What should have been a perfect end to the perfect night in the life of a thief was rapidly turning sour. The thief prided himself on his skills, and despite his near-legendary status in the Thief's Guild, something had gone terribly wrong this time. He'd planned this job for weeks, haunting the Baron's mansion for long nights, waiting and watching. He'd memorised the guards' shifts, their patrol routes, their personalities. He'd mapped out the entire mansion, from top to bottom, setting up ingress and egress routes. Never before in his scouting had he been caught, let alone seen. This time, his luck had run out.
The thief had gotten into the mansion just as easily as he had on many an occasion. An agile leap from a neighboring window to the mansion's guard walls, then a quick stride across the wall to the courtyard, a silent leap into the tallest tree, then, using a carefully concealed rope he'd set up there weeks ago, he scaled the mansion's side to a vacant room near the attic. The window had opened easily at his touch, belying the complex lock that had once existed there. Once into the room, where he had stashed his tools of the trade in a locked chest, he had quickly moved into the hallways of the upper floors and stalked the guard who patrolled the dark, silent hallway. The guard had paused to check the stairwell door, and seeing it properly locked, turned away down the hall, never noticing the dark shadow that unlocked the door with the key now missing from his belt and moved without even a whisper onto the stairs. He had proceeded downwards past the third floor, where the Baron slept unaware of the intruder, past the second floor where the servants gossiped quietly in their chambers, past the main floor where the majority of the guards patrolled, and finally into the dungeons and vaults below. At the bottom of the stairwell, he had paused to stare through the keyhole to check the guards' positions, and then he had quietly moved aside a grate hidden behind the staircase and dropped soundlessly into the sewers beneath the mansion. Finally, he had stood directly below the vault and pushed open the grate. Now he stood alone before a vast pile of gold and treasure in a small chamber lit with a single torch. He had been frozen in awe of the sheer beauty of the gold, silver and bronze colors reflecting throughout the room. And then he had made his first mistake of the evening. He stumbled as he stooped to snatch up the nearest coins.
Gold, silver and bronze went clattering across the stone floor. He had backed swiftly up against the wall, but his misfortune had increased again. One of the guards had been relieving himself near the door to the chamber, and had heard the commotion within. Shouting to his comrades, he had looked into the room and seen the thief through the barred window in the door. He had hurriedly fumbled with his keys to unlock the door, only to catch the thief's dagger with his forehead. As the guard had dropped dead to the floor, the thief had dropped to the sewers cursing under his breath.
Having planned several escape routes, he had moved swiftly down the tunnels away from the stairwell. A loud crash and violent swearing told him that the guards had entered the sewers as well, though with far less grace. The chase was on.
For long minutes, the thief had sped through the dark passages. It was when he had finally lost his pursuers that all hell had broken loose. He'd slowed his pace to a brisk walk, cursing his misfortune, when he had come around a corner not far from his intended exit and walked right into several guards. It was uncertain just who was the more surprised; though the thief's catlike reflexes shot him into action far quicker than the dim-witted guards.
Leaving his second dagger embedded in the first guard's chest; he whirled past the second man's ill-aimed strike, and dropped the third with a well-placed kick to the knee. As the second turned to come around, the thief slashed him across the face with a dagger 'acquired' from the third's belt. As he dropped with a horrible scream, the thief gutted him before whirling away once more and leaving his new dagger in the third unfortunate guard's throat. He was already well on his way out a hidden exit before the second had died.
As if fortune hadn't frowned enough on a man who prided himself on rarely being seen, much less having to kill, he had arrived at a safe house to find his pouches had been slashed by a close swipe from one of the guards. He had lost all of the coins he had swiftly taken in his escape from the treasure room. He swore loudly for long minutes, and in a rare show of anger, tossed his torn pouches across the room. It was then that the night had gotten even worse. Deep, rough laughter sounded from the shadows in the corner.
"Had a rough night, have ye laddie?"
Regaining his composure instantly, the thief slowly turned to regard the intruder. It was a stupid thief who left himself only one exit from a room, and he was not a stupid thief. The newcomer could never reach him before he was gone out the window or the secret door behind him.
"What do you want?"
The man stepped forward into the faint light and was revealed to be... a dwarf. Rich, thick robes covered the dwarf's short, stocky frame. No weapon was visible, though only a fool would come unarmed into a thief's den. Thick moustaches hung to the dwarf's shoulders, and old scars lined his round, jovial face. A wry grin now split that face, though it never reached his eyes. Menace emanated from those eyes, and the thief sensed evil of some sort. Then the aura was gone, and only the jovial visage stared back.
"Ah, now that would be a good question, lad. But 'tis not what I want, but rather what I can give ye for yer services."
