Keith Strohm - The Tomb of Horrors

Kaerion watched in horror as the writhing mass of scales and fangs struck out at Majandra and the two flanking guards. In desperation, one of the guards drew forth his sword and stabbed in to the attacking asps, while the other fell to the floor holding his hand, which already looked black and swollen with venom.

As Kaerion rushed forward, bringing his shield from its resting place and drawing his own blade, he could see that Gerwyth had already drawn his bow. It was clear to Kaerion that the elf’s firing line was hamperedby the press of bodies that stumbled away from the mass of snakes.

“Kaerion,” he heard Phathas shout, “clear Majandra and theothers away! I can deal with the asps myself.”

The mage’s words were all the impetus he needed. Concern forthe guards and, more importantly, his fear for Majandra, had already drawn him close to the battle. Sheathing his sword, Kaerion leapt toward the half-elf, who was quickly stumbling back from the snapping fangs of the asps. He slammed his shield into the press of snakes just as his forward momentum knocked Majandra away from danger. Rolling quickly to his feet, Kaerion was forced to bring his shield up again and again to parry the enraged asps as their mouths darted in at amazing speeds, seeking the soft flesh of his arm or shoulder. One snake, untangling itself from the others, had managed to crawl underneath Kaerion’sguard. He felt a slight pressure against his abdomen as the asp’s fangs met thecoiled steel rings of his mail. Realizing he had become as much of an obstacle as Majandra had to whatever Phathas had planned, Kaerion kicked at the snake with his boot, and then shouldered the unwounded guard out of the way.

As he collapsed in a heap on top of the beleaguered soldier, Kaerion saw Phathas step forward and spread both his hands, joining them at his thumbs. The mage shouted another eldritch phrase, and a sheet of crackling flames erupted from his outstretched hands, engulfing the asps. Their angry hissing grew even louder as the barrage of flame continued, until Kaerion couldn’t distinguish between the asps’ sounds and the sizzle of burning flesh.When Phathas finally withdrew his hands, only a pile of ash remained where the snakes had been.

Kaerion rolled off of the guard and helped the winded man to his feet. He was relieved to note that Landra and a few of her charges had pulled the wounded guard out of the battle and carried him over to Vaxor. The cleric now knelt by the stricken man’s side and laid a hand upon the swollenlength of his arm. A blue glow suffused the priest’s hand, and wherever ittouched, the black puffy flesh returned to a more natural size and hue. In a few moments, the wounded guard was completely healed. Though he was happy for the man, Kaerion felt uncomfortable at the reminder of Heironeous’ power.

“The polite thing to do before you knock a lady over is towarn her first,” Majandra’s smooth voice interrupted his thoughts.

“My apologies, lady,” he said in his most chivalric tones. “Iwill endeavor to warn her ladyship whenever the need arises again to knock her on her petticoats.”

Kaerion felt his mood lighten as the bard smiled, her eyes twinkling with laughter and something else-something far deeper and sweeter thanamusement. Unbidden, something that Gerwyth had tried to tell him in all the years they had traveled together flashed through his mind. Though he had suffered through his own imperfection and weakness, there were still things for which life was worth living. He would never have guessed that one of those things would be an enchantingly beautiful daughter of a Nyrondese noble house.

The satisfaction of his newfound revelation lasted only a few moments, for as soon as the expedition fully regrouped after the asp attack, the bard returned to the gold chest. She examined it carefully, tapping its inner walls, and then shook her head. “Nothing inside here at all,” she informed theassembled group, “except some old asp scales.”

Kaerion could hear the disappointment in the collective sigh that went through the group. Still, he knew that the setbacks they experienced so far would not deter the Nyrondese from their goal. They had planned and sacrificed so much for this journey. He could see in the set of every shoulder-including Majandra’s-that giving up was not an option. He had to admirethat kind of conviction.

Although somewhere along the way he had come to view these nobles as his companions and not merely his employers, he still felt that, for the most part, their expedition was foolish. He had risked his life at first because of the promised money, and then simply because that was what one did for companions-even if at that time he felt like a complete outsider, in danger ofhis secret guilt becoming exposed. Kaerion knew now that, with the probable exception of the Heironean priest, whose faith and commitment to the ideals of his god would not allow him such weakness, the rest of the nobles had accepted him into their company as an equal, a valued companion, despite who he was.

Kaerion now stood at the brink of believing in their goal-theresurrection of an entire kingdom-not simply because of his growing love (yes,he had to admit it for what it was) for Majandra, but because there simply was too much evil and destruction in the world to allow Nyrond, a once bright and powerful nation, to die without a fight.

The click of another lock brought Kaerion back to his present situation. Majandra had moved on to the silver chest, apparently disposing of its lock as easily as she did the first one. He was relieved to see, however, that the half-elf moved quickly away from the unlocked chest. She relieved a long wooden pole from one of the guards. Carefully, she extended the pole toward the silver chest, and with a deft move of her wrists, she lifted its hinged top open with the awkward instrument.

Nothing happened.

Slowly, the half-elf walked toward the open chest, and with her came several guards, including Landra, their swords drawn. “Nothing here buta crystal box,” one of the guards said, sheathing her weapon and reaching intothe chest.

“No!” Majandra shouted and flung herself at the guard, but itwas too late. As the soldier withdrew the crystal box from the chest, Kaerion heard the soft snick of a releasing catch. Small darts shot out of the chest, buzzing in all directions. Kaerion heard several cries of pain from the group standing before the chest. He raised his own shield just in time-

And nearly dropped it as he watched a sharp-tipped dart cut easily through the air toward Adrys’ unprotected neck. To his amazement, theboy stepped forward and brought his left hand up and at an angle before his face, striking the wooden shaft of the flying needle and knocking it aside.

“Adrys, how did you do that?” he asked, running to the boy’sside.

“Do what, sir?” Adrys asked with a bewildered look on hisface.

Kaerion stared at the boy for a moment, confusion stealing over his own features. Perhaps the nearness of danger caused him to see something that wasn’t there. Surely the untrained son of a merchant would beunable to deflect a dart with his hands. There were few seasoned warriors he knew who could do such a thing, unless…

Unbidden, flashes of a pockmarked man in a blood-red robe, hands weaving deadly arcs in a shadowed alley, appeared in Kaerion’s mind, butthey were quickly replaced by concern as he heard Majandra shout his name.

Running toward the sound of her voice, the events of the last few moments forgotten in his haste to reach the half-elf, Kaerion never saw the look of cruel satisfaction that passed over Adrys’ face.

Majandra held the ring up to the torchlight. A clear jewelset delicately along the ring’s onyx band caught the light, reflecting sparkleslike brilliant pixies along the plain stone walls of the room. She concentrated briefly and hummed a single low note. With her now magically enhanced senses, she could see the telltale nimbus of power surrounding the ring-it gleamedgolden, albeit weakly. The years of Phathas’ lecturing came back to her in aflash, and she quickly identified the type of spellcraft. It was protective magic, imbued into the ring with consummate skill.