The Tomb of Horrors (24 page)

“Kaerion, to me!” he heard Phathas call from the center of
the ringed guards.

With a shout of acknowledgement at the mage’s summons,
Kaerion turned the swift thrust of a spear aside with his blade and ducked
beneath the wild swing of another opponents sword. Cursing, he realized his path
was now blocked by three of the noisome creatures. Raising his sword, he charged
into the center of his attackers, taking one through the eye and doubling
another over with a sharp kick to the ribs. The third managed a sharp spear jab
that caught Kaerion on the side. He cried out as the steel tip of the spear
ripped through his cloak and rebounded off of the hard metal surface of his
armor. Despite his luck, Kaerion knew he’d have a nasty bruise come morning—if
he survived.

The ring of guards had drawn tighter now, collapsing inward
with the growing press of humanoid bodies. In the circle’s center, Kaerion saw
Vaxor clap his hands together while uttering a sharp prayer to Heironeous.
Golden light emanated from his joined fingertips, falling over the beleaguered
guards. Kaerion felt a cold stab of guilt at this reminder of the god’s power.

A moment later, an angry buzzing filled the air. One of the
creatures gave out a gurgling hiss as an arrow struck it in the back. Four more
streaks of death followed in quick succession, and Kaerion knew that Gerwyth lay
somewhere in the gnarled trees above the camp, raining arrows upon the
attackers. Six more fell dead or dying before Kaerion fought his way through the
circle’s center. A moment later, he was relieved to see Majandra’s lithe form
bound through the ring of soldiers.

Breathing heavily, he acknowledged Phathas’ reassuring smile
with a quick nod of his own. The mage reached out ancient, weathered hands,
placed them gently upon his shoulders, and closed thin-lidded eyes in
concentration. The hairs on Kaerion’s neck prickled as a string of
unintelligible words flowed out of the spellcaster’s mouth in stately rhythm.
The old mage’s eyes flew open as he reached the end of his phrase. Raising a
feeble hand, he struck Kaerion a surprisingly sharp blow upon the cheek,
intoning a single harsh word as flesh struck flesh.

Kaerion blinked once in surprise and then felt energy course
from the point of contact to cover his entire body.

“I have made your body harder than the hardest stone,”
Phathas said. “Go now and take the battle to our enemies.” The mage gave Kaerion
another smile before raising his hands above his head, obviously preparing to
cast another spell.

Relieved by the had of arrows and god-wrought aid, the circle
of guards was no longer merely on the defensive. Kaerion watched again with
satisfaction as Landra, calmly dispatching two bullywugs with neat, economical
strokes, held her charges to an even, ordered extension of their ring. Satisfied
that the main body of their force had things under control, Kaerion burst from
the circle, sword flashing in the firelight, and charged the knot of creatures
still streaming into their camp.

A downward slash of his blade severed a spear tip from its
wood body. Kaerion spun, letting his momentum carry him forward, and was
gratified to feel the dull thunk as his sword bit deeply into the bloated neck
of a bullywug, nearly severing its spine. Pulling the sword quickly from the
shattered bone, he thrust his blade into the chest of a creature already hissing
with outrage. As his opponent fell, Kaerion saw another opening and sent his
sword slicing downward, laying open the stomach of a second bullywug.

Kaerion heard a now-familiar screaming gurgle off to his
right and was surprised to see Vaxor laying about with his sword. In his left
hand, the cleric held a shield embossed with the lightning symbol of Heironeous.
Its metallic surface erupted into bright golden light, blinding the priest’s
opponents as he drew near. Kaerion could spare no additional thought to Vaxor’s
presence, for he found himself surrounded by a circle of bloodthirsty foes.

Ducking a hastily swung sword, Kaerion’s fist lashed out,
catching a bullywug on the side of its slime-covered head. The creature stumbled
back, disoriented, but before Kaerion could press the attack, the remaining
monsters thrust their bristling spears at him. He twisted sharply, nearly
dislocating his knee, to avoid the first spear, and deflected the second and
third ones with an expertly timed slash of his blade. The final two attacks
burst through his guard, striking exposed flesh—only to be repelled by the thin
layer of spell-wrought energy covering his body.

