Kaerion felt a moment of disorientation as the darknessreceded. The bard’s scream had offered him a few seconds of warning before thecomplete and total annihilation of light, and so he was not caught in total surprise. As the spinning in his head gradually receded, he blinked, trying to make sense of what his eyes were showing him. The long hall had disappeared, and now the members of the expedition were crammed into a small room, holding their heads as if each nursed one of the hangovers that he had woken up with every morning for more than ten years. Wherever they were, the teleporting arch had clearly worked as designed.
He cast another glance over his companions. Satisfied that no one had suffered any permanent harm, Kaerion gave his surroundings a more thorough search. The room itself was no more than ten feet wide and, judging by the way Vaxor’s pulsing light reached from end to end, it was less than twentyfeet long. In the center of the room, glaring at him with an expression of hatred locked in solid stone, stood an imposing statue of a gargoyle. Though startled enough to draw his sword at first sight of the creature, Kaerion’sheart settled as his eyes registered that one of the monster’s four gruesomelymuscled arms lay on the floor at its clawed feet.
“Careful, Kaerion,” Gerwyth said as Kaerion slowly approachedthe statue. “Give a shout if it starts to move.”
The fighter grunted his affirmative as he stalked silently over to the gargoyle, sword drawn and held ready for a sudden attack. The elf was right to warn caution. Both of them had seen enough animated statues in their time to be forever wary about stone constructions.
Vaxor’s light grew brighter as he and the other members ofthe expedition drew closer to the statue. Satisfied that the looming block of worked stone before him was simply a statue and nothing more, Kaerion bent and picked up the gargoyle’s splintered arm. Like each of the other three arms, thestone appendage possessed a round indentation in the center of the palm; its flint-gray claws curled slightly around it. As Kaerion called the others over to examine this new discovery, one of the guards shouted out her own find-a narrowtunnel that sloped away from the room at an angle.
“Landra,” he heard the cleric of Heironeous say, “take threeguards and set them to watch the tunnel’s mouth. I don’t want any surprises.”
“A fearsome beast,” Gerwyth remarked as the guard captainsignaled her compliance. “I’m just glad that we don’t have to face the tearingclaws of this thing in battle.”
The elf was right, of course, Kaerion thought as he traced the gargoyle’s palm indentation with a calloused finger. The statue itself wasover eight feet tall, and each of the beast’s teeth looked sharp enough to cutthrough the thickest armor. He’d settle for poking around an old statue any day.
“This depression looks deep enough to hold a large stone,” hesaid to the others, each of whom were poking and prodding the statue.
“A stone,” replied Majandra, whose hands, Kaerion could see,were sliding expertly across the ridged lines of the statue, “or a large gem.”
The half-elf rummaged through the leather pouches hanging from her belt until she produced several red-hued stones, each with many crystalline facets. The gems gleamed in the surrounding light. “Perhaps youshould all step back,” the bard said as she reached out and gently placed one ofthe gems in the gargoyles upturned hand.
Kaerion fell back quickly, his long sword in guard position. Briefly, he wondered where the bard had come across such large gemstones. Full of surprises, that one, he thought, a brief smile flickering across his face-replaced quickly by a frown as he remembered where they were. There wouldbe time for such idle speculation later.
Nothing happened.
Kaerion let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding andsaw the others do the same. Poised for flight before the statue, Majandra relaxed and held out a second gemstone. Again, she placed it in one of the gargoyle’s hands.
Again nothing happened.
Kaerion saw her cast Phathas a rueful grin as the wizard leaned on his staff, staring with interest at the stone monster. The half-elf placed a third gem into the creature’s hand, and Kaerion let out a cry ofwarning as he saw the gargoyle’s fingers twitch slightly. A moment later, thebeast’s claws closed sharply about the stones. Running toward Majandra, Kaerionheard a loud grinding sound, and a spray of glistening red powder erupted from the statue’s hands.
Pulling the half-elf away from the gargoyle, he was surprised at the string of invective that issued forth from the bard’s mouth. Kaerion wascertain he caught fragments of at least four different languages he was familiar with in the torrent of curses that poured out of her mouth, and at least as many languages that he had never heard before.
Stunned silence filled the room as Majandra finally brought herself under control. Several of the guards shifted from foot to foot, obviously amused in the wake of the half-elf’s blistering anger, but toorespectful to comment on it.
“My dear child,” Phathas said at last, breaking the silence,“you do understand that our goal here is to collect treasure from this dreadfultomb and bring it back with us to Rel Mord, and not the other way around?”
