Tombs and Tomes

"Get my Rod!" Sorn heard the necromancer shout. Just then a lucky swipe from one of the men at arms caught him a glancing blow and sent the little halfling sailing over the heads of living and undead alike. He hit the wall and slid to the floor.

Sorn shook his head to clear it and stood up. A skeleton stood before him, the rictus grin wheezing breaths of foul air as it swung a rusty sword in a great overhand motion. Sorn rolled to avoid the strike and vaulted up the ribs of the monster, kicking the neck vertebrae with all his might. The skull flew off the shoulders and went clattering off into a corner.

"None of you will possess my secrets-"

Sorn turned, still standing on the headless skeletons shoulders. Their was a burst of midnight purple fire and a flash of black light.

Suddenly the fighters from the center of the room were gone. Valesar, Han, Kol, Heljah, Quinten, even the vagrant men of that scoundrel who had swaggered in moments before and caused all this trouble.

"No!" Sorn bellowed in rage and launched his little halfling body across the intervening space, grabbing the Rod from the surprised necromancer. He bashed the undead wizard over the head with Rod, and then gripped him by the high collar of his cloak and hauled him close, barely registering surprise that, with the Rod in his hand, he was able to touch the ghost. "What did you do to them?" He demanded hoarsely.

Taliesor was laughing hysterically. "They'll never get out now, never! No one does."

Sorn shook him, "Where did they go," he demanded. Outside the tower, circling Tera screamed her rage in response.

The tower was silent. The skeletons had stopped fighting as the ownership of the Rod once again changed hands, and the scum following Ireselan, those still alive, now grouped together to one side of the room, on guard but uncertain on what to do.

"I sent them to the shadowlands." Suddenly the undead wizard was in control of himself again. He stood up and tried to grab the Rod from Sorn's hand, but the halfling swiped him away and the necromancer turned the motion into brushing his robes. "If they survive and manage to reach the gateway back into the real world before sundown tomorrow, then our curse is broken." The wizard gestured to himself and the other undead. "But no one ever escapes, and so my secrets are safe."

"Bring them back!" Sorn bashed the rod against Taliesor, and the wizard stumbled back from the fury of his onslaught.

"I can't," Taliesor growled. "Even if I wanted to. It is up to them now."

Sorn turned to the other skeletons. "Bring me the works of Taliesor the wizard." He demanded, icy fury dripping from every inch of the small man.

"No!" Taliesor tried to snatch the Rod back again, but Sorn held him back.

"If you won't help me, than perhaps something in your notes can." Sorn snarled.

He gestured at the leftover men of Ireselan. "Make sure they don't interfere." Suddenly the little group was ringed by a skeleton army, swords drawn. The men made no move except to put their swords away and their hands up.

One of them shouldered forward, only to be pushed back by the other men and the angry gesturing of a skeletal warrior. "Let me help." He said angrily.

Sorn glanced back. "Who are you?"

"Tomas Redorc. You're not the only one's got people missing. My brother's in their too. Let me help!"

Sorn nodded wearily, "Fine." Perhaps they all weren't complete scum after all.

The other men tried to rest as best they could, but they started uneasily at any movement of the skeletal warriors around them. For their part, the undead were near-motionless, only twitching their skulls around to watch the living soldiers, or perhaps adjust their position slightly.

The undead wizard had disappeared, Dol Dorn knew where. Sorn settled down, legs crossed among the papers and scrolls the skeletons brought before him, glancing alertly to the soldier Tomas once or twice. The soldier seemed to know what he was doing, and as long as none of the scrolls disappeared beneath his leather jerkin, Sorn was content to let him work, but his grip on the Rod of Command never ceased.

They organized the papers into two stacks, looking through them frantically. The long night through they found nothing, and when dawn came they were still searching. Finally, Tomas ran across something.

"Look at this," he said. "It's from Tome of Dwarven Legends."

The volume told of how, long ago, dark warriors from a shadowy world had raided dwarven strongholds for slaves, passing through doors of night written by blood. The dwarven slaves worked for their masters, Shadar Kai, for long years before discovering the secrets to escape.

"It says here that they could pass from place to place in the shadows of the Ash trees, the only trees growing their. That darkness was light for them, and blood opened doorways."

