Keith Strohm - The Tomb of Horrors

Reaching the outskirts of the camp, Kaerion noted that work crews had indeed been busy. Several of the rafts had already been assembled, and more lumber was making its way into the camp at a steady pace. Caravan drovers and guards alike had both been drafted into service, and the laboring men and women moved about in ordered groups. Most of them had cast off outer tunics and shirts, sweat glistening off bare backs, and wrapped their heads with the light materials to protect them from the sun.

Gerwyth caught sight of Kaerion and Majandra and waved them over to the thin tarp pitched in the center of a small circle of wagons. When they reached the assembled group, they found Phathas hunched over the sturdy cloth map that had been their guide on this journey. The others nodded in greeting but otherwise stood silently, obviously waiting for the old mage to finish his examination. The silver-haired wizard mumbled softly as he traced a gnarled finger across the faded parchment, seemingly oblivious to the piercing heat.

“What’s the status of the rafts, Vaxor?” the mage asked, notlooking up from the object of his intense scrutiny.

The cleric finished taking a long swallow from the waterskin before replying. “Three rafts have already been completed,” his deep voicerumbled, “and the remainder should be done before nightfall.”

Kaerion stole glances at the Heironean priest. Despite the searing temperature, the cleric still wore the chainmail armor that was as much a badge of his office as the silver lightning bolt that hung about his neck, gleaming brightly in the harsh sunlight.

Unaware of the fighter’s scrutiny, Vaxor continued. “Once theconstruction has been completed, I suggest we double the watch. I have an uneasy feeling. There’s no telling what manner of beast will be about, looking fortrouble.” He turned to his companions. “Gerwyth, Bredeth, I’ll leave it to theboth of you to inform Landra of my orders and see to it that the watch is kept.”

The elf nodded, but Kaerion almost laughed at the rebellious scowl that marred Bredeth’s handsome features. The pampered upbringing of theyoung noble had obviously not prepared him for the rigors of this trip. Unlike the rest of the group, his skin had reddened and split under the unrelenting glare of the sun, and not even the thick salve that Vaxor had offered the peeling noble was enough to soothe the lad’s burns-or his temper.

Phathas stood and cast a piercing eye around the assembled group. If he was pleased with Vaxor’s report, he gave no sign. Instead, thetired mage rubbed a withered hand across the back of his neck and spoke his mind. “There is still plenty to be done before we enter the Vast Swamp, and notmuch time to do it. By my calculations, we still have about ten to fourteen days of hard travel before we’re even near Acererak’s tomb-and that’s if we can avoidthe worst dangers of this forsaken stretch of land.” He pointed a finger atMajandra. “I need you to oversee the disbursement of supplies to the rafts. Andsee that you have mind enough to bring the herbs and poultices we’ve laid in toaid in case of injury. I’ll not waste Heironeous’ blessings on bug bites andthose foolish enough to injure an ankle or leg because they were too lazy to watch where they were going.”

Majandra gave the wizened mage a smile, and Kaerion, to his own annoyance, found himself wondering how to elicit such a response from the half-elf-a line of thought he abandoned once he heard the old mage call out hisname.

“Yes, you,” Phathas blurted as Kaerion once again gave themage his full attention. “Pay attention, lad. I don’t have all day to explainthese things. I need you to take these stones-” he opened his hand to reveal theenchanted stones he had spoken about earlier-“and lash them securely to theunderside of each of the rafts. If for some reason the rafts don’t immediatelyrise into the air-”the mage’s tone indicated to Kaerion that such an occurrencewould only happen by his own mistake-“come find me immediately.”

“Yes, sir,” Kaerion found himself responding, and wonderedjust when he had started to feel like he was a squire back under Sir Trindan’stutelage. He caught Gerwyth’s eye and realized by the wink that the elf gave himthat his friend was highly amused by the whole situation.

Just then, Vaxor’s gruff voice broke in. “Tomorrow, we enterthe Vast Swamp. We’ll leave the drovers and six guards behind to protect thewagons. Once in the swamp, our largest danger will come from the lizard folk who consider the lands as their territory. I’ve spoken with Gerwyth, and we bothagree that if we keep to the general direction we’ve traced on our map, we’relikely to avoid most of the danger. But be on your guard. And no heroics.” Thislast was delivered with a grim eye toward Bredeth, but before the noble could spit out his protest, the cleric waved his hand for silence, deftly sketching the traditional blessing of Heironeous in the air. “May the Valorous Knightwatch over each of us,” he said in an oddly gentle voice.

Kaerion held himself completely still under the blessing, hoping that no one would notice his lack of response. It had been many years since he had heard the words of the Blessing Ritual, and many more since he had believed in them. As the group broke up to attend to their duties, he was once again conscious of the cleric’s gaze upon him. Had Vaxor seen his reaction? Hehurried away in the opposite direction, eager to escape the cleric’s watchfuleye.

There was indeed much to do before tomorrows journey began. And much to think about, he mused, recalling the smiling face of the half-elf. He pushed the image of the bard out of his mind. One thing at a time, he thought, and headed toward the first raft.

Durgoth Shem cursed the heat and the elves-in no particularorder-as he surveyed the encampment before him. Peering through the thickfoliage, he could see the circular ring of wagons, spaced evenly to afford the camp’s inhabitants the greatest possible cover, and the regular sweep ofsentries. Of their principal quarry there was no sign.

He let out another muffled curse and fought down the urge to send his golem down to kill the unsuspecting fools below. Their blood would do much to sooth his anger, but little to make up for lost time. His earlier encounter with those pathetic druids had set his own expedition back, but the whole situation was made worse by the seemingly endless array of elven strike patrols that tracked them well into Sunndi. Perhaps he would ask the Dark One to watch as he slaughtered the elves and their puny gods. Yes, he thought, that would almost make up for the inconvenience those gods-blasted creatures had caused him.

A slight rustling in the thick undergrowth to his left caught Durgoth’s attention, followed by the emergence of Eltanel’s shadowy form. Thethief pulled back his black cloak and emerged into plain view, executing a bow that was ail-too perfunctory. Durgoth scowled once at the insolent man and signaled that he should proceed with his report.

“I have been to their camp, blessed one,” Eltanel said. Hisvoice had the gentle intonation of one who is used to the furtive communications of the dark alleyways and rooftops of Rel Mord. “They have posted regularsentries and will likely remain on guard throughout the night.”

“I can see as much, you fool,” Durgoth hissed betweenclenched teeth, regretting, not for the first time, that he would no doubt need to rely on this wretch’s skills to bypass some of the deadlier surprisesawaiting the unwary in Acererak’s tomb. “What of that cursed mage and hishalf-witted noble lackeys?”

Eltanel shifted his stance slightly, but regarded the cleric evenly. “I overheard two of the guards talking. Their expedition left but twomornings ago, heading south and then east into the Vast Swamp. With a small enough group, we should have no trouble catching up to them.”