“I can’t believe you did that,” Russ said in an astonished whisper behind me. “You can make portals? You’re a Traveller now? Even when we were playing the game back home, we had to roll and hope for a twenty just to have a chance at our character being able to become a portal master.”
“It’s actually more rare than that,” I replied as the small group of people finished getting ready to go through the portal to Rikod Iok’s Tomb. The stale air that wafted through the other side had a sour edge to it. I was pretty sure why. “I think Kaiyuma changed the odds in my favour when I was resurrected. She did some remodeling.”
Uden, who didn’t hear me tell Russ that I may have had help from a Goddess, looked through the portal and added his own comments about the rarity of portal masters or Travellers. “I know of only one dwarf who could summon portals, and never heard of a pureblood human being able to do it. Think this will be too large for that place? That hall down there seems mighty narrow.” He held his shield up, which was a sizeable rectangle of metal braced wood.
“Hopefully, you won’t need it, because you’re right; there are some small spaces in there,” I said.
“Short swords and long knives,” Uden nodded, handing his shield off to Goler. He turned to Russ then; “What’s a twenty sider?”
“It’s an icosahedron, a die with twenty sides. When this is all over, I’ll carve one. We use them for a lot of games where I come from,” Russ replied.
“Your games must be complicated,” Laylen said. “Dice with six sides have been enough to ruin countless gamblers here.”
Half of the people in the camp had gathered around us and the shimmering portal leading to the dark tomb. Once the old stone chamber’s entrance was visible, it didn’t take much effort to convince everyone that the scouting party should be small, only five at most.
Uden insisted on coming, and I didn’t refuse. He’d seen a few tombs and long abandoned places in his day. Dale agreed to come even though Rea didn’t like the idea. Russ was already looking forward to being part of the scouting party, so I couldn’t leave him behind. Ilsa wanted to come, but stayed with the tower because she and I both expected trouble. Marat knew where we were, and we weren’t ready to move on.
Maydo offered to take her place because she had some experience with delving into ruins and she had an Eilwun blade whose wounds could never be healed by magic. It would have the same effect on the dead as it would the living. She was also representing the magicians and shapeshifters, who surprised everyone by not leaving during the previous night.
“All right, I’ll go first,” I said to the four who were gathered in front of the portal. “Don’t let anything, or anyone out unless it’s one of us. Remember, getting the portal in there was mostly guesswork. I’m not perfectly certain of what we’ll find inside.” I was pretty sure, actually. Before I was able to summon the portal I spent a good half hour of the early morning moving through most of the space using my seer gift. There were chambers that I couldn’t see inside, but that only meant that they were most likely undisturbed. That meant there was still something worth hiding and guarding left, at least that was my hope.
“You think there may be someone alive in there?” Rea asked.
“There may be things in there that know how to look alive, even innocent. Don’t let them trick you,” I said.
“But don’t forget to guard our perimeter,” Uden warned, pointing at the treeline behind the crowd. “We can’t have every eye in the camp staring through this portal. Maintain the patrols, and keep watch from the top of the tower.”
“All right, here we go,” I said mostly to myself as I turned and stepped through the portal. “It’s been centuries since anyone’s been here,” I added quietly as the rest of the group moved in behind me.
“Are you sure? There’s something rotten, and it isn’t so old that it’s gone completely stale,” Dale said, his nose wrinkling.
“Of course there’s something rotting; it’s a tomb,” Uden replied. “These places get all sealed up, keeping the smells in, not that I’ve seen one that hasn’t been broken into and pillaged before, mind you.”
“I smell it too, like there’s something that’s been here for years, not centuries,” Russ said. “I found a dead mouse in my aunt’s house a few years ago, it’s kinda like that, only not as, well, fresh.”
