“We did it,” she said with a wide smile on her face. “We managed to bring every single one of them back here alive and well.”
“With the help of the gods,” Sarrac asserted with a contented smile of his own.
“With a whole lot of luck,” Darek added.
“I think it's been long enough,” the fair former lich said, offering the paladin a coy smile. “Don't you?”
In reply, he simply slipped his arms slowly around her and began to lower his face to hers.
“I'm just glad it's over!” Joey observed aloud.
This statement stopped Paul in his tracks. Myra lifted herself on the balls of her feet in an attempt to raise her mouth to his, but was brought to a halt by his raised index finger.
“Hold on,” he said, shaking his head. “Rescuing the women and children was a task, wasn't it?”
“I don't think you could look at it in any other way,” Alena replied.
“Yes, you could,” Nyssa disagreed. “You could consider it a job, a duty, a chore, a charge...”
“Those are all synonyms,” Joey pointed out.
“Whose side are you on?” Myra asked, turning her eyes to the red-robed wizard.
“Everyone's,” he replied. “But, most especially mine. I don't plan to have Paul kiss me out of Zanoth until I've at least had the time to collect my payment from Nyssa.”
“What is the payment?” the beautiful fairy asked.
“Can we discuss this on the way to bed,” Darek chuckled. “I'm down right weary.”
“Actually, so am I,” Nyssa agreed with a stretch. “We hadn't gotten much sleep before that rude wraith showed up to try to torture Paul to death. At least, I guess that's what he was after. The next time we see him, we should ask.”
The entire party turned and began following the procession that was making its way toward the stairs.
“It's good to know that the call button charges independently of the vault,” Darek observed as they strolled along.
“It is,” Gregory nodded. “It means that the undead are in for a number of other nasty shocks.”
“At least until they figure out what we're doing,” Alena added. “Once they do, you can be sure they'll start working to prevent us from just teleporting into whatever it may be that they're trying to defend from us. Like their storehouses, for instance.”
“Yes, they will,” Myra agreed. “Up until now, the undead haven't had any reason to shield those from teleportation. They really weren't a particularly valuable commodity. That's not the case now.”
“I suppose that's true,” Darek admitted. “Still, though, it's not like they'll be able to keep us from using it completely. I mean; they're not going to be able to protect a ten-mile radius around every village in Mal’Creal, are they?”
“Probably not,” she ceded. “Although it is technically possible, it's not very likely. It would take a great deal of time and magical power. The runes that prevent teleportation aren't the easiest things to make. The larger the area you're trying to defend, the more difficult it is.”
“Meaning, at the very least,” Gregory said, “that we can get close, slaughter the garrison, and completely empty out any storehouse we want. Which is good, because we're going to need more food soon.”
“This fortress has plenty of land to farm,” Joey pointed out, glancing back over his shoulder and nearly tripping over the first step of the staircase they had just reached. “Man, I'm tired...”
“There certainly is,” Gregory nodded. “However, it takes time to clear land, to plant crops, and for those crops to grow. Not to mention the fact that winter may be coming.”
“You think it'll come here?” the wizard asked.
“How can we know?” Gregory shrugged. “I'll tell you what I am sure of, though: we're going to need a lot more food before long.”
“Especially considering the fact that we just managed to lose a few weeks’ worth,” Alena pointed out. “Which is rather unfortunate.”
“It was better than us getting killed,” Darek observed.
“Obviously,” the ogress replied. “But, that doesn't change the fact that we may have to tighten our belts for the time being. We won't be able to move the vault for five days now.”
“What about the bread and wine?” Joey asked.
“It only seems to show up once during the day,” Gregory explained. “It'll keep us from starving, but it’s not going to fill hundreds of bellies every day.”
“We should save the bread for the children,” Paul said with a nod.
“That's very considerate,” Myra said, slipping her hand into one of the paladin's.
“And the wine for Darek,” Joey laughed.
“That's even more considerate,” Darek replied with a weary smile.
“We can discuss it more in the morning,” Sarrac asserted. “I'm sure we'll be able to come up with some kind of plan after we've slept on it.”
“Undoubtedly,” General Halfar agreed before turning his eyes to Paul, “I take it that there's a reason you haven't been healed yet?”
“Nyssa and I are both beyond the limits of our strength,” the paladin explained, once again gently feeling his face. “As bad as this hurts – and it's bad – if I tried to heal myself at the moment, I'd probably just pass out. Of course, that might help me get some rest, I suppose. As it is, I'm afraid that's going to be a little difficult.”
“I can see that,” the general nodded slowly. “I want you to see something. I know it's late, but...”
“It's actually early,” Joey interjected with a yawn.
“As it may be difficult for you to fall asleep anyway,” General Halfar continued, “you may as well take a look. I believe you'll find it somewhat interesting.”
“Lead on,” Paul smiled before grimacing in pain. “Whatever it is, I'm sure I'll find it more interesting than lying around trying to ignore the pain in my face. If nothing else, maybe it'll distract me.”
“It may at that.”
