Brian Kittrell - The Immortals of Myrdwyer

“He can imbue the weapon with any spell he knows.”

“Of course, but what sort of challenges will we face?”

“Within Kareth’s lair, there will be Trappers and Netheren. We could face wild animals, but they’re the least of our concerns.”

“Netheren?” Brice asked, glancing at the sword Laedron had given him. “Will this work on those?”

“The undead? It’s not so much the tool as it is the method.”

Seeing a puzzled look on Brice’s face, Laedron said, “He means, cut off the head. Anything with an edge can do that.”

“Oh, right.”

Marac shrugged. “I’ll think about it. Come back to me, would you?”

“Very well. Val, what would you want for your bow?”

“I won’t be able to cut off the head of anything with it, and I’ve never heard of a bow that can break stone. Whatever you think would be best.”

Lightning? No, that would be of little use against either enemy.Flames? She could burn the undead, but cannot set crystal ablaze. A bit dangerous, too, if an arrow went astray. Ice? It might not work.

“We used to enchant our bows with force spells,” Tavin offered.

Laedron was surprised. “Force spells? How does that work?”

“You put an enchantment on the arrows so that, upon impact, they release an incredible force in every direction. If the force is strong enough and applied at the right location, it could separate limbs from the body or even crack the crystal structures of the Trappers.”

“Excellent suggestion,” Laedron said, taking the quiver from Valyrie. He imbued the arrows with the strongest force spell he could recall. Once he had finished, Laedron turned to Marac again. “Have you decided?”

“What about making it indestructible?”

“I don’t think anything can be made indestructible and still be useful. I could make the blade ethereal, but it would do you no good.”

“How about the sharpness, then? Make the blade so fine that it can slice through anything with little effort.”

Laedron stared at the ceiling, deep in contemplation, then said, “I don’t know about slicing through everything , but I’ll give it a shot.”

Marac handed over his sword, and Laedron cast a spell. When he finished, Laedron pulled the remaining soulstones from the sack. “Two left.”

“Let us hope they won’t be needed,” Tavin said, opening the door. “Ready now?”

Laedron gave him a nod, then walked with his companions behind Tavin through the corridor. Laedron stopped Tavin just outside the door to the Far’rah’s abbey. “You mentioned an attack that your people made against Kareth. Have you seen where he hides? Do you know the layout?”

“I only know of the entrance. When we attacked the temple, we barely reached the front door before we were driven back. His foul creations chased us all the way here, and we had to collapse the tunnel to keep them from getting in.”

“So, you have no idea how to get around his sanctum?” Marac asked.

“No, as I said, I know the entrance. From there, we’ll have to find the way,” Tavin said, opening the door and leading them into the abbey.

Tavin bowed before the altar. “We are ready, my Far’rah.”

Laedron fell to his knees, and his companions did the same.

“Then, let you be blessed in your struggle this day.” Harridan approached with his staff in hand. “We would go forward only by the will of the Creator, and we hope that we please him in all things, for he is the beginning, the journey, and the end.”

Far’rah Harridan raised his staff over their heads and repeated an incantation. A rain of gold sparkles floated onto them from the giant sapphire imbedded in the staff’s head. “May you be unmatched in the fight to come, and may the Creator see you safe to your home.”

Tavin rose, but Harridan held up his hand. “Tavingras, wait. I would see you for a moment before you leave. Sorcerer, will you and your companions wait outside?”

Laedron nodded, then took Marac, Brice, and Valyrie into the hall, closing the door behind them. Trying to ignore the Uxidin watching them from the next chamber, he stared at the ground. I don’t think I’ve felt this awkward in all my life. Must they stare in such a way? It’s unnerving how they never speak.It’s like being a beggar at a royal banquet… or is that a royal in the slums? No matter. Hurry up, Tavin. How long could some parting words take?

Having taken far too long for Laedron’s liking, Tavin finally emerged from the room and gave them a vacant stare. What did Harridan tell him? He seems so preoccupied. Tavin signaled Laedron with a nod, then led the way through the corridor and across the rope bridge over the bottomless pit. Once clear of the bridge, Tavin picked up speed, racing through the earthen tunnel and up the stone stairs.

Tavin glanced at the horses resting on the floor when he reached the top. “You’ll have no need of your horses. They should be safe here.” Touching the wall, he uttered a few words, and what had been the wood of the tree transformed into a window of swirling energy. “One at a time. It may feel strange to you, but keep walking.”

Walking through to the forest he could see on the other side, Laedron felt a prickling sensation on his skin until he was no longer touching the portal. Laedron, his scepter at the ready, scanned the forest until the others joined him, watching for any threats.

Tavin emerged from the opening, took a quick left, and jogged along the path to the north, and Laedron and his friends struggled to keep up. When he passed a bluff, Laedron could see the view which had been obscured by the terrain, and he beheld the spectacle that had once been the temple. Its huge walls were broken and strewn, as if they had been struck by a mighty hammer. In the center of what used to be a complex of buildings, a stone staircase led to a platform about thirty feet above the ground, and what remained of the altar and chapel sat atop it.

“I don’t see how anyone could live there,” Laedron said, gawking at the ruins.

Tavin crouched behind a boulder. “He doesn’t; he resides deep beneath the surface.”

Valyrie crept up to Laedron’s side. “What’s under there?”

“The catacombs.”

“What would immortals need with catacombs?”

“We are immortal, but we are not impervious to harm, young lady. Immortals meet their ends sometimes, too, and the bodies must be housed when the soul departs. It has always been our way.”

Laedron gulped. “Could Kareth… reanimate those long-dead bodies?”

“Indeed, and we know that he has done so, for when he countered our attack, a large portion of his forces were Netheren, their faces familiar to all of us. It was horrible fighting against the bodies of people you once knew, those who had been transformed into shadows of their former selves.”

“How many?”

“Hundreds, but don’t worry.”

“Don’t worry, he says,” Brice scoffed. “It’s only hundreds of undead. Everything will be just fine.”

“We killed many of them, and they’re weak and single-minded. We’re only in danger if they attack in numbers.”

“What sorts of spells work best against them?” Laedron asked, doing his best to ignore the terror of fighting legions of dead men.

“Fire is quite effective, for corpses dry out soon after death. Separating the body from the head is also useful, so any spell that can accomplish that would be the first choice. A body that cannot see, hear, or bite tends to be far less dangerous.”

“I suppose we should get to it, then.” Marac buckled his shield to his arm and drew his sword. “We’ll do little good staring at the place from afar.”

Tavin nodded, then led them along the path, which snaked its way down the steep hill. When he reached the front of the temple, he turned to the left, passing the stone steps and heading to a small door in the side of the building. Then, Tavin produced a glowing gem from a pouch at his hip. “It’s dark within these halls. Unfortunately, they’ll see us coming before we see them.”