The bullywugs stopped their victory scream in mid-gurgle as
Kaerion stood in their midst unscathed. Taking advantage of their surprise,
Kaerion quickly dispatched two before a rain of arrows killed the remaining ones
where they stood, wide-lipped mouths gaping.

“A little late, don’t you think?” Kaerion shouted at Gerwyth,
knowing full well that the ranger wouldn’t give away his position to reply.

A quick look at the unfolding battle made it clear to Kaerion
that the defenders now had the upper hand, but before he could do more than
catch a few breaths, an eerie ululation erupted from the swelling throats of the
attacking bullywugs. Instinctively, Kaerion clapped a hand over one ear to
shield himself from the effects of the piercing sound. Moments later, one of the
rafts used as a makeshift wall shattered beneath the force of a thunderous blow.
Splinters of wood flew out like cyclone-tossed darts. A moment of stunned
silence settled over the camp as defenders and attackers alike gaped at the
source of the disturbance.

Out of the mist-covered shadows of the swamp lumbered a
giant, reptilian beast. Each step sent slight tremors through the gore-soaked
ground. Two lizardlike heads raised themselves into the air, snapping
tooth-filled jaws with an ear-splitting hiss. Before anyone could react, the
monster darted out and snared the stunned body of a hapless guard in one of its
mouths.

Majandra was the first to react as the screams of the beasts
victim crescendoed and then, just as suddenly, stopped. Bolts of blue energy
lanced from her extended fingertips, striking the beast with mystical accuracy.
The giant lizard roared in pain but continued its forward progress.

With a muffled curse, Kaerion leapt toward the monster.

It was then that he saw the figure riding upon the beast’s
back. Nearly half again as tall as the other bullywugs, this snarling humanoid
sat easily upon a saddle of horn and black leather. Thickly corded muscles ran
from webbed foot to broad shoulder, hidden only by scaled armor that seemed to
absorb the firelight. Kaerion could see the curving edge of a large, blood-red
axe held confidently in each hand. Around its neck hung a chain of skulls, some
animal, some human; each stared vacantly out of empty eye sockets.

Darting in between the snapping jaws of the slavering lizard,
Kaerion aimed his sword for a deep cut to the beast’s shoulder—only to be forced
to duck as one of its rider’s axes whistled just inches from where his had been.
Moving faster than he could recover, one of the lizard’s heads rammed into
Kaerion’s body, knocking him off balance. He cried out as the larger bullywugs
second axe bit deeply into his own shoulder. Kaerion rolled away, eyeing his
opponent warily. He had felt that blow even with the added protection of
Phathas’ spell!

He caught sight of Vaxor preparing a spell of his own, and
was about to guard the priest’s flank when Phathas shouted, “Kaerion, out of the
way! Quickly!”

Without a moment’s hesitation, the fighter threw himself off
to the left, rolling to his knees as he hit the ground. A bright flash of light
filled the campsite, and the air hummed with tension as a bolt of electrical
energy blasted at the lizard and its axe-wielding rider. Though the beast reared
up in obvious pain, Kaerion was amazed to see that the mounted bullywug had
avoided most of the spell’s effects.

Not wanting to waste the opportunity, Kaerion ran in and laid
a deep gash across the now-reeling lizards front leg. As he raised his sword for
another blow, Vaxor completed his own spell, and with the name of Heironeous on
his lips, he raised his holy symbol into the air. A ray of golden light burst
forth from the silver symbol with searing intensity. As it struck the giant
lizard, the creature gave out a roaring hiss and then stumbled At that moment,
two arrows arced out of the darkness, both taking the creature in the right eye.
It gave out another hissing cry before it crashed to the ground dead.