"And just how do you know what my 'services' are? I ought to cut your throat just for wandering in here. Which reminds me, just how did you get in here?"
That rough laughter again, though the thief had difficulty associating humor with that terrible menace he had seen in the dwarf's eyes earlier.
"Once I'd determined that a master thief had taken up residence in town, 'twas not so difficult to find someone to point a few fingers. Gold will loosen many a tongue."
The thief cursed silently. Someone in the Thief's Guild would pay for this betrayal, but that was a problem for another time. The word 'gold' had been said, and his interest was piqued.
"Forgetting for a moment that you have willingly broken into a master thief's hideout, and that you have risked the anger of the entire Thief's Guild for bribing a member, what do you require my services for? And do not think you can bring the guards down on my head, for I will be gone and you dead long before someone else reaches that door."
"Aye, ye are indeed the master I've been looking for. I have an expedition of sorts that may be of some interest. A tomb, wherein a vast amount of loot may be had, is where my companion and I are headed, but neither of us is skilled with the thieving arts. We have need of ye to handle any traps and such that come our way. Even if ye do not find the prospect appealing, I will make the trip more than worth yer while."
As the room fell into silence once more, the thief's head was afire with thought. Intrigued as he was by the journey, and greed being a large factor, he was still hesitant to quest with this dwarf. But greed is a powerful thing, and visions of vast piles of gold danced through his mind. His attention returning to the dwarf, he broke the silence.
"It's a tempting proposal you offer me, dwarf. But I cannot simply go about calling you 'dwarf' and you calling me 'master thief' for an entire trip. I would know the name of you and your companion before we set about negotiations."
A smile split the dwarf's face from ear to ear, and once more his eyes refused to share in it.
"My name is Kaedin Jord, and that of my companion is Olaf Catlen. I believe we shall both profit well from this excursion, Jagahd."
As the two made themselves comfortable around the table and talk turned to coin and treasure, it occurred to the thief that he had never told the dwarf his name. He shivered briefly, and then shrugged, a problem for another time.
* * *
Darkness was just beginning to fall when the trio arrived at their first destination; an ancient cemetery long abandoned in the center of a forest full of twisted and diseased trees. The fading light of the sun barely illuminated the rusty gates of the graveyard, and perpetual mist shrouded the interior. A dreadful silence persisted throughout this place, and even the jovial dwarf seemed subdued.
Jagahd was not a man who enjoyed the sound of his own voice, and he was perfectly happy to allow the silence to continue, if only to avoid speaking to his other companion, the fighter Olaf. While Kaedin insisted on telling a thousand tales of adventure to the thief, Olaf rarely spoke to anyone but himself. The dour and at least half-mad man walked with a stiff-legged gait, glassy-eyed and seemingly a part of a reality far different from that of his companions. Jagahd had often wondered in the two weeks that had passed since Kaedin's intrusion into his life why the dwarf had recruited the man in the first place. Thickly muscled, sporting terribly worn armor and a battered old sword, the fighter definitely looked the part, but his incoherence led the thief to wonder just how the dwarf had recruited him. During the journey, Olaf had never once spoken to Jagahd, and only once said anything to their intrepid leader.
While Kaedin always had a story, he was not nearly so forthcoming with his plans for the expedition. After his initial briefing of the thief on that fateful day two weeks back, he had said nothing of where they were going, nor of why they were deep in the heart of this terrible forest with the sun dropping swiftly over the side of the world. When asked, that strange half-smile of his would surface, and he would change the subject.
Now they stood silently before the rusted gates and stared into the murk. Olaf started muttering to himself once more, fingering the hilt of his broadsword. Jagahd tried to ignore the mad fighter and finally broke the silence.
"Alright, dwarf. Just what are we doing in this godforsaken place with the sun in full retreat? The undead revel in these areas, and I have no wish to confront such creatures in their own land."
Kaedin grinned, a wild look passing briefly across his eyes.
"Ah, there's more truth in yer statement than ye might realize, lad. We have need of a fourth member for a specific task that we will face once we have reached the tomb."
"And just who are we going to find in a graveyard hidden in the midst of a forest, dwarf? You're just as mad as this lunatic here," the thief said, pointing at the babbling fighter.
That terrible aura that the thief had seen in the dwarf's eyes on occasion was in full force once more. A twisted smile split the scarred face in two, and then he turned off into the mist.
"Perhaps ye'd like to see for yerself. Come along, my friend."
Kaedin and Olaf vanished into the haze, and the thief cursed. Damned if he was going to wait alone. He hurried off after them.
