The Tomb of Horrors (32 page)

Two other guards struck at the skeleton from the left side,
and as the creature brought one of its scimitars cutting downward, Kaerion leapt
up and delivered a double-handed blow to its exposed wrist. Bone chips sprayed
in all directions, but Majandra was dismayed to note that the fighter’s attack
had little effect on the skeleton. It lashed out with its second scimitar,
faster than one would think possible for its size, and the bard cried out as
Kaerion sidestepped the attack by inches. The scimitar struck sparks from the
stone floor where it rebounded with a screeching crash.

It was then that Vaxor stepped forward, holy symbol held like
a shield above his head. As the cleric walked toward the skeleton, she could
hear his baritone rumble like the heart of the earth itself, calling upon the
power of Heironeous. His holy symbol pulsed with a golden glow, suffused with
the energy of the god.

The skeleton paused in its attack and turned toward the
cleric. To Majandra, it seemed as if the cleric grew taller with every step, his
voice deeper. The monster threw up one arm before its face and took a single
step backward.

Suddenly, a cold wind blew through the room, rumbling with
the force of a mighty storm. The bard felt the chill pierce through her leather
armor and into her skin, like needles of ice. Unbelievably, she saw the
incandescence of Vaxor’s holy symbol sputter and die, and she marveled at the
silence, knowing that the words to the priest’s prayer had died upon his lips.

The skeleton threw down its arm and moved forward to attack
once again, its mouth opening and closing as it did so. The monster was laughing
silently!

Unwilling to foul up the concerted defense being mustered by
her companions in the relatively close quarters of the room, Majandra pulled out
the leather bag that held her harp and quickly unwrapped it. Not bothering to
tune, she struck a major chord and began to sing an ancient elven battle song,
willing the courage and strength in each word and note to find a home in the
hearts of her companions.

Two guards fell quickly beneath the renewed onslaught of the
creature, leaving only Bredeth, Kaerion, and Vaxor to face the foe directly.
Just as the part of her mind not involved with singing wondered where the ranger
could be, an arrow flew out from the crawlway above. She watched as it flew
somewhat erratically before striking the creature in the chest and shattering
several of its ribs in the process. Another missile followed the first, and this
time Majandra saw that the head of this arrow was nothing more than a rounded
mass of metal, a flying mace. This one hit the creature near its shoulder,
cracking a thick clavicle. Encouraged by the success of Gerwyth’s attack, the
bard modulated her song into a major key, and poured the emotions she never had
the opportunity to share with Kaerion into the song.

Several steps away, the inspiration for her current song had
readied his shield and, deflecting a swift strike by the skeleton, reached down
and grabbed a fallen guard’s warhammer. Striking at the creature’s hips, Bredeth
and Vaxor covered Kaerion while he adjusted his new weapon. They moved aside
with perfect timing as Kaerion gave an incoherent cry before launching himself
at the skeleton. Two mighty swings of the hammer against the creature’s leg
shattered its tree-trunk of a femur, and it fell to one bony knee.

At that moment, Gerwyth loosed two more blunt-arrows. One
tore the creatures left arm from its socket, and the other caught it squarely in
the jaw, knocking the skeletons skull from its shoulders with a sickening crack.
The monster flailed its remaining arm wildly for a few moments before falling to
the floor with a loud crash and splintering into multiple pieces.

Majandra stopped playing at that moment and drew her stinging
fingers to her mouth. She was surprised to note the copper-taste of blood in her
mouth.

“Well done, my friends!” Phathas said as he inspected the now
lifeless bits of bone that littered the floor of the room. “Well done indeed.”

Vaxor and Landra were already seeing to the wounded, and the
bard was relieved to know that neither of the guards who had fallen was dead.
She was doubly relieved to discover that Kaerion’s wounds, while bleeding
profusely, were not life threatening.

“That was fancy shooting, Gerwyth,” Majandra said as she
watched a guard bind the tear in Kaerion’s arm with a thin cloth.

“Thank you,” the ranger replied, dropping down lightly from
his perch in the crawlway above. “I had those arrows made special by a master
fletcher. They don’t fly worth a damn, but they sure do the job once they
hit.” The elf turned to where Phathas and Vaxor stood, conferring. “Well,” he
said in loud voice, “I’ve had about enough of this room. I think it’s time we
made our way back to the main hall.”

