A bright, shining light filled the dim chamber, making Corath squint against it.

  “Go to your eternal rest in Keldur’s name.” The command was given in a gravelly feminine voice, charged with holy power.

  He felt the cold power wash over him as the undead retreated before exploding with unearthly howls. Viscera and bone hissed as the divine magic passed through them.

  A moment later, warmth rushed through him as his wounds were healed. He opened his eyes to find an olive-green skinned female face with a jutting jaw, prominent lower teeth, and a sloping forehead staring at him with piercing jade eyes. Braided black hair hung over her left shoulder. He slid backwards over the rough and cold stone floor as he sat up, noting the half-orc wore ragged robes and was barefoot. A simple wooden sigil of weighing scales – the symbol of the God of Law – hung from her neck.

  “Thank you for the save, Lady.”

  “I am no Lady, sir. Simply Daelah, a supplicant of Lord Keldur.”

  He pushed himself to his feet and twisted his torso, enjoying the pops and crackles his back made as she rose with him.

  “Nonetheless, I thank you again.”

  She bowed her head to him. “You are most welcome.” She gave him beatific smile.

  Corath crossed the chamber and retrieved his sword. “I am Corath.” He dropped it back in its sheath and glanced up to catch her studying the weapon.

  “That is a… dangerous sword, sir.” She locked her eyes to him, as if staring into his soul. “You should be careful with it.”

  He nodded. “Certainly.” He gave her a slight smile. “It is a bane weapon, after all.”

  “It is more than that.” She fingered the sigil around her neck. “I feel you know this as well.”

  He opened his eyes wider and nodded. “Riight.”

  She knew by his tone he was mocking her, but only responded with a smile. ‘He knows. He’d not try to deflect, otherwise. I would pry more, but my mission is more important.’

  “Why are you in here? How did you get into the tower? Its four and a half chains high.” He titled his head. “You don’t look like you have climbing gear.”

  “Lord Keldur sent me here to find something, and He provides.”

  He shook his head. “Fucking ascetics.”

  At his mumbled words, she chuckled. “I get that a lot.”

  Corath looked her over again, noting the many patches and ratty hems of her simple robe. “Took a Vow of Poverty?”

  She nodded. “I did. It brings me closer to my Lord by freeing me from distractions.”

  “I thought the God of Law didn’t care about such things?”

  She brightened. “He does not, but since I have taken my Vow, I hear Him clearer than ever.”

  “Hmm.” Corath moved over to the ornate sarcophagus the mummy had stepped out of to attack him. A sharp chill bite into his flesh, causing him to shiver. The onyx coffin was inlaid with gold which wrapped around it, before swirling into arcane glyphs. Twin rubies, delicately cut lay in the pile of rubble left by the broken lid. He picked them up and bounced the gems in his hand. They made a clicking sound, reminding him of a pair of dice. “Here.” He tossed her one.

  She snatched it from the air and held it before her jade eyes. The edged orb gleamed with a dark aura and felt icy. “Lord Keldur, do my eyes deceive me, or is this indeed one of the items you sent me to retrieve?”

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  A pillar of silvery flame shot down from the ceiling illuminating the chamber. The shadows fled before the divine light as it highlighted every crack and crevasse between the stones as it engulfed the half-orc woman. A voice that made the tower tremble answered. “Yes.”

  An instant later, the flame vanished, leaving her with her hands clasped before her, the now room-temperature ruby between them. She opened her eyes and smiled at the warrior.

  “Thank you, sir. You have aided me and Lord Kelder greatly this day.”

  “How?”

  “This is one of a demilich’s phylacteries.”

  “How did you know?”

  “It was too cold for the short flight when you threw it to me, and yet when you held it, it was not cold at all.”

  His eyebrows went up and he rubbed his hands together. “Why do you think that?”

  She pointed to his motions. “You weren’t doing anything like that when you held it, just when you’re beside the mummy’s sarcophagus.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at the empty box and stepped away.

  “Why are you here?” Her tone was conversational.

  He glanced back to Daelah. “I’m here to retrieve an artifact for my master.”

  “Your god?”