Even in the pale light, Kaerion could see the tips of the half-elf’s ears turning red. Companionable laughter broke the tension and sooneven the normally dour Heironean cleric chuckled at Majandra’s discomfort.Kaerion turned away from the embarrassed half-elf, who had finally given up on trying to maintain any semblance of dignity and now wiped tears of laughter from her own eyes, to check on Adrys, who had remained silent through this entire exchange.
The boy was not there.
All levity leeched from Kaerion’s body as he scanned theroom, hoping that the merchant’s son was merely lost in the press of bodies. Hishope was crushed, as swiftly and as surely as the gemstones that they had so recently placed in the hands of the gargoyle.
“Has anyone seen Adrys?” he asked, his voice cutting throughthe surrounding laughter.
“He was just here a moment ago,” one of the guards responded.
“Come on,” Kaerion shouted to his companions, “we have tofind him!”
He bolted from the room, lighting a torch and pushing past the guards who stood sentry at the mouth of the tunnel. If anything happened to the lad, the boy’s blood would be on Kaerion’s hands-hands that were alreadysoaked in the blood of innocents.
The tunnel ran at an angle briefly and then straightened. Kaerion cursed as the area quickly narrowed and he was forced to crawl. The tunnel soon opened into a room of similar length and construction as the hall from which they had entered the tomb. Bright paintings covered the smooth walls of the room. Wild colors swirled and ran together with all the energy of a pulsing rainbow. Though different from the paintings that covered the entrance hall, the pictures depicted by the mad brush of the long-dead artist contained the familiar animal/human hybrids that were the subject of so much of the tomb’sartistry. Some of these creatures, however, held globes of bright color between their hands.
Much to his relief, Kaerion found Adrys standing in the middle of the room, a torch held high in one hand. Running over to the lad, Kaerion checked to see that no harm had come to him. Satisfied, he knelt before the boy and cupped his thick hand beneath the boy’s chin.
“Adrys, why did you wander away from us?” Kaerion said,trying to keep the anger out of his voice. Now that he had found the boy safe and unharmed, his relief was giving way to irritation at the boy’s disregard forhis own safety.
Adrys’ face twisted into a worried frown, and Kaerion couldsee tears welling up in his eyes. The boy stared at him, lower lip quavering. “I’m sorry. I thought I heard someone calling my name,” he said simply. “Itsounded like my father.”
A wave of tenderness crept over Kaerion, cooling his growing anger. The lad had been through a great deal and had lost much. It was possible that the cursed power of the tomb had reached out to capitalize on the boy’sgrief and loss. He had no right to be angry with Adrys. He was simply a child and had not meant any mischief.
“It’s all right,” he said gently. “It’s all right, but I wantyou to promise that you won’t go wandering off again. If you hear someonecalling your name, tell me. We’ll get to the bottom of it together. All right?”
The boy nodded once and gave Kaerion a brief smile, wiping at his eyes. “I promise. If anything happens again I’ll come to you.”
Satisfied with the boy’s contrition, Kaerion turned to facethe rest of his companions, who had burst into the room with startled exclamations. Each of them stared in wonder at the bright, familiar paintings. They were about to spread out and search the room when Vaxor’s voice boomed,“Hold! Remember the hidden pits. Before anyone moves, we should sweep the room.”
It was solid advice, and Kaerion was disappointed that he had rushed in without thought. In his incautious haste to find the boy, he could have put them both in deadly jeopardy. It took quite a while for the guards to finish their check, sweeping and prodding the stone with the ten-foot poles, but at last they proclaimed the floor pit free. Unfortunately, their search had also turned up only a single entrance from the room-another mist-covered archway inthe center of the room’s southernmost wall.
“There may be other ways out of this hall,” Gerwyth said tothe group as they assembled near the tunnel’s entrance. “I suggest that we movein pairs, keeping each other in sight, and check the walls for hidden doors.”
The expedition split up, and Kaerion found himself happily partnered with Majandra. Despite their growing closeness and the experience they had shared on the night of the bullywug attack, events since then had prevented them from exploring their newfound bond. Although the peril that they currently found themselves in did not lend itself to lowering their guard and sharing intimacies, Kaerion had to admit that he felt a surge of emotions-all of thempleasant-when the flame-haired bard was nearby.
They had not been searching long when one of the guards posted to the western wall of the room shouted that she had discovered the outlines of a door. Kaerion turned, the words “don’t touch anything” on hislips, when he heard a loud click. Kaerion desperately ran toward the pair of guards, diving the last few feet.
He was too late.
Moments before he reached the guard, her body shuddered. Twin spears, their wicked blades covered in blood, erupted from the hapless soldier’sback. She fell to her knees and then, with a single gurgling breath, toppled to the floor. By the time Kaerion’s momentum carried him to the body, a line ofblood had pooled on the floor.
