That evening, the three factions avoided each other. Firesong and Gregor would be returning to Sunhaven in the morning after Gregor gave directions to Nyara. Getting close enough to see she was a changechild increased his distrust of the group even further. Elspeth and Darkwind would continue until they were in sight of the tomb. Nyara and Skif would enter alone with Need.
Vree being aloft seeking a snack before full dark saved them. "Enemy sighted!" snapped Darkwind, calling Vree down. "Two groups in Ancar's colors, fifty men each, north and west of us, moving in! Each group has six mages, and I would guess that the men are controlled."
Firesong felt the currents in the ley-lines shift. "All are Master level, one minor Adept, all blood-mages." A pause. "Sketi! They have murdered within the past hour; they were planning this, and they have fresh blood magic. We can't stand and fight, not a pitched battle."
'They must know about the tomb as well. We should have expected this. Can we avoid them?'
Darkwind shook his head. "Both troops will be passing through this area; they'll see or sense us in these flatlands. Besides, they have the same goal as us."
Elspeth nodded. "It's a race, winner takes all. Let's go!"
Gregor wasn't as enthusiastic. "This is old demon-summoning land; empty, easily smoothed surfaces for written seals, and few distractions. The priests were never very clean in their techniques." By this time, they were packed and climbing into saddles. Gregor continued as he mounted his dyheli. "Many small creatures slipped through, and may still roam the area. Daylight would protect us, as well as grounded stationary shields, like around our encampments. Personal shields won't provide adequate protection."
Firesong sighed. "It seems I am with this group until further notice. I can feel the demons and steer us around them. I just hope our pursuers aren't as careful as us."
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It was a harrowing night. The dyheli and Companions had excellent night vision, and Aya's innate glow provided sufficient light for their eyes (I just made that up). It fortunate they did not need mage-lights; they could see their pursuers' lights whenever they crossed over a dune. It seemed that Ancar was just as desperate to have the Tomb's secrets as Valdemar.
Many times, Firesong ordered a change in course, widely circling the areas where he felt demonic presences. This slowed them and sent them off course time and again. They all prayed that their pursuers did not have a similar sensing ability. Several times, they heard a growl in the darkness, or the rustle of scaly wings or claws, or saw a brief flash of sickly-colored light, but there were no active hunters in the dark that night.
No magical attacks were made that night. It seemed that the enemy mages were just as wary of attracting demons, and they did not have demonic coercion spells. However, they did seem to have a method for avoiding the demons.
All the riders were exhausted the following morning, and even the surefooted dyheli slipped occasionally in the coarse, pebbly sand.
Their pursuers seemed to have dropped back a bit during the night, but as soon as it was light enough to see their prey, they picked up the pace. It seemed that all had survived the night without being eaten.
"Mind-controlled for certain," concluded Darkwind. "No normal human could have kept up with a rider last night, and they do not slow to rest. Firesong?"
"We will need to make a stand at some point. How much further to the tomb, Gregor?"
"Not far; see, it appears on the horizon." His already grim face scowled further. "I will take my chances with you in the tomb."
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The tomb was built into the side of a dune; all that showed was the door. It was a small archway, flanked with tall plaques. On one side was an hourglass, and on the other was a leaf with spiral veins patterned into it.
"I smell blood. Old blood. And some fresh," commented Nyara.
"No surprise," said Skif. "Look at the sand." It was blood red. When he dismounted and touched the sand, his hand came away stained with blood.
They dismounted at the entrance. "Do not go too far inside," warned Gregor, but Nyara and Skif were already headed down the entrance hallway. Firseong and Darkwind began setting shields and traps into the structure of the hallway. Not a moment too soon. The first Levin-bolt hit the outermost shield with a CRACK and the smell of ozone. This was followed with a battering-ram of air striking the doorposts, trying to break the shields' foundations. More spells joined the first two, and soon the air was filled with the sound of physical-damage spells impacting the tomb.
Darkwind fired an arrow at one of the mages, but it impacted a shield. He cursed, and tried again with a spelled arrow. This time, a man jumped in front, taking the bolt on a shield, which exploded. Darkwing swore fluently. The mages couldn't be hit.
Firesong's first trap was hit. It grabbed the mage that triggered it and fed him a backlash. He got a defense up in time, but the diverted power shredded his connection to his ley-line. He would still be able to fight, but he now had to conserve his power. The outer two shields broke soon after that, though.
The Valdemarans and Gregor ran deeper into the tomb. With the direct threat removed, the mind-controlled soldiers ran forward to hack at the hardened sand.
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"Look, have you ever seen anything like it?" Nyara commented. "They're beautiful!" She and Skif were standing before twelve statues; her first thought was that they were people, they were so lifelike.
The statues were arranged on the outer edge of a wide, round platform, with steps ringing the entire dais.
The people depicted were odd, to say the least. One at the far side of the room was a young woman with pink hair, wearing a pink shirt, black pants and boots, and black fingerless gloves. Her pose was such that she was punching the ground, and the earth under her fist had shattered. Another was a man dressed in black and grey with an odd stuck-up ponytail, who seemed to be melting into his own shadow. A third could be seen inside a blue dome. He appeared to be spinning like a top.
Darkwind, Firesong, and Gregor finally made it into the massive chamber, having finished the defenses along the only easy access route. Gregor was grey with exhaustion, but refused Darkwind's arm. "I am a Journeyman caught in a battle with Masters and Adepts. I probably deserve what's coming to me."
"Which way?" asked Elspeth.
There were two doors at the far end of the room. They entered the right side first. Inside was another statue. This was of a man with blond hair, blue eyes, and whisker marks on his cheeks, charging at the entrance. He was wearing plated black lacquered armor over a red shirt and red pants. Several bandoliers with pouches and weapons were strapped across his body, but what caught their attention was his right hand. He seemed to be holding a bright blue sphere with four wide blades extending from it.
The wall behind the statue was a giant, nine-tailed fox.
'Behold,' said Need, 'The sixth fire-shadow, jailor of the nine-tailed demon fox. This statue is him holding his most powerful technique, the Spiral Star. The fox on the wall is, of course, the nine-tailed demon fox.'
"Demons," muttered Firesong.
'And you are inside the tomb. What are you going to do about it?' said Need.
"Stay in it, for the time being. And might I remind you that we have twelve mages breaking through the shields? Let us find our shinobi and get out of here before this becomes our tomb."
"Look out!" cried Nyara. They whirled to see what alarmed her.
Blood-red sand mixed with the grey desert sand was hissing into the room in twisting vortices, making its way towards the travelers. There was no wind.
'Now comes the hard part. I need you to trust me and do exactly as I tell you,' said Need.
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Thank you, all reviewers.