His shoulder erupted in pain and he cursed. There was a dart protruding from his shoulder. Angrily he pulled it free and cast it down. His sticks before him, he looked for the source of the trap and faced an armored soldier. This was a soldier long dead. Leathery skin made its face seem even more hideous, and when it laughed it boomed in Carym's ears. Another bolt fired from the crossbow but Carym used his magic and vaporized it in a ball of flame before it reached him. Then he charged the creature. It ended quickly, the ancient skeleton had been unable to withstand two blows from his fighting sticks before falling to pieces.
He turned his attention to the altar again and was about to continue when two more skeletal warriors appeared. He disposed of them with ease and strode confidently toward the altar. Then his light spell extinguished and he wasn't so confident anymore. He heard screams erupting all around him; in the darkness one voice screeched next to his ear. The power of the multitude of shrieking voices overwhelmed him and threatened to steal his sanity. Ghastly visages appeared here and vanished, only to reappear there, assailing him with their terrible wailing. He covered his ears and fell to his knees, fighting hard to push the sounds from his mind. Then something shoved him and he fell to the floor, prone. The bitter cold of the stone floor shocked his mind. Everything, even the shrieking ghosts, were pushed out. His survival instinct kicked in then, and he forced himself to latch onto the Tides. He let his mind free from his body and the power of his magic soothed his mind and comforted him. Now, he could see the chamber through the magical prism of the Tidal forces all about him. In the myriad of colors he saw that there were six more of the skeletal warriors. Rather than fight them all, he decided that he would end their existence with magic. He focused his sight on the silvery currents that flowed strongly about each of the ghastly creatures, knowing that only the power of the Spirit Sigil would help him break the tether that connected them between world of the living and the dead. He weaved threads of magical currents of both the Spirit and the Flames into each of the six at once. Then he cast the spell that caused the skeletal warriors to burst into flames of silver and red. In seconds, each had been reduced to a pile of ashes.
Back on his feet, he walked between the columns again using his enhanced sight to navigate rather than his light spell. There were more of the skeletal warriors in this chamber but they seemed inanimate, as though waiting for a command to attack. He wondered if these were the spirits of the soldiers who fought for the man who once dared to become a god. Finally, he reached foot of the altar. The vaporous form of a beautiful, voluptuous woman appeared before him. She was Elvish, her raven tresses spilled down her shoulders to cover an ample bosom. She was amazing. Her smile was dazzling and her eyes were so blue that it almost hurt him to look at them. Dimly he remembered the beautiful siren in Dockyard City who had preyed upon his weakness. It was the memory of her face, leaning in to kiss him, that snapped him out of a nearly fatal move. He backed away quickly and raised his sticks protectively. The beautiful woman's face changed from a sultry smile to that of a vicious monster, hissing and spitting like a viper. She lunged at him, shrieking loudly, singing a hideous song. The terrible noise hurt his head so badly he stumbled as he backed away, swinging his fighting sticks defensively. The deadly woman advanced, long dagger-like claws extended and ready to shred. Still she continued to sing her woeful melody and Carym finally had enough wits to blast her with a ball of flame. The spell didn't harm the woman but it did stun her enough to stop her deadly shrieks. Carym used that pause in the madness to attack. He pummeled the hideous thing with his sticks before she could renew her deadly song and she wailed in pain. Each shriek that the evil creature bellowed was like being stabbed in the head with a fiery dagger, but was far better on his wits than her horrible song. But Carym was relentless and would not stop until the thing stopped moving. Once it did, he stepped away and burned it to ashes with the fires of both the Spirit Sigil and the Flame.
Gasping for breath, he fell to his knees. Then the floor began to move. A large section of the floor lurched up from the chamber and began to rise quickly, taking him with it. He looked up and saw the ceiling was rapidly descending--he was going to be crushed! He rolled to his side, falling off the rising section of floor and landing heavily below. He rolled painfully to his side to look and saw that a wall now stood in the chamber behind, extending all of the way from floor to ceiling; it had almost flattened him. Gasping in pain as he lay on the floor, he concentrated on bringing his breathing back under control. After a few moments, he staggered to his feet and continued cautiously towards the altar.