For long minutes the trio walked deeper into the cemetery, past ancient gravestones corroded by time and nature, past crumbling crypts. The mist now shrouded even the treetops, and the thief was hard-pressed to see anything beyond Olaf's massive back. Then they entered a clearing devoid of tombstones, and the dwarf stopped. The silence and mist were stifling, and Jagahd fought back an urge to shout just to shatter his claustrophobia. Kaedin seemed to be waiting for something, and a few minutes after their abrupt halt, the thief was introduced to their fourth member.
The mist directly in front of the dwarf solidified into a horrible black shape, something almost human, but that seemed frozen in agony. A tattered robe shrouded everything but the terrible face, with empty eye sockets that wept a thick black liquid, a gaping mouth locked forever in a scream of broken and rotting teeth, and a massive gash that crossed the face from ear to ear, full of rank meat and shredded cartilage. A howl of a thousand tortured souls filled the thief's mind, deafening and terrifying. He dropped to his knees, his hands over his ears, his mouth open in a silent scream, eyes wide and staring. Death stood over him, and he saw the void reach out for him.
Suddenly he was in control once more, the terrible fear dampened to a mere shadow; Death and the void were gone. The horrifying howl in his head went on, though it was markedly quieter. He raised his head slowly to see how his companions fared. Shock froze him once more.
Olaf, arms flailing, hung suspended in the air, blood rolling down his back. The fighter's mouth was open, though no sound could be heard over the dreadful howl. His eyes were locked on the apparition before him, and pure undiluted fury emanated from his unblinking stare. His sword lay broken beneath him, and a black stain crept steadily across the blade. The faint outline of a skeletal hand clutched the mad fighter's throat, where the bony claws had left gaping gashes.
Kaedin seemed unworried about his companion's fate and stood unmoving a few feet away, head bowed. A bright green glow illuminated his hands as he clutched them at his chest. The dwarf's lips moved rapidly, though he was as silent as the fighter in the wake of the terrible howl.
The wraith hadn't moved either, though its cloak now bore a large cut where its chest should've been. Instead, mist now flowed through the hole. The empty sockets still seemed to stare malevolently up at the suspended fighter.
Jagahd stood slowly, his normally dextrous movements clumsy and awkward. The wraith's terrifying stare turned quickly to him, and suddenly Olaf shot sideways into the mist, flung away as easily as a rag doll. The cemetery seemed to shift, and instantly the specter floated directly before him, the tortured face mere inches from his own. The thief threw his hands up to ward off that terrible face, and stumbled backwards.
"Enough, Zael!"
Kaedin's rough voice shattered the deafening howl, and Jagahd looked up in time to see the dwarf's hands erupt in brilliant green fire. His cloak billowing out in a magical wind, a look of pure madness in his eyes, the dwarf threw the emerald fire at the wraith, which had turned to confront this new threat.
The fire caught the specter and wreathed it in brilliant green light. The howl in Jagahd's ears went shrill, pain echoing through his mind. Then, silence.
The thief raised himself slowly from the ground, and stared in disbelief at this new sight. The wraith hung frozen before him, green fire spinning around it. The empty sockets stared at Kaedin. The tattered robes shifted restlessly in the magical breeze, the cut across its chest weeping green flame.
"I will be quite displeased if I find ye've killed my hired help, Zael. Forgotten common etiquette in yer tortured existence?"
The dwarf walked slowly over out of the murk, squinting into the mists in an attempt to discover the fate of Olaf.
"Well? Are ye alive or not, Olaf? Get yer carcass out here either way, I don't pay ye to lay in the mud."
A stifled groan floated disembodied out of the haze, and then the massive fighter materialized next to Jagahd. Blood wept freely from the gashes in his neck, but Olaf seemed to take no notice, as he was once more muttering to himself. His mad eyes were even glassier than before, though they stared relentlessly at the wraith.
-What have you done mage-
The wraith's voice echoed eerily through Jagahd's head. The thief had never dealt with the undead before, and the whole event had shaken him badly. One of the many things he prided himself in was his ability to deal with the unexpected, and his abilities had saved him more than once in his work, but this was something of a whole different level.
-You were told not to return-
Kaedin now stood beside Jagahd, and after a quick check to ensure his thief was intact, turned to regard the wraith with that mocking grin.
"Now that everyone's here, let's get down to business. I have need of ye, wraith."
-What do your needs matter dwarf-
"I have found what we were searching for, Zael."
If the wraith had been capable of displaying any emotion on its ruined face, Jagahd was sure surprise would've been there, and then a terrible hunger.
-You lie-
"Ye know me better than that. We go to retrieve it, and I ask ye to come with us."
-I do not need you alive to repossess that which was mine-
"Aye, ye do not. But ye cannot kill me, Zael, and it is not yer possession, nor has it ever been. In yer shape, ye cannot even wield it. But I can, and I can grant ye what ye wish most."
The wraith took a long time to answer, and for a moment, Jagahd wondered whether it would refuse. Then the ghostly voice spoke again.
