Darklight - You mean the little ones that run away when one of them get killed? The archers will have a field day with them. The leader of the host was a skeleton (remember the clicking sound when it was talking?). With that one dead, the little demons are toast.
It felt good to be back in decent armour. Leoric shrugged and stretched, settling the heavy platemail more evenly across his shoulders. The open archway to the sewers yawned in front of him. Behind him, the blue sea stretched all the way to the horizon. A boat captain, Meshif by name, had told him last night that he could sometimes hear the moaning of the foul creature when he was aboard his boat. It was as good a place as any to start looking for the beast. He put on the circlet Atma had loaned him. The trio of gems in the item flared to life, lighting his way. With a final shrug, he drew his sword and entered the cool darkness.
The sewers of Lut Gholein was much more extensive than he had expected. It seemed to twist and turn for miles, every few steps bringing a new branch in the ever-growing network. Pinpricks of light danced in the sludge and the damp walls, reflections of his light. Fortunately, the incredible stench had faded to more tolerable levels. Leoric ruefully noted that little fact. It is amazing what humans beings can get used to.
It had taken hours, but he finally came to the conclusion that the creature is not in this level of the sewers. That was another thing that he had discovered. Lut Gholein must have been built on the ruins of another city. It is not so rare an occurrence. Most of the older cities of Sanctuary have extensive underground networks, the result of hundreds of years of buildings being built on top of older buildings. It does make his quest that much harder, though. The warren of tunnels made it far more difficult to locate his prey.
So far, he had not encountered anything beyond a few bats. And rats. There must be thousands of the rodents. Fortunately, they are more interested in running away than attacking. What he did find was a staircase leading further down into the sewers. It seemed a rather unusual place for a stairway until he remembered that parts of the sewer tunnels were probably the result of ancient ruins buried under the city.
Cautiously, he proceeded down the stairs, carefully testing the solidity of each step before putting his full weight on it. His caution did not help him against his foot slipping on the slippery stone steps. There was not even enough time for him to react. He crashed down on the steps and started sliding down. His platemail made it worse. The inflexible metal plates acted like a sled, hindering his efforts to slow himself. He did not see fallen stone block, but he certainly felt it. A starburst of pain erupted in his head before the darkness claimed him.
Despite the warnings, Faith and Liene reached the ruined catacomb unmolested. The Hall of the Dead was an ancient tomb for the mages that used to rule over this part of the world. Over the years, it had been left to the shifting sands of the desert, and now, all that remains is the side entrance to the underground portion of the tomb. Deep within this great underground graveyard is the staff piece of the key to the Tomb of Tal Rasha, where Baal is buried. Cain had said that the ancients called the staff the Staff of Kings and that it was a symbol of rulership for them. With the fall of the Mage Clans, it was interred with the last of their leaders. The staff was likely to be in the lowest part of the tomb where their nobility was buried.
Liene pulled a torch out of her pack and lit it as Faith peered down the steps into the gloomy confines of the tomb. The flickering light turned the rough-hewn sandstone walls into a mosaic of light and shadows. With one hand engaged, the Rogue pulled out her shortsword instead of her bow. Faith led the way into the tomb, her enchanted neckband allowing her to see even with the torchlight eclipsed by her own body.
They had just reached the bottom of the stairway when a sudden dip in the light at her back caused Faith to look back. Liene was crouched at the last step, peering at something in the corner.
"What is it?" the Slayer asked.
"Someone has been here before us," Liene replied, pointing.
Faith took a closer look at the corner and made out a lump of some kind. A closer examination revealed that it was a piece of charcoal. At her puzzled expression, Liene tapped her torch carefully against the corner of a step. The light flared and flickered wildly and a piece of glowing wood broke off. When the glow faded, it left behind a piece of charcoal.
"Damn, Pix. That's impressive."
"Were you not taught these things?" Liene asked. "How do you hunt your prey?"
"I can just tell." Faith shrugged. "Like how there is a bunch of B-grade horror movie escapees trying to sneak up on us."
Liene gasped and straightened. She did not understand the 'B-grade horror movie' bit, but the 'trying to sneak up on us' bit got her attention. The torchlight revealed about half a dozen shambling figures making their slow way towards them.
"The walking dead. Be careful, Faith," she warned as Faith started edging towards them. "They are much stronger than they look."
