Andy Lex BainKharon's Book

KHARON'S BOOK

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SANCTUM

'You could've waited a little longer,' Raphael snarled, wiping his bloody mouth with the back of his hand. Malaki, breathing heavily, squatted down and closed his eyes.

'We didn't have time,' Gregore spat back. He glared furiously at Raphael. He almost wished the vampire had been crushed beneath the stone door. But he was kidding himself. He did wish the vampire had been crushed beneath it.

There was an awkward silence as the four companions took in their surroundings. The chamber was strangely beautiful. Sand was scattered across the floor and the walls were decorated with more hieroglyphs. The ceiling above glittered with stars; diamonds against a backdrop of dark blue satin.

'Well,' Katarina began, 'where do we go now?'

'There,' Gregore pointed towards another doorway, flanked by tall, golden statues.

A few minutes later and they were standing inside another dusty passage. Malaki automatically made to walk forwards, but Gregore thrust out a hand and pushed him back.

'Wait, fool.'

'Don't tell me, more traps? I'm getting a little tired of this.'

Gregore rolled his eyes and rummaged around in his pack. Holding up a large sapphire, he drew his arm back.

'What are you doing?' Raphael snatched the gem from the Kossar.

'Give it back, blood-sucker.' Gregore whirled and slammed Raphael up against the wall. Before the vampire could pocket the stone it was wrenched roughly from his hand.

'But it's worth a fortune, human. That gem alone could buy you…'

'I don't care what it could buy me. What use is it if I'm dead?' Turning, Gregore hurled the sapphire down the corridor. They watched it bounce off the floor and then there was a burst of rubble and dust as a massive, metal spike erupted from the floor. The sapphire was sent skittering in another direction across another flagstone and this time nothing happened. Hitting the wall it came to rest on a third flagstone, only to get smashed aside again as another spike thrust upwards through the floor. 'As I thought,' Gregore mused. 'The spikes are below these squares,' he indicated. 'These others are trap-less.'

'You hope,' Raphael sneered.

Malaki glowered at the vampire before he and Katarina followed the Kossar diagonally down the passageway. Shrugging, Raphael tailed them. The humans had their uses. And when they outlasted their usefulness…

The vampire's mouth split into a sinister smile.

The passageway opened up into a great hall, lit by numerous wall torches. Gemstones lay strewn between the flagstones, twinkling in the torchlight. Their various colours were reflected on the walls. It was a large chamber, at least fifty feet across and a hundred feet long. At its end sat a massive, stone dais, reached by a small staircase and dominated by a stone throne. In the middle of the room, standing behind an impressive, oak table covered in an assortment of jugs, plates and goblets, was an intimidating, black statue. Resembling a humanoid jackal, it stared back at the adventurers with a blank, empty gaze.

It looked to Gregore like this was some type of ancient feasting hall. Once, the god-king may have eaten his meals here, watched over by his dark master. The emptiness was palpable; the silence terrifying. His contemplations were interrupted by the grating sound of daemonic steel being drawn.

'This is more like it,' Malaki roared, pointing his sword. 'Charge!' He thundered across the room, leaping onto the table in his enthusiasm. He had not, however, taken stability into account, and promptly slipped on a metal cup, causing him to crash noisily to the floor. Suddenly two points of red light flared in the Ushabti's eyes.

'Let us dance,' Raphael hissed, his fangs bared. He dashed forwards, skirting the table and brought his blade to the attack. Faster than he anticipated, the Ushabti blocked his weapon, producing a shower of sparks as the sword clanged on the haft of the giant blade.

Katarina moved to assist Malaki. Gregore circumvented the fighting and made his way towards the dais.

'You check out throne,' he said from the side of his mouth, his eyes never leaving the wall behind the dais. 'I'll search the wall.'

Flurries of slashes and jabs against the Ushabti's hide simply scratched its obsidian surface. His agile mind thinking with inhuman cunning, the vampire rolled beneath the foe's deadly blade and ran up the nearby wall. Twirling his sword, he smiled grimly before launching himself into the air.

'See if you can take this blow.' He made a dive towards the Ushabti. Turning, the construct was too late to realise what the assassin was doing. The last thing its artificial eyes registered was Raphael's sword plunging downwards like a harpoon into its obsidian skull.

The throne was huge, big enough for a fully armoured knight to relax in. Katarina allowed herself the pleasure to lower herself into the seat. Sitting back, she let out a sigh of contentment…which quickly transformed into a scream of pain as she heard a metallic click coming from below. Leaping up, she clutched at her bleeding posterior, staring in horror at the bed of steel spikes piercing the seat of the throne through small cracks she hadn't even noticed.