-You will break the seals-
Kaedin nodded.
"Aye, wraith, with the artefact in my hands, I will free ye from this pathetic existence."
The dreadful howl again surged through Jagahd's head, and he stumbled away. A dull pain now throbbed in his head, and he tried desperately to block out the screams.
-Remember your vow, mage-
Then the wraith vanished, the howl stopped, and the trio was left alone in the murk. The dwarf nodded, and then turned to look at the thief.
"Well, that was easy enough, wasn't it lad?"
And without a second look, Kaedin moved off into the mist. Jagahd shook his head in disbelief, and then glanced over at Olaf. The mad fighter stood over his broken sword, a strange sadness in his eyes.
"Come on, Olaf. Let's get a few miles between us and this forsaken place," the thief said, and turned away. He stopped short when a coarse voice spoke back.
"My sister gave me that blade. She saved for months so that she could buy me something I would like for my birthday. And then she went and got herself killed when I wasn't around to help her. I should've been there, and now her blade is ruined, baring the same taint that her small body did when they threw her into the fire. And now her blade is gone. I will avenge her, and one day she will finally take my life in forfeit for having failed her."
It was the longest speech the thief had ever heard from the fighter, and one of the only times he had ever seen Olaf's eyes clear. Then the lucidity passed, and the madness returned. The man leaned over and picked up the stained and shattered remnants of his only treasured possession, wrapped them ceremoniously in a piece of his torn cloak and strapped the package next to his now empty sheath. Then he marched off into the murk, muttering to himself.
The thief shook his head in wonder, and then left the haunted clearing behind.
* * *
The gates of the tomb lay before him, and Jagahd could scarcely think about the terrors within. The weeks of travel from the twisted forest to this pass deep in the mountains had given the thief much time to ponder the many questions that plagued him constantly. He'd never asked Kaedin about Olaf when he'd first met the mad fighter, and Olaf had never volunteered anything. As it was, the man hadn't spoken to anyone directly since the graveyard. What terrible secret lay buried in Olaf's past, and what had possessed the dwarf to bring him along? Jagahd suspected that much about both Kaedin and Olaf would remain mystery to him even after the conclusion of their journey.
With Kaedin revealed as a mage, a shock to the thief, who distrusted the arcane arts, and the unspoken history between him and the long dead wraith Zael, Jagahd had much to think about. While the dwarf had steadfastly refused to discuss either his powers or the wraith, he had mentioned that the elusive specter was close at hand, and would be present when it was needed. This did little to reassure the thief, who would've been far happier to know that Zael had stayed behind in its forgotten crypt. What purpose the wraith would serve in the tomb remained a mystery.
During the trip, Jagahd had learned a little about the tomb and the artefact that both Kaedin and Zael desired. The dwarf had been reluctant to reveal all the details, but he had said that it was an enchanted staff blessed with extraordinary powers by a long forgotten god. The priest Ahkiar had prayed to his gods for a sign of their existence, a sign that could assist him against a terrible evil. His prayers granted the cleric had gone to war bearing the staff. But he was betrayed during the fiercest battle, and died a horrible death at the hands of his enemy. His followers had brought his body along with the staff to this hallowed ground and buried him deep in the tomb. With the remote location of the crypt, they had set up many ingenious traps to discourage grave robbers. As the years had gone by, beasts from the surrounding mountains had tunnelled into the tomb and now many laired there.
None of this made the thief feel better about the forbidding gates that waited silently for him, nor eased his mind about the questions that still lay unanswered. But the promise of gold still chained him and drove him to begin his search for the hidden opening mechanism. Kaedin and Olaf stood quietly behind him as he moved slowly around the ancient stonework, the dwarf watching him patiently, the fighter staring off into the distance.
A hidden lever a few feet from the doors sprang up with little resistance, and the triumphant thief stood back as the gates opened, grating across the broken stone. Jagahd moved to stand with the others.
"Alright, take the lead, lad. There will be many traps, though I am certain that at least a small amount have either been sprung or broken from the years. Look carefully, and should ye encounter anything, cry out and we shall handle it."
The dwarf handed Jagahd a lit torch, and the thief moved slowly into the tunnel. Stale air filled his lungs, and a rank smell made him cough. He made a quick search of the entryway for traps, then nodded to his companions and slid away into the darkness.
As the trio descended into the depths, Jagahd made short work of the hidden devices the ancient men had left behind to catch them. He was a master thief, and no trap or sentry had ever stopped him. As always on a job, the thief fell into a trance, moving so silently and swiftly that the stocky dwarf and shuffling fighter had difficulty keeping up. An hour passed, and Jagahd came across his first sprung trap.
