Pathfinder Tales--Reaper's Eye

by Richard A. Knaak

Indeed, one of them attempted to spear the familiar, but despite having been thrown, Toy yet again succeeded in shifting around to his feet and moving before the weapon could impale him.

  It was enough, though, to buy Grigor the time he wanted. The witch’s frustration had reached its boiling point. As far as he was concerned, the demons he served throughout his life had always owed him more than he owed them. Without him, none of them would have had nearly the influence in the mortal world that they had desired.

  I will not be denied this time, Grigor determined. He concentrated hard, channeling all the power he could into the staff.

  “Leave it be, Dolch!” Shiera cried, clearly aware of what he intended. “You’d be better off getting us out of here! You don’t want to disturb him again! He—”

  Grigor was grateful he had saved enough power to send the mouthy woman flying back. She had served every purpose he had needed her for and more, but absolutely no one would come between him and the stone.

  Grigor had always preferred the use of magic over physical effort. Now, though, he had made an educated guess that the latter might prove more effective. Sometimes, the mundane triumphed over the magical.

  With all his might and all his remaining power, Grigor swung at the Reaper’s Eye. The mummified priests converged on him, but they were too far away.

  The staff struck the Eye dead on. Grigor grinned with immense satisfaction as he heard the stone crack and watched its fragments fly everywhere. He had no idea why he had hesitated to do this earlier. It was almost as if something had purposely dulled such thoughts from his mind, but even Toy, with what link he maintained to their old patron, could not have managed such a feat.

  Then none of that mattered anymore. The shards of the Reaper’s Eye began to rain down on the floor and the guardians. In the midst of what had been the stone, the pupil still hovered, then started to swell. It swiftly became a huge shadow, a thing of inkiness with a pair of long, curved appendages ending in blades.

  To Grigor, it was the most glorious of sights. “Tzadn! Reaper! I, Grigor, have freed you!”

  The shadow tapped one point on the dais, then extended its appendages as if seeking to take hold of something.

  The fragments rose from the chamber floor and began flying back to Grigor and the demon. The nearest ones instantly adhered to the shadow. As they did, they started to compress the demon into a smaller and smaller form once more.

  “No!” Grigor could not believe what he was seeing. “No!” he shouted again, trying to deflect the pieces from the shadow. “Stop that!”

  The fragments simply slipped around him. More and more of them gathered together. Already the shadow had been pressed into something half its size.

  In desperation, the witch brought the staff up again. What he had destroyed once he would destroy again, this time making sure in the process that nothing remained of the shell.

  He sent the pieces that had gathered together flying apart, but just as a smile started to spread across his face, one of the scythe-like appendages came down … and sliced off the staff’s tip.

  The spell Grigor had intended vanished. Confused, he peered up at the shadow. The Reaper extended both appendages again, taking in the fragments and remaining still as those pieces once more compressed Tzadn into the round shape of the Eye.

  “I did warn you, Dolch!” Shiera called as she sought to fend off two of the priests. “This isn’t a temple or a tomb! It’s a hiding place!”

  28

  FEAR AND THE REAPER

  Daryus was no witch or wizard, but he sometimes felt as if he had some sort of extra sense that stirred during danger. If so, then clearly whatever situation he neared was of catastrophic proportions, for that extra sense all but screamed at him to retreat.

  But as was usual when that happened, Daryus went forward instead.

  He tested the priest’s sword one more time, assuring himself that it would not break from rust or age the first time he tried to use it. He still wondered why the sword had been left behind. Daryus did not believe it had happened by chance. The sword had been left for him. Why that was, he could not say. He only knew that, whatever the intent, he would do his best to use the weapon for one purpose only. He would not be the pawn of gods or demons.

  A sound far ahead made him freeze. It was not the scraping he had heard earlier when the undead guardian had been nearby. Although brief, it had been a sound he associated with life, with someone like him trying to move through the corridors.

  A blue stone far ahead lit up. A silhouette formed.

  Daryus bit back an exclamation.