Majandra agreed wholeheartedly and was collecting her gear
for the brief ascent when she heard a small voice from somewhere opposite the
crawlway. “Wait, everyone.” it said. “I think I’ve found something. It looks like
a trapdoor.”

The bard looked to the source of the voice and found Adrys
standing near the mass of the giant skeleton’s skull. She moved quickly to his
side and examined the area he was pointing to. Sure enough, the level plane of
the floor was broken by a thin seam, which lay several inches below the
surrounding stone.

“It certainly is a door,” the half-elf said. “It looks as if
the force of the skull falling in this area triggered it open. Good eyes,
Adrys.”

It only took a few moments to clear the skull away from the
area and finish the job that it had begun. Below her, Majandra could see the
uneven stone walls of yet another tunnel.

“It looks like it’s you and me again, Gerwyth,” Kaerion said
as the rest of the group prepared for the descent.

“I’d like to go, as well,” Bredeth interjected. “You could
always use another sword at your backs.”

Majandra heard the familiar eagerness in the noble’s voice,
tinged with a touch of uncertainty at the two companions’ possible response. At
least that sounded more like the Bredeth she knew. Idly, she hoped that Kaerion
took him up on his offer. The noble was always easier to deal with when he got
his way.

“No problem,” Gerwyth said at last, clapping the noble on the
arm. “Another sword could definitely come in handy—especially the way Kaerion
swings his around like an apprentice butcher trying to kill turkeys with a meat
cleaver.”

Majandra’s laughter covered the black-maned fighter’s
response, but she could see by the man’s rueful smile that he was not offended.
Within moments, the three were in the tunnel and out of sight.

This was, she reflected, the hardest part of
adventuring—waiting for someone else to do the job. The fact that this someone
else was also someone that she cared for deeply only made it worse. Thus it
seemed like ages before she saw the light grow brighter in the tunnel. A moment
later, she heard Kaerion’s voice.

“It’s a safe passage,” he said, his words echoing slightly in
the expanse of the tunnel. “But it simply leads back to the hall where we first
entered the tomb.”

She could hear the others cursing at the news and starting to
pull their gear over to the original crawlway, but she didn’t move. Thus, she
was the only one in the treasure room to hear the sound of shouting that echoed
faintly down the tunnel.

“Get Vaxor and the others!” Kaerion said seconds later.
“Gerwyth and Bredeth are in trouble!”

Majandra barely had time to reply before the light receded
rapidly down the tunnel, leaving the passage blanketed in darkness.

* * *

Kaerion’s breath echoed as he crawled through the narrow
tunnel as fast as his armor and gear would allow. Visions of horrifying monsters
and gruesome traps filled his mind as he tried to imagine the danger that his
friends now found themselves in. He cursed once as the tunnel turned sharply and
he scraped the skin of his hand raw on a jagged rock. Another few feet and he
was free of the tunnel. Heedless of his protesting muscles, Kaerion drew his
sword and charged into the main hall.

The telltale flicker of torchlight emerged from a shadowy
indentation along the east wall—a depression that hadn’t been there when the
group had first entered the confines of the tomb. A cry of pain threw all
thoughts out of Kaerion’s mind as he ran toward the passageway. The familiar
sound of combat spurred him onward. With a rush of speed, he pushed past the
splintered remains of a gruesome painting and ran through an open door.

The broad swoosh of wings alerted him to danger just moments
before a black shadow loomed overhead. With a cry, Kaerion dived forward,
rolling hard across his wounded arm. Three arrows hissed out of the corner of
the room, striking his mysterious opponent. As he raised his own blade, the
blood-red torchlight revealed a familiar figure. Above him, suspended by the
awkward flapping of its stone wings, hung the gargoyle whose statue loomed in
another part of the tomb. Only now the four-armed monstrosity was not an artists
representation. It was all too real.

Holding his shield at an angle to protect his left side,
Kaerion darted in for a quick slash with his sword. His opponent opened its
stony mouth wide, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth, as it brought the gray
bulk of its left leg forward to block the attack. Kaerion fell back hastily as
the gargoyle sprang forward and cut at him with four swift slashes of its hooked
claws. He managed to deflect two with a sweeping move of his shield, but the
third attack caught him a glancing blow near his neck, knocking him slightly off
balance. He spun, letting his momentum carry him away from the creature, putting
him out of range of its final attack, which would have caught him square in the
chest.