An unfortunate creature had wandered onto a hidden panel that activated its doom. A set of spikes had been freed from a dark alcove in the ceiling and promptly impaled the unlucky beast against the wall. The years had stripped the skeleton of its flesh, but the thief could tell the victim hadn't been remotely human. He slipped back to where Kaedin and Olaf waited and warned them that they would encounter other intruders soon enough. The dwarf flashed that wicked smile; the fighter muttered incoherently to himself and fingered the blade of his axe.
Minutes more passed, and Jagahd came across more skeletons and more sprung traps. He began to feel as though he were being watched from the shadows. Abruptly the tunnel widened out, and the light from the torch could no longer chase the darkness away. Suddenly feeling alone and very much in danger, the thief turned to call to the others just as a gust of wind blew out his torch.
"Beware! Ambush!" the thief howled into the passageway behind him and sprung aside just as a primitive spear tore through the air where his head had just been. Drawing his first dagger, Jagahd crouched in the perpetual darkness and searched for his attackers. A whisper behind him, and he whipped his light frame sideways, whirling and jabbing downwards with his weapon. A shriek of pain was his reward, though he was already moving away before the creature could fall. Howls shattered the silence all around him, and the thief dropped to the floor as a massive axe attempted to cleave his head from his shoulders. He rolled backwards and slashed a misshapen leg before the creature could react. Jumping to his feet, still moving, Jagahd strained to see his targets. Something growled to his left, and he whirled away once more, leaving his dagger in what he thought was the beast's throat. A weak gurgle and then a crash as his attacker dropped to the floor.
Green light exploded all around the thief, and at once the entire chamber was alight in flame. Kaedin flew into the chamber, the magical fire flying from his hands, burning down whole groups of the creatures. The dwarf's cloak was torn, and blood dripped from a small slash across his cheek, but fury shone in his eyes, his teeth bared in a snarl lost in the explosions. Olaf charged from the tunnel, howling in his madness, bloody spittle falling from his mouth. Any beast foolish enough to stand before the berserker might of the mad fighter was cut down, his axe soon covered in gore.
Able to see his enemies, Jagahd was lightning, striking one creature then the next, so swift that the beasts couldn't follow him, much less strike back. Revealed in the sorceress light, they were a strange mix. Some of the monsters were short and thin, whip-quick with throwing daggers and spears. Others were massive and wielded crude axes and clubs. Their pale skin was host to weeping sores and ritualistic tattoos, and black hair seemed to erupt in patches at random. They moved on clawed feet, so silently that only the keen ears of the thief could follow their movements without the fire. Their cries were rough and guttural, and they howled their fury back at the companions.
There were dozens, but they were pressed slowly back towards the opposite wall. Soon the creatures were in full retreat, charging across the bodies of the fallen into the many crude holes across the chamber. Kaedin sent the green fire chasing after the last of the beasts, catching it as it leapt towards the shadows and tearing it to pieces. And then the three were alone.
Jagahd and the dwarf met near the center of the chamber, torches lit once more, and examined the many holes. It was obvious that the holes were the work of the creatures, and perhaps led to their lairs far below, but were not the way to Ahkiar's crypt. Several tunnels in the far wall were of similar design to the one they had followed to this point, and Kaedin moved to check each opening in an attempt to determine the right one. It was then that Jagahd turned to look for Olaf and found the fighter lying face down on the ground.
Several spears pierced his back, and blood leaked from each wound. The thief, cursing, ran forward and gently rolled the man on his side. Eyes lifeless and staring, a look of shock on the rough face, blood dripping from his mouth. Jagahd shook his head, and laid the fighter back down. Kaedin moved up alongside him.
"I think I've found the true path, lad, but it appears as though it hasn't been used by the creatures. Ye'll have to search it for traps."
"Olaf's dead, Kaedin. We may be in trouble if the beasts come again."
Kaedin laughed, and that coarse laugh filled the chamber. The dwarf walked over to the prone fighter and promptly kicked him in the ribs.
"Get up, ye have only a little longer to wait, then ye'll be free," and to Jagahd's shock, Olaf groaned and pushed himself upright. Seeing the thief's expression, the dwarf laughed even harder.
"Ah, ye haven't realized it yet, I see. Our companion Olaf here cannot be killed, not while his sister holds his soul captive, and so far she doesn't seem to want to let it free."
The fighter stood slowly, and a low moan escaped his lips. He reached behind his back and tore the spears free with one massive hand, sprinkling the stone with blood and gore. His eyes seemed clear for a moment, and then they glassed over once more. He began muttering to himself and absently wiped his axe clean of gore.
"Shall we go?" the dwarf said with a faint grin, the madness in his eyes.
