With her legs pumping away, Tazi ran through the passage, all the while reversing the turns she took to get to her vantage point. She had hesitated to use any kind of glow stones or other markers along her path for fear of drawing unwanted attention. Still, some attention was unavoidable, no matter how cautious one was.
As she took a corner while looking over her shoulder,Tazi nearly struck her head on a low ceiling. She did bump into something soft and velvety that exploded into a flurry of wings and screeches. Tazi had crashed into a nest of ice bats. Larger and covered by thicker fur than ordinary bats, they had razor-sharp claws to better grip and pierce the slick, cold surfaces of their frozen depths. Tazi drew her guardblade and cut a swath through the swarming eruption of beating wings and raking talons. She skewered a few, but mostly nicked a wing here and there until the majority fled into one of the many crevices in the passageway. She sheathed her weapon and continued along what she hoped was the right direction.
The tunnel narrowed a bit, and Tazi paused for just a moment to lean forward with a hand against her side and the other braced against her thigh. Running in the cold had taken a toll on her, and every breath burned like a shaft of fire cutting through her chest. Her ragged breathing, however, masked the sound of gentle slithering directly above her until it was too late. Just as Tazi started to straighten herself, a thick coil, four feet long, dropped down in front of her. It wrapped itself around her neck with lightening quickness and yanked Jazi a few feet off the ground, nearly snapping her neck. She grabbed at the red- and black-stripped, scaly loops in an attempt to free herself or, at the very least, take some of the pressure off her throat. Her legs kicked futilely at the air, in a dizzy parody of a jig. As Tazi felt herself raised toward the broken and uneven ceiling, a withered face lowered itself into her view.
It looked like a female human head, with greasy, black locks and a forked tongue that flicked in and out between its cracked lips. Tazi could make out that the rest of the monster tapered down to the banded snake body that held her like a noose. Even in the extreme chill air, Tazi could smell the foul odor of decaying meat on it. She also thought she could make out a pile of half gnawed bones on a rock shelf behind the naga's snug warren.
"What have we here?" the thing hissed at Tazi slowly. "Something more to eat?" it questioned.
Tazi could feel herself start to lose consciousness, yet she was nearly mesmerized by the glowing intensity of the being's intelligent stare. Against her will, Tazi could feel her eyes droop and her arms grow heavy and leaden. The naga moved its face closer and tentatively let its tongue trail down Tazi's smooth cheek. The leathery touch galvanized Tazi into action.
Her eyes flew open, and she grabbed tighter at the coils, desperate to relieve the strain on her windpipe. She flailed her legs about even more frantically.
"I like it when they fight," the naga chuckled in a lispy way. "It makes the meat that much sweeter."
"Not today," Tazi gasped out, and she could hear the naga's throaty chuckle over the pounding blood in her own ears. While she pulled at the naga's body, Tazi swung her right heel around until it struck the tunnel wall at just the right angle. The impact caused the mechanism in Tazi's climbing boot to release the two inch pick located in the toe. It was meant for giving the owner a better hold when scaling an icy crevasse.
But it had other uses as well.
Tazi let go of the naga's coils and grabbed its greasy head. The naga was momentarily startled by its victim's aggressive move and didn't immediately resist. Tazi wasted no time in pushing the naga's face as far away from her own as she could.
Tazi swung her boot straight up and caught the naga where she guessed the thing's throat was. A hot spray of blood shot out from the jagged wound, and Tazi could hear the sizzle as it spattered on the frozen floor. She suspected the naga's blood was acidic, judging by the sound it made, and slashed once more across the beast's throat, uncertain how long her boot's tough hide would protect her from its burn. The coils slackened around her neck enough for Tazi to slip free of the deadly grasp. Tazi, sure the thing was dying, wasted no time in continuing her flight.
