The Shrine of Kallen (The Tales of Zanoth Book 3) Read online

  Their first day's journey was completely uneventful. This was hardly shocking considering that they were traveling along the edge of the mountains and, therefore, the edge of Grathis's territory. When combined with the fact that the undead lord had just had one of his armies routed, the entire party had expected little, if any, resistance.

  Sarrac brought the band to a halt nearly an hour before the sun set to give them time to organize their camp – which was much larger than normal – while they still had daylight to do it in. Just minutes after nightfall, the entire party was circled around a merrily crackling blaze.

  “I wonder what it is,” Nyssa said, thoughtfully gazing into the fire.

  “What what is?” Joey asked, glancing over the top of the tome in his hands.

  “The thing we haven't found yet.”

  “What thing?”

  “I don't know, do I?” she said, shaking her head. “If I knew that, I wouldn't be wondering what it was, would I?”

  For several seconds, the red-robed wizard merely stared at the fair fairy in silence before turning his eyes back to his book.

  “I suppose it could be anything,” she continued roughly a minute later. “Well... not anything. It almost certainly has to be a room of some kind. Ah, but what kind of a room? That's the real question, isn't it?”

  “Seems like it,” Joey replied, shaking his head.

  “Well, of course it is,” she giggled, before putting her fist under her chin. “What could it be? There are just so many possibilities. Not to mention the fact that we don't know where it is. Where do you think it might be, Joey?”

  “On a tropical island,” he replied, rolling his eyes.

  “That would be incredible!” she said excitedly. “I've never been to one before. Of course, that would mean crossing the ocean. Which we do not want to have to do. Not without magic anyway. Plus, we could end up stranded on the island. What if our ship wrecked on the reef? We might never make it home again. Well, not until Myra or I teleported us back. But that could take days, or weeks, or months, or even years! That would be horrible! Of course, you're probably wrong. You usually are.”

  “I suppose I am,” he nodded.

  “Please be quiet, Joey,” she said, waving her hand at him dismissively. “I'm trying to think.”

  In reply, he simply nodded in silence. This action more fully attracted the fairy's attention.

  “You can talk,” she smiled. “Just make sure you don't talk to me.”

  “Got ya.”

  “Shhh.”

  “How goes the reading, bro?” Paul asked with a chuckle.

  “Except for the interruptions?” Joey replied, a tone of sarcasm in his voice. “Wonderful!”

  “I'm just teasing.”

  “Don't worry about it,” the wizard replied, putting the volume back in his bag. “I'm actually at a good stopping point. Myra, I've got some questions for you.”

  “Hopefully,” she smiled, “I'll have some answers for you.”

  “Those two spells you use that only effect undead,” he said, “the one that detects them and the one that makes the living look like them.”

  “Yes?”

  “Does it require more power to limit their effects exclusively to undead?”

  “More skill,” she replied, “but, less power.”

  “That's what I thought,” he nodded. “So, although the spells are harder to cast, they channel less energy?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Meaning, you can cast more and wear yourself out less?”

  “Just so.”

  “Mmmm,” he nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Do they both use dark power?”

  “No,” she replied, shaking her head. “Detecting the dead does. The spell I use is ancient and I was taught to do it as a child. The other one, though, is a creation of my own and is arcane in nature.”

  “Can you teach me to cast it?”

  “I'm fairly certain I can,” she smiled.

  “Good,” he nodded. “I can imagine that coming in very useful.”

  As the two once again began chattering away about the inner workings of magic, Paul decided that he was going to have to learn something about it. If nothing else, it would keep him from being left out of the conversations between the would-be wizard and the former lich. Considering the fact that he couldn't even read the characters – much less the language – of magic and everything his two companions said on the subject sounded like complete and total gibberish, it was likely going to be a long road.