* * *
Jagahd had lost track of the hours since their first battle with the creatures. Everything had become a blur, as the beasts assaulted them time and again as they descended towards the crypts far below. And time and again the three threw them back, their descent a long trail of corpses and gore. The creatures could not stand against the berserker fury of the half-dead fighter, the terrible green fire of the enigmatic mage, or the quicksilver movements of the thief.
During a lull in the attacks, Jagahd tried to concentrate on locating the cleverly hidden traps of the ancients, but a part of his mind debated the wisdom of this expedition, not to mention the sanity of having joined Kaedin and Olaf in the first place. Madness glinted in both his companions' eyes, and much of their history still lay unrevealed. The dwarf had lied about the mad fighter's affliction, that much was apparent. Something about his explanation made it seem as though Kaedin had some connection to Olaf's misfortune, and given the dwarf's particular skills, the thief was sure he hadn't played a small part.
Since their first encounter with the creatures, Jagahd had seen Zael several times, the wraith fading into existence from one shadowy corner then vanishing into the next. The first time he had turned to check on his companions' progress and found the wraith floating directly behind him, he had nearly blacked out in terror. The thief hadn't seen the specter since the graveyard, and had begun to doubt it had journeyed with them. Yet here it was, empty eye sockets staring malevolently down at him. Zael hadn't said anything, just turned and faded away.
Jagahd didn't mention to his companions about the wraith's presence. Somehow he was sure that the dwarf knew already, and that Olaf wouldn't care. It was after a particularly violent skirmish with the beasts that Zael spoke to him, while the others were resting further back. The specter appeared alongside him as he searched a dark alcove for traps, and did not vanish. Not sure of what to do, the thief stood perfectly still and waited.
-The dwarf means to kill you, thief-
The echoing voice shocked him, and he backed away a few steps. The full impact of what the wraith had said did not hit him for long seconds.
-He will betray you as he did the fighter and I-
The thief stared uncomprehending at the apparition, and threw a quick glance up the tunnel to see if the accused dwarf was within earshot. He tried to voice a question, but nothing came out. Zael floated closer, its ravaged face bending close, black blood flowing from its ancient wounds. The thief tried to look away, but found he could not tear his eyes from the depths of the wraith's empty sockets.
-He will take the staff and abandon you-
A skeletal hand materialized next to his face, and he felt sharp nails slide across his cheek.
-You are the only one without his mark-
Jagahd's throat was raw, and he could not figure out why. His mouth was wide open, though he couldn't remember opening it. A sharp pain on his cheek and he felt blood run down his chin.
-When we are gone, you will be the only one left to destroy the dwarf-
A thousand tortured souls screamed in agony inside the thief's head, and he realized that he was screaming too.
-Kaedin holds the fighter and I to this existence, thief, and soon he will hold the only thing that can release us from this life-
Zael moved even closer, mere inches from Jagahd's face, and the thief tried desperately to flee. He could barely hear the wraith over the cacophony of howling.
-I have marked you, thief, and you will be safe from the dwarf's spells-
The perpetual darkness in the bloody sockets suddenly erupted in flame.
-Remember who saved you, thief-
And then the wraith was gone. Jagahd fell backwards, and lay on the stone, breathing raggedly, sucking the cold air into his lungs. His cheek burned, and he slowly raised a hand to check the damage. As he traced the torn flesh with his fingers, he felt the wound close and vanish. The pain did not recede.
Kaedin and Olaf burst from the staircase behind him, raised from their rest by his screams. The fighter stopped and stared around suspiciously; the dwarf bent down and helped the thief sit up.
"What has happened, lad? We heard ye shout, and thought ye'd sprung a trap and gotten yerself killed."
Jagahd shook his head, and leaning on the dwarf he struggled to his feet. Kaedin looked at him suspiciously and then shrugged. Olaf was staring of into the darkness, muttering to himself once more.
They began their descent once more, the thief half-heartedly searching the tunnels for traps, the dwarf following close behind, the mad fighter taking the rear. Jagahd was still confused by his encounter with Zael, and now the wraith's words echoed through his mind. The dwarf was going to try and kill him, most likely after he'd helped secure the staff. The dwarf had somehow already betrayed the fighter and the wraith, and now held some power over them. The dwarf was going to leave them all entombed with the beasts in this dark tomb.
Zael did not appear again, though the thief was sure he caught glimpses of the specter flitting through the shadows. The perpetual darkness of this place began to close in around him, and he was no longer thinking about the promised gold.
After several long hours of travel down staircases and through ancient tunnels, the walls abruptly surged outwards and vanished into the darkness. The ceiling soared away to shadowy heights, and massive pillars materialized out of the murk. The light from Jagahd's torch reflected off gold. The dwarf's voice cut through the gloom.
