The Tower of Daelfaun (The Tales of Zanoth Book 1)

by Ethridge, Aaron J.

  “How did they find out we were here?” Darek asked, gazing down at the column.

  “I doubt they did,” Myra replied. “Knowing Lord Telraen I would guess he's sent forces to every location where they prophecies indicate the it might show up. The location of the waterfall was well known. He probably sent men this way as soon as he realized we weren't anywhere near Kafmara.”

  “The location of King Paffek's tomb isn't exactly a secret,” he pointed out.

  “No,” she agreed. “And we can be fairly sure there's a comparable force on its way there.”

  “Then we'd better hurry!” Alena pointed out. “We can't face a force that size.”

  “No we can't,” Sarrac admitted. “However, this could all work to our advantage.”

  “How so?” Darek asked.

  “In order to send a force this size to every location in his realm, in any way mentioned in any of the prophecies, Lord Telraen will have to have spread his forces very thin. If we get a chance to strike, he won't be ready for it.”

  “Without better weapons,” the young man replied, “we're not going to have that chance.”

  “I couldn't agree more,” the ogre nodded. “Let's go!”

  Immediately the party made their way back to their beasts before once again renewing their journey. The fact that the armies of the undead were on the move acted as a sincere motivator for the band and they pressed on with all the speed they could encourage their animals to make, even riding into the night for as long as they dared. The only hope they had of finding and recovering The Arms was to reach the tomb before their enemies did. This would require both speed and endurance.

  “Do you think we'll make it?” Paul asked on the third morning after their near encountered with the undead army.

  “We'll be at the mountain's base in roughly an hour,” Sarrac replied. “And, as that's the case, we should be able to reach the peek an hour or so before nightfall. At least if the trail's in as good a shape as it used to be. It's been more than a decade since I was there last.”

  “So you've been to the tomb before?” the young man asked.

  “Absolutely,” the ogre nodded. “And the waterfall, and the hag's shack, and even the shrine. We didn't want to have to run around searching for things after the it showed up. It was obviously a better plan to do what we could to help him before he came. Or really, I should say to help you before you came.”

  “Well I appreciate all the effort,” Paul smiled.

  “We were glad to do it,” Sarrac replied. “Breaking the chains of our undead masters is pretty much what the Warriors of Dawn live for. So running around to all these places was kind of like taking working vacations.”

  “Zanoth is seriously a weird place...”

  “Don't I know it,” the ogre chuckled. “Either way, if the undead haven't already beaten us to the mountain we should be able to reach the tomb before they do.”

  “What if they reach the mountain before we get back down?”

  “I've been thinking about that,” Sarrac said with a sigh, “and the fact is I'm just not sure. If we find the weapons and if they're powerful enough we might be able to fight our way out.”

  “Is there a way down the mountain other than the trail?”

  “Maybe. I don't know anyone who ever tried to find another way down.”

  “Do you think we should wait then?” the young man asked. “You know, give things time to cool off?”

  “I don't think so,” Sarrac replied shaking his head. “I mean, they're undead. They're liable to decide to guard the mountain until we all die of old age. And we're sure not going to be able to fight our way through them with what we've got now.”

  “I can see that,” Paul agreed. “And that being the case I think we should go for it. For one thing, coming down a mountain is a lot easier than going up one. So I'm sure we'll find some way or another to do it.”

  “What makes you certain of that?”

  “Blind optimism.”

  “I can't say that makes a lot of sense,” the ogre replied with a smile. “But I have to admit, I like your attitude.”

  Chapter 13: A Hello To Arms

  “Well you were right, Myra,” Nyssa said as soon as she reached the party. “I had to get pretty high up before I could see them, but they're on their way. It's another army just like the one we saw before.”

  “How long have we got?” Sarrac asked.

  “Two or three hours would be my guess,” the fairy replied. “So if we start up the mountain now we'll have a few hours to find The Arms before they reach the top.”

  “I agree,” the ogre nodded. “But it looks like we'll have to try to fight our way out. And even if we each had a blade like Telseir we might not succeed.”

  “We will,” Myra nodded. “With all our abilities combined we'll be able to destroy them.”

  “It may not have to come to that,” the fairy replied. “I'm sure we can find a way down the other side of the mountain.”

  “Are you?” Paul asked.

  “I am,” she smiled. “I mean, even if we have to go down sheer cliff faces and things like that, I could carry you down one at a time.”

  “You could?” he chuckled.

  “I'm not saying it would be easy!” she replied. “And I'm not saying I can give each and every one of you a soft landing every single time! But I am sure I can keep you from breaking your arms and legs and necks.”

  “Well that's something,” the young man smiled. “And it means we need to move. The sooner we can start back down, the better. We want to have as much daylight as we can when we're scaling a mountainside.”

  “Agreed,” Sarrac replied, immediately leading his horse up the stony trail.

  For more than an hour they were able to stay in the saddle. However, the trail finally became too steep and too narrow to safely continue riding the beasts. As a result they made the decision to abandon them. It was a choice of necessity, as Nyssa certainly wouldn't be able to carry five horses down sheer cliff faces and there was every chance it would come to that before all was said and done.