  The next few days were filled with the same pattern. The entire band set out just before the sun came up and stopped just before it went down. Alena, Sarrac, and Darek kept the men organized and spent a great deal of time together discussing what their next course of action might be once everyone was safely back at the fortress. Nyssa scouted ahead of the group to make sure they didn't encounter any unwelcome surprises, while also doing her best to work out what the thing was and where they might find it. Myra and Joey spent hours and hours talking about runes, and mystic words, and powers of this and that sort – which Paul couldn't follow at all. Fortunately, she couldn't keep talking about it while she was asleep. Even more fortunately, she kept snuggling up to him for warmth during the night.

  This pattern was broken during the last night before they hoped to reach the tomb. Less than an hour before dawn, Paul sat up with a start. He gazed around the camp to see Alena and Sarrac sitting beside the embers of the fire, keeping each other company during last watch.

  “What's wrong?” the ogress asked with a smile. “Have a bad dream?”

  “Not exactly,” he said, climbing quickly to his feet. “Something evil is nearby. Wake everyone.”

  Immediately, the pair leapt into action; sounding the alarm and summoning the Warriors into the center of the camp.

  “Can you see what it is?” Joey asked, taking up a position at the side of the paladin.

  “A lot of things,” Paul replied, gazing into the darkness.

  Through the eyes of faith, the young man could discern a large number of incorporeal undead slowly surrounding the camp. One of these figures was familiar to him. It was a wraith that appeared to be a man in full armor, a spiked crown on his head. The first – and last – time he had seen him, had been in the tomb of King Paffek – where they had discovered The Arms. Although, at that time, he had been difficult for Paul to see – only visible when the paladin wasn't looking directly at him – he felt certain it was the same creature.

  “Wraiths,” Myra said, staring into the night with glowing green eyes, “and specters.”

  “Build up the fires!” Alena shouted. “The undead are upon us!”

  “Not for long,” Paul replied confidently, stepping out toward their insubstantial enemies.

  Immediately, the undead began drifting silently toward him.

  “Drop dead!” he cried, holding his holy symbol aloft as he did so.

  Waves of golden light enveloped the vanguard of the undead force, burning them to sparkling dust, while others fell back before the power of the gods. This did not slow their assault, however. Almost at once, the entire camp was attacked from every side.

  Myra didn't even make the attempt to take command of any of these creatures. The insanity that filled their minds made them difficult to control under the best of circumstances. There was no hope of success when facing perhaps hundreds of them – incessantly whispering words of madness to one another. Instead, she lashed out with the dark power; driving them from Zanoth and into the afterlife.

  Darek knew that the enemies they faced couldn't simply reach through his armor and drain the life from his soul. He had faced them before, and the magic in his breastplate could protect him. Provided, of course, that they didn't touch his flesh. Preventing that was difficult, however, as there were so many of them – and they could fly. On the other hand, his weapons were almost as deadly to them. With a flick of his wrist, he managed to completely sever the forearm of the
specter that was reaching out toward him. All he needed to do was kill them without getting killed. Just like always, really. Still, he was going to have to stay on his toes.

  Alena and Sarrac fought side by side, wading fearlessly into the fray and ignoring the icy grasp of the few undead that managed to touch them. The two-handed sword in the ogre's hands had reach, as well as power. With every swing, he brought the unlife of another of these creatures of darkness to an end. The ogress fought with sword and shield; protecting herself and her companion from the incorporeal grasp of their enemies. Her deft maneuvers pieced the un-beating and insubstantial hearts of one foe after another.

  Nyssa did what she usually did in situations like this, burning one undead horror after another into nothingness with the magical flames she threw from her hands. These adversaries were a little more difficult to deal with, of course, as they could move in three dimensions. Plus, she couldn't just fly up out of their reach. More than once, she was struck by a cold, ethereal hand. It was something she didn't care for. For one thing, it hurt – and pain was something she found extremely unpleasant.

  Fortunately, all the Warriors were armed with weapons capable of wounding their foes, and armor that could repel their attacks. They were also experienced, valiant, and determined. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder against death itself; each doing their part to drive back the darkness.

