T.H. Lain - Oath of Nerull

The dwarf charged around the edge of the pit and accelerated toward the thing. The mummy looked up just in time to take Brek's hammer full in the face. The creature was already shot through with smoking holes from Hennet's magical assault. It uttered a dusty sigh then collapsed, inert. Its hold on Ember relaxed; the monk dropped back into the pit.

Hennet was right behind the dwarf, but he arrived too late to grab the flailing monk before she fell for the second time. He rushed up to the edge of the pit, his heart in his mouth.

"Thank Pelor," muttered Hennet when he saw her hanging on the lip of the pit, struggling to hold on but still breathing.

"Lend me a hand, will you?" she said in a husky voice.

Minutes later, refreshed by the cleric's healing spells, including a ward against disease, Ember returned to the ash heap and plucked the shining thing from its top.

"This is Kairoth's ring. The inscription reads 'Enabled Hand.' He was in this chamber!" she proclaimed. "We must press on."

"I was hoping we'd retreat," worried Nebin.

Hennet laughed and said, "A mighty arcane warrior you are, Nebin! Let the undead tremble at your approach."

Nebin looked miffed. He said, looking at Ember, "I'm only suggesting possibilities. Of course I want to continue!"

"Thanks," said Ember. "Now let's find Kairoth, or those who stole him away. I must be sure of his fate."

Her comrades all nodded. Time to press on.

Ember and the dwarf moved up to the mouth of the passage from which the mummies had emerged. Brek's lantern revealed the same greenish-brown stone tiling the passage. Carved niches broke the plane of both walls lining the corridor. Some contained urns, others were empty.

Ember motioned everyone forward, whispering, "Don't touch the urns. Best not to disturb the dead."

She moved forward cautiously, her companions padding along behind as silently as they could. She gave each niche with an urn a wide berth. A breath of colder air tugged her hair.

A whisper behind her said, "Dim your lantern. I see light." It was Nebin.

Brek obliged the gnome. In the utter darkness of the passage, Ember saw a greenish glow ahead. The illumination trickled from around a bend in the corridor. The colder air brought with it the sound of a low, guttural chanting, barely discernable.

Ember immediately moved forward, resolute. After a few seconds of hesitation, she heard the others follow her. She was relieved-she had half expected at least the gnome to bolt, and the others to try to argue her back.

When she reached the bend, Ember peered around. The corridor opened into a domed room, from which many exits led into darkness. A head-sized ball of green fire hung high in the air at the center of the dome, glaring with emerald light. Below the ghoul-glow, a figure half bound in funerary wrappings lay draped across a chipped stone altar. A hideous, animate, mummified corpse stood next to the altar chanting in a harsh, breathless, uncouth voice, and jerking its arms around as if casting a spell. The chanting mummy wore an elaborate headdress and clutched a blood-stained scythe in one hand.

Ember recognized a mortal threat when she saw one. Without giving herself a second to consider running, she rushed the mummified chanter. It was a simple decision-she recognized the figure on the altar as her old mentor, Kairoth. She leaped onto the altar, readying a lethal kick.

The chanting cut off as if severed by a knife. The scythe came around, whistling in a vicious arc. Faster than Ember could respond, her armored forearm rose, deflecting the lethal blow. The motion surprised even her. Then she realized-Loku's Bracer had awakened and revealed its magical legacy. The mummy would have disemboweled her as she leaped onto the altar without the bracers' aid. She mouthed silent thanks to Loku, wherever his spirit resided.

With her height advantage atop the altar, Ember struck with shi kune, the "stunning fist," executing it perfectly. The mummy's head rocked back, then snapped forward instantly, unfazed. Apparently the walking dead were not easily stunned, Ember scolded herself.

Hearing the beat of many footfalls, she glanced back and saw the others finally rushing to her aid with Brek Gorunn in the lead. The dwarf, his legs pumping, ran around the left side of the altar, brandishing his hammer.

Ember punched and chopped at the creature's head, trying to dislodge the grinning rictus from its mummified torso. The dead creature stepped back from Ember's flashing fists, moving beyond her reach from atop the altar. It pointed a single finger at the approaching dwarf and coughed forth a stream of acid syllables. An ominous ray erupted from its wrapped finger, striking the dwarf in the chest. Brek exhaled as if punched in the stomach, then groaned. The dwarf sank to his knees, as if suddenly too weak to support his own weight.

The mummified chanter had Ember's full attention. She heard Hennet and Nebin incanting spells behind her. Nebin's voice finished first-his spell called forth a brilliant reddish orb that thundered into the mummy. It grunted, but did not fall.

Ember got the attention of the creature with a solid kick to its head. It rocked back, more by the force of the blow than from pain, which Ember doubted it could even feel.

Hennet's voice finally ceased with an exultant lilt. Ember looked back again to see what the sorcerer had wrought. A deadly certainty seemed to infuse him. He brought his crossbow to his shoulder in a liquid moment and fired. Magic guided his hands, and the bolt sped true, burying itself deeply into the chest of the mummy. The creature, which had begun mouthing a new, foul incantation, screeched and stepped back another pace. Its spell fizzled and was wasted.

Ember saw her chance to end the conflict. She jumped into the air, spinning with deadly force. Her right foot kicked out and connected. The force of her jump, spin, and kick slammed instantly into the mummy, and snapped its brittle body in half. The torso, ripped open at the waist, tumbled to the floor. It was followed moments later by the collapsing legs. Small trinkets and other oddments scattered, apparently shaken loose from the creature's wrappings. It lay in a heap, unmoving save for a puff of grave dust that rose from its hollow interior.

Ember remained wary, ready in case other threats should materialize. Hennet reslung his light crossbow and rushed over to Brek. The dwarf put his back to the altar. He was breathing shallowly.

"What did he hex you with?" asked Hennet.

"I'm not certain. I'm as weak as a newborn. Not something a dwarf likes to admit."

Ember turned to the half-wrapped man on the altar, feeling for a pulse, and found it. There was no mistake, it was Kairoth, and he still lived. Heartened, she gently shook him. His eyelids fluttered, then closed again. He whispered a few words before lapsing back into unconsciousness.

Ember turned to the others and said, "The elder requires tending. He is sorely wounded." She shot an inquisitive look at the dwarf, but Brek shook his head, to say Brek Gorunn needed tending, too. "Very well, we have what we came for. It's time to go. Moradin willing, Brek Gorunn will shake off the curse by the morrow."

She lifted her old mentor as if he weighed no more than a child.

Ember called to Nebin, who remained standing near the entrance, "When I finished off the mummy, I shook lose a few rings and scrolls. You may want to take a look."

The gnome's expression turned from diffidence to eager anticipation as he rushed forward.

She turned to Hennet and said, "Watch for more creatures as we retreat. At least one more lurks nearby, the one Brek Gorunn chased away."

Hennet nodded, but continued to look at Kairoth, draped in Ember's arms.

"What did he say, when you woke him?" the sorcerer asked.