Carym held his breath in awe as the magnitude of it all sank in. This was the Tomb of the Dark Paladin, and there he lay. The one who could have destroyed the world. The one who had been Zuhr's finest, his chosen warrior of light. He had been known as First Paladin until he forsook all that was good to unleash an army of darkness and terror across the known lands. Then he became the Dark Paladin and wanted to become a god. The knightly coat of arms of the ancient Zuharim had been draped over the altar, not unlike a bed sham, sword and shield placed upon his chest. Though the body was just bones and armor, Carym sensed that there was peace in the dead man. The Dark Paladin had found redemption in his final moments of life. He didn't seem all that terrifying, but Carym didn't want to find out if the infamous legend were true.
The Dark Paladin had thought himself to be so powerful as to be above all mortal men. He sought power for the sake of power. He led the Zuharim to such prominence that the order had become a sovereign nation in its own right headquartered on the Northern Continent. The man ruled his nation with all the powers and rights of a monarch. But he had not been satisfied; he wanted more. Zuhr would not grant this man any more power, for he already held great influence among the many nations of the Northern Continent including the Steel Empire. In angry pride, the First Paladin began to meet with the masters of all the orders of the Sigils in hopes of attaining more power. They refused to entertain him. Even though many of the Sigilists worshiped gods other than Zuhr, they feared the power this man would attain with the mastery of the Sigils at his command. Nevertheless, one of the Sigil masters did not refuse. That one was a dark man with a black heart known as Khan-Nazzar; he was master of the Shadow Sigil. It was Khan who became the man's closest adviser, corrupting him with the Shadow. As time went on, the First Paladin became a detested figure and he steered his knights along dark paths, seeking power and glory. The honorable Zuharim revolted but they were quickly punished and put down by the Dark Paladin's loyal henchmen.
The Zuharim who rejected the dark ways, who had fought and died for liberty and freedom across the land, were forced into exile. Those who remained with the Dark Paladin became as slaves to their master. And those who were enslaved to that dark power took slaves of their own, they felt themselves the masters of Llars. Khan-Nazzar taught them the ways of the Shadow and of the Shadowrealms. That's when the Dark Paladin made a pact with the Dark Lord, Umber. The terms of this pact were never known, but it was a pact that could not be undone. The man ruled by fear and terror, dark creatures and demons were his officers. Even the dead were not safe from the touch of this once noble man.
But Khan-Nazzar wasn't through corrupting the Dark Paladin. A powerful artifact, long hidden in a small temple in the Ogrewall Mountains, had been discovered by Khan-Nazzar's minions. An artifact that was so powerful, its bearer could force even the gods to do his bidding. For Umber, the Dark Paladin was a means to an end. The powerful knight, now dedicated to evil, commanded an army that could not be killed and conquered the Ogre Tribes living in the Ogrewall Mountains.
Inside a small temple dedicated to a god whom Carym could not name, Khan-Nazzar found his artifact. Although the description of this item along with the true name of the infamous man who wielded it were lost to history, the terrible nature of the artifact wasn't. The Dark Paladin would use it to challenge a god. That god was Grymm, the former patron deity of Gennevera. Grymm was the god of the dea
d and the keeper of souls. His was in a powerful position in the existence of the gods and Umber sought to take it from him. Using the Dark Paladin, he planned for his mortal follower to force Grymm to come to the mortal realm of Llars where he could be slain as any other mortal being.
As Carym looked at the hollow eye sockets, he could not recall why the Dark Paladin forsook his dark path in the end, turning against his evil benefactor. Was that fact lost to history as well? It didn't matter. The Dark Paladin did use his dark powers to force Grymm to stand before the powerful mortal for one terrible moment. And in that moment, the god of the dead showed the man a picture of his own life. Perhaps he saw what the world according to the Dark Paladin would look like, perhaps he was shown the terrible effects his own dark paths had delivered upon the innocents he had once sworn to protect. That sobering moment came and went; and with it went Grymm, back to Hades where he would continue to steward the souls of the dead. None knows why, but in those short moments, the Dark Paladin turned on Umber and begged Zuhr for forgiveness.