  Harricka.

  Barely had Daryus spotted her than she clearly noticed him. The crusader captain charged forward. Like Daryus, she wielded a hefty sword. Unlike Daryus, she looked ready to use it.

  He looked behind him. There was nowhere but the corridor down which he had just come.

  With no recourse, Daryus prepared to meet his former comrade in battle. He raised the sword with the point toward Harricka and braced one foot against the wall on his left in preparation to—

  The wall opened up. Daryus stumbled back through the opening.

  “Come back here!” Harricka shouted angrily.

  Daryus was no coward, but neither did he want to face her. Despite everything, he did not consider her an enemy. She clearly felt differently.

  Before he could try to shut the door, it slid closed of its own accord. Harricka pounded on the other side, using epithets that surprised Daryus.

  Certain that she would soon locate the key to opening the door, he rushed off. Harricka would have been a useful ally at this juncture, but wishes and reality were two different things. Daryus could only concern himself with—

  Another door slid open just ahead.

  “I will not be your puppet,” he muttered to whoever or whatever had opened the way. Still, Daryus paused only long enough to peer through before entering.

  And found himself in the midst of a nightmare.

  The mummified priests were everywhere … in some cases even hovering above, thanks to long leathery wings. They all sought to converge on a dais just a little ahead, a dais on which Grigor Dolch—no longer a walking corpse himself—stood surrounded by hovering fragments of what looked like smoke-colored glass or crystal. The witch held his staff—which looked oddly shorter than Daryus recalled—like a club and looked as if he was responsible for the flying fragments. Yet, clearly the destruction he had desired was not going as it should have. Even as Daryus watched, it was obvious that the pieces were attempting to recombine.

  He squinted. There was something within the gathering fragments, something he could not quite focus on. He only knew that he had a tremendous desire to see to it that those pieces continued to regather, and the only way to accomplish that was to slay the witch.

  Daryus stepped onto the tiled floor. As he did, he spotted Shiera. She was desperately attempting to ward off two of the undead, and it was immediately clear she would die if he did not intervene. Shiera was a competent fighter, but she had no weapon, relying solely on her agility to evade the weapons coming at her. While the mummified priests appeared slow and methodical when moving, once in combat, their reflexes clearly increased dramatically.

  He knew that he should rush to her aid, but the urge to gut Grigor Dolch grew stronger with each passing moment.

  No … this isn’t right. As much as the witch was a danger to be dealt with, the unreasoning desire Daryus felt was not like him. Something was guiding his thoughts.

  Something like Toy.

  As if to confirm his suspicions, the familiar paused just long enough in dodging the weapon of an undead priest to wink at Daryus. Both eyes remained open now, the demonic one taking on a dangerous glow.

  Daryus struggled against the urge. Shiera was his only concern. Toy, Grigor, and the entire temple-city could go to whatever hell they belonged to as far as he was concerned. Yet, his feet still moved him toward Grigor.

  No! I will
not bend to you! Baring his teeth, Daryus forced himself toward Shiera.

  The urge faded.

  Daryus lunged.

  One of the two mummified figures started to turn as he neared. Daryus beheaded the creature before it could adjust to him.

  The body immediately tumbled to the floor. Daryus dodged under the second priest’s axe, then came under the mummy’s guard to drive his blade up through the jaw and into the skull.

  With all the force he could muster, Daryus ripped the skull free. As the body attempted a wild swing with the ax, Daryus smashed the skull against the wall.

  The rest of the remains collapsed in a heap. Even as it did, he reached for Shiera. “Hurry! We can—”

  “No! Above!”

  He reacted as quickly as he could, but it was still a little too late. Daryus managed to dodge a fatal strike, but was bowled over by the winged form colliding with him.

  The collision left him unable to use the sword properly against the undead. Hollow eye sockets stared down into his. The mouth hung open, and although there was no sensation of breath on him, the flow of decaying odors nearly overwhelmed him.