"Like Heljah's poem." Sorn nodded.

The bandit cocked his head questioningly, then went on after Sorn didn't say anything more. "It also says that they couldn't use regular magical healing or rest while they were their. The Shadar Kai masters made them drink some sort of liquid, called Menelith, that gave them strength and healed their wounds, but without being able to sleep many of them slowly went mad. Finally they discovered a secret doorway between worlds, the way the raiders had used to penetrate the dwarven strongholds, but it was too late. Because they had been living off Menelith, they could not pass through the gates themselves."

Sorn looked peered over the arm of the human soldier. "So how did they escape?"

"It says that they prayed for their gods to protect and save them. Finally, a warrior of light comes, and "bestoed on us the sunging and rhymes of teim." something like that. Anyway, they got this song, and they started to sing it, and opened the gateway for them. The bandit peered at the notes. "It says in the margin, 'see volume five page nineteen in 'Songs of Power'".

They cast about, looking for it. Finally, in frustration, Sorn turned to one of the skeletons. "Bring me a copy of the book "Songs of Power", and be quick about it."

The skeleton turned and ran out of the tower. They continued searching for more clues, but couldn't find anything until the undead creature marched back, about an hour later, carrying a leatherbound tome containing a ream of unorganized loose parchments.

They pawed through the pages, finally finding the one they were looking for. "I can't read music." Sorn said in frustration.

"Neither can I." Tomas stared blankley at the notes on the page, arranged in bars and little dots and lines that made his eyes hurt.

"Can any of you read music?" Sorn demanded of the other soldiers. By now several others had joined them in the search, although Sorn had given careful commands to the skeletons to kill anyone who tried to take the Rod from him.

"Any of you?" They shook their heads, except for one, slightly in the back. He looked sheepishly at the others, then raised his hand.

"Afore I became a soldier, me mum had me take lessons with the priests. I can read the notes." He took the parchment from them and cleared his throat nervously. The music had no words to it, a simple tune only.

The soldier began to sing, wordlessly, and the skeletons began to sway with the melody. The other warriors looked around nervously, and started back from the center of the room. Papers rustled and swirled in a little vortex, and cold purple light, like a miniature star, began to glow in the center of the room. Abruptly there was a flash of dark light again, and a portal stood in the middle of the room. Traceries of purple fire outlined strange runes, lines of power flowing to the door. On the other side of the glowing doorway they could see a mirror of the room they were in, but colder and gray, sapped of color.

"One of us should go through." Tomas said. "Find them, and tell them what we've found out. Give me the Rod, and you can go through." Tomas demanded suddenly.

"I'm not trusting you with this." Sorn snarled. He edged back from the warriors, who had shifted suddenly to circle the halfling. The skeletons encircled them, a ring of cold steel and skull-grinning faces, and the soldiers stopped.

"And how am I supposed to trust you?" Tomas grumbled back. "The Rod won't do any good once the they get out, the necromancer said so himself. One of us has to go through."

All of them looked at the portal. It hummed a strange noise that penetrated to their bones, purple light crackling around the edges.

"Me, or you." Sorn said, pointing at Tomas. "Not the others. We'll flip a coin." Tomas nodded once.

Sorn dug a coin out of his pocket. "Call it in the air," he said, and then flipped the coin.

Blood the Key

With their backs to the tower they were able to hold off the undead horde better than they had. It did not last long tired and weary men some with wounds don’t fight well for long. Soon they were all pressed up against the tower the skeletons unrelenting as more waves still came. One of Ireselan’s men got a rusty sword in the throat and Ireselan pushed the dying man into the horde of undead.

“We will not last much longer if this continues half-elf, even with your monster.” Ireselan snarled as he bashed in the head of a skeleton.

Using both his rapier and the club Heljah had made for him; Quinten blocked a thrust and broke the withered arm before the skeleton in front of him could recover and pull it back. Quinten thought furiously before answering. “We need to get inside the tower. We can block the door or thin them out if we need to once we are inside.” he looked up and down the row of warriors pressed against the cold stone of the tower. “Move to the right until we find the tower entrance. After we find it Valasar and Heljah take up flanking positions the rest of you guard their backs.”