Moving a little slower, she rubbed at her neck and tried to collect her thoughts. Her tangle with the naga had left her somewhat disorientated. Tazi glanced around, looking for a familiar sign as she reviewed a mental list of landmarks in her head. The wide passageway she had escaped into looked like most of the others she had run through. Weakly lit by the blue glow of the ice, this one had more visible rock and fewer frozen columns. As she moved forward, Tazi hoped that the change in landscape was an indication she was moving closer to the exit of the subterranean catacombs. Whines directly behind her made Tazi turn suddenly. Four of the pale humanoids rushed around the corner and forced Tazi's hand.
"Well," Tazi nearly laughed, "I guess that makes this an easy choice." With that, she ran up the path she had been contemplating, no longer having any other options.
As she snaked back and forth around several sharp turns, Tazi wasn't sure her choice was the same path she had descended by. Cornering to the left, her feet skated across a wet surface, and she came dangerously close to losing her footing. As Tazi spun around unwillingly, she could see that there was more exposed rock and less ice in this portion of the passageway. She also realized the overall light was growing brighter. She looked at the width of the tunnel with a critical eye and yanked a fist-sized metal object off one of her bandoliers. As the pale men came into view, Tazi threw the metal thing to one side of the tunnel. The springwall, a single-use item created by some industrious gnomes, sprung open upon impact. The tightly coiled mesh expanded to a barricade ten feet wide by ten feet high and attached itself to both sides of the walls. Two of her pursuers could not stop in time and became hopelessly entangled in the trap. The other two managed to jump around their squirming companions and continue the chase.
Tazi continued her dash to the surface, legs pumping furiously. She knew she was at least heading toward some kind of opening as the air was not quite so frigid and there were the beginnings of small clumps of moss and other vegetation appearing sporadically in the rocky tunnels. As she rounded another gentle bend in her flight, Tazi could see that a patch of fungus completely ringed the tunnel. Tazi quickly rummaged in her sack and pulled out a small flask. Ripping the stopper free with her mouth, she doused the pale fungus and tossed the empty container aside. She flipped a pocket open on her vest and removed a small wire mechanism that resembled a clasp of sorts, then she snapped the device over the moldy growth a few times.
"Come on," she urged the tool impatiently.
Finally, there was a shower of sparks sufficient to ignite the combustible oil Tazi had soaked the plant life with. The flames erupted and shot across the trail she had made until that whole section of the passageway was a ring of fire. The two creatures that hadn't been tripped up by Tazi's snare rounded the corner but threw up their hands at the blaze. One shrieked piteously and turned away, but Tazi could tell through the smoke and the fire that the other one was looking for a way to pass. The smile faded from Tazi's face and she continued her escape.
Spotting a familiar archway in the rocks, Tazi knew she was almost free of the icy passageways. She could see a patch of sky up ahead that was colored yellow by the first rays of dawn. Her smile faded as a cry rose up once more behind her. Tazi turned to see that the fire had not stopped the last creature. She reluctantly drew her sword.
A beam of the rising sun shot through the tunnel, bouncing madly across several patches of melting ice, illuminating the entire section in a maze of golden light. Tazi backed up slightly and got her only good look at the creature she had stolen from.
Taller than she was, the man had flesh so pale that it was albino and completely devoid of hair. Leanly muscled, he wore almost no clothing and carried only a single weapon. Tazi marveled at how tough his skin must have been, to insulate him from the intense cold without the aid of coverings. He returned Tazi's scrutiny with nearly white eyes
and tilted his head just a little. She raised her sword a little higher and adjusted her stance farther into the encroaching sunlight.
"Please," she finally said. "I don't want to do this."
The creature looked at her once more and turned to disappear back into the cold darkness. Tazi was not sure if it was her entreaty or simply the creature's natural aversion to light that made him back down. She suspected she would never know, and that was just fine with her. She slowly backed away, only sheathing her sword after she had completely exited the tunnel.