Uden cast a simple spell that put an illusionary flame in my hand. It shed more light than a torch, and I was able to move it around. The walls and ceiling were painted elaborately with lines of script written between the characters. “Well, there are a lot of dead things in here, some could still be rotting. This king had most of the work done and treasure collected here before he died. The last thing his people did was kill and imprison the followers and family members that he wanted to take with him to the afterlife. Some were trapped inside, restrained so they would die after the tomb was sealed.”
“Why? What would cruelty earn him in the days following his death?” Dale asked.
“Rikod was a tyrant and he said there were three Gods from The Pit that whispered to him all his life. Pladus, Erlo and Ker claim to collect and punish souls for betrayal, gluttony and cowardice. King Rikod sacrificed thousands of people to them personally and through his priests. Erlo preferred his sacrifices to be dehydrated or starved to death. The people who were trapped alive were probably for him.” I explained, pointing to the end of the broad hall that was dominated by an image of the King on his throne. The face was scratched off, but I knew the original painting would have stared back at me, foreboding and powerful. “Everyone knew that the King wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice people who turned against, or failed to impress him. He ruled with fear and used light and dark magic to get what he wanted.”
“Why have so many of the paintings been ruined? The faces of the people scratched off?” Maydo asked, looking around at the walls.
“The people who got into this part of the tomb were superstitious, they thought the paintings could watch them, so scraping the faces off was probably the first thing they did,” I replied.
“There are so many people painted here,” Uden said, taking a closer look at a pair who were huddled together.
“These were his parents, you can see his grandparents in the background,” I said, pointing to the figures in yellow robes. “Further down the walls are his brothers, sisters, and children. They were all a part of his inner circle, a cult of devouts. When he suspected one of them of losing faith, this is what he did to sacrifice them to Pladus.” I pointed to paintings further down the hall that showed two men with knives cutting the skin away from a man’s back. In the next depiction, it was spread out behind the man to look like wings. “They would be partially flayed then staked up in the city square to bleed to death.”
“Is that pole going where I think it is?” Russ asked, cringing.
“Right up the rear,” Uden said, shaking his head. “Most of them mustn't have survived long.”
“His eldest son survived for nine days, Rikod made sure of it,” I replied, casting my gaze to the ceiling. The symbols and letters there had been thoroughly scratched and chipped away. “Okay, so I was right, the curses at the entrance have been dispelled.”
“You’re sure?” Maydo asked, looking at a broken stone bench.
“I feel nothing here,” Dale said reassuringly. “I would feel a curse.”
“He’s right, if there were wards or spells cast on these walls, I would have noticed them straight away,” Uden agreed.
“Did people eat here?” Russ asked, pushing a cracked clay bowl with his toe.
“No, that probably held an offering. This part of the tomb would open on high holidays so people could worship here. This entrance doubled as a shrine room. King Rikod thought that his followers would bring offerings here after his death and raise him to godhood. He was wrong. The priests that weren’t trapped down here were hunted down and killed a couple years after his death, and the entrance was buried so no one could worship him.” I turned away from the inner tomb and walked past the portal to the exit. “Let me check something.”
The group followed me around a corner, where we found three bodies next to the site of a cave-in. “There’s been an attempt at raiding this place,” Uden said. “There’s heavy stone for fifty dyrka past that collapsed part there, and it must have kept falling in as they tried to move the stones.”
Dale pointed to a pair of the bodies. Most of the moisture had gone from them but there was something even more unusual about the corpses. “These two were killed by that one, who ate some of their flesh. He eventually died, most likely when he ran out of air.”
“Well, that’s a story for the campfire,” Uden said, pushing an old wooden cup with his toe.
Maydo looked at a few of the shelves carved into the walls. “There were important things here, but they were taken long ago. Maybe these three were trapped in here intentionally? So the rest of the tomb robbers wouldn’t have to share?”
“That’s most likely right,” Uden said. “That cave-in wasn’t caused naturally. Some supports were broken, I can feel that this entrance was twice as long and built to withstand ages.”
