T Lain: The Living Dead

Mialee blinked. She hadn’t realized they’d been hiding in the house her teacher had shared with his thirimin. Looking around now, though, she saw that the place bore definite signs of Favrid’s absentminded decorative style, if one could call it that.

“First,” Zalyn said proudly, “is this lute.” The little elf pulled the instrument from the jumble of objects. She turned and extended the elegantly engraved instrument, which looked worn with age, to Devis. “I hope you won’t mind, Devis,” she said with a grin.

Devis looked as if he’d seen a ghost. He goggled at the lute, but slowly held out his hands to take it. He slung the strap over one shoulder and picked a melancholy chord that rang throughout the room.

“Gunnivan,” he whispered, gazing at the carvings in the golden wood.

“Yes, it was his,” she said. “With this lute, Gunnivan’s music helped us inspire Ehlonna herself to overcome her injuries and seal the Buried One in his prison. Tomorrow, you will use it to help me coax her into action with…” She rustled around amongst the objects, “this.”

She held out an ancient scroll, which the bard accepted and unrolled. He gaped once more. Mialee guessed this was the bard’s day for surprises.

“Gunnivan wrote this!” Devis gasped. The old bard had been dead for so many years, Devis thought he’d learned all of his mentor’s secrets years ago.

“Indeed,” Zalyn said, “with my help, and Favrid’s. But I think you’ll recognize the soul of the piece is his.”

Devis plucked the lute, lost in the quality of sound produced by the masterfully crafted instrument. Zalyn returned to her trunk and produced two more scrolls.

“This,” she said, shaking the tube in her left hand, “is the sacred invocation I must use soon after Devis plays Gunnivan’s music. With Ehlonna’s full strength at our backs, this spell will break through the Buried One’s unholy protections. This, on the other hand,” she said, shaking her right fist, “will nullify Cavadrec’s arcane devices and methods.”

“He’s a wizard, too?” Devis asked.

“He had a thousand years to study, as I have. But he also relies on many arcane artifacts.”

“Like a helm that lets him disappear?” Soveliss asked.

“Exactly, ranger,” Zalyn said. “Unfortunately, I ceased most of my arcane studies long ago, even if I weren’t required to read the invocation of Ehlonna. I can read the scroll, any wizard could, but to ensure success, it must be Favrid. This is where you come in, Mialee. Favrid is restrained from using his hands, and you know that he never bothered studying how to summon magic without them. You must free him from the restraints however you can, and get this scroll into his hands. Darji tells me that they are mundane shackles. I imagine Cavadrec gets special pleasure out of holding Favrid just out of reach of his powers.

“I think the rest is clear,” Zalyn finished, though she did not close the trunk. “Once the invocations are made, Cavadrec is still a wight, albeit trapped in the body for the first time in a thousand years. That is our chance to strike. At the moment Favrid finishes the nullification spell, you, Soveliss, must put the Mor-Hakar in the bastard’s stinking brain.”

“That’s all well an’ good for the chosen ones’,” Hound-Eye blurted. “What about the rest of us?”

Zalyn smiled apologetically. “I fear your presence is as unintended as it is unfortunate,” she replied.

“Well, if someone’s going to put steel in the son-of-a-dog’s eye, I’m in.” Hound-Eye stood eye patch-to-eye with the little elf and clenched his fists. “And you ain’t stoppin’ me.”

Devis grinned. He had hoped Hound-Eye would come along.

“And the rest of ’em?” Hound-Eye cocked his eye at Clayn and the family Pell. “What about little rat-girl?”

“I will stay to cover your backs,” Clayn said immediately, “and protect the others.”

“Who’s going to cover your back, elf? The bird?” Hound-Eye asked. Devis could see he was beginning to panic at the thought of leaving Nialma in the hands of her catatonic parents and a single Silatham ranger.

“I will not be able to turn when we leave, Clayn. I must be at full strength to defeat the Buried One. You will be trapped in here. But Ehlonna will provide,” Zalyn said.

“I’ve lasted this long,” Clayn said. The bard could not have been more surprised at the next voice he heard.

“Halfling,” Delia said in a monotone whisper, “take her. Take her, please. Get her out of here.”

Hound-Eye went into a coughing fit, but managed to pound his chest and ask, “Gyah?”

“We have decided what we must do,” Pell cut in suddenly. He turned to Clayn and stammered, “We will help you fight them, ranger. But you,” he pointed at Hound-Eye, “will see to it that my daughter escapes, if you do.”

Hound-Eye simply nodded, his one eye wide as Nialma slipped a tiny hand into his calloused palm. “Houndie!” the elf girl said, and started to make little barking noises.

Hound-Eye crouched—but not much—to take the girl by the shoulders. “You listen to me, rat-girl,” he growled, “this is going to be bad. Maybe more bad than staying here. If you want to stay with your mama…”

“Houndie!” the girl said and wrapped the halfling in a gleeful hug.

“It’s ‘Hound-Eye,’ kid,” the halfling whispered.

“All right, then,” Zalyn suddenly said. “We all know what we must do. Mialee, you will prepare spells focused on offense, freeing Favrid, and anything else that might be useful. Ah!” she exclaimed, remembering something, and ran back to her still-open trunk. She rummaged through the treasures within and produced a pitch-black wand with a red tip. Mialee’s was almost out of charges after the last few days, Devis was willing to bet.

“Hey, Zalyn,” Devis asked. Delia’s desperate request had reminded him of something he could not believe he hadn’t thought of before. “Are you going to teleport us into Morsilath?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Zalyn said, looking very much like her gnome-self. “Look at this.” She crossed the room to the center of the floor, slapped three times with the butt of her hand, and stood back.

The center of the floor glowed orange for a moment, then disappeared. Hound-Eye had to hold Nialma back from jumping in.

“This leads to an ancient mining track. The tunnel will lead us right there. It is useless as an escape route,” she said apologetically to Pell and Delia, “for it leads only to Cavadrec’s prison and the hollow volcanic tubes that run out from beneath Morsilath. You are safer here with Clayn.

“We must not leave the cart track, for the lava tube network is a labyrinth. One wrong turn, and we would be lost forever.”

“Elder!” Clayn suddenly hissed, pointing at the little cleric, wide-eyed. Everyone turned and stared at Zalyn, who froze. A small, gray rat with empty eyes finished wriggling from the shoulder of her robe. Before even the rangers had time to act, the wightling rodent sunk a pair of tiny incisors into Zalyn’s exposed neck.

Zalyn screamed.

Soveliss was to her before Mialee could move and flung the foul thing off of the cleric’s shoulder. It landed in front of Clayn, who stomped it flat.

Zalyn’s eyes grew wide and Mialee saw her face become a faint shade of gray.

“How?” the little cleric whispered, and dropped to the floor.

A hideously familiar chorus of arrhythmic thumps pounded all around them as Mialee ran to the fallen Zalyn. The wightling elves had climbed back up the tree and now sounded like they covered Zalyn’s tiny home like a swarm of nesting hornets.

“Devis!” she shouted, gratified that the bard whirled to join her. She might have said “dodo” a few hours ago.