  He shook his head. “An arch-mage.”

  “What artifact are you looking for?”

  “It’s called The Fist of Ra. Do you know it?”

  She tapped her chin with her finger as she gazed into the distance. After a few minutes of silence, she lifted her left eyebrow and shook her head. “I’ve not heard of it.” She reached over her shoulders and scratched between them. “What is it?”

  Corath shrugged. “My master only described how it looks, not what it does, other than helping me to avenger the murder of my brother.”

  “Will you be continuing down the tower?”

  He nodded.

  “May I come along? We might be able to help each other on our quests.” She bounced the ruby in her hand. “After all, you’ve helped me with part of mine. It’s only fair I do at least the same.”

  “It would be good to have companionship again. I’ve wandered alone for some time.”

  “Great.” She gave him a bigger smile than before. “Let’s go through this area.”

  She indicated a door partially hidden behind the sarcophagus of the skeleton with the tongue.

  Corath peered at the revealed corridor. It was about a chain long splitting into a T-shaped intersection. The air was thick with the scent of ancient stone and lingering decay. A huge tapestry hung at the end. It depicted a scene with red-skinned humanoids capering in the foreground with a brass cityscape in the background, all seeming to be in an inferno. High above soared a colossal red dragon. The ceiling was low and arched, etched with faded runes in an unknown language that pulsed faintly with an eerie green glow, as though whispering secrets from a forgotten age.

  He walked down it, his stride firm and resolute. His steps clicked out an unmistakable cadence. Daelah’s steps were soft and almost hidden, brushing against the cool, dusty surface of the stone floor as she moved with an unhurried grace.

  At the end, they peered to the left and right. The small, dusty altar to the right caught his eye. He approached and studied it. “Someone recently used this.’ Some of the dust had been brushed away by a clawed hand, exposing a leafless tree. He felt her sidle up beside him.

  “What do you think that is?” He pointed to the tree.

  “I don’t know, but it’s recent. Look.” She pointed to the color differences. “See how this part is brighter than this one?” She turned to look at him. “It means it’s fresher.”

  “I see.” He leaned down to get a better look at it. “It’s still dingy, which means it’s not very recent.”

  “Agreed.” She looked down the opposite hall. “Shall we go that way?”

  He nodded and followed her.

  The black marble door was carved with skulls, spikes, tentacles, eyes and mouths. Draconic runes were inscribed above the lintel.

  “Do you know what it says Daelah?”

  She studied it for a few seconds. “It says something about someone being interred within, but it’s too worn to make out the name.”

  He tried to open it. “Sard it. Locked.”

  “Step back”

  He glanced to her and then obeyed.

  “Nepo.”

  After she uttered the command, a bluish light leapt from her hands and engulfed the door before seeming to shatter in thousands of pieces. A seires of hollow clicks came from the door and then it swung open.

  She finished weaving her fingers in a complex pattern and spoke. “Thgil.” Daelah thrust her hand toward the ceiling and her spell flashed up and illuminated the room within.

  Yellow tile flooring greeted them. A worn pathway lead over to a spiral stair entering the floor. Ragged threads of rotted tapestries clung to the walls, too far destroyed to tell what their scenes had been. A five-foot-diameter iron pipe emerged from the floor in the opposite side from the stairs. It was sealed with a shiny metal cap carved to resemble the door they’d just opened.

  Corath moved over to the pipe and examined it. “Do you think this might be a faster way down?”

  She walked over and spotted the same draconic message as above the door, but clear and fresh in comparison. “‘Ootuhg is entombed here. Only fools cross the threshold.’” She shrugged. “I would say, ‘No.’”

  He snorted and moved to the stairs. He felt his left foot sink in the floor a bit and yanked it back, almost falling. Behind them, a squeal of tortured metal came as a hidden mechanism turned a long still crank, opening the pipe’s lid. It hit the wall with a crash.

  “I think we’re about to meet Ootuhg,’ he said as he drew his sword.

  A hiss and sibilant hum came from within the pipe.

  “What gave it away?” Daelah gripped her sigil firmly. “Lord Keldur ward and guide us.”