“Is this a better time for questions?” Joey asked as the party stepped into the open ground of the fortress.
“Infinitely,” Alena replied.
“Good,” the wizard nodded, “because I have a lot of them. First, where are we heading, General?”
“The shrine,” the old man answered.
“Alright, then. We've got a few minutes. Myra, how was that wraith able to block Paul's attacks with its sword?”
“I suspect it was a shadow blade,” she replied.
“That makes sense, I guess,” he nodded slowly. “But, I'd like to be sure that it does. So, what's a shadow blade, exactly?”
“It's a type of magical weapon,” she explained. “They're ethereal in nature but, they can affect the material world.”
“Meaning,” the wizard speculated, “that incorporeal beings can touch them, but that they can also do things like block physical attacks or slice right into the living?”
“Exactly. They're almost like the opposite of corporeal magical weapons.”
“Meaning what?”
“Normal weapons,” she began, “can't harm wraiths, specters, etc. because those creatures don't exist in the material world any more than a shadow does. We can see them, but they don't physically exist. Which means, of course, that they can't touch us and we can't touch them.”
“Not to be argumentative,” he replied, shaking his head, “but, they seem to be able to touch us without a problem.”
“Well, they can't,” she asserted with a smile. “They don't attack our bodies, they attack our very souls.”
“Which is why,” Alena explained, “even when it feels as if they've beaten you half-to-death, they don't leave bruises on you.”
“Just so.”
“It's also why they're so incredibly dangerous,” the ogress continued, “They can reach right through flesh and armor to attack the very spirit within you, while normal weapons can't so much as touch them.”
“What do you do if you run into one w
ithout magical weapons?” the wizard asked.
“You die,” Darek replied.
“Fortunately,” Sarrac said, “as Myra mentioned earlier, the undead lords destroy any wanderers they discover. As a result, you almost never run up on one randomly. You have to go where they are. Most people avoid those places.”
“Technically speaking, though,” the former lich clarified, “you can survive a wraith attack even without any magical equipment.”
“I've never heard of anyone who has,” Alena chuckled. “Have you?”
“No,” Myra admitted, “but, I know that it's possible. Each of us has a soul, just like wraiths do. We can use ours to attack them, just like they can use theirs to attack us. It's simply a matter of having the willpower to do it.”
“It's also why they can attack each other,” Joey mused.
“It is.”
“Okay, then, I think I get that,” he nodded. “But, how do you use the dark power to destroy undead? Isn't that what makes them alive?”
“It's what binds them to Zanoth or animates them,” Myra answered. “In the case of un-living undead, like vampires or varrool, I can use it to sever the connection between their souls and this world. With soulless creatures like skeletons or zombies, I simply undo the magic that gives them the semblance of life.”
“Almost like reversing a spell?”
“It's almost like that with animated corpses,” she nodded. “However, when dealing with wraiths and the like, it's more like turning them. At least, I imagine it is. It's certainly my will against theirs.”
“Obviously,” Joey observed, “that crowned wraith and his varrool servant had quite a bit of willpower. Which is why Paul couldn't turn them and you couldn't just kill them.”
“It's certainly why I couldn't kill them,” Myra replied. “However, when Paul attempted to turn them, the varrool called on the gods of darkness to protect him.”
“I heard him ask for sanctuary,” Joey said. “Is that like an anti-turn?”
“Basically,” she replied.
“Why haven't any of the other undead we've faced done that?”
“They couldn't, obviously.”
“Oh, obviously,” he chuckled.
“That varrool was a priest,” she explained. “He could wield the power of the gods of darkness.”
“Not all undead can do that?” Joey asked.
“No more than all of the living can use the power of the gods of light,” she replied. “He was able to call on the divine power...”
“Divine?”
“The gods of evil are still gods,” she pointed out. “Their power is divine even if they use it for wickedness.”
“I see what you mean.”
“The varrool was able to use that power,” she continued, “to protect himself from Paul. Of course, both he and that crowned wraith seem to be exceptionally powerful. Which is probably why he was able to assemble such a large force of incorporeal undead.”
“I was going to ask you about that,” Joey said. “That certainly wasn't normal, right? I mean; we're not likely to run into anything like that again, are we?”
“I'm not sure,” the beautiful maiden admitted. “That is to say: no, it wasn't at all normal but, I'm afraid we may have to face that wraith again. The first time they attacked us it was roughly an hour before dawn. Why would they have done that?”
“That was something I was wondering about,” Paul interjected. “They'd have done a lot better to attack us earlier in the night.”
“They would have,” Myra agreed. “So, why didn't they? My guess is that they had just found us. We can't be sure, of course, but I think there's a sincere chance that the crowned wraith was – and possibly still is – hunting for you.
“I didn't say anything at the time, because the only thing it could have done was worry everyone else, but I have never heard of a force of incorporeal undead that size. Either that wraith is incredibly powerful or they have a common cause.”
“Or both,” Darek replied.
“Or both,” the former lich nodded. “Whatever the case, it would be a good idea to find out who that wraith is if we can.”