“All right, so this is lining up with my expectations,” I said, turning back to the entrance to the main tomb. I looked at the painting at the end of that hallway, looking at the King’s missing face first, then to the sword in his hand. It was a prize he took from King Laudin. He was named The Beacon because he saved his kingdom and worshipped the predecessor to Kaiyuma - the Harvest Goddess Vrain. The river is named after her. That Goddess was much like mine, but she was also an icon of mercy and goodness. I hoped that Laudin’s sword was still in the tomb somewhere.
We passed the painting of King Rikod and turned the next corner. There was a dais with a broken sarcophagus on it. Around it were pedestals and empty alcoves of all different sizes. The dusty remains of several pottery containers were scattered around the floor. “Don’t worry, this isn’t a surprise.”
“You expected to find a ruin scraped free of its treasures?” Maydo asked, looking up at the painting above.
“Here, yes,” I replied.
“What was wiped off the ceiling?” Russ asked, following Maydo’s gaze.
“Spells that King Rikod thought he’d need in the afterlife,” I replied, stepping away from the skull of one of the King’s servants. Whoever raided that part of the tomb also desecrated the bodies of the people he wanted to take with him. Some of the larger alcoves had piles of bones in them. “This isn’t where King Rikod was buried, it’s a false tomb.”
“Tricky fellow,” Uden breathed as he took a closer look at one of the pillars between the wall and the sarcophagus. “This was made to bear a great burden. He must have left piles of treasure here to make sure whoever robbed the tomb was satisfied that they’d gotten the real thing.”
“They did. Whoever left those three behind at the entrance probably walked away with enough gold to make sure they and several generations were rich beyond their dreams,” I said as I counted alcoves.
“You found treasure of a different kind with Ilsa last night?” Maydo asked in a low whisper.
I was surprised at the question and how she cheekily asked it. “Well…” I started awkwardly. I also lost count and had to start over again.
“No need to share details. I only wanted to say I’m happy for you both. She seems wise for her years, and you aren’t so much older than her. I celebrate your happiness.”
“Thank you, Maydo,” I replied, starting my count from the left. The alcove I was looking for in particular had many duplicates. It was also one of the smallest, once containing a statuette of one of the King’s servants. “Have you found any figures that would fit in one of these?” I asked, pointing. “They would be covered in gold leaf and painted.”
“Like that?” Russ asked, picking a half broken statuette up then looking inside it. “Looks like the gold was scraped off, but there’s something inside.”
“That’s it. The King’s Priests had a finger taken from the servants who were sacrificed at his funeral put inside statues made to look like them so they would serve in the afterlife.”
“Does that sort of dark magic work?” Dale asked.
“Yes,” I replied, taking the statue from Russ, who was cringing at the contents. “But the spell can be broken along with the statue, so whoever was bound to this was freed a long time ago.” I found the alcove I was looking for and put the half broken statuette in the exact centre.
“It’s a key to a secret door?” Russ asked, his excitement starting to rise.
“No, I’m just using it to line up with the switch that’ll get this open. There, the middle of the statue’s chest points to the hidden button.” I memorized where the chest of the battered figure was then pushed a spot at the back of the nook and recited the words that would properly introduce me; “I am one of your humble servants, King Rikod the Brilliant, Master of the Five Rivers, Dominant King of all kings. I have come to serve you.” I repeated the words in old Traki, a language that hadn’t been spoken aloud by anyone but necromancers for centuries.
“Magic is stirring,” Dale whispered.
The back of the small alcove gave way and there was a loud click followed by a grinding that shook dust from the wall. “A real magic door,” Russ breathed as he and everyone else stepped back.
Then the grinding stopped. We waited silently, watching the larger alcoves, but nothing moved, and the silence grew thick before Maydo started looking at the other walls. “Perhaps it opened elsewhere?”
“There are a few small chambers off from this one, but I don’t feel anything past them. I don’t sense a chamber past this one either,” Uden said, looking through one of the arched doors into a small room with walls covered in the painted history of Rikod Iok’s reign.
