Keith Strohm - The Tomb of Horrors

The noble must have caught her quizzical gaze, for he slowed his pace a bit and stared back. Trapped, Majandra could do no more than smile sheepishly and quickly turn away. Despite their polite interactions this evening, the tension of their earlier fight still lay between them, and like a phase spider, it sprang up at various times. The bard expected a spiteful reprimand or other such recrimination, but was surprised when Bredeth resumed his former pace, smile still intact.

She was even more surprised when, a few moments later, he broke the silence. “It’s really going to happen, isn’t it?” he asked. “After somany months of planning and research, we’re really going to do it.”

So that’s it, Majandra thought, hearing the noble’s tenorvoice ring with excitement. Bredeth was giddy over the thought of playing hero. Well, let’s see how well he does when we’re mired knee-deep in swamp sludge witha host of biting insects crawling through every chink in armor and clothing.

“Yes,” she agreed, keeping her tone positive. “And wecouldn’t have done it without Phathas and the support of Vaxor’s church.”

Bredeth nodded, ignoring or completely missing the bard’sgentle reminder.

“This is our chance Majandra, a chance to do something for my… the people of Nyrond,” he said with only the briefest of hesitations.

Perhaps she was being too hard on the young noble, she thought as they finally approached the Platinum Shield. It was clear that hecared deeply for the folk who lived their lives within the borders of the kingdom-even if he was trained to lord himself over those who were of “lesser”station.

“Perhaps, once we have restored Nyrond,” Majandra said asthey veered toward the small servants entrance to the inn, “we can help thenobility learn to trust and believe more in the dignity and talents of those whom they lead.”

Bredeth snorted as the bard finished. “Now why in all theworld would we want to do that?” he asked, almost knocking down the servant whohad opened the door as he muscled past. “There’s a reason why we lead them, anda reason why they need to be led.”

Majandra swore softly and staggered into the servant’shallway of the Platinum Shield, arms almost numb from carrying her burden across the city. She knew that her companion’s change of heart was too good to be true.“Constant as a noble’s arrogance,” she repeated the old adage.

Preoccupied by these thoughts, Majandra failed to see the sharp-eyed lad slip into the doorway behind her. Nor did she see the splash of scarlet beneath his worn servant’s livery.

* * *

Durgoth Shem stood in the darkened alleyway and studied the elegant building before him. A cruel smile played across his face. Days of bribing merchants, threatening servants, and following what leads they could uncover had finally brought them to their quarry.

Although Luna, the great moon, cast a half-lidded eye down upon the city this evening, thick clouds obscured its silvered gaze, hiding Celene, the lesser moon altogether, and deepening the shadows. It was, he thought, the perfect night for a hunt. Their prey would have no idea what hit them. He’d sent Adrys ahead earlier, disguised as a servant. The foolish nobleshad been so wrapped up in their puerile chatter that they hadn’t noticed the ladslinking in behind them. The apprentice had returned an hour later with all of the information they needed.

There were six of them, holed up in a large suite on the top floor. Four doors led off the main chamber into separate bedrooms, but it was the mage’s room that concerned Durgoth the most-for that was the most likelylocation of the group’s scrolls and maps. With that information in hand, hewould have an easier time locating the tomb.

A pity, he thought for a moment as he rubbed hands together against the chill night air, that they didn’t have time to wipe them all out.But the wealthy quarter of a city was no place for a pitched battle. They would have precious little time before the sentinels arrived. No, the plan was simple: Durgoth would cause a large enough diversion to draw the nobles from their rooms, while Sydra and Eltanel would, with a small complement of thieves from the guild, secure the upper suite and retrieve the scrolls. After some discussion, it was decided that the swift-footed monk would remain outside the inn to “discourage” any pursuit.

As if reading his mind, Jhagren stepped from the shadows of the inn and signaled. Although he knew the monk couldn’t see him, Durgoth noddedhis understanding. Everyone was in place. It was time for the diversion.

The cleric cleared his mind, taking three deep breaths. While less difficult than the magic that created his golem, this summoning spell took a great deal of concentration. Softly, the cleric intoned the words until he felt the mystic portal open. Reality shifted around him as planar forces collided and intermixed. Durgoth focused his will and called upon the creature he needed, and his summons rang through the planes. At last he felt an answer. It came, guided by his master’s power, and he sent it to the place fixed firmlyin his mind. He shuddered once as he felt the planar portal shut. An icy wind blew hard between the buildings of Rel Mord as Durgoth completed the words to the spell. Despite this, sweat beaded thickly upon the cleric’s brow. He wiped atit absently and watched through the Platinum Shield’s windows as a reddish glowpulsated within the common room.

Durgoth smiled.

It was only a matter of time.

Kaerion woke suddenly to the sound of screaming. Years of campaigning across the continent and the natural instincts of a warrior brought him rolling to his feet, sword in hand. He scanned the room for signs of immediate danger.

Though the fire in the hearth had burned to embers, he could see Gerwyth shouldering his leather quiver and strapping on short swords. In the muted red glow of the coals, the elf looked bathed in blood.

The screams continued, followed by the sound of breaking glass from the common area below. Free from immediate danger, Kaerion allowed himself to relax just a fraction.

“What do you think it is-thieves, assassins?” he askedGerwyth in a cautious whisper.

The elf shook his head. “No. I’m not sure what it is,” hereplied, “but I have a very bad feeling about it.” Finished with the lastadjustments to his bow, he slapped Kaerion on the back. “Are you coming, Kaer,or should I ask our guests to wait until you’ve had a bath?”

Kaerion grunted as Gerwyth turned and ran out of the room. Quickly, Kaerion grabbed his shield and strapped it to his forearm. There wasn’tenough time to don his entire suit of armor, but the curved steel of an embossed shield-all that was left of his once-famous field dress-had served him wellthese past years.

Blearily, he stumbled through the door and into the main suite, shaking his head to clear the last cobwebs of sleep from his mind. Not for the first time, he envied Gerwyth’s ability to snap out of his nightlyreverie at a moment’s notice. It was a trait that had saved their lives manytimes, and he found himself wishing for that ability right now. Not willing to waste another moment, he drew a few quick breaths and launched himself down the stairs to the common area.

The grisly sight that greeted him nearly froze his blood. The elegance of the inn’s taproom lay in bloody shambles. Tables and chairs laysplintered and broken on the ground, amid a pile of bodies who looked as if they had been punctured with a thousand sharp needles. Blood pooled on the floor and lay spattered across the walls.

In the center of the destruction, standing among the shattered detritus of wood and glass, stood one of the most terrifying creatures Kaerion had ever seen. Nearly eight-feet tall, the hulking figure lashed out with a set of razor sharp claws and tore the throat out of a man who charged it with a sword. The victim’s sword clattered to the ground and the creaturestalked forward, intent on the remaining patrons of the inn, who were knocking each other over in an attempt to flee.