“What good would that do us?” the wizard asked.
“Wraiths and specters are easier to control if you know who they were in life,” Myra explained. “Or, in unlife, for that matter.”
“You're saying that the wraith may have been undead before he was killed and became a wraith?”
“He may have been,” she nodded. “Sometimes when corporeal undead are killed, they come back as incorporeal undead. I doubt that's the case here, though.”
“What makes you say that?” Alena asked.
“We first encountered the crowned wraith in Paffek's tomb,” Myra replied. “At least, if Paul's right about him.”
“I'm fairly sure I am,” the paladin interjected.
“As you know,” she continued, “before the undead drove them from it, the tomb was held by a cult of Orman worshipers.”
“Orman?” Joey repeated.
“A demon who wants to be a god,” Paul explained.
“The wraiths in the tomb being worshipers of Orman would fit in with the prophecy,” Sarrac replied thoughtfully. “The cult members may have made a bargain with the hells before the undead slaughtered them.”
“They may have,” Myra nodded. “That varrool was unusually skilled. It's also interesting that he was speaking the language of the hells. Plus, of course, sacrificing paladins during the ritual to create his undead body would explain at least a part of his power.”
“According to history,” Alena added, “the bones of the paladins were burned to ash by the cultists.”
“Which may support that theory,” Myra asserted. “If we can find any information on that cult, we may be able to find the names of the wraith and the varrool. With that, we could summon them...”
“Summon them?!” Joey interrupted. “You want to bring them to us?”
“One at a time,” she nodded. “I think you'll agree that we could handle them individually. I would certainly prefer doing that to facing them on their own terms again. Wouldn't you?”
“I can see that,” the red-robed wizard replied. “If I run up on any history on the cult, I'll be sure to let you know.”
By this time, the party had reached the small shrine. The last reflected rays of the sinking moons wrapped the structure – and the flowering vines that covered it – in a pale silver light. General Halfar led the band inside. Several candles that were kept burning night and day allowed the party to see without the aid of either torch or spell.
“Ever since we found this place,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder, “I've come here to say my morning and evening prayers. Last night, as I was turning to leave, this suddenly appeared on the altar.”
As he said this, he waved his hand toward a golden chain lying on the altar from which hung a holy symbol.
“That's the symbol of the creator,” Sarrac asserted.
“It is,” the old man said as a smile spread across his face. “What do you think it means?”
“I think it means; you're supposed to take it,” Paul replied.
“Are you certain?”
“It's how I got mine.”
“I...” General Halfar began before pausing in silence for several seconds. “At first, I thought the same thing. However, after I took the time to consider it... I’m… I'm just not sure.”
“Why not?” the paladin half-chuckled.
“I'm not...” the old man said, raising his hand and gently rubbing his chin. “The plain truth is that, I'm not worthy to be a priest or a paladin, I'm just...”
“It's hardly your place to decide that,” the ogre asserted. “If the gods have found you worthy, who are you to say they're wrong?”
“I see what you mean,” he nodded. “Still... What if it was meant for one of you?”
“That's easy enough to find out,” Darek replied, reaching out and taking the symbol from
the altar.
“I'm not sure you should have done that,” Alena immediately observed.
“Why not?” he asked. “It's not like anyone ever ruined a holy symbol by touching it.”
“Certainly not,” Nyssa said, fluttering up to inspect it. “Whether or not he can use it, Darek is certainly a good enough man to touch it.”
“Why, thank you,” he replied with a bit of a bow, before turning his eyes to Paul. “So, I just slap you on the forehead and say ‘be healed’?”
“That's how I do it,” Paul nodded. “Why? You want to try it?”
“Why not?”
“My face feels like it’s on fire,” the paladin replied, “and I don't like the idea of you hitting me, but not healing me.”
“Try it on me,” Joey volunteered. “I certainly feel like I could use a little healing.”
“Alright,” Darek said, stepping over to him and drawing back his hand. “Be healed!”
He hit the red-robed wizard with enough force to knock him back a step or two, but nothing other than that seemed to happen.
“Did that do anything?” Darek asked.
“It did,” Joey nodded. “Now I have a headache on top of everything else.”
“Let Mark try it,” Alena said, her eyes turned to the old man.
“No, thanks,” Joey replied, rubbing his head. “Once was enough for me tonight.”
“Heal me,” Darek said, handing the symbol to the general.
“I don't know,” Mark replied, shaking his head.
“Just try.”
“Believe you can do it, General,” Sarrac added. “I'm certain the symbol was meant for you. You should be, as well.”
“Alright,” the old man said, taking a deep breath. “Be healed!”
As he said this, he slapped Darek on the forehead. A wide smile immediately spread across the young man's face.
“Well,” he said, “that worked.”
“I know it did,” General Halfar said, swaying slightly. “I could feel it. I guess the symbol was meant for me, after all.”
“Epic!” Joey said with a wide smile. “Now, we have a priest! Or, another paladin, I guess. Either way, it's good news.”
The Shrine of Kallen (The Tales of Zanoth Book 3) Page 12