  Fortunately for the band, however, the trail was still very navigable, in spite of being centuries old and very overgrown. They climbed ever upward without pausing for breath or bread, choosing instead to eat their midday meal on their feet, as they lifted them time and time again in an effort to reach their destination as quickly as possible. It was with aching muscles and burning lungs that they finally reached the peak, into which the tomb had been carved. The assent had taken slightly longer than they had hoped, and they had less than half-an-hour of daylight left when they arrived.

  The structure was impressive, both because of its size and because the very top of the mountain had been carved into what appeared to be a cathedral shaped of living stone. The entrance was perhaps thirty feet beneath it and steps led up to a doorway cut into the natural cliff face. Its large stone doors hung open, the light of the sun driving back the first few feet of darkness within.

  “This seems like an odd place for a tomb,” Paul observed, as he stood gazing at the impressive edifice.

  “In what way?” Alena asked.

  “I don't know,” he replied with a shrug. “It just seems like it wouldn't get a lot of visitors way out here in the middle of nowhere.”

  “This wasn't always the middle of nowhere,” she pointed out. “When the tomb was first cut, which was almost nine hundred years ago now, there was a city at the base of the mountain. Not that it was meant to get a lot of visitors even then, of course. It was built as a resting place for kings. The nobles of the kingdom of Umbar would make an annual pilgrimage here in honor of their former lords.”

  “That makes sense I guess,” the young man admitted.

  “Roughly five hundred years ago Umbar became part of Mal’Creal,” she continued. “The tomb was then given to the Paladins of Ractor as a hallowed place of rest and worship.”

  “So these paladins hung out in a tomb,” he said shaking his hea
d. “That's just bizarre.”

  “Tomb's aren't considered holy places on Earth?” the ogress asked.

  “Of course not,” he replied before taking a moment to think. “Oh wait, some are actually. Well, by some people anyway.”

  “Well the same is true in Zanoth,” Sarrac said. “The paladins watched over the dead, they made sure their places of rest remained purified, remained holy. And this tomb had become a solitary place where they could worship in peace and focus themselves.”

  “And then the undead attacked it?” Paul asked.

  “No actually,” Alena said. “Fifty years before the great war, their holy order was betrayed by a cult of Orman worshipers and butchered.”

  “Orman?”

  “A demon,” she replied, “who tried to become a god.”

  “Is trying to become a god,” Myra corrected. “The cults were mainly destroyed by the undead, which is probably the only good thing they ever did, but there are still worshipers of Orman out there.”

  “Maybe,” Alena replied. “But I've never run into any.”

  “I've traveled a lot more than you,” the maiden replied. “And I'm a lot older.”

  “I guess that's true,” the ogress chuckled. “Either way, they corrupted the place by sacrificing the paladins they managed to capture alive to the demon. Then they stripped the place of everything of value and burned the bones of the ancient kings. Ironically the undead are the ones who finally drove them from the tomb.”

  “Weird...” Paul replied.

  “It is,” Darek agreed. “But life is weird. Now let's go get The Arms before the undead drive us from the tomb.”

  “Good point!” the young man replied.

  The party immediately made their way to the entrance, lit a couple of torches, and stepped inside. As soon as they entered they could see rooms cut into the stone on both the right and left sides of the crypt. In most cases their doors were simply hanging open, however, here and there stood a sealed chamber.

  “We're looking for an empty room?” Darek asked, gazing into the distance.

  “We are,” Sarrac nodded.

  “And how many rooms are in this place?” he asked.

  “No idea,” the ogre replied. “But a lot would probably be a fitting description.”

  “And most of them would qualify as empty?”

  “From the point of view of the prophecy I think all of them would qualify.”

  “I see,” he nodded. “So then, all we have to do is search an entire crypt, in say three hours, and find something that hasn't been found during a few hundred years of hunting?”

  “Basically,” Sarrac chuckled. “But fortunately I think I have a good idea on where we should start.”

  “And where is that?” Paul asked.

  “In the tomb of King Paffek himself,” the ogre replied. “That's where the cultists sacrificed the paladins. They left their bodies to rot there until they were nothing but bones, which they then burned to ash. Either way, I think the line where bold men fell, and dead did reek, would apply to it.”

  “Just lovely,” the young man replied. “Either way, I have to agree with you. We should start there.”

  “Certainly,” Darek replied. “But we should put a limit on it. There's no point in getting killed here. If we don't find something in the next two hours we need to go. It took us longer to climb up than we'd hoped, which means we're going to have to start our decent in the dark. And we certainly don't want to be fighting undead while we're trying to do that. If we don't find anything before the time's up we'll just have to go through the other prophecies looking for something Lord Telraen may have missed. Then we can try to hit him where he isn't looking.”

  “Agreed,” Paul nodded. “Lead on, Sarrac.”