When Tazi turned around, she squinted against the daylight and raised an arm to shield her eyes from the glare. The entire, snowcapped mountains were softly glowing a warm yellow-pink from the first rays of the sun. Satisfied she was no longer being followed, Tazi rummaged around under a cairn of rocks near the entrance and shook loose a full-length cloak. Made of patches of white, beige and pale blue fur, it provided the perfect camouflage against the snowfield. She slipped it around her shoulders, grateful for its additional warmth. Now that her eyes had adjusted somewhat from her time in the gloom, Tazi glanced once more at the sight in front of her.
"I can see now why he called them the Sunrise Mountains," she said to no one in particular. Watching her footing as she began her descent down the mountainside, she added with a chuckle, "But I will have to let that guide I hired know that the Buried Ones are a little more than just a child's bedtime story."
The skeletal figure bowed over the dark wood table. Its glossy surface was covered with a variety of bottles and flasks. Some of them glowed in the dim light of the chamber, while others bubbled without any overt sign of heat. A long millipede rippled its way, unnoticed, across the arcane collection of items on the table. A collection of odd, furry creatures scuttled around the necromancer's feet. Though the lich could have replaced the simple desk with a larger, more ornately carved one if he desired, he was partial to the antique. It was one of the many artifacts that had belonged to his mentor and last teacher. They had all become his property, an inheritance of sorts, when the lich murdered him many years ago. Even his mentor's body remained as a twisted legacy, roaming about as one of the many zombie guards protecting the keep. Szass Tam hated waste of any kind and never let a good body rot unused.
For the last few days, the lich had been driven. For hours at a time, he had floated throughout his immense library, scanning the thousands of texts and scrolls the Zulkir of Necromancy had spent the last two centuries collecting. Szass Tarn, so absorbed in his studies, had been barely aware of his servants scuttling in and out to replace the candles he was forever burning. Unlike most lichs, Szass Tam could move about in broad daylight, but he preferred not to. In fact, he shrouded his keep's few windows in sumptuous, black velvet drapes, blotting out all natural daylight. And though he could easily have lit his entire residence with various enchantments and glow spells, the lich had a fondness for the simplicity of candles. The keep was filled with them, even though many members of his vast, undead armies were fearful of fire. Szass Tam enjoyed their dread with a perverse humor. However, he could not tolerate wax spatters anywhere and his servants were well aware of the consequences if they didn't clean them properly or failed to refresh the hundreds of pillars throughout the keep on a daily basis. They were constantly busy with the chore.
In his searches, the lich had pulled out a variety of obscure tomes and manuscripts. He had spread them about in an unusually disorganized fashion, too concerned with adding notations to a well-worn folio that was now lying at the center of his table to care about the books. With bony fingers that resembled nothing so much as birds' talons, Szass Tam traced the runes and words he had inscribed over the last few months and murmured softly. His paper thin skin was lined with wrinkles of concentration, and his graying wisps of hair were slightly askew, oddly framing his balding pate. When he was alone, the necromancer cared little for his outward, physical appearance, but didn't indulge in the habit of wearing the clothes he had died in as so many of his kind did. He normally sported a simple linen tunic and the rich, maroon robes that marked his station as a Red Wizard. For anyone other than a Red Wizard, it meant death to wear such a garment. In fact, most Thayans were so fearful of the punishment, the majority never sported the color in their wardrobe at all, whether they were slave or master.
He squeezed his eyes shut and rocked back and forth on his heels as though struggling with some unseen force. He repeated a phrase over and over, forcing his will to dominate that invisible entity. His scrawny fingers clutched the ends of his folio, and he crushed the edges of the parchments, caught up in the battle of wills. Finally, he threw back his head and nearly screamed out the words a last time. The air was sucked out of the room in a thunderous whoosh, extinguishing every candle in his library. Szass Tarn lowered his head in the absolute darkness and remained that way for several moments. Eventually, he lifted his head wearily and made a slow pass of his hands, and the library was once again illuminated by a hundred points oitight.
