sized engraving carved into the lid of the tomb. The details of the carvings had faded some in time, but their exceptional quality was still evident. This one was the representation of a powerfully-built man, clad in elaborate armor, his arms outstretched. Below him, minature figures paraded across the lower half of the tomb, their eyes and hands lifted in supplication to the great figure above.

“Come, help me with the lid,” Tammuz said.

“Odd, that they would place wards upon their lord’s treasure, but not upon his remains,” Esir said, shooting a wary glance at Tammuz. He took up a position to the priest’s left, while Anku took hold of the lid at the foot of the tomb.

“Together, on three, push,” Tammuz urged. “One, two, three!”

The stone lid slipped aside slightly. It took several more concerted thrusts before they could see the opening below. A dry gush of stale air rose from the darkness within. The walls of the tomb were thick, a full foot of stone on all sides. The stone continued to resist them, but finally Anku grunted and pushed with his full might, and with a huge crash the lid toppled over onto the bier, lying propped against the side of the tomb.

The three men leaned over the edge and peered into the tomb. There wasn’t much to see. The body of the god-emperor Amar Sina lay bound in ceremonial wrappings. He wore armor, but the bits of leather that had held the bronze pieces together had decayed with age, leaving only scattered components. A sword had been laid in the right hand of the skeleton; Anku reached in and grabbed it, examining it with a keen eye.

“Worthless,” he said, tossing the sword away. It landed with a loud clatter and skittered into a corner.

“A collector of antiquities would pay thousands of gold pieces for that pitted blade,” Tammuz said. The cleric had started a detailed search of the interior of the tomb, taking more care with the remains of the dead man than the tribesman had.

“If you could convince him that the weapon was what you claimed it to be,” Esir said. The thief’s own cursory examination had revealed no treasure in the tomb, at least nothing immediately valuable.

With a subtle inclination of his head, he directed Anku to follow him. Tammuz, bent fully over the edge of the tomb as he searched, pain them no heed.

The two retreated to the edge of the bier, and engaged in a quiet but intense conversation.

The priest, meanwhile, had grown more intense in his own search. Carefully sliding the body of the dead emperor out of the way, he closed his eyes and felt along the bottom of the tomb. The stone was covered with a layer of dust, powdered stone mixed with the detritus of the human body following centuries of natural decay. His fingers found the slight indentation where a piece of the tomb had settled. He pressed upon the spot, calling upon his magic, whispering words of power.

Before his touch the stone melted away, revealing a small, concealed recess below. Within lie a small bag. Carefully he reached for it, knowing that the fabric would likely crumble at his touch.

A noise drew his attention, and he lifted himself up out of the tomb.

His companions were gone. He lifted his torch and looked around, his gaze drawn inevitably to their most probable location.

A sudden peal of laughter confirmed his suspicion. It came from the arch leading to the treasure room. A moment later, Esir reappeared, accompanied a moment later by Anku, both burdened by several heavy artifacts of solid gold.

“What have you done?”

“Ho, priest!” Esir said, with a grin. “Your warning turned out to be nothing... the ward was pathetic, a flash of light, a little clap...”

“You fools! The ward was...”

He was interrupted as a low rumble filled the crypt, echoing off the walls. The noise intensified rapidly, and the ground shook beneath their feet, nearly knocking Tammuz down. Anku dropped a heavy golden candelabra, and it broke into pieces as it hit the stone floor. “What’s happening?” the barbarian shouted.

“The place... it’s collapsing!” Esir yelled in reply. The shaking intensified, and dust and bits of stone began dropping from above, as cracked appeared in the walls and ceiling, and rapidly began to widen.

“The exit!” the thief shouted, dashing for the far arch, still carrying his burdens. Anku started to reach for the largest chunk of the candelabra but thought better of it, running after the thief with a golden chalice, a ruby-encrusted scepter, and a platinum and silver bowl still clutched in his arms. Neither paid any heed to Tammuz, who had returned to the tomb, and reached into it, heedless of the larger chunks of stone that were beginning to crash down around the perimeter of the bier.