“These two alcoves in front of me are supposed to open right up. The biggest ones,” I pointed before going back to the button I’d unlocked with words then pushing it harder. The grinding of stone on stone somewhere to my left started again then stopped. “It’s too old. Something’s broken in the mechanism.”
“I can’t find such works,” Uden said. “Some magic or metal is stopping me from reading the stone past that wall.”
“Maybe we could break it down?” Russ asked, holding the hammer the dwarves had given him that morning with both hands.
“It’s all you; hit right there,” I said, pointing at one of the largest alcoves and stepping back.
Russ spit on his palms, rubbed them, then took a good hold of his long handled, heavy hammer. It was no sledge, made for bashing warriors over with one side and for piercing plate with the spike on the back, but stone chipped away with his first swing. “I knew he was mighty,” Uden said, glad to watch the effort.
Every swing Russ took broke more of the alcove away until the head of his hammer finally bounced awkwardly and we saw a hole half its size. A short, low howl of air rushing through it made him step back. “Now that’s stale air.”
“I can take it from here. Now that I can see the thickness of the stone that’s carved from, I think I can crack it up to make us a door.” Uden stepped forward and put his hands together back to back. Then he moved them apart as though he was spreading the rock, and after a moment of great effort, the alcove cracked, finally coming apart in chunks of rock until there was a door large enough for any of us to fit through.
“Everyone has to recite the dedication before going in, or the spells inside will recognize us as the enemy,” I said.
“Kaiyuma, please understand why I do this,” Dale said, glancing upwards then nodding at me. He was the first to repeat the dedication I made before pressing the switch. Everyone else followed, but Russ had difficulty for some reason. It took him three tries to repeat the words exactly as I said them.
I was the first to enter. There were three guardians to either side of the entrance in upright pottery sarcophagi. The floor had a map of his kingdom which encompassed an area where five rivers split from the base of the mountain to empty out into the sea. The map was made of emerald, jade and hematite that was set into the floor. “I don’t recognize this landscape,” Dale said, stepping gingerly.
“Three of those rivers joined when the land shifted,” I said, pointing it out. “The map is here because we’re supposed to recognize that we’re entering King Rikod’s next kingdom, leaving his old one behind.”
“His godly Kingdom,” Uden said, ignoring the clay guardians as he stared down between his feet. “Does anyone worship him?”
“No. Rikod's enemies made sure he and his tomb were forgotten. They even restrained themselves from looting so no one would celebrate the treasures. Whoever looted the outer tomb came hundreds of years later,” I replied as we came into a larger room. The walls were painted lavishly, divided into sections that depicted each of his victories in sequence. He rode a white horse, adorned himself with yellow and white robes with a gleaming breastplate overtop. Even though he was shown spearing, even decapitating his enemies in gory detail, there was never any blood on him.
“Were these all battles he claimed to win? All of these? There must be a hundred,” Uden asked.
“At least, he claimed they were all wars. This is from a time when you only had to journey a week to cross from one kingdom to another. Rikod’s was the largest on this continent by the time he was killed. He eventually murdered most of his family to expand and protect his territory, though, starting with the ones who carved a piece of the land out for their own kingdoms, finishing with his three sons, who were caught fighting over their inheritance. There they are,” I pointed to a dais at the end of the hall that had three sarcophagi made from silver on it. Silver jars were lined up along their bases, each marked with magical lettering beside a drawing of a horse, or warrior. “These are like the statuettes, only bigger,” Maydo said, her eyes widening. “Not small enough for fingers.”
“You’re right. Years before Rikod was killed, he bound his sons to him so they would serve him in death. The jars around their bodies hold the heads of every one of their servants and friends along with a horse for each and the wives Rikod chose for them before they died.”
“So, each jar is a trapped soul?” Dale asked.
“Yes. We’re not going to do anything about it now, though. If we start cleansing this place, we’ll never get what we need here. Rikod believed he was a holy man, so he surrounded himself with relics and artefacts of the light. That’s the kind of thing we’re after.”