And Zuhr forgave him. But forgiveness did not come without punishment and his atonement called for the destruction of the artifact whose pursuit had caused the world such pain and devastation. Perhaps the Dark Paladin used the very sword which lay upon his chest to smite the evil artifact. What Carym did know, was that the aftermath that followed the artifact's destruction was terrible.
Knowing in an instant that he had been betrayed, Khan-Nazzar used his dark powers and vanished, neither to be seen nor heard from again. The Dark Paladin did destroy the artifact, and in doing so he destroyed himself, his lands and his followers; even the evil creations that did his bidding were destroyed. Nothing was left. No ruins of any village or city within the borders of his lands had ever been found. The massive piece of the central Northern Continent became a wilderness haunted by spirits and prowled by bandits and monsters. The Ogre Tribes receded farther into the high mountains and forsook their place as protectors and guardians, abandoning any cause and concern that was not their own. The dwarves vanished without a trace and the magic of the Sigils was gone from the world; for Zuhr would not permit another to walk in the footsteps of the Dark Paladin.
In one final, brief, moment, the Dark Paladin had become the First Paladin once more. He was buried here, in secret, in this mysterious tomb. The Dark Paladin's soul had been sentenced to an eternity of atonement. His penance: to guard his own tomb along with the Everpool, the source of the Tidal forces of Llars, forever.
Snapping out of his reverie, Carym stepped away from the corpse and looked around the ruins of the tomb for a sign of the Everpool. He knew there must be something here to point him to it. Would his own senses point the way? He reached out to the Tides about him and let them take his mind. He was rewarded with an immediate and overwhelming rush of Tidal forces so strong he nearly swooned, but could not determine direction or source. It was foolish to have come all this way with nothing to guide him. Yet here he was, on the doorstep of the Everpool. His shoulder was stinging badly and he was now feeling lightheaded. He dropped to his knees before the altar to rest for a moment, and a skeletal hand slipped from beneath the ancient shield. Quite suddenly the temperature in the room dropped. Fear gripped Carym's heart and he became aware of another presence.
Standing quickly, too quickly he later thought, he saw the shimmering image of a man in obsidian and gold armor. The skeleton was now gone from the altar and Carym knew that he faced the wraith of the Dark Paladin.
The most hated figure in history stood before Carym, radiating power and palpable fear. He was a terrible sight to behold. His armor was dark and beautiful, adorned with the cursed insignia of the Black Sigil, required as he was to wear it still. The visor of his helm was down obscuring his face, something Carym was grateful for.
"Who are you?" the shimmering spirit asked sternly. The voice was cold and deadly, it sent chills down Carym's spine.
"I?" he paused and cleared his throat. "I am Carym of Hyrum. I seek the way to the Everpool." The apparition stared down at him with dark eyes, barely visible from the eye slits in the sleek black helm. The spirit folded his arms across his chest.
"Why, Carym of Hyrum, do you seek the Everpool?" he asked. "Surely you must know that I, the Dark Paladin, the Betrayer of Light, the Cursed One, the Harbinger of Death, am cursed to guard it from all. For eternity. Brave, or foolish, must you be to come here. Precious few visitors have I had these many centuries. And all of them fell before the hands of my soldiers."
Carym was thoughtful, choosing his words carefully, summoning all the courage he could muster. What does one say to convince the most nefarious person in history to offer help? He calmed his mind and the words came to him.
"An enemy of Zuhr leads a mighty army across this great land. The leader of this mighty army is sworn to Umber, yet the army itself does not know the dark god by that name. The man, Shalthazar, seeks to destroy the Everpool. Enemy troops of this great army are scouring this area as we speak; I fear they are very close. I believe that I have been sent by Zuhr to return these," he said holding out the pouch containing the Sigilstones.
The Dark Paladin was silent. Carym shifted nervously, feeling that unrelenting gaze weighing and judging him. What seemed like hours drifted by in silence. He felt like he should say more, yet more words would not come.
"I have waited many centuries for Zuhr to send me the one who will free me from my sentence," the cold voice finally said. "But, are you truly the one?"
"I know not, Great One."
"Great?" mused the dark knight. "Yes, I suppose I was great. But what of you?"
"Me?"