'Malaki,' she wailed, stumbling down the steps and virtually falling into the knight's arms.

'What twisted mind designed this death hole?' Malaki bellowed as he started ripping up his cloak to staunch the flow of blood.

The all-familiar grinding of stone on stone resonated around Gregore's skull as he pressed a small switch recessed in a crevice near the floor. Without looking back, he unhitched his axe and proceeded into the shadowy room beyond.

Raphael narrowed his eyes as he saw the secret door opening. Bounding up onto the dais, he vaulted over the throne. Leaving Katarina to recover safely on the floor of the hall, Malaki followed Raphael. It was terribly demoralising, this tomb. It seemed to be one big deathtrap. With Merideon and Kurt gone, and he the last surviving original member of the Red Wolves, he began to get nostalgic. Would they ever get out of this place? Where was Kharon's next mark? What manner of horrors awaited them beyond the next doorway? He looked back to where Katarina lay, bloodied but alive. It would be good to get back to proper civilization. But then he remembered his fangs, and the changes coming over his mind and body. He felt stronger than ever before, and yet he felt he was losing…his humanity. Katarina would be lucky to live through the quest. Her pride would never recover. Hardening his heart, he turned back towards the doorway.

With a curse, the knight tripped over a bone and tumbled head over heels down the steps.

'Shhh!' Gregore automatically reprimanded Malaki. He indicated a series of monstrous manikins. Eyes wide, Malaki glanced about the room. There was an orc warrior, a Skaven clanrat, a heavily armoured figure he took to be a Chaos Warrior and a giant, hideous rat ogre. All of them had been taxidermied, and posed to strike fear into intruders. All were obviously manikins, for they were still as statues, and remarkably preserved. He had to look twice to make sure they were dead. He was sure this was a trophy room, filled with creatures the god-king's armies had destroyed, by the look of the piled weapons and rusting shields.

'What are you worrying about,' he grunted, getting to his feet. 'They're all dead.' Sliding Fellblade back into his scabbard, he pushed the orc warrior. 'Look.'

Instantly the orc's sword arm sprang up into a raised position. Gasping in shock, the knight reeled back. The others turned, regarding Malaki with suspicion.

'What happened?' Gregore approached the orc. The orc didn't move.

'It…it moved. The sword…'

'I didn't see anything. Raphael?'

'Spooked, knight?' The vampire raised an eyebrow.

'Shut up. I swear…'

'You didn't wet yourself, did you?'

'I said shut your trap you bastard.' Malaki advanced on the vampire. While they were bickering, Gregore turned his attention to the Chaos Warrior. Its faceless, empty helm seemed to stare into his soul, as if there really was someone there inside the armour. But he knew it was empty. It had to be.

There was a scrape of metal as the sabaton shifted on the flagstone.

'There!' Gregore gestured with his axe. 'The warrior's boot. It moved!'

'Not you too, Kaulsson?' Raphael started to laugh. 'You humans…'

'What the hell?' Malaki started, turning towards the giant rat ogre. He could swear he had felt a cold draft on his neck. Staring into those dead, yellow eyes, he thought he saw something strange in their still, amber depths. But it was nothing. Raphael flicked his gaze back to Malaki. Slitting his eyes, he leapt into the air.

'To prove that this warrior is nothing…'

His sword slammed down onto the warrior's horned helm and bounced off. Perturbed, the vampire somersaulted and landed on the floor.

Even as Malaki stared, the rat ogre's jaw opened suddenly with a creak. Opening his mouth in terror, he stepped backwards, colliding with Raphael.

'Watch where you're…'

'The mouth, it…'

'Opened, yes, I saw it,' Gregore finished. He glanced about the manikins. There was something creepy about this room. He could feel a chill running up his spine, even as they lingered. As if to confirm his suspicions, the Skaven blinked one eye. He froze, his hands gripping his axe tightly. Looking down, he saw the knuckles whitening. 'Let's get out of here,' he growled, backing away from the rat man. He didn't care that it was only a mere clanrat. If it came to life, he was certain it wouldn't fight like one. And yet the manikin did nothing of the sort. It stared right back at him, as if nothing strange had occurred; it was simply a stuffed rat man.

'I agree,' Malaki mumbled. Calling to Katarina, he motioned for the others to move. 'Let's go, it's bad enough with traps. I don't like getting freaked out as well.'

A colossal map covered the entire wall of the next room, its details sketched out in various inks on what looked like human skin. It was terrible to behold. In front of the wall, lying on its side on a plain, wooden table, was a black book.