“He should have felt that they rejected his darkness, that is, if they were truly objects made for goodness,” Dale said, looking at the hundreds of jars lining the base of the dais.
“Not all things made for good are crafted so they can reject darkness,” Uden said.
“He’s right, besides; Rikod was mad. He could convince himself of anything,” I explained. “Oh, and his sons were just as bad as he was, only not as smart, so don’t feel bad about these three.”
“Is it smart to talk about him and his people like that while we’re here?” Russ asked, looking up. “And are those more curses?”
I looked at the ceiling and shook my head. “We’re past the curses written in the secret entrance. These are the opening pages of Rikod’s real spell book.”
“This is probably his excuse for killing the sons who are here,” Maydo said, wide-eyed, looking at a tryptic on the wall. In the first part the brothers were conspiring, leaning low and speaking with each other. The second showed them dangling from the arm of Rikod’s throne, looking up at him with fearful regret. The third showed their entombing and was circled by the spell that bound them in service to their father for all eternity. At the bottom of the painting was a headsman with a large, bloody axe with a line of mournful people behind him. “These are the people they slaughtered to fill these jars.”
“I’m afraid so,” I replied. “We should move on. We have to get to the main chamber. Don’t touch anything.”
“This is only an entranceway?” Uden asked. “There’s enough silver here to buy three houses on Main Street. Well, after freeing the souls trapped here and purifying the metal, of course.”
“Don’t worry, there’s gold here that we won’t have to purify,” I said over my shoulder.
“There must be good magic here, something worth writing down,” Russ said, looking up. “I wish I could understand it.”
“Most of it is neutral magic, but the best spells have modern equivalents,” I replied.
“Just wishing I could do something you always said; ‘take good notes.’”
“Yeah, there are probably people from the Temple of Grace who would love to copy it all down, but it might take them a few years,” I said as we entered one of the larger antechambers. The glitter of gold was tinged red by the light hovering over my hand. There were rows of heavy boxes that were covered in the precious metal, and like everything else past the secret entrance, they were in the most pristine condition.
Alcoves lined the walls with the body of an Ava-Ondi who was only a little taller than three feet in each. They were held up using dozens of thin metal tubes that were stuck into them from the sides. The followers were still dressed in their yellow robes. This was what I was afraid of. They weren’t for decoration or even sacrifice.
“It looks like they were drained of moisture, their skin is still intact,” Maydo said, keeping to the centre of the room. “Few of these metal rods actually pierce them.”
One of the priests raised his head slowly, and his chest heaved as though it took all his strength to breathe. “Indic ni,” he croaked.
Everyone jumped, myself included. Dale started to raise his staff and I rushed to him. “Don’t.”
“What did he say, Grant?” Dale shot back. “These people are all alive, if barely.”
“I know, but these are Rikod’s most dedicated servants. His Light Priests. They’ll turn on you the moment they have the strength to.”
“What did he say?” Dale asked.
“It sounded like a plea to me,” Uden grumbled, looking away from the small, dried man who struggled to keep his head up.
“He’s asking for help, isn’t he?” Dale accused. “I’ve never heard of such suffering.”
“I know,” I told him. “But I know they’ll turn on us. Look, this is a trap,” I pointed at the ceiling where there were clay tubes running from the tomb’s heart to each of the alcoves. “If the highest treasure here is disturbed, the servants will be restored so they can kill all of us. Look behind each of the bodies; those sickle-staves are weapons and I bet they’re still sharp.”
“Water runs to these alcoves?” Russ asked.
“Indic ni, vam,” the priest in the alcove croaked as his strength failed him and he let his head fall back down. The desperation in his weak voice made me cringe, even though I knew what would happen if Dale healed him.
“Those pipes are made to carry restorative oil to the priests, right. These people aren’t alive the way we know life. It’s an unnatural kind of existence, and they believe their master will take them up to his next kingdom if they kill intruders,” I explained in a rush. “There are half a dozen rooms like this with humans, mountain men, and more Ava-Ondi priests ready to revive.”