Vaxor was at the soldier’s side instantly, placing a handupon her throat. He shook his head, almost imperceptibly, confirming what Kaerion had already suspected-the woman was beyond the cleric’s help. Noddinghis own understanding, Kaerion rose to his feet as the priest began a softly spoken prayer to protect the soul’s journey as it sped toward the Arch Paladin.Kaerion wondered if there would be anyone who would pray in such a way for his soul-not that someone who had betrayed their god so deeply would have any rightto expect mercy or reward in the afterlife.
The cleric bowed as he spoke the final words of the prayer and rose slowly to his feet. “We must find a suitable resting place for thebody,” Kaerion heard him say to Phathas as the mage walked over, laying a heavyhand on the priest’s shoulder. “Then, when we leave this accursed place, we willtake the bodies of the fallen back to the temple of Heironeous to see what can be done for them.”
“You are most generous,” Phathas replied, motioning for twoguards to do as the priest bid. Once that gruesome work was finished, the party returned once more to their search of the walls.
“I sure hope we find something else here, Kaerion,” the bardsaid as the two of them knelt below a lurid depiction of two hawk-headed humans. “I’ve no wish to step through another teleporting archway. I still can’t thinkstraight from the last one.”
Kaerion tried to smile at Majandra’s words, but he succeededin no more than a grimace. “I understand completely,” he said, “though I’dsettle for a teleporting arch if it meant we could bypass all the tomb’s traps.”
The half-elf grunted her affirmative and then returned her attention to the section of wall before her. The two sat there in silence for a few moments more. Kaerion had just finished rapping on a block of stone with the hilt of his dagger when Majandra spoke again. “Have you noticed anything strangeabout Bredeth lately?” she asked.
Kaerion drew his attention away from the wall and looked at his companion. Even now, hundreds of feet below ground, covered in sweat and dirt, he admired the way the torchlight played in her eyes and among her hair. It took a few more moments for him to register that she had repeated the question.
“Hmm? Oh, sorry,” he apologized, feeling his face flushbeneath the sudden heat there. He tried to avoid the bard’s eyes, but couldn’thelp see the sparkle of amusement glistening in them. “Something strange aboutBredeth?” he continued. “Well, he has been a bit subdued since the bullywugskidnapped him, but experiences like that can affect a person deeply. I’m notsure I’d call that strange.”
“You’re right, of course,” the half-elf said. “He has beensubdued, but it’s more than that. He’s been too… agreeable lately. It’s notlike him.”
Kaerion nodded and followed her gaze to where the subject of their conversation stood before another section of wall, dutifully searching. He opened his mouth to reassure Majandra, but before he could speak, Gerwyth’svoice echoed across the hall.
“I think I’ve found something!” the elf said excitedly. “Itlooks like an illusion of some sort.”
Kaerion walked over to where his friend stood. On the wall was a painting of a heavily muscled human with the head of a jackal holding a sphere at his waist. Carefully, Gerwyth extended the shaft of an arrow and touched the brightly painted sphere. To Kaerion’s surprise, the wooden shaftdisappeared as it pressed through the sphere. It was clear that Gerwyth remembered their experience at the demonic mouth earlier, for the ranger gingerly pulled the arrow shaft back out of the red circle.
It emerged unscathed.
By now, the rest of the expedition had gathered around. Phathas moved forward and studied the illusory sphere intently. After a few moments of soft muttering, he raised a single gnarled finger and pointed at the vivid picture. There was a bright flash that nearly blinded Kaerion. He cried out, throwing an arm across his face. The others must not have been as quick, for he heard their cursing continue.
Blinking the last of the pulsing circles from his vision, Kaerion peered at the wall once again-and was surprised to find that thefull-length painting of the jackal-headed human had disappeared, replaced by the uneven expanse of a rocky tunnel. He could see that, like the tunnel that lead from the gargoyle room to this one, the passage before them rapidly shrank down to a crawlway.
Kaerion made sure his shield was securely fastened to his back and then called for a torch. “Gerwyth and I will head down the passagefirst,” he said to the group. “We’ll call back if it looks safe.” He nodded onceto the elf and then entered the passageway.
The walls here were rough and unadorned. In the light of his torch, he could see tiny rivulets of water running down the sides. We must be underneath the swamp, he thought, and wondered how long the tomb’s ancientstonework had kept out the press of mud and water above their heads. Kaerion’smorbid speculation was interrupted as both he and the ranger were brought up short by a blank wall.
“Dead end,” he said unnecessarily and let out a sharp curse.“We’ll have to go back and tell the others.”