"So am I," Faith replied. She was itching for a fight. After over a week of enforced boringness, it was either a fight or a long hard ride between the sheets. Somehow, the 'use them and leave them' way do not appeal anymore. That left a good fight. She eyed the zombies critically. They seemed tough but slow. That is good. A soft punching bag is worse that useless.
Blades bared, she leapt at the zombies. Three quick punches carved three neat holes in the first zombie in line. It fell back as Faith moved on to the next one in line. The Slayer ducked an arm and eviscerated its owner. Ropes of intestines fell through the wound, making her gag with the smell. Luckily for her, the momentary distraction did not prove fatal. The zombie tried to follow her lightning fast strike and tripped over its own bowels. She kicked it in the head as she parried the blows of the third one. Rotted bone gave way under her blow. The head exploded in a shower of gore, even as a severed forearm dropped to the dusty floor.
Ducking and weaving under blows from three different undead, she could hear Liene call out. "Go for the head, Faith!"
These zombies seem to be far more intelligent than she would expect from half-rotted corpses with liquefied brains. They alternated their attacks, making it almost impossible for her to do anything but defend. Faith glanced around and took a page out of Buffy's book. She took a couple of rapid steps backwards and then leapt up the wall beside her. As the zombies stumbled towards where she was a split second ago, she took a step halfway up the wall and threw herself behind them. She completed the manoeuvre by pivoting on her left foot and lashed out with her right hand blade, hamstringing two of the three zombies.
The third rapidly found itself at a disadvantage against the Slayer. Until the first zombie that Faith took down, or thought she took down, came back into the fray by jumping on her back and biting into her shoulder. Faith cried out as she felt rotten teeth tear into her flesh. Thrown face down on to the floor, she twisted and bucked to get the moving corpse off her. Ignoring the pain of the teeth still embedded in her shoulder, she rolled powerfully against the wall. The teeth ground sickeningly into bone as she hammered the zombie into the wall. Once, twice she slammed her shoulder backwards into the wall before she felt bone giving way and the jaws relax.
A shadow loomed over her. She looked up, blinking back tears of pain, at the last zombie still on its feet. Instinctively, she rolled aside as its fist descended. Right into the arms of the two zombies she had hamstrung. The pair heaved themselves at her. Desperately, she kicked out, catching one of them and sending it flying backwards. The second landed on her. A fist smashed into her jaw, splitting her lower lip. She punched a blade into its ribs and realised her mistake when it fell on its side, trapping her blade under it. There was not enough leverage for her to twist her hand into position and retract the blade. The zombie caught her other hand. With unnatural strength, it pushed it aside.
Trapped beneath the zombie's clammy, heavy body, a stray wry thought flashed through her mind even as the zombie bent down with jaws wide open. She wondered what would be Leoric's reaction at the sight of her and the zombie in their current position. The prudish paladin would probably turn several shades of red. She slammed her forehead into the zombie's nose, crushing it. A gush of black blood splattered her face. As it recoiled, a sword slammed into the back of its neck. A hand helped push the finally unmoving body off her and Liene's worried face hovered into view.
"By the Eye, Faith. You look terrible." Liene sheathed her sword and stuck the torch upright in the dirt. "No. Stay still," she said, pushing the Slayer back down when she tried to get back up. "Your wounds need to be tended to. The walking dead have been known to carry disease. Where are you hurt?"
The last thing she needed now was to fall sick, and so, Faith relaxed and allowed the Rogue to tend to her wounds. "Just the lips and the shoulder, Pix."
Faith closed her eyes as Liene cleaned her face of the zombie's blood with a cloth. She focused on her Slayer senses, trying to feel if there are any more of the undead in the corridor. When the Rogue dabbed at her lips, she opened her eyes again. The torchlight caused Liene's eyes to shine brightly.
Abruptly, the Rogue turned away to rummage through her pack. "Sit up and turn around. I cannot tend to your shoulder like this," she said, not looking at Faith. The Slayer complied. Liene hissed when she took a look at the shoulder. The zombie's teeth had ripped through the jumpsuit's sleeve and just missed the edges of Faith's protective vest. Faith gritted her teeth as Liene pulled a tooth fragment from her flesh, and then another. "I cannot bandage your shoulder. Your garment is in the way."
Faith tore the Velcro tabs open on the vests and shrugged them off before pulling down the front mounted zipper of the jumpsuit. Carefully, she extracted her injured shoulder from the suit. She heard a swift intake of breath behind her. "It's not as bad as it looks, Pix," she said.