  Then someone tugged the winged creature from him. The tip of a hefty sword shoved out of the front of the priest’s forehead, and the next moment, the skull was ripped free.

  Harricka brought the skull down hard on the floor, shattering it into tiny pieces. She tossed the stilling body directly at the foremost attackers, sending them sprawling, then glared at Daryus.

  “Daryus Gaunt! You will be taken back to pay for your betrayal—”

  Daryus scowled at her in frustration. “Gods, Harricka! This is not the—”

  “—but that can wait while we deal with this demon-infested temple and protect this civilian!”

  Shiera looked a bit annoyed at being labeled such, but was apparently prudent enough not to object. Instead, she slipped between the two crusaders and announced, “Listen to me! Things here are not as they appear! We don’t want to interfere with what the ancients arranged here! If we can just keep Grigor from doing more damage, all will be well!”

  Even Daryus looked at her with disbelief. Rising next to Shiera, he growled, “The witch’s death I can understand, but you’d leave what’s happening here be?”

  “She’s possessed,” Harricka interjected. “We must bind her but keep her safe while we deal with the threats! I know you, Daryus Gaunt, and for all your sins, you would not let this witch and his demon master loose on the lands!”

  Daryus wanted to argue about his supposed sins, but was grateful that Harricka saw the sense of dealing with Dolch and the demon. He was about to object to the idea that Shiera needed to be bound when suddenly the Pathfinder reacted as if Harricka’s proposition had merit after all.

  With an aggravated gasp and no warning, she shoved past the pair and in among the converging undead. Daryus made a grab for her, but Shiera proved quite lithe. She not only evaded him, but the nearest two mummified priests as well.

  Yet as she ran, Shiera looked back directly at Daryus and called, “Look at the stone! It’s sealing itself back up! Look at it!”

  “She’s gone mad!” Harricka roared. “Catch her!”

  But as Shiera rushed deeper into danger, Daryus gazed at where she said he should and beheld something that made him seize his former comrade by the arm—a dangerous proposition at any time—then pull her back.

  “Damn you, Daryus! I gave you one chance! What—”

  “Let her go!” he shouted back in her face. “Let her go, but be ready to do whatever you can to help her!”

  “Help her? You’re as mad or possessed as she is!”

  Taking a further risk, Daryus spun Harricka to face the tableau again. “Look at what’s happening beyond the witch! Look at the stone!”

  Harricka did … and her sudden silence was all Daryus needed to know she saw the truth.

  * * *

  I am mad, just as she says! Shiera threw herself into the fray. Insane or not, she knew she had the only chance to bring a safe conclusion to this madness. Grigor had no idea just how dangerous his continued efforts were. She calculated that if things went as she believed, the witch would release upon the Worldwound—and then very likely the realms beyond—a danger far greater than he could ever understand.

  Not Tzadn, of course. Not the Reaper. As powerful and likely deadly the demon was, all it wanted to do was hide. It had somehow manipulated the people of Uhl-Adanar to serve it long enough to help build this sanctuary. It had even likely taught them the spellwork that they had eventually used to create what was not actually a prison, but a protective shield in which the demon had hidden all this time.

  No, Tzadn was not the danger. The question was: what was so terrible that a great demon needed to hide from it?

  Not for a moment did Shiera think she could possibly convince the witch of the horrific mistake he was making. For Grigor Dolch, there was only Grigor Dolch.

  She slipped under another grasping priest, but then two more blocked her path. While she was able to evade the spear that sought her chest, it meant that she rolled into the second creature.

  Dry but powerful hands grabbed her by the shoulders. The priest dragged her to her feet. The gaping mouth and staring eye sockets came within inches of her face.

  A sword shot past her ear and expertly impaled the nearly fleshless head. The next second, the sword pulled back, dragging with it the skull.

  “Go!” Daryus roared. “Do what you can! We’ll fend them off!”

  As he spoke, the crusader named Harricka disarmed the spear-wielding priest with one blow, then pierced it through the chest with the next. Tugging hard, Harricka pulled the mummified guard to her. With her free hand, she crushed its throat so thoroughly that it took only a simple brush of her fingers to send the head falling.

