with what the bard identified as his professional soldier look. She would never have thought that she’d find such a cold glance appealing, but Majandrahad to admit that Kaerion’s concern for her was quite comforting.
“Nothing is wrong, Kaer,” she replied. “I just wanted you tosee what I’d found inside the chest. It’s quite exquisite, really.” She held thering so that he could have a closer look.
Relaxing, Kaerion peered at the piece of jewelry she held within her hand and whistled appreciatively. “I’m no gem crafter, but I’d saythat the stone is a diamond of uncommon quality.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “but it’s also magical and will helpprotect its wearer from harm-” she paused, looking around. “Where’s Adrys? Thiswould be perfect for him.”
Intrigued by the ring, the others pressed in to have a look. Thus, it took her a few seconds to locate the boy in the midst of the confusion. “Adrys,” she called out to where he sat, lounging idly against a wall andtalking softly with Bredeth, “come here.”
“Majandra,” Kaerion broke in, “I think we should have a talkabout Adrys. I’m concerned.”
“I agree,” she replied, shooing away the last of the curious.“Which is why I think that giving him the ring makes the most sense, given ourcurrent circumstances.”
“Yes, but maybe we should wait until we’ve had a chance totalk with the others before you do this?” he suggested.
“Nonsense,” Majandra said as she turned to the subject oftheir conversation, who stood before her with a questioning look upon his face. Though nearly five times his age, the half-elf stood only a hand taller than the boy. She smiled at the lad before holding out her hand, the ring gleaming brilliantly in the center of her palm. “This is for you,” she said, and broughther hand closer when it appeared that the boy would be too shy to take it. “Itwill help protect you while we’re in the tomb.”
After a few more moments of steady prodding, the boy took the ring. Slowly, he placed the item on his finger and flexed his hand. At last, a smile beamed on his face. “Thank you,” he said, and Majandra was sure she caughtthe gleam of a tear in his eye. “My pa was supposed to give me a lifeday giftwhen we made it back to Pitchfield, only…” he paused, “only we never gotthere.”
Majandra ran an affectionate hand through the lad’s hair.What had happened to the boy was tragic, and she cursed the ill luck that stranded him here-crawling through the dusty corridors of an evil wizard’s tomb.
The bard gave Adrys’ shoulder a squeeze before she let himgo back to where he had sat quietly, out of the way of danger. She watched him go for just a moment before turning back to Kaerion. The fighter wore a frown upon his face.
“What is your problem with Adrys?” she asked, unable tofathom his sudden concern. Hadn’t he been one of the few people who had arguedfor allowing the boy to accompany them into the tomb? “Can’t you see he has beenthrough enough without having you looming about him with a dark cloud of disapproval?”
“It’s not that, Majandra,” Kaerion replied. “Really itisn’t.”
“Then what is it? Tell me.” She was frustrated and let theemotion bleed into her voice.
Kaerion opened his mouth to reply, but his answer was cut off as someone nearby cleared his throat quite loudly.
“We must not dally here any longer, Majandra. There is stillanother chest to be opened, and we must continue on our way.”
She recognized Vaxor’s low voice. Despite its commandingwords, the bard could hear worry and concern coloring the cleric’s deep timbre.She spun to face him.
“The chill of this dank place is taking its toll on Phathas,”the priest said, pointing a rough-skinned finger at the mage, who huddled against his staff in the corner of the room, coughing. “I’d like to explore somemore before we have to rest for the day.”
Concern for her old teacher filled her-and guilt forforgetting to consider how he might be faring in this accursed place. “Clearaway from the last chest,” she said, “and prepare the group to head back up thecrawlway.”
She didn’t wait to see if anyone followed her orders, butmoved quickly to the chest and, running practiced hands across its length, checked for any traps.
Satisfied that the chest itself was trap free, she withdrew the picks she used for sensitive locks and began to coax the steel catch that held the chest closed. By the time the half-elf had counted to one hundred, the lock gave a soft click and fell open. Not taking the time to bask in her success, she retrieved the long pole that she had used to flip open the previous chest. Standing against the far wall beneath the crawlway that had led to this treasure room, she carefully lifted up the lid of the chest.
A bright flash of red light almost blinded her, but before she could throw up her arms to protect her eyes, the floor of the room rocked wildly-and then just as suddenly stopped.
That was when she heard the first scream.
Before her, standing amid the crushed remains of the wooden chest, loomed a horrifying creature devoid of skin. Nearly twice the size of Kaerion, the skeletal monster held two large scimitars, one in each bony hand. The beast’s eyeless sockets regarded her with uncanny perception, tracking herevery move. She could see that one of the skeleton’s scimitars was alreadystained with blood, and her own blood ran so cold at the sight that she feared it might stop altogether. Below the beast’s arm, Kaerion’s sword wavedunsteadily, as he desperately tried to recover from the force of the monster’sinitial attack.
The notes of a spell rose from Majandra’s lips, and shecupped her hands, waiting for the release of mystical energy. Absently, she noted that Phathas had moved out from where he had been resting and moved his own hands in the familiar rhythmic gestures of spellcasting. Thus, she was not surprised when the pulsing blue length of her arcane missiles met the blinding electrical force of the mage’s lightning bolt as they reached the creaturesimultaneously-
Only to wash over it as if they had never existed.
“’Ware the monster!” Phathas yelled. “It’s impervious tomagic!”
Majandra cursed as the arch-mage confirmed her fear. Something protected the beast from arcane attack. Most likely this was another of Acererak’s tests.
“Protect the boy!” she heard Kaerion shout to the threeguards who rushed forward to assist him. “I’ll distract the creature from here.”
As Majandra moved to assist Phathas in retreating from the center of battle, she was pleased to note that the soldiers had obeyed instantly and now surrounded the boy in a ring of steel.
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 attackhad 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 thesilence, 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