The beasts rider threw himself from the saddle before the
giant lizard fell to the ground. Kaerion watched in amazement as the creature
rolled gracefully to his feet and charged Vaxor. Such was its speed that the
priest barely had time to raise his shield before one of the axes struck the
metal device with a sharp clang. The second one snuck under his sword’s guard
and lodged deeply in his thigh. The cleric cried out as his attacker, heedless
of the danger at his back, pulled out his bloodied axe and kicked the wounded
priest to the ground.

Kaerion had started to run toward Vaxor at the first sign of
the bullywug’s attack, and he now had a clear shot at the creature’s back.
Nearly two decades of training, however, caused him to hesitate. Striking an
opponent from behind was never an option—even when the opponent in question had
just felled a companion.

The fighter’s hesitation cost him dearly. Both axes free, the
bullywug spun to face his latest attacker, lashing downward with both weapons
faster than, Kaerion could react. The fighter grimaced as the twin edge’s cut
into the flesh in his left shoulder and chest. He would have to remember to
thank the mage when this was all over, for those blows would have no doubt left
him crippled if it hadn’t been for the wizard’s spell.

The bullywug advanced as Kaerion fell back, hoping to gain
some breathing room. As he withdrew, he managed to cut the creature several
times, but with no effect. Looking into the bullywug’s eyes confirmed his worst
fears—the creature was berserk. Kaerion would have to end this fight quickly.

Grasping his sword with both hands, Kaerion sidestepped one
of the bullywug’s axes and brought his sword downward, cutting the creature’s
shoulder and splintering its shoulder blade.

It kept coming.

Kaerion landed several cuts on the berserker’s exposed side,
but the hideous beast kept advancing. Twice more he felt the sting of its axe,
as powerful blows bypassed his magical protection. He could feel Phathas’ spell
beginning to falter.

Exhausted and wounded, Kaerion was unable to avoid stumbling
on an exposed root. As he fell, his opponent raised a blood-drenched axe into
the air and gave a scream of pure hatred. Several arrows thudded into the
berserker’s chest, but to no visible effect. Kaerion rolled hard to the left as
the axe descended, but he felt no pain from the blow.

Kaerion looked up at his opponent, only to see the bluish
glow of Majandra’s blade protruding from its throat. The creature looked as
surprised as he—its long, bloated tongue lolling from the side of its gruesome
mouth. The creature pitched forward, quite dead, as Majandra removed her blade.
Kaerion noted with grudging admiration that the bullywug hadn’t let go of its
weapon even in death.

At the fall of their hero, the remaining bullywugs let out a
despairing wail and withdrew from the camp. Their amphibious forms melted back
into the shadows of the swamp. Kaerion could hear the labored breathing of the
defenders and the anguished groan of the wounded. Grimly, he accepted Majandra’s
aid in rising, and the two walked slowly toward the center of the camp.

Landra had, he noted, already sent several of her people to
gather the dead and wounded, including Vaxor, who hobbled over to the knot of
people surrounding Phathas. But it was the grim face of Gerwyth that caught
everyone’s attention as he melted out of the shadows, holding an object in his
hands.

“We have a problem,” he said simply, noting with a nod the
elegantly fashioned blade he held between his hands.

“What now?” Kaerion responded, in no mood for additional
surprises this night.

“They’ve taken Bredeth,” the elf said, anger and bitterness
apparent in his voice.

The companions greeted this announcement in stunned silence.
All around them, the mist-filled night reached out its fetid tendrils.

“To the Nine Hells with you and your cursed creatures!” the
arrogant noble said through swollen lips.

Durgoth Shem smiled cruelly as the Nyrondese scion offered
feeble struggle against his bullywug captors. The cleric drew close to their
prisoner and ran the back of an immaculately groomed hand across the man’s
bruised face—rough enough to elicit an involuntary hiss of pain.

He had been positively enraged when Braggsh and a contingent
of his sniveling pondmates had burst into their camp, screaming and hissing
about their defeat at the hands of those noble fools. He was halfway toward
eviscerating the entire worthless group of the disgusting creatures when he had
caught sight of the drooping figure two of the bullywug warriors held between
them. All had not been lost. Now, as Durgoth probed their captive for
information, plans upon plans swirled around in his head.