“These priests are strange, there is evil in the magic that has kept them from dying,” Dale said, nodding reluctantly. “I can’t leave them like this though.”
“How can you not feel the evil in each of them?” Uden said, looking at one of the extremely emaciated slumbering priests. “There is darkness in every part of this thing. It did something horrible to make its pact.”
“Each priest had to sacrifice a son or daughter to finalize the spell that kept them like this. Rikod wanted all his devotees to kill one of their own so they could sin as he had. It starts with him, but each one of these priests has their own kind of evil.”
“I see a desperate creature that has fallen to darkness,” Dale said before looking away from the one who spoke. “But I trust you, Grant. If you say now is not the time to rectify this, then we move on.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“What is in the boxes? More heads?” Maydo asked, taking a look at the writing on the top of one of the gold containers lined up in the middle of the room.
“These are books of magic and history. They’ve been preserved in these magic vessels. Each one is a treasure, but this is the one we need right now.” I walked to the third box and cracked the lid. Even though it was only a couple feet long and one foot wide, it weighed well over a hundred pounds because of the layers of gold that covered it. Russ came and helped me lift it off.
“It’s like these books were bound yesterday,” Uden said as he peered within.
“We keep these with us,” I said, handing one of the books to Uden, another to Russ and tucking the third under my arm. Each was a large wood and leather bound tome, and the one I had would be of interest to The Five. “These are one of a kind, the knowledge in them isn’t recorded anywhere else.”
“They’d fetch a pretty pile of gold at the Temple of Knowledge,” Uden said.
“They don’t have enough gold to pay a fair price for them,” I said as I put mine in my backpack.
As we moved on and saw two more rooms with alcoves that featured tall humans and other Ava-Ondi that had been left dried and preserved, Maydo whispered; “This whole place should be burned with magical fire. The work of Rikod is altogether evil.”
“You’re right, but he collected valuable things. Most of which isn’t evil, but could be useful. I could have picked six or seven other tombs to raid, the hills are lousy with them, but this one has things we need. When the trouble in the south is taken care of, you and Dale can lead the charge on cleansing this place.”
“I’ll ensure it, but where are we exactly?”
“About half a league from the western Twin’s foot on the northwest side. I marked it on Rea’s map, just in case.”
“There’s so much drawn here, it’s as if he wanted every day chronicled, the proud bastard,” Uden said as we walked through another antechamber with detailed painting on the walls.
“Most of the larger paintings are of grudges, the rest are moments of glory or how he punished his enemies,” I replied, looking at a painting of Rikod cutting a man’s leg off. “Except that one. He cut cursed flesh from his cousin’s body so he could be healed properly. It’s probably one of the only times when his intentions were pure.”
“Was his cousin a good man?” Dale asked.
“Oh, no, he was terrible. He put the torch to dozens of villages and had a pet goblin he fed people he didn’t like to,” I scoffed.
At last we came to the main chamber. There were no alcoves there, only shelves with heavy chests, hundreds of gold gilded urns, and a great throne with an ornate sarcophagus on a dais behind it. At the centre of the ceiling was a massive vessel that hung over a fountain that featured a gleaming jewel the size of Russ’ fist. “Whatever you do, don’t touch that,” I pointed. “If you move the jewel at all the restoring oil will pour from that reservoir into the fountain, where pipes will carry it to all the alcoves. Everything would wake up and come after us.”
“How can we get the jewel without causing chaos? Perhaps the oil has dried over the years?” Uden asked as he stared at the glittering gemstone. “We can’t leave it here. Not in this dark place, not in a place where it can’t glimmer or shine.”
I took firm hold of his beard and turned his face away. “If you break down and touch that thing you’ll be killing thousands of people. The small army could get out and start sacrificing whoever they can find for their King. We can’t afford to screw this up.”