'Surely this is not the book we are looking for?' Katarina gasped in delight. She hobbled forwards, reaching out for the book. Gregore grimaced, expecting some kind of trap to activate. Thankfully nothing happened. Riffling through the pages, the sorceress found it was written in the Dark Tongue. A torn page floated from the inside back cover.

'It is not the book of Kharon Baal,' Malaki intoned. 'Merideon's map indicated it was located in a dwarven fortress. We have yet to get out of this damnable tomb.'

'What's this?' Gregore stooped to pick up the fallen scrap of parchment. Upon it was scrawled a weird drawing of three gemstones, arranged in a certain order.

'Give me that,' Katarina snapped, snatching the scrap from him and turning it around in her hands. The Kossar rolled his eyes and stepped away. He turned his attention to the nearby bookcase.

As the Red Wolves walked cautiously down another passageway, the light from the wall torches dancing in weird and disturbing patterns, Gregore heard the telltale sound of moving stone. Instinctively, he looked up.

The ceiling was descending.

'RUN!'

As Malaki and Katarina stopped walking and looked up, Gregore bolted down the corridor. Hopefully this passageway's one trap was the ceiling; it was a risk he was prepared to take. Ahead of him he could see Raphael vanishing around the curve of the passage. His blood pounded as he hurtled forwards. Turning his head momentarily, he was dismayed to find the knight and sorceress gaping instead of fleeing.

'Don't look at the ceiling, you idiots, run!' Whirling, he cursed and fled. They had better change their view from the ceiling to common sense, and thankfully he heard the slap of boots on flagstones and knew they were following as fast as they could. The whole roof was coming down, lowered by some unseen mechanism no doubt triggered when they had entered the corridor. It was a fine trap: there was no way to disarm it once it had been activated. The passageway seemed to go on and on forever, curving out of sight ahead of them. Finally a doorway materialised.

'Hurry up,' Gregore yelled, sprinting the last few feet and leaping over the threshold into the space beyond. Automatically turning to see how far Malaki and Katarina had to go, he beckoned wildly with his hands. 'Get a move on, move faster!' Already the two of them were having to stoop slightly as the ceiling was getting dangerously low. Katarina was practically being dragged along, her injuries preventing her from moving very fast. And then they made it, barely, throwing themselves through the door before the ceiling smashed down into the passageway's floor behind them.

For a full fifteen minutes the companions sat on the cold, stone floor, breathing heavily. Relieved to have made it past that most dangerous of traps, they gave thanks to various gods. Raphael didn't. He didn't breathe either. While the humans were eating and refreshing themselves from their waterskins, he paced around the room, inspecting for anything of interest. There was little on the walls.

In fact, there was only one item of interest.

A massive set of double doors bordered by beaten gold and polished gemstones. On the doors themselves were set small circles of gems, of different colours. The doors had no handles.

'You might want to have a look at this,' Raphael mused, bored.

Clustered around the doors, the Red Wolves gazed at the coloured gems.

'The scrap of parchment,' Gregore said slowly. Katarina pulled it out and looked at it. The gemstones upon it obviously showed the correct combination required to press to open the doors. She turned the parchment this way and that.

'Which side was the top?'

Three hours had passed and the companions were tired, frustrated and angry. Malaki beat his armoured fist on the door, which, unyielding, did not open. Sitting around in a rough circle, they had argued and argued about which way up the scrap of parchment had been aligned in the back of the book. They didn't know which gemstones to press. Having tried many, many combinations, they had quickly despaired about finding the correct sequence. Malaki roared, unsheathing Fellblade. There was a metallic clamour as the daemonblade bit into the door, barely denting it. The doors didn't budge.

'Gods,' the knight cursed, mad with rage. Again and again he beat on the door.

Nothing happened. The doors remained closed.

'If you damage the gems we'll never get through,' Gregore snarled.

Raphael said nothing, enjoying the humans despair. But he did relate to their anger. If they didn't open the doors, he wasn't going anywhere either.

'We're doomed,' Malaki sighed. Fellblade collided with the floor. He slumped, defeated. 'We'll never get out of here. An ignoble end for such a good tale.'

'Enough talk, thinking,' Gregore snapped. His eyes were fixed on the scrap.

'Let me see that,' the knight rumbled. After a moment he grinned.

'We haven't tried…no we haven't tried this.' Standing, he paused, then pushed red, blue, and yellow on the left door. There was a satisfying click. Black, green and purple followed on the right door, and another click caused a deep rumbling. The doors creaked open. 'I knew we could do it,' Malaki shouted. 'I got it!'

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