The apparition drifted closer to the Cklathman and lifted his visor. The visage that looked back at him from beneath the great helm was enthralling and terrifying. The features morphed and a thousand faces came and went, some faces Carym felt like he knew, others not. Then his own face peered back at him from the dark helm and he recoiled instinctively, then he took a fighting stance bravely holding his fighting sticks before him, enflamed.
As he stood ready to fight, Carym's reflection changed and the visor slammed down. The knight did not advance.
"You are what you are," said the knight cryptically. "And I have waited long, very long, for you."
"You have?" Carym replied nervously.
"You are not the first to make the claim you have made this day, but you are the last. The others came for themselves, seeking the Everpool for their own gain. Some of them linger still," said the knight ominously. "But I sense your intentions are what you say they are.
"You know that I am cursed by Zuhr for my betrayal to guard this place, the place which I sought to destroy. Zuhr was lenient with me. It seems incredible that I use such a word, yet it is just so. He has been silent since the day of my sentencing, but it is a sentence too good for me."
"Forgive me, but what is good about being cursed for eternity?" he asked and he sincerely hoped the ancient knight would not be offended.
"As I have come to learn, there are far worse punishments that Zuhr could have imparted upon me, and worse places to be imprisoned. Far worse. What is largely forgotten in the dim recollections of time is that I saw the error of my ways. I found salvation and my redemption in Zuhr's love before I could carry out my dark plans. Zuhr forgave me. That is the wonder and the greatness of Zuhr. It is why I chose to thwart Umber in my final moments.
"Do not pity me, Carym of Hyrum. For I deserve none. Do not for a moment think that I didn't enjoy my crimes when I committed them. Mine was a path I chose willingly. I succumbed to a dark desire for power that I thought I had locked away.
"In the end I did what was right. But in so doing, I caused massive destruction. An entire nation was taken from the face of Llars. Others suffered tremendously and innocent lives were lost. All to destroy the evil that I had created." The dark spirit paused for a long moment. "Zuhr has forgiven me. I have served my penance. Your arrival signifies this for me. It means I must show you
where to find the Everpool and the key to the Tome of Sigils.
"There is more afoot in the heavens than you know, Carym. At last, the time has come!" the majestic knight became emphatic and looked up. "My Lord, I will not fail you! The dark one will be stopped." The knight looked back at Carym.
"Come forward and be judged Carym of Hyrum," the knight ordered. Carym did as he was bade and stepped closer to the apparition. The knight placed his spectral hand on Carym's shoulder and searing pain shot through his shoulder. He immediately felt energy drain from his body and his mind became numb. As he sank into darkness he heard the knight say, "I go to join the fray, but this time I fight for the right cause. I leave you with three gifts Carym of Hyrum: the key, my sword and my shield. You may use them now, but they must be given to the keepers of Zuhr's faithful when your work is done. They are powerful artifacts and are meant for hands other than your own!"
When Carym awoke, he was lying on the cold floor and the specter was gone. The pain in his shoulder was gone too. In his hand he held a small, roughly cut stone in the shape of a skeleton key. His respite was short lived, for the ground began to shake and the wall which had earlier sprung up and almost killed him collapsed into rubble almost killing him again. The paladin's skeleton had returned to its place upon the altar. Carym took the paladin's shield to protect himself from falling debris. Remembering the paladin's words, Carym grabbed the knight's sword and sheathed his own fighting sticks. Once the debris had settled, he climbed over the rubble and ran back to the circle on the floor at the opposite end of the chamber, relieved that nothing else came to molest him.
Carym jumped into the mysterious circle that led him here and hurtled upward at a sickening speed. When he reached the top, he jumped out of the circle and into the chamber. Forgetting about toppled skeletons and the traps that must still await him, Carym ran through the chamber and back to the door leading out. He was running for his life, fearing a collapsing tunnel and he ran through the now open door and into the passageway. The ground beneath his feet rumbled and shimmied and loud cracks told him his fears were correct. Breathing in the dust-filled air, Carym nearly choked and gagged. Dodging falling debris and debris which already cluttered the passageway floor, Carym burst through the final door leading to the world above. He stumbled about in the dark, unable to see, falling down an embankment as the tunnel had indeed.
The Tomb of the Dark Paladin Page 25