  “Go, Pathfinder!” Daryus’s former comrade ordered. “May you be correct in this, or we will all suffer!”

  With gratitude, Shiera continued on. The two warriors fended off the guardians nearby, giving her a cleaner path.

  Atop the dais, Grigor thrust with the staff at the reassembling stone. Thus far, he had only managed a stalemate; while each strike sent pieces flying, they constantly turned back and tried to join together again.

  He has no idea what he does! Or he doesn’t care!

  Indeed, it seemed the witch was also ignorant of the half-formed shadow above the stone. Now and then, Shiera caught glimpses of the scythe appendages reforming, yet each time they lasted only moments. It was not, she finally understood, because the shadowy creature could not maintain their definition, but because it feared to do so for very long.

  This is a hiding place, she had shouted in vain to the witch. Everything she had feared appeared to be true. This was not a just a temple, not just a sanctuary. There was a very good reason why Uhl-Adanar had remained unknown so long. It had not merely been the efforts by the builders to hide the location, but the work of their supposed deity as well.

  Most mortal creatures—humans, dwarves, elves—did not make much distinction between demons. Yes, there were a few demon lords so notorious, so feared, that even the crusaders knew their names. Yet, Shiera had learned enough about Tzadn to understand that the Reaper was no weak creature among his accursed kind. Despite that, the Pathfinder could now all but taste the shadow demon’s tremendous fear. Indeed, if Shiera was correct, Tzadn even restrained from attacking the witch out of concern that every use of power would risk attracting the demon’s true enemy to Uhl-Adanar.

  The truth had been gradually dawning on Shiera for some time now, he realized. The absolute expunging of any mention, the ease with which the temple-city itself had been hidden physically from the world … Everything had been designed with Tzadn’s safety in mind.

  And what Grigor did not realize by continuing to insist that Tzadn accept his dubious “aid” was that he threatened to expose the demon. Indeed, Shiera suspected that the demon would have dealt much harsher with all of them
save that using its power would increase the odds its foe would sense it. That was why it relied on the animated corpses of its followers to protect its “tomb,” even though those servants were proving inadequate. Shiera feared that soon, instead of trying to simply make the mortals go away, it would at last do something more permanent … even if that meant further risking revealing itself.

  Something struck her from behind. At first, Shiera feared that one of the guardians had caught her, but then she heard that familiar voice cooing in her ears. “Be not afraid, Mistress Shiera! Toy is only here to help you achieve what you hope!”

  She tried to reach back and grab him, but the familiar avoided her fingers. Shiera knew she had no time to rid herself of Toy. She could only hope he was telling the truth.

  Grigor stood just above her, attention still on the stone. Shiera continued to be amazed that he, with all his links to magic, evidently did not see the continually shifting shadow that was Tzadn attempting to gather its shielding stone together again. Shiera, unaware of any drop of magical ability in her family, could even sense the Reaper’s growing anxiety and fury. Whatever hunted it, Shiera did not want to be nearby when it came.

  As Grigor pulled back the shortened staff for another strike, Shiera seized hold of the back end. The witch pulled hard, but Shiera braced herself as best she could.

  As he looked to see what prevented him from his task, Toy leapt over her shoulder, ran down her arm, and alighted on the staff. The act brought him to eye level with his former master.

  “Our former patron would see you one last time,” the weasel mocked.

  To Shiera’s surprise, the witch released his hold on the staff as he desperately sought to shield his gaze from Toy. Not expecting such a result, Shiera fell back.

  Someone caught her before she could tumble off the dais. Daryus smiled grimly as he quickly set her down and shoved one of the guardians away. He then seized his sword, which Shiera saw he had dropped in order to save her.

  Daryus deflected the sword of a new guardian. All the while, he kept glancing up, where three of the winged priests hovered as they awaited some opening. “You have that damned staff! Can you use it?”