  The ogre turned and began marching strait through the darkened chamber. At its rear they found a stair leading to the second level of the tomb. This was filled from one end to the other with sepulchers, the lids of which had been removed and thrown to one side or the other. Sarrac didn't even shift his gaze to these shattered moments, however, as he stepped briskly through the room. Yet another stairway ran up the far wall, which the party ascended the moment they reached it.

  They stepped from these stairs into the cathedral like building that sat atop the rest of the crypt. Its ceiling was more than twenty feet high and, in spite of the fact that it was all carved from a single piece of stone, large, solid columns rose from the floor seemingly supporting it. Windows had been cut near the top of the walls to allow light and fresh air to enter. These were far too high, however, for any would-be grave robber to easily access them.

  As they stood for a moment gazing at the incredible craftsmanship that had gone into the tomb's construction a whisper drifted through the chamber.

  “It is he,” a formless voice said softly, just moments after the band had reached the top of the stairs.

  “I don't want to sound alarmist,” Paul said, “But did one of you just say it is he?”

  “No,” all five of his companions replied in unison.

  “He has come,” the voice said in slightly more audible tones.

  “Get in the light!” Myra cried, before dashing to a section of the floor illuminated by the sunlight coming through one of the windows above.

  Instantly the maiden's companions followed her example, as the hall began to echo with countless whispers. Although most of what was said by the throat-less voices surrounding them was inaudible or incomprehensible, a few phrases could clearly be distinguished.

  “So long we have waited.”

  “Waited in the cold and dark.”

  “Waited for the sacrifice to come.”

  “Alright,” Paul nodded. “I don't think I like the sound of that.”

  “Orman will have blood.”

  “And blood will slake his lust.”

  “Blood and suffering.”

  “And I'm sure I don't like the sound of that,” the young man pointed out.

  “Shhh!” Myra said. “It may mean something!”

  “The hells will not claim us.”

  “The price will be paid.”

  “We will be immortal.”

  “And Orman our god and king.”

  “Does it mean anything?” the young man asked.

  “Oh yes,” Myra nodded excitedly. “It means we're in serious trouble.”

  As soon as she said this, points of red light began to glow in the darkness that surrounded them. The darkness itself began to take on shapes that were not quite visible. Here Paul could make out what appeared to be the figure of a man in armor, a spiked crown on his head, there a woman in a torn dress, a long curved knife in her hands. However, as he turned his gaze to each they seemed be nothing more than points of light in the dark.

  “We're surrounded by wraiths,” Myra said, glancing quickly around her. “For the moment we're safe. If they touch the sunlight they'll die.”

  “Why did they wait to jump us until now?” Paul asked. “I mean there wasn't any sunlight in the crypts we just came through.”

  “Oh several reasons,” she replied. “First, they probably wanted to make sure we were as far from escape as they could get us before they sprang their trap. There's no way we'll be able to fight our way out from here.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Then of course,” she continued. “Most wraiths are borderline insane and they love to terrify people before they kill them.”

  “They seem to be pretty good at it,” Paul observed. “I'm well on the way to being terrified right now.”

  “And they love to watch hope die,” she explained. “We have fifteen minutes or so before the sun is so low that this chamber is completely dark. They want to watch despair overwhelm us before they drain the life out of us. Oh, and torture you to death, of course.”

  “Alright,” he nodded. “That makes sense. They like to do things we don't like. Well, turnabout is fair play, as they say.”

  Having said this he jerked Tels
eir from its scabbard and sliced through one of his closest insubstantial enemies. A scream echoed through the hall as the shadowy figure burned with golden fire.

  “Seems they don't like that,” he smiled.

  “Don't provoke them, Paul,” Alena suggested.

  “Or what?” he asked, turning his eyes to hers. “They'll kill us?”

  “We can argue with each other after we're dead,” Darek asserted. “For the moment let's think of a way to stay not dead.”

  “Nyssa can fly out of the window,” Paul pointed out.

  “And do what?” Darek asked. “Go get help?”

  “I merely meant she could escape,” the young man chuckled.

  “I'm not leaving you!” the fairy exclaimed. “I'm with you 'til the bitter end.”

  “Well if we don't want the end to be bitter, we better think of something fast,” Darek replied.

  “Alright,” Sarrac said quite seriously. “Our only chance is to find The Arms.”

  “In fifteen minutes?” he asked.

  “Paffek's tomb is at the end of this chamber,” the ogre replied. “In its wall is a window facing due west. That will give us a few more minutes.”

  “Provided we can get through a room filled with crazed wraiths!”

  “We can,” Myra assured him. “When I tell you to, run to the next patch of light. Is everyone ready?”

  “Yes!” all of her companions replied.

  “Good,” she said taking a deep breath. “Run!”

  The moment she said this she slammed her staff on the stone floor.

  “Back!” the maiden cried.

  A wave of black light shot through the chamber, causing the nearest points of red light to fall back before it. All of the companions managed to make it to the second patch of light before the wraiths were once again swarming around them.

  “Give me a second,” she said. “That takes a bit out of me. It's my will against theirs, and they seem to be a very determined group.”

  “Certainly,” Darek smiled. “But keep in mind that the sun is sinking.”