She felt a feathery touch on her shoulder. "This is going to hurt," Liene said, her voice low and rough. Before Faith could react to her tone, water splashed onto her shoulder. She barely suppressed a yelp of surprise when the cloth came down on her wound. The yelp turned into a gasp of pain. Swiftly and efficiently, Liene cleaned the wound, spread an ointment on it and bound it. By the time she was done, Faith was sweating from the pain, but she had not uttered another sound. "I'm sorry," Liene whispered, leaning her head against the Slayer's hunched back.
She whispered it twice more before the apology penetrated Faith's consciousness. "It's okay, Pix. Had to be done," Faith said, turning her head to look over her injured shoulder.
After a moment, the Rogue gave a weak smile. She met Faith's gaze and looked away again. "We have to go," she said, giving the act of packing her medical supplies an unusual amount of attention.
"Yeah," Faith replied, putting her armour back on and turning to look down the passageway deeper into the tomb. "A Slayer's job's never done." She did not see Liene quickly dash away unshed tears.
Two nerve-wracking hours and three torches later, they came to a large ornate door at the lowest level of the Hall of the Dead. Like the rest of the tomb, it was constructed of an extremely hard version of sandstone. So far, the echoing passageways have been deserted, but now, Faith's Slayer senses are going haywire. Whatever that is beyond that door is going to prove to be a very tough challenge.
Faith examined the doorframe to look for the little switch that they had discovered about a dozen doors back. Each had operated in the same manner and there is no reason to think otherwise now. Sure enough, about halfway down the right-hand side, she found the switch. Liene stuck the torch into the dirt floor and drew her bow. She nocked an arrow, whispered a quick chant and nodded. At the Rogue's signal, Faith flipped the switch and gave the door a push. As it swung inward, she stepped to the side to give Liene a clear line of fire.
Nothing happened. Then, barely perceptible even to Slayer hearing, a weird almost sighing noise interrupted the stillness. It quickly got louder as Faith took a few steps back from the doorway. Suddenly, glowing shrouded forms emerged from the sandstone wall next to the door. Liene immediately fired an arrow. The missile glowed blue with the power of her spell. The spectre struck by her arrow literally froze before falling to the ground and shattering.
Taking the Rogue's cue, Faith used the power of her wristbands. It was her first time calling on the power of cold and she did not know what to expect. What she did not expect was her blades turning translucent on her. A second blurred blue streak shook her out of her shock. Putting herself between the spectres and Liene, she went to work. And work she did. The spectres were far more agile than the zombies, if a lot less durable. A single swipe was usually enough to send one to the floor in hundreds of icy pieces. Unfortunately, there were many of them. Too many.
Liene was forced to drop her bow and pull out her shortsword. She was not as fast or agile as the Slayer and it showed. Blow after spectral blow slashed through her body. She cried out. Faith knew how she felt. The touch of the spectres left a bone chilling cold in their wake. The Slayer took a few steps closer to the Rogue, hoping to give her some support. Then, Liene screamed. Faith looked over just in time to see a spectre plunged a hand into Liene's back. The Rogue's scream cut off abruptly when the hand entered her. The other spectres around her floated back a little, as if to give their compatriot some room.
Faith let the Slayer in her full rein, taking down two of the spectres facing her and dashing away before the others could react. Absorbed by the sight of one of their number with its hand clutched around the hated living creature's heart, the spectres were easy targets for the enraged Slayer. Faith cut through half their number before reaching the one with its hand in Liene's body. A quick swipe cut the hand off. Severed from the body, the spectral hand quickly dissipated. Liene dropped to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut. Straddling her, Faith quickly killed the injured spectre and fought off the rest with the ferocity of a cornered badger.
It was all over in a couple of minutes. Faith cradled Liene in her arms. Ignoring the aching after-effects of the spectral blows, she noted how cold the Rogue's body was. Despite that and despite the fact that her lips had turned a shade of blue that the human body was never meant to produce, Liene was not shivering. If not for the shallow breaths that Faith could feel her taking, the Slayer would have thought she was dead.
Hugging her close, Faith pawed through the Rogue's sling bag where she kept her medical supplies, or what passed for medical supplies in this magical world. The first jar she fished out was labelled in a language she could not read. The second and third objects yielded similar results. Apparently, speaking and understanding the language was as much help as the Powers were willing to impart in that department. Muttering savage curses under her breath, Faith shrugged off her own pack and rummaged through it. There seemed to be no bottom to the pack as she stuck her arm all the way up to the shoulder into it. Under the deepest layers of clothes that she could reach, her questing hand knocked against something hard. Grabbing it, she lifted it out for inspection. It was a roughly cylindrical object wrapped in cloth. It felt like a bottle and when she unwrapped it, sure enough, it was. A label, written in a bold script, identified it as "Antifreeze". It appears that someone upstairs had a sense of humour.