“But, perhaps we could divert the magic in that thing away?” he pleaded quietly.
“Look at it, there are ponds with less liquid in them. We have to keep that fountain dry or we’ll have immortal warriors between us and the portal. There’s gold here, though. Look,” I pointed to the offerings pile at the foot of the throne where there were beautiful crafted chests of all sizes. “Most of these are filled with coins. That one has nothing but gold inside.”
“For dragons?” he asked, a little disappointed. Uden also seemed like he was still a little drunk on seeing the massive, perfectly cut jewel, but he was sobering.
“That one’s for you and your people. The book I carry is for dragons,” I told him.
“That is a wealth, at least three coins for every dwarf,” he said more lucidly as he started for a corner where there were lavishly adorned chests of different sizes stacked. Most of the smaller ones were filled with coins, while the largest had collections of fine tools that would appeal to the King’s gods.
“What’s this, Grant? This case here,” Dale asked as he approached a side table with several open cases on it. There were gemstones in each. “I feel no evil from it.”
“They’re enchanted gems, made to carry spells and raw power,” I said, taking my pack off. I put the book inside first, then closed two of the cases and put both inside. Once that was done I rushed to Rikod’s grand sarcophagus but didn’t touch the garish gold figure. It was the outer shell, there were several more inside, the last of which was pure gold. The outermost part of the sarcophagus, the one I could see, was stone with layers of gold leaf smoothed over it. That was, except for the face plate, which had several blessings on it that wouldn’t serve him in death, but in the event that someone actually resurrected him. On top of the sarcophagus was Laudin’s sword. It was one of the main reasons why I chose to take a risk on Rikod’s tomb. There were other troves with magical swords, but this one was blessed by Vrain for King Laudin, who only worshipped her instead of a pantheon of gods he chose himself like most of his people did. He was also about my size.
Its hilt was nondescript, that of a longsword with room for two half-Ondi hands. The scabbard was decorated with tiny rosebuds made from red gold, a gaudy thing I wasn’t interested in but could sell. I took it and hurriedly strapped it to my belt so I could return to the table where Dale was looking over jewelry and gemstones.
“We won’t disturb the King or his followers if we start looting?” Dale asked, still uncertain.
I answered by putting one case in his backpack. “No, we’re in the heart of his tomb, past the traps and protective spells. He was sure everything outside of this chamber was enough to take care of any robbers, and if it wasn’t, there was the jewel.”
“Rings, here there are rings tied to pages in books,” Maydo said as she looked at another. “I know these symbols. They’re markings for animal aspects. This is flight and the powers of birds. This is a ring that bestows the gifts of water creatures, and there’s one with the mole aspects. More, so many more.”
“Close the book, put it in your pack. You’ll find thirty-three rings inside, all enchanted to give people the powers of different animals,” I told her.
With no hesitation and a little glee, she did so.
“I detect no evil from any of these things,” Dale said in wonder as he looked at a long silver frame with necklaces hanging off it. “He has kept all these blessed things and knowledge for himself all this time. It’s wrong to deny the world these things after you die, greedy.” He touched a necklace with a golden drake pennant then slid it off the frame. “This will be for Rea. I feel it was blessed powerfully.”
“By a Priestess from the Dawnlight Aerie,” I said, nodding as I took a silver armband for Ilsa. There were hundreds of pieces of fine jewelry hanging on frames and stands against that wall, organized carefully, all of it enchanted.
“This bauble could gain the attention of a high lady,” Uden said as he snatched a large brooch up then closed a case filled with stranger looking rings. “These are beard and piercing loops, the quality of which I’ve never seen.” The box was in his backpack before I could blink.
As the feverish joy of looting was starting to take over, Dale shouted; “Russ!” in alarm.
Russ was standing in the dry fountain, swinging his hammer with all his might at the jewel holding the spout of the reservoir closed. It shattered, and the restorative potion began to flow down into the fountain in a stream that was a foot wide.