all.” Kaerion turned hishead to face the others. “Someone grab the healing potions!” he shouted, tearsrolling down his face. “Please!” This last came out as more of a heaving sobthan anything else-though truthfully Kaerion did not know whether it was thecleric’s words or his impending death that broke the dam of emotion he had beencarefully constructing ever since he fled the dungeons of Dorakaa.
“Enough…” Vaxor’s voice cut through Kaerion’s grief withan echo of its former power. “I have… battled death… long enough to not… shrink from it… when it comes for me. However… I ask… two thingsfrom the Arch Paladin’s greatest… living servant… before I…surrender.”
“Anything, Vaxor. Ask anything and I shall grant it to you ifit lies within my power.” The words spilled from Kaerion’s mouth withoutthought.
Another shudder racked Vaxor’s body, this one greater thanthe previous one. The cleric took a moment to recover before continuing. “Grantme… your forgiveness,” he asked, his voice little more than a gasp.
“Freely given, Vaxor,” the Kaerion said, still cradling thedying man’s head.
A thin smile creased the cleric’s face. “Then let me…place my hand upon… Galadorn… once b-before the… thedarkness…claims me. I would… feel its light before I die.”
Without a word, Kaerion unbelted the leather scabbard that held the holy sword. With infinite care, he extended the sheathed weapon, pommel first toward the cleric. Vaxor reached out blindly for a few moments before clasping the hilt with trembling hands. Incredibly, Kaerion watched as the central diamond set within the pommel glowed with a soft, white incandescence. It let out a single pulse, and then another as a third tremor struck the cleric’s frame. Gradually, the ghostly gleam of the diamond faded intonothingness. With a final breath, Vaxor released his grip upon the blade and died.
22
The screaming wouldn’t stop.
Despite himself, Durgoth grimaced at the shrill sound. Even with their ability to see what those Nyrondese fools had done, some of his followers still fell victim to the tomb’s diabolical traps. This situation,however, came about through the man’s own stupidity. Sydra had given thecultists explicit instructions on how to open each of the secret doors, information she had gleaned from the nobleman she controlled as completely as she did secretly.
The man curled in a bloody heap before Durgoth, the wicked barb of a spear imbedded in his stomach. The fool had simply misunderstood Sydra’s direction.
The screaming stopped for a moment as the wounded cultist noticed his master’s presence. “H-help me,” he pleaded, and Durgoth noticed withdistaste that blood flecked the man’s lips and chin.
“I shall, my child,” the cleric replied in his most soothingtone, conscious of the other cultists watching this exchange. Gently he laid a hand upon the now-whimpering man’s forehead. Closing his eyes, he whispered adark prayer to Tharizdun. With a final hiss, the cleric sent the power of his god arcing through the cultist. The man screamed one final time and then lay still, the life burned out of his body.
Durgoth rose and made a simple gesture of blessing on the corpse. Stupidity, he knew, should never be rewarded.
It was Eltanel, emerging from the shadowy length of the passage ahead, who finally broke the ensuing silence. “The way ahead is clear,blessed one,” he said. “I have marked the passage that the Nyrondese party hastaken. I recommend that we rest for a bit, or else we risk coming too close to them.”
Durgoth nodded at the man’s report, noting with interest thesweat covering the thief’s dark brow and the small wet circle along the man’sright thigh-no doubt blood. Whatever Eltanel had discovered, his passage throughthe tomb had not been as easy as he tried to pass off.
Durgoth offered the thief a knowing smile and was about to turn away when Jhagren spoke. “What of Adrys?” the monk asked, not quite hidinghis concern. “Did you see any sign of him?”
Durgoth blinked in surprise. In all of their time together, this was the first time he had seen a chink in the monk’s armor of emotionaldetachment. So, he noted, the man does care for his apprentice. This was useful information-information that could serve as a weapon in the future.
“No, Jhagren,” the thief replied at last. “I did not see anysign of Adrys.”
“Come, my friend,” Durgoth said, offering the monk asympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Adrys is a clever lad- and trained very well.He will find his way back to us, and when he returns, I shall reward him greatly for his service.”
Truth be told, Durgoth had been enraged by the pup’spresumptuous actions. The boy had specific instructions yet chose to ignore them. It was only when it became clear that his involvement had caused the death of that cursed Heironean priest that Durgoth had calmed down. The loss of Vaxor weakened the Nyrondese expedition considerably. Adrys may have handed them the key to an easy victory. In light of that fact, it was easy to view the boy in a more charitable light. If only he could pry Adrys out from under the tutelage of that damned monk. He’d make an excellent servant of Tharizdun.
Obviously not reassured by the cleric’s words ofencouragement, Jhagren turned without a word and stormed off in silence. It took a great deal of self-control not to blast the impudent monk as he skulked about. It was only the fact that they were so close to their goal that stayed the dark priests hand. When the Dark One was finally free, Jhagren and all his cursed brethren would be crushed beneath his heel.
“Blessed one?” a tentative voice asked interrupting histhoughts.
Durgoth spun to face the owner of the offending voice, irritation scribed in every muscle of his body. “What is it, now?” he asked.
“Pardon the intrusion,” replied a scar-faced cultist, “butthe others were wondering what we should do with the body.” He indicated hisrecently deceased companion who still lay upon the floor, a pool of blood surrounding his body like a scarlet halo.
Durgoth thought a moment before responding. He had no use for the blasted corpse and would just as soon leave it to rot. However, he had no desire to spend any length of time near the soon-to-be-decaying mass of flesh and, if Eltanel was correct, they’d have to spend a good deal of time herebefore moving on. In another instant, the cleric made his decision.
“I’ll take care of it,” he said to the cultist, who bowedobsequiously before retreating back to the safety of his brethren. Durgoth sent a silent command and was rewarded a few moments later by the hulking presence of his golem. As the construct regarded him with its cold, eyeless sockets, the cleric pointed to the dead body on the stone floor and said simply, “Dispose ofthis.”
Without a sound, the golem laid a single meaty hand upon the corpse and lifted it up, walking back the way the group had come, following their original path into the tomb. Despite his initial worries that the creature would slow the group down once inside Acererak’s trap-filled lair, the golem hadproven exceptionally useful-both in resisting the deadly force of spears,sliding walls, darts, and other nefarious devices meant to kill intruders, and in cowing the rest of the cultists in continuing on when fear would have caused them to retreat.
Once again Durgoth had cause to be grateful for finding the
When he looked around, Durgoth was surprised to find himself standing before his own pack, the box that held the codex out in front of him. Dazedly, he called out to Sydra, who sat nearby, concentrating her powers upon a certain nobleman.
“Where are they now?” he asked.
It took a few moments for the sorceress to respond, and when she did, her voice was thick, almost husky, as if she were waking from a deep sleep. “They are in a chapel of some sort. Someone just set off a trap,unleashing a lightning bolt that killed several of their guards. The nobles are conferring as to what they should do next.”
Durgoth smiled at the news. “Excellent. And how is our veryown noble?”
The cleric saw a brief frown cross the sorceress’ face. “Heresists my presence, blessed one,” Sydra replied.