"We've arrived, lad. 'Tis the crypt of Ahkiar that stands before us and the staff awaits."
They had reached their final destination, and thief could not be less happy.
* * *
Green fire lanced into a pillar beside Jagahd, dropping massive stones all around him as he struggled to evade another blast of flame. He cursed as the floor in front of him evaporated and showered him with shards of rock and marble. Dodging first one way, then the next, the thief desperately tried to move closer to the mad mage but was forced to wheel away when another blast erupted nearby.
He leapt over another fallen pillar and caught a brief glimpse of Olaf flying through the air, his chest a ragged mess of meat and bone. The fighter smashed into a wall and dropped limply to the ground, his eyes sightless for eternity now.
Zael materialized across the chamber from him and the howl of the tortured souls briefly drowned out the explosions of arcane fire. The wraith's disembodied hands flung black flame at the dwarf, but was suddenly engulfed in an explosion and vanished.
Jagahd whirled from his shelter and dashed for the stairwell. Green fire erupted all around him, and he rolled desperately away. The wraith appeared briefly beside him, tattered cloak aflame, and then went spinning away as a blast of flame exploded underneath it.
The thief cursed himself for joining this doomed expedition, and anger flared within him. The dwarf had betrayed them all, just as the wraith had said, and now he had the staff. Kaedin hadn't even hesitated. The instant Zael gave him the staff from the cursed crypt he had sent green fire in all directions. Jagahd had evaded that first strike, but Olaf hadn't been as lucky and was thrown away into the shadows, his cloak and armor aflame. The wraith had faded away, mere inches from the deadly fire.
The dwarf hadn't said a word since the three descended into the depths of the crypt and found the coffin of Ahkiar. Blood red light illuminated the huge stone coffin, emanating from a massive statue at its head. Zael had appeared beside them, and Kaedin had nodded to it. The wraith had moved forward into that terrible light, flung the lid of the coffin into the darkness and pulled the staff from within. Then it had come back and given the artefact to the mage.
The statue and coffin were gone now, only fragments scattered across the chamber floor. The vast pile of gold had simply vanished when the staff touched Kaedin's hands, an illusion set to draw the foolish into the red light. With the statue destroyed, the light was no more.
Jagahd grimaced as he took cover behind a fallen pillar. The dwarf had been the one holding Olaf to his terrible half-life. With his need for the fighter gone, Kaedin had dropped the enchantment, and now the man lay dead. Anger flared through the thief's mind, wondering if it was the dwarf who had killed the man's sister, and then had simply made up the story that his sister held him to this life in retribution for having failed her. Jagahd wondered if he'd ever learn the truth.
Zael appeared briefly beside him, and the terrible emptiness of its eye sockets gazed down at him.
-Remember who saved you, thief-
Then the wraith vanished and appeared further away, black flame erupting from its disembodied hands. The thief could only watch as the specter ignited in a spectacular explosion of green flame and disintegrated to ash. Now he was alone.
Magical flame still raged throughout the chamber, but the mage was no longer attacking. Jagahd could hear the dwarf moving slowly towards his hiding place.
"Well, lad, 'tis time for me to be leaving. I've tied up all my loose ends, except for ye of course, and now I should be returning to the surface. With the staff, which ye have so helpfully assisted me in acquiring, I am infinitely more powerful than I once was. I must tell ye, yer loyalty up to this point was admirable. I was sure ye'd attempt to take the staff by yerself, leaving us to walk blindly into each trap."
The footsteps stopped and then began to grow more distant.
"Having a bad night, are ye lad?" the dwarf mocked.
Jagahd peered carefully around his cover, and saw Kaedin moving up the stairwell. Moving with all his speed and stealth, the thief leapt from behind the pillar and landed silently, already moving towards the mage, his dagger drawn. No one who'd tried to kill the thief had ever lived. Now Kaedin had turned his back to a highly skilled assassin.
As he neared the steps and started up, his dagger held high and preparing to strike, the dwarf turned, green fire already coming to bear. Kaedin's face was deformed and twisted, horns jutting out of his forehead, black fluid weeping from his eyes, nose and mouth, and his teeth were now hooked and razor-sharp. Just before the thief died, he saw the transformed dwarf smile, and this time, the laughter reached Kaedin's eyes.
Then death reached up out of the depths and Jagahd fell into darkness.
* * *
Kaedin smiled for a long time in his ascent. The staff granted him power such as he had never known, and he sent the green fire streaming in all directions, using it to light his way. The creatures that challenged him were vaporized before they could flee. When he entered the chamber where he and his companions had first encountered the beasts, he sent the fire down into their holes, seeking them out and destroying them.
How had Ahkiar died, wielding this kind of power?