Faith opened the bottle and carefully poured the contents down Liene's throat. She had seen enough movies to realise the dangers of drowning someone with a too hastily administered liquid. Almost immediately, but still too slowly for the anxious Slayer, the bluish tinge faded from Liene's lips and colour returned to her cheeks.
Abruptly, Liene's eyes opened and she drew a quick breath. Faith could feel her body tense. Then, recognition seeped in and she relaxed. "That is the second time you have saved my life," she whispered. "Thank you."
Faith gave a small smile and helped her sit up. Liene was reaching for her pack when Faith's voice made her freeze. "I wouldn't have to, if it weren't for me."
Liene slowly walked over to where Faith still sat with head bowed. She reached out and gave Faith a smack on the back of her head. Faith looked up, eyes blazing. "If it were not for you," Liene said with equal fire, "I would be part of Andariel's brood, or some demon's lunch. So, if you are quite done feeling sorry for yourself, we have a staff to find."
The Rogue picked up the still blazing torch and headed for the open door, leaving a Slayer to look thoughtfully after her.
It had taken them hours to reach the room where they did find the staff clutched in the hands of a long deceased mage. It took them less than ten minutes to get back to the stretch of corridor where they fought the zombies.
"I told you grabbing the staff was a bad idea!" Faith shouted over the noise of hundreds of clicking skeletons and other assorted moaning undead. "That's what always happen in the movies. The damned mummies will come to life and get you!"
"Shut up and run!" Liene replied over her shoulder.
"That's what they always say, too. After they've woken up the entire tomb of deadboys!"
The room where the spectres had emerged from was empty except for a stone sarcophagus in the centre. Faith easily heaved the heavy lid off with a loud crash that was loud enough to wake the dead. In fact, she half expected that. But no undead assaulted them. The dried corpse in the sarcophagus did not rise up to attack. In fact, nothing happened. A plain wooden rod about the length of her arm lay on the corpse's chest, beneath its crossed forearms. Faith stared at it, images from movies entering her mind. Giving the Slayer a puzzled glance, Liene reached for it.
"Wait, Pix. This is when the dead bodies rise up and kill us."
Liene pulled her hand back. "You had a premonition." It was more a statement than a question.
"No. But it always happen in the movies."
"Movies?"
"You know. Acting. Stories."
"Plays? You are nervous because of a play?"
Faith considered her own words. It was a bit silly, but she could not quell her unease. Finally, Liene simply grabbed the staff and tugged it out from beneath the corpse's arms. She passed it to Faith with a triumphant grin. It was not until Faith was slipping the staff into her pack that the walls of the room exploded inwards. Rectangular sections of the wall scattered themselves across the floor of the room and long dead bodies started crawling out of the holes created. The pair had taken one look at the numbers and ran.
Now, they climbed swiftly up the long stairway to the desert above. About halfway up, Liene stumbled to a stop. "Go," she gasped. "I cannot go any further."
Faith knew the Rogue was hardier than that. She must still be feeling some of the after effects of the spectres' blows. "The Hell you can't," she muttered. She bent down and swept Liene off her feet. Before the girl could protest, Faith slung her over her shoulder and ran.
The second her feet touched the desert sand, the ground started to rumble. She was about ten meters away when the ground shuddered, throwing them both to the sand. They scrambled away from the tomb entrance, hindered by the shifting sands. Finally, the ground stopped shaking. They turned around.
"Damn," Faith breathed, awed. Liene made no sound.
Behind them, beyond the doorway to the Hall of the Dead, a great crater had appeared. From the plume of dust that still spiralled skywards from the doorway, the entire Hall must have collapsed when the staff left its confines.
"I guess we don't have to worry about deadboys anymore," Faith commented.
"No. We only have to worry about them," Liene replied, gesturing up the side of the dune they were on.
Faith looked up. Lined up on the crest of the dune, no doubt attracted by the noise of the Hall of the Dead collapsing, was a line of serpentmen. At least, Faith thought they were serpentmen. They had the heads and lower torso of snakes but the arms and body of men. More appeared to the sides. With the crater behind them, they were effectively surrounded.