Esir was like a streak of lightning as he darted for the exit. Anku was only a step behind him, but both were still a good twenty paces from the arch when a massive roar filled the place, and the huge blocks of the arch came crashing down into the opening, accompanied by ten thousand pounds of rock and earth. The force of the collapse was enough to knock the two men backward, and it was only luck or desperation that kept them on their feet. Their treasures fell forgotten to the floor. There was so much dust now that it was almost impossible to see, but they could hear the pounding of stones upon the floor all around them. The shaking had not ceased, and if anything continued to intensify until the ground was like the back of an enraged bull beneath their feet.

“The... priest!” Esir coughed, grabbing Anku’s arm and dragging him back toward the crypt.

They staggered out of the collapsing foyer into the huge chamber of the emperor’s tomb. The room was coming apart, and the stone blocks falling from above were the size of carts, slamming into the floor with enough force to crack the stone. The stone statues that ringed the chamber were still intact, staring down at the pair with gazes that seemed triumphant. One finally succumbed to the abuse of the collapse, its head tumbling from its shoulders to land within two paces of the desperate thieves.

“There!” Esir yelled, pointing.

Tammuz stood atop the bier still, adjacent to the empty tomb. He held a scroll in his hands, and somehow though all the chaos Esir could almost hear the words of magic, as the priest drew upon some power to escape.

“Tammuz! Take us...”

But he never got a chance to finish, as the ceiling above opened with a mighty cracking. The priest looked up and fixed his erstwhile companions with a neutral stare.

Then the air shimmered around him, and he was gone.

* * * * *

The Nightfall vespers were approaching peak, and there were nearly twenty white-robed priests of Soleus gathered in the small chapel in the rear of the great cathedral in Camar. This ritual was an echo of the public one held in the huge temple in the nave of the building at sunset. That daily gathering attracted as many as five hundred citizens of the city; these days, with all of the troubles facing Camar, every service held in the cathedral was packed to capacity.

The Nightfall service was quieter, more solemn, and attended only by those consecrated to the service of the faithful. Patriarch Jaduran was not presiding this evening, as he was spending another long night in consultations with the Tribune and the Council in the ducal palace. The old bishop conducting the service had spent sixty-two years in the service of the Father, and he spoke the ritual words with the familiarity of one who knew them better than he knew himself. He stood before the altar, facing the gathered priests, who knelt with heads bowed, echoing his words with the appropriate replies. Behind him a ring of candles around the altar filled the room with a soft light. The damage recently wrought in the chapel had been repaired, although black marks could still be seen on the wooden beams high above, a reminder of the scandal that surrounded the last Patriarch’s removal.

There was a soft sound, a quiet whump that fell in the midst of the bishop’s invocation of safety for the people of Camar in the absence of the sun’s blessed light. The man trailed off, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open in surprise. The gathered priests looked up in confusion at the unprecedented interruption.

There was a man standing in the middle of the sanctum, facing the altar and the surprised bishop. He was shrouded in a dark robe, hanging askance about his person. He was covered in dust, and motes of it floated in the air around him.

For a moment, the priests stared at the unexpected intruder in surprise. A few started to rise, alarmed; one even began casting a spell. But the newcomer raised a hand in placation.

“Excuse me, gentlemen. I did not mean to interrupt your service. Please, bishop, finish the invocation; I will remove myself.”

With that, Licinius Varo turned and departed, leaving the surprised priests to share looks of confusion behind him.

 

[Neverwinter Knight]

Fools they are...I mean were.

Go Varo!

 

[Polynike]

You just have to love Licinius Varo

 

[wolff96]

And that, gentlemen, is what seperates Varo and Dar from the rest of the supplemental characters. They've got... STYLE.

 

[Lazybones]

I have to admit, Varo is often pretty fun to write. Dar too, but in a totally different way, of course.

* * * * *

Chapter 277

A HIDDEN PLACE


The screams were a raw, terrible thing, echoing off the unadorned stone walls of the tunnels deep under the Gold Quarter of Camar. None could enter this place save with the proper keys both mundane and magical, but if someone had been able to penetrate this sanctum, they could have followed those wrenching cries to an iron door set into a massive stone threshold at the bottom of a set of stone stairs worn smooth by the passage of untold centuries. There the intruder would almost certainly been stopped, for the door bore several additional wards, markings of potency that few alive today could replicate, let alone defeat.