He felt his magic surge throughout his body and felt it change him inside and out. He grew taller as he moved, becoming huge and formidable. Horns jutted out from his shoulders and elbows, and he felt spikes erupt from his spine, shredding his cloak. The instant the frail cloth fell from his back it was incinerated in the magical wake that enveloped him. He was death. He was eternal. He was all powerful.
He sent the fire back into the depths, shattering the walls and ripping up the floor. The roof collapsed, thousands of tons of stone grinding downwards to reclaim the tomb. A backlash of dust and rock shards shot past him, but he felt none of it. His body had become encased in an armor of fire and bone.
As he neared the gates, he flung them into the distance. Centuries old rock and iron ripped free from the mountainside and erupted in all directions. None could challenge him, the greatest wizards, and the armies of the kings. He would destroy them all, and leave the world a shattered ruin.
He stood on the peaks overlooking the forests below and howled into the wind, face upwards defying the heavens.
When he looked down again, a wraith floated in front of him. It seemed vaguely familiar, but his memory had grown foggy in the heat of the magic. He sent the magic ripping into this intruder, and it vanished.
-Kaedin, Kaedin, Kaedin, Kaedin-
The voice filled his mind, and he turned around to find the wraith behind him. He tore it to shreds again.
-Kaedin, Kaedin, Kaedin, Kaedin-
He howls in anger and he sends the fire lancing out, seeking the specter. It stands beside him, the dead face staring into his eyes.
-Kaedin, Kaedin, Kaedin, Kaedin-
The flesh of the wraith's face is blackened and charred, black blood weeps from all over the ruin. The eyes are blistered, and the corneas are a milky grey.
-You betrayed us all, Kaedin, but the wraith betrayed you-
The mage screams and sends the fire lancing into the dark form, burning it to ash.
-It made me into a wraith as well, only untouched by your mark-
He turns and the mountainside nearby erupts in green flame. He searches his surroundings for the specter and finds it floating in front of him once more.
-You cannot destroy me now, betrayer-
He howls his frustration and the fire explodes into the dark figure before him.
-Have you wondered why it is that Ahkiar died despite his power-
The peaks ignite, and green firelights up the sky.
-why it is that Ahkiar was betrayed-
The ground all around him erupts into the air, showering rock and flame into the night.
-The staff's power is finite, Kaedin-
The air itself ignites, green flame flaring everywhere.
-The god who blessed it betrayed Ahkiar, for He is a trickster god-
He screams into the maelstrom, his eyes searching the firestorm for the wraith.
-Just as He now betrays you-
The fire vanishes, the staff grows bright than fades, and he stumbles to his knees, suddenly weak. He feels the spikes and horns disintegrate, falling to ash. He tries desperately to summon the fire, but the staff does nothing. He feels his bones shrinking, and he collapses to the ground, unable to even lift his head.
-Kaedin, Kaedin, Kaedin, Kaedin-
Suddenly he feels himself lifted from the ground, and he is carried back towards the ruined gates. He peers weakly back and sees a disembodied hand pick up the staff and follow behind.
-Kaedin, Kaedin, Kaedin, Kaedin-
Abruptly he is moving through the stone, through the collapsed tunnels, through the ash of his passing. He tries to scream, but finds that he cannot speak.
-Kaedin, Kaedin, Kaedin, Kaedin-
He sees the coffin of Ahkiar, remade anew, the statue beside it once more producing that bloody red light. Then he is falling forward, through the lid, and he is solid once again. He lies in terrible darkness, and slowly he regains use of his limbs. Cautiously reaching out to explore the interior he finds the staff, now useless, lying beside him. He pushes up against the lid but it does not budge.
Reaching out more, he touches burnt and charred flesh. He recoils, but there is no where to go.
-For your greed and ambition, you are sealed within this coffin for eternity, betrayer-
The wraith is inside the coffin with him, and he frantically pushes against the lid. He goes still as he feels a clawed finger slide across his cheek. Then pain like he has never felt explodes through his body. The finger vanishes, as does the presence of the specter. He slowly reaches up to his cheek, but the wound is closing over, healing before it can even bleed.
-When you die, you will not be free from this prison-
The voice is distant, and seems to have an almost mocking tone.
-And die you will-
Then the wraith is gone. For long minutes, he is still. He feels his magic returning to him, though it is only a shadow of what it once was. Summoning a small green flame, he squints around his cramped tomb and finds himself staring into the empty eye sockets of a skull. A terrible feeling raises the hairs on the back of his neck. He glances down at his body.
He is lying beside a full skeleton, the bones of Ahkiar. Something is very wrong, he thinks. Then he hears the creek of old bones moving. He turns back to the skull and it seems almost to be smiling.
He screams as Ahkiar's arms embrace him and his magic vanishes, plunging the coffin into darkness.
Linear Mode