A shout from the corner of the room distracted the creature
enough for Kaerion to widen the gap between them. Seconds later, another arrow
came winging out of the darkness, this time its steel head pulsed with a red
glow. The magic shaft caught the gargoyle on its wingtip. The beast let out a
hollow-throated howl of protest and flew back up into the shadows of the room.

“Gerwyth,” Kaerion shouted between great gulping breaths of
air, “what happened here?” Desperately, Kaerion searched the ceiling, watching
warily for another attack.

“I’m not sure,” came the ranger’s reply. “I was waiting for
Bredeth at the mouth of the tunnel, when all of a sudden I heard a cracking
sound. By the time I saw the shattered plaster near the entrance of the tomb,
our young friend had already thrown open the door. Within seconds I heard his
cry for help and called for you before I came running.”

Kaerion nodded. “Where is our noble warrior?” he asked,
catching sight of the elf as he nocked yet another arrow to his bow.

“I’m right here,” said a voice roughened with pain.

Kaerion spun at the sound, catching sight of Bredeth’s
stumbling form. The nobles armor was dented and torn in several places, and
blood streamed freely from his open wounds. A gleam of light caught Kaerion’s
eye as he ran to the hurt nobleman. With a gasp of surprise, Kaerion noted the
thick leather collar, studded with a cluster of blue gems, clutched tightly in
Bredeth’s left hand.

“I pulled this off the creature’s neck before it sliced into
me,” Bredeth said before slumping heavily against the raven-haired fighter. “Do
you think Majandra would approve?”

Kaerion had no time to reply. The air above his head swirled
with the flapping of stone wings.

“Incoming!” Gerwyth shouted, moments before the gargoyle fell
like a terrible missile out of the ceiling’s shadows. More concerned with
Bredeth’s safety than his comfort, Kaerion pushed the wounded nobleman to the
floor and stepped back sharply. Razor-sharp claws sliced the air just inches
from his face, but not before Gerwyth’s arrow struck the creature sharply in its
back.

Taking advantage of its momentary disorientation, Kaerion
planted his feet and swung his blade in a deadly arc, twisting his hips to add
more power to the blow. His sword met the creature’s stone skin with the force
of a hammer striking an anvil, and Kaerion nearly lost his grip on the blade.
Bits of stone cracked and fell from the monster’s hide, and it roared in pain.
Withdrawing the blade, Kaerion gave silent thanks to Phathas, who had imbued the
blade with magic after their battle with the demon in Rel Mord.

Wounded as it was, the gargoyle was still a severe threat. It
lashed out twice with its upper claws, catching Kaerion across the face and at
the juncture of shoulder and neck. It was, however, the monsters lower claws
that did the real damage. Forced to raise his shield to block an attack from the
beast’s claw-tipped leg, Kaerion was unprepared for the twin thrust of its hands
as they raked the unprotected length of his chest. Kaerion’s armor shredded into
thin strips beneath the force of the gargoyle’s strikes. He fell back, unable to
muster an effective defense against the evil creature’s tremendous strength and
speed.

At that moment, twin bolts of energy flew from the open
doorway, catching the creature in the face. It screeched once and turned to face
this new threat. Grievously wounded, Kaerion withdrew, confident that the flares
and flashes of arcane energy he saw emanating from the doorway would keep the
gargoyle busy for the moment. Reaching a sure hand into a pouch at his belt,
Kaerion withdrew a vial of green liquid. With one swift motion, he uncorked the
container and brought it to his mouth, swallowing the sweet-tasting potion
inside. Immediately, the pain of his wounds receded and some measure of strength
flowed back into his limbs. Smiling in anticipation, Kaerion withdrew another
glass container and prepared to quaff its contents.

A muffled explosion caught the fighter’s attention. To the
left of the entranceway, he saw that Vaxor had called upon Heironeous for
help—and the god had answered. Three arrowhawks appeared in a blaze of light and
circled the gargoyle, their powerful wings and arrow-like bodies offering them
greater maneuverability. Two opened their sharp beaks and shot a ray of energy
at the gargoyle. The beast evaded the first blast with a sweep of its wings, but
ran headlong into the other mystic bolt. The third arrowhawk, however, misjudged
its flight and flew too close to the gargoyle. Angered by the wounds it was
receiving, the stone-skinned monster concentrated its attacks on the hapless
creature. It disappeared in a flash of light, its last sound a screech of pain.