“Not so fast, Kaer. Look here,” Gerwyth said, pointing to theleft side of the wall.
Kaerion peered into the flickering corner of the wall and saw the faint outlines of a door, cleverly hidden in the stone. He’d forgotten howmuch he counted on the rangers sharp elven eyes.
“Should be easy to open,” Gerwyth said. “Just press hereand-” the ranger’s words cut off as the floor space he was kneeling on crackedand tilted forward wildly, spilling the elf through the now-opened door.
“Ger!” Kaerion shouted as his friend’s lithe formdisappeared. Crawling carefully to the edge of the unstable section of the floor, Kaerion peered through the door, relieved to see the normally graceful elf pulling himself slowly up from the floor where he had been dumped in an unceremonious heap.
“I’m all right,” the ranger said as he adjusted the straps ofhis pack. The elf gave a slow whistle a few moments later. “I think you shouldbring the others, Kaer. They’re going to want to see this.”
Kaerion nodded. “I’ll be right back, Ger. Be safe.”
“I’m not planning on going anywhere,” the ranger said, acrooked smile forming on his face. “Now use that human penchant for haste andgather the others, you orc-brained lummox.”
By the time Kaerion informed the others of their discovery and the entire group had navigated the trapped door, the ranger had set torches into several empty iron sconces that dotted the walls of this room. It wasn’tthe sconces’ ancient craftsmanship, however, that currently captured theattention of everyone in the large chamber. Kaerion made his way through the press of bodies that gathered in the center of the room. In the now-bright light, he could see three large chests, one made of gold, another of silver, and the third of sturdy oak bound with thick iron bands. Majandra had already declared the area around the chests free from traps, and several guards had tried to lift them-but to no avail. Each of the chests was inexplicably bound tothe floor.
Kaerion watched as the half-elf walked over to the gold chest, intent on bypassing its ancient lock. A premonitory warning, or perhaps it was merely a surge of overprotectedness, sent a frisson of warning up his spine. Quickly, he motioned for two of the guards to flank Majandra as she bent her skills toward opening the chest. He also placed himself in front of Adrys, who, he was unhappy to note, had moved to a position far too close to the only objects of interest in this room.
“A few moments more,” the half-elf said as she manipulatedtwo small metal tools inside the chest’s metal lock. True to her word, a fewmoments later, Kaerion heard the lock click.
Majandra gave the assembled group a wink. “See,” she said asshe deftly placed the tools back into a hidden fold of her cloak. “Nothing toit. Now all we have to do is lift the lid, and we’ll see what this chest hasbeen hiding from-”
The rest of the bard’s words were cut off by the piercingshriek she let out as the top of the chest flew open, disgorging a tumble of black, serpentine shapes.
“Asps!” Vaxor shouted above the din of angry hissing comingfrom the released snakes.
Kaerion watched in horror as the writhing mass of scales and fangs struck out at Majandra and the two flanking guards. In desperation, one of the guards drew forth his sword and stabbed in to the attacking asps, while the other fell to the floor holding his hand, which already looked black and swollen with venom.
As Kaerion rushed forward, bringing his shield from its resting place and drawing his own blade, he could see that Gerwyth had already drawn his bow. It was clear to Kaerion that the elf’s firing line was hamperedby the press of bodies that stumbled away from the mass of snakes.
“Kaerion,” he heard Phathas shout, “clear Majandra and theothers away! I can deal with the asps myself.”
The mage’s words were all the impetus he needed. Concern forthe guards and, more importantly, his fear for Majandra, had already drawn him close to the battle. Sheathing his sword, Kaerion leapt toward the half-elf, who was quickly stumbling back from the snapping fangs of the asps. He slammed his shield into the press of snakes just as his forward momentum knocked Majandra away from danger. Rolling quickly to his feet, Kaerion was forced to bring his shield up again and again to parry the enraged asps as their mouths darted in at amazing speeds, seeking the soft flesh of his arm or shoulder. One snake, untangling itself from the others, had managed to crawl underneath Kaerion’sguard. He felt a slight pressure against his abdomen as the asp’s fangs met thecoiled steel rings of his mail. Realizing he had become as much of an obstacle as Majandra had to whatever Phathas had planned, Kaerion kicked at the snake with his boot, and then shouldered the unwounded guard out of the way.
As he collapsed in a heap on top of the beleaguered soldier, Kaerion saw Phathas step forward and spread both his hands, joining them at his thumbs. The mage shouted another eldritch phrase, and a sheet of crackling flames erupted from his outstretched hands, engulfing the asps. Their angry hissing grew even louder as the barrage of flame continued, until Kaerion couldn’t distinguish between the asps’ sounds and the sizzle of burning flesh.When Phathas finally withdrew his hands, only a pile of ash remained where the snakes had been.