The Red Wizard moved slowly over to a luxurious, oversized chair, covered in the hide of an animal long-since extinct in Faerun. He carefully lowered his thin skeletal frame into the comforting cushions, a ghost of a smile playing about his thin, parched lips. A small table to his left held a heavy-cut crystal decanter of garnet wine, but he did not avail himself of any refreshment. The lich no longer needed food or water, or even sleep for that matter, but he preferred to surround himself with the trappings of the living and only the finest would suit his tastes. He steepled his fingers in front of his face and leaned his skullish forehead against the bony latticework they formed. He had succeeded, but Szass Tarn was far too intelligent and practical to fool himself into believing his spell was anything more than a temporary measure. He knew he would have to discover a permanent solution, but he secretly harbored a growing feeling of certainty that there might not be one. He wondered once more if this would haunt him for all his undead years.
The Red Wizard slowly raised his head, and his form shimmered and coalesced into something else. Suddenly, his arms and legs filled out, and his tunic no longer had the appearance of being a few sizes too big. His spine stretched out, and his chair sagged under the additional weight. Szass Tarn's face grew fuller, and his cheeks took on a color that was almost healthy. His jet-black eyes burned brightly and his hair darkened and thickened, creeping back up to cover the top of his skull once more.
"Come," he called out in a deep, melodic voice, though there had been no knock on the thick chamber door yet.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, that entrance swung open. A human woman, no older than twenty or so, peeked in.
"What is it, child?" the lich purred solicitously.
But beneath that pleasant demeanor, an undercurrent of impatience rippled. It was not lost on the young servant.
She quickly entered the room, and SzassTam could see she would need a little prodding to get her to speak. He sighed imperceptibly and once again thought back to his former chambermaid, Charmaine. He found especially at times like this that he missed the thin, middle-aged woman who had served him faithfully for over thirty years. She was poised and polite, qualities the lich appreciated and even valued, to an extent. Charmaine had worked tirelessly over the years in his largest keep here, situated between Eltabbar and Am-ruthar, and asked for no monetary payment other than food and shelter. She had made it clear to the Red Wizard that she longed for immortality; it was a desire he understood all too well, and he had admired her directness. He promised her after four decades of services he would have one of his vampire generals bestow that "gift" on her, and she could serve him forever. But a misunderstanding occurred a few months ago.
A new vampire in Szass Tarn's service had been attracted to her, not knowing her important station amongst the thirtyvor so living servants that worked within the keep. He approached her one night, and Charmaine mistakenly thought he had been sent by Szass Tam. She believed her moment of reward had come. She willing gave herself to
the young vampire, and he, caught up in his own bloodlust, drained her dry and murdered her. When Szass Tam discovered his favorite servant had been killed, he incinerated the vampire with little more than a single thought. He debated long and hard about raising Charmaine as a zombie, hating to lose such a good servant. But he knew she had always detested his legions of ghouls and zombies, only acting with the utmost civility around them because she knew the lich hated impropriety. And so he decided instead to let her be in peace as her final payment, though it caused him a great inconvenience. As he watched Charmaine's replacement nervously fidget with a small, draped bundle in her arms, he sighed again.
"Is everything ready for my guests, Neera? Bedchambers freshened, clean linens?" he prodded the red-haired girl. "You know I would hate for them to be lacking any comfort, don't you?" With that last question, he eyed her meaningfully. Szass Tarn knew full well that her left arm was still healing from the burn he had inflicted there not too long ago when Neera had neglected a few pieces of cutlery at a place setting for one of his "special" dinner gatherings.
"Yes, m-my lord," she answered meekly.
"And the meeting hall?" he nudged her along, tired of the game already.
Perhaps sensing her master's growing impatience, she stood a little straighter and replied more confidently, "Everything has been made ready. You won't find anything lacking, I assure you." Szass Tarn smiled a bit and thought to himself that the woman might have promise after all.
The Crimson Gold r-3 Page 3