They all started inching their way towards the right Valasar at the end of the line once more covered their backs and Heljah was again at the front and forcing a way through the press of undead bodies. The going was slow, having to deal with fighting at the same time as they tried to make it around the building. Quinten looked at in back and in front everyone had the same expression that of desperate men on the brink holding on by a thread.

“Quinten we found the entrance.” Heljah yelled back.

The entrance for the tower looked just as it did in the real world. Minus the dead body of the dwarf. It was a little alcove in the tall tower of dark stone. Heljah and Valasar took up positions on both sides of the entrance and Quinten was impressed to see one of the men-at-arms take a position in-between them. Everyone else crowded into the alcove and looked despairingly at the door. It was the same door that was in the real world absent the key that Quinten had first used.

“Great half-elf we are now as good as dead now.” Ireselan said staring at the door hopelessness sharp on his voice.

“Shut it Ireselan, and you and your men help me try to force it open.” Quinten was painfully aware that Valasar and Heljah were buying them what precious time they had. After trying the point of Quintens rapier and a feeble attempt to kick the door in they all ran into the door with their shoulder. All that that was able to accomplish was six men with sore shoulders.

“Anymore bright ideas?” Ireselan sneered.

Quinten looked at the door helplessly. What was he supposed to do? He looked back and saw that they fight was more desperate now. Valasar was most likely exhausted and Heljah was right there with him. He looked back at the door and had one more idea. He ripped open his shirt and put a finger in the still bleeding cut on his arm. With his finger glistening with wet blood he started to trace the dwarven symbols he remembered seeing in the real world. As soon as he touched the door with his wet finger he felt something go out of him, energy that he didn’t think he had. He continued to write out what he remembered seeing and more energy left him as he did. But as he continued to write what looked like a ghost of a key started to appear. Slowly but becoming more real the more he wrote it was the same key that he had used in the real world. As soon as he put the last symbol he remembered on the door his legs quaking with the effort of holding him up finally gave out and he fell in a heap on the ground.

“Nice work half-elf.” Ireselan bent down as if to help Quinten to his feet. But before he could get close to him Han and Kol were their helping him up swinging his arms over their necks to support him. Kol gave Ireselan such a look that it made the elf back away almost unconsciously. He recovered himself quickly and turned his retreat into going over to the door turning the key and pushing it open. “Move quickly before we are all killed by the dead.”

It was not a moment too soon. The man-at-arms that had stood with Valasar and Heljah went down with a spear in his leg. With a scream he went down clutching his leg. With lightning fast movement Valasar turned using his tail to disintegrate the first row of undead. He bent and picked up the solider and tossed him over his shoulder and made a dash for the open door Heljah coving his retreat. Everyone moved aside has the great lizard rushed passed them into the hallway. Heljah grabbed the key before she came barreling after him. After booth were inside the other three men-at-arms hurriedly closed the door. As the door closed one of the skeletons tried to follow and got smashed to smithereens for its trouble.

Two ever- glow lanterns light up this end of the hallway bathing everyone in a harsh light. Everyone had found a place along the door and walls panting. It seemed that the curse of not healing still held no matter how hard they breathed it didn’t seem to help. Quentin barley felt alive as if he hung to life by a thread. Heljah armor was battered and she had blood running down one side of her face making a fan. Valasar had new wounds and was still losing blood along the one up his side. He had sat the man-at-arms down next to him and removed the spear from his thigh. He sat there and made bandages from the man’s shirt. The man winced each time Valasar touched him even though Valasar was being very careful.

“We…need to….keep moving.” Quinten managed to get out he hardly had any energy to speak at all. “haveto….get to…portal…before it…closes.” Han and Kol looked at him with worried eyes before nodding and getting to their feet. Ireselan looked at Quinten with a sneer and something else maybe a small gloat before he too got to his feet. Han and Kol again slung Quinten between them; Quinten tried to walk but only managed a shuffle.

“Quinten do you think this hall is like the other one?” Kol asked keeping his eye on Ireselan. Quinten managed a nod and before anyone could say anything Heljah had smashed the two ever-glow lanterns.

“What in the seven hells are you doing.” Ireselan yelled in the dark.

“There is a trick to the hall wait a moment and you blind men will see.” Han said roughly. The hallway stated to glow again with the black patches for the booby-traps. “See told you.”