The screams died.

In the vault beyond the door, a grim silence persisted for almost a minute.

“We have failed,” the Patriarch of the Shining Father said.

“You... don’t... say,” the source of the screams said.

Talen Karedes, or rather the vampire that the knight had become, sagged in the firm grip of his chains. He was clad only in a simple wrap of white fabric that covered his torso and legs down to his knees. His wrists were held firmly within manacles of silvery-white mithral, firmly attached to thick iron rings that dangled from the low ceiling. Similar bindings, attached to another ring set into the floor, secured his ankles. A magic circle formed of silvered runes encircled him, the markings glowing slightly with a faint light.

Talen shifted, although he was unable as of yet to stand on his own. His movements tugged open his garment slightly, revealing the ragged hole that marked the center of his chest. His skin bore an unhealthy pallor, accentuated by the pale light that was emitted by the two crystal globes set into the walls.

“What happened?” Dar asked.

Allera, her expression tight, dropped a handful of diamonds, now brittle and useless, into her pouch. “The spell could not recover his soul,” she said. “The ritual detailed in the ancient books should have sundered the taint holding him to unlife, allowing my resurrection spell to bring Talen’s soul back to us. But I could not... it was like thrusting my hands into acid, trying to... I could not...”

“Shh,” Dar said, coming forward and taking her hands in his. They were trembling. “It’s all right, we all know you did what you could.”

“The power that resisted us was... immense,” Patriarch Jaduran said. He and Nelan had added their own spell power to Allera’s spell, using an atonement spell, coupled with a dispel evil, in an attempt to sunder the demon lord’s hold on the former knight. It had been like trying to slay an ancient dragon with a hunting knife.

“How do we proceed from here?” Nelan asked.

Talen shifted again in his chains; the clatter of metal drew their attention back around. “There is nothing that you can do,” the vampire said. “Orcus has my soul in his grasp, and you fools lack the power to loosen his hold. You have only one choice.”

“We will find a way, Talen,” Allera said. “We just need time...”

The vampire surged up, his bonds tightening as he stretched to the very edge of the magic circle. He held that position for several full seconds before he sagged back, overcome with weakness once more. Dar’s grip on the hilt of Valor did not loosen for some time after that.

“You fools,” he said, finally, his voice thick with weariness. “You don’t understand. You don’t have time, none of you. He is coming, and there won’t be anything any of you can do...”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Dar said. “We’ve kicked the butt of more than one demon; if Goat Head wants to come into my world, he can get in freaking line to have my steel shoved up his ass.”

Talen sneered. “You understand... nothing.”

“Talen,” Allera began, but the vampire cut her off. He turned his head to look at the final occupant of the chamber, who had stood there silent during the entire ritual, her body stiff like a statue. “Shay. I can’t exist like this... please... help me... put an end to this...”

The scout did not move, did not so much as flinch.

“He cannot get out of those?” Dar asked Jaduran quietly.

The Patriarch shook his head. “Those manacles were fashioned by Artemus Tekal himself. Even if they were to fail, the circle holds him imprisoned within. And even if he could defeat both, the wards upon the door would obliterate a creature such as he, were he to attempt to force his way through.”

“It seems like the church might have had dealings with this sort of thing before,” the fighter said.

Jaduran nodded softly. “Even in the short time since I accepted my new position, I have learned much about the history of my own faith that I never would have suspected, even as a bishop.”

Allera had gone over to Shay, who allowed herself to be led back toward the door. Talen watched her leave, an anguished look on his face. As the five living occupants of the room exited via the heavy door, his voice followed them out.

“He is coming!” the vampire shouted. “He is coming!” The sound of his words continued to echo off the long corridors deep under the streets of Camar, even after the thick door clanged shut, and the heavy bolts slid hard into place, sealing Talen Karedes securely within his prison.

 

[Fiasco]

Varo is definitely the coolest. You are doing a great job with this SH. I would love it if Varo found a way to bind the vampiric Talen to his service! Any chance of an update in the Rogues Gallery?