Kaerion rolled off of the guard and helped the winded man to his feet. He was relieved to note that Landra and a few of her charges had pulled the wounded guard out of the battle and carried him over to Vaxor. The cleric now knelt by the stricken man’s side and laid a hand upon the swollenlength of his arm. A blue glow suffused the priest’s hand, and wherever ittouched, the black puffy flesh returned to a more natural size and hue. In a few moments, the wounded guard was completely healed. Though he was happy for the man, Kaerion felt uncomfortable at the reminder of Heironeous’ power.
“The polite thing to do before you knock a lady over is towarn her first,” Majandra’s smooth voice interrupted his thoughts.
“My apologies, lady,” he said in his most chivalric tones. “Iwill endeavor to warn her ladyship whenever the need arises again to knock her on her petticoats.”
Kaerion felt his mood lighten as the bard smiled, her eyes twinkling with laughter and something else-something far deeper and sweeter thanamusement. Unbidden, something that Gerwyth had tried to tell him in all the years they had traveled together flashed through his mind. Though he had suffered through his own imperfection and weakness, there were still things for which life was worth living. He would never have guessed that one of those things would be an enchantingly beautiful daughter of a Nyrondese noble house.
The satisfaction of his newfound revelation lasted only a few moments, for as soon as the expedition fully regrouped after the asp attack, the bard returned to the gold chest. She examined it carefully, tapping its inner walls, and then shook her head. “Nothing inside here at all,” she informed theassembled group, “except some old asp scales.”
Kaerion could hear the disappointment in the collective sigh that went through the group. Still, he knew that the setbacks they experienced so far would not deter the Nyrondese from their goal. They had planned and sacrificed so much for this journey. He could see in the set of every shoulder-including Majandra’s-that giving up was not an option. He had to admirethat kind of conviction.
Although somewhere along the way he had come to view these nobles as his companions and not merely his employers, he still felt that, for the most part, their expedition was foolish. He had risked his life at first because of the promised money, and then simply because that was what one did for companions-even if at that time he felt like a complete outsider, in danger ofhis secret guilt becoming exposed. Kaerion knew now that, with the probable exception of the Heironean priest, whose faith and commitment to the ideals of his god would not allow him such weakness, the rest of the nobles had accepted him into their company as an equal, a valued companion, despite who he was.
Kaerion now stood at the brink of believing in their goal-theresurrection of an entire kingdom-not simply because of his growing love (yes,he had to admit it for what it was) for Majandra, but because there simply was too much evil and destruction in the world to allow Nyrond, a once bright and powerful nation, to die without a fight.
The click of another lock brought Kaerion back to his present situation. Majandra had moved on to the silver chest, apparently disposing of its lock as easily as she did the first one. He was relieved to see, however, that the half-elf moved quickly away from the unlocked chest. She relieved a long wooden pole from one of the guards. Carefully, she extended the pole toward the silver chest, and with a deft move of her wrists, she lifted its hinged top open with the awkward instrument.
Nothing happened.
Slowly, the half-elf walked toward the open chest, and with her came several guards, including Landra, their swords drawn. “Nothing here buta crystal box,” one of the guards said, sheathing her weapon and reaching intothe chest.
“No!” Majandra shouted and flung herself at the guard, but itwas too late. As the soldier withdrew the crystal box from the chest, Kaerion heard the soft snick of a releasing catch. Small darts shot out of the chest, buzzing in all directions. Kaerion heard several cries of pain from the group standing before the chest. He raised his own shield just in time-
And nearly dropped it as he watched a sharp-tipped dart cut easily through the air toward Adrys’ unprotected neck. To his amazement, theboy stepped forward and brought his left hand up and at an angle before his face, striking the wooden shaft of the flying needle and knocking it aside.
“Adrys, how did you do that?” he asked, running to the boy’sside.
“Do what, sir?” Adrys asked with a bewildered look on hisface.
Kaerion stared at the boy for a moment, confusion stealing over his own features. Perhaps the nearness of danger caused him to see something that wasn’t there. Surely the untrained son of a merchant would beunable to deflect a dart with his hands. There were few seasoned warriors he knew who could do such a thing, unless…
Unbidden, flashes of a pockmarked man in a blood-red robe, hands weaving deadly arcs in a shadowed alley, appeared in Kaerion’s mind, butthey were quickly replaced by concern as he heard Majandra shout his name.
Running toward the sound of her voice, the events of the last few moments forgotten in his haste to reach the half-elf, Kaerion never saw the look of cruel satisfaction that passed over Adrys’ face.