  Joey had been waiting for an opportunity like this. In spite of the fact that she was a little... flighty... sometimes, Nyssa was becoming more the girl of his dreams with each passing day. There was just something about her. Actually, there were a lot of things about her. And, he had obviously impressed her by killing that giant. She'd mentioned it numerous times over the last few days, including occasionally making the observation that she really did find male magic-users very attractive.

  This attack was a chance to show off something new he'd picked up from his reading while, at the same time, saving his friends from a sea of undead monstrosities. The red-robed wizard held an open book in his left hand and his staff in his right as he read from the open page in the light of the blazing fire.

  As he intoned the words of the enchantment, a ball of flame nearly six feet in diameter formed in front of him and began rolling quickly – and directly – toward the embattled paladin.

  The undead were doing their best to surround Paul, while he was doing his best to conserve his energy. He had destroyed several formless undead with his initial turn, but it hadn't been nearly as effective as his last had been. He also felt that there was a very good chance he would have to do some healing once the battle was over. He had been struck several times already and knew well how the blows of these attackers seemed to strike the very spirit of the living. If possible, he wanted to make sure all the men with him reached their kin alive. That meant saving his strength.

  As he severed the heads of a pair of wraiths – golden flames engulfing their insubstantial bodies – several others managed to get behind him. As their ethereal hands reached out for him, their unlives were brought to an end by bolts of dark power and jets of magical fire. Paul was aware of this fact, although he couldn't see exactly what happened since his back was turned toward his companions.

  It was also because of this fact, that he wasn't aware of the truly massive ball of pure fire that was rolling toward him at high speed – although, he did notice the increasing light level. He would have turned his head to see what it was if he hadn't been engaged at that moment with the crowned wraith. Paul wasn't sure what is was, but there was something different about him.

  The creature approached the paladin cautiously, before suddenly raising its left hand and blasting his adversary in the chest with a black bolt of energy. As Paul was immune to dark power, however, this had absolutely no effect on him. With a look of resolve in its glowing red eyes, the creature drew a sword from its side and lashed out at the young man.

  Paul was surprised to find that the seemingly-ethereal blade of his enemy rang off his shield as if it were solid. The paladin counter-attacked, only to have his blade blocked by his foe's sword of shadow. He had been right: there was certainly something different about this monster. Whatever it was, the young man was determined not to take his eyes off the creature.

  “Paul, man!” Joey yelled, doing his best to take control of the flaming ball. “Move!”

  Although the paladin did a lot of moving, most of it wasn't of the out-of-the-way variety. As a result, Joey spoke again.

  “I'm saying; move, man! Get out the way!”

  Paul still didn't manage it. For one thing, Joey's voice wasn't particularly distinct over the din of battle.

  “Jump for it, bro!” Joey cried at the top of his lungs.

  Fortunately for Paul, all the noise the wizard managed to make did attract the attention of the fairy. Nyssa took control of the ball just before it struck her companion. She then turned it in such a way as to cause it to miss the paladin and instead strike a pack of nearby undead. As the flaming sphere shot past the two combatants, the eyes of the crowned wraith were momentarily drawn from the young man.

  Instantly, Paul took advantage of the distraction; jamming Telseir into the monster's chest. The creature shrieked in agony as its body was wrapped in golden flames. Moments later, it had vanished – although, the paladin was confident that he had merely wounded, and not destroyed, his foe. Seconds after this, the camp was filled with silence. The undead had fled.

  Although close to ten of the horses had been slain by the icy grip of the undead attackers, all of the Warriors had survived. Several of them, however, had been very near-death before the healing hands of the paladin and the fairy had been called upon.

  Most of the horses that hadn't been slain had scattered. Sarrac was certain it would take them an hour or two to gather them all up once the sun had risen. Fortunately, he was equally positive that they would still be able to reach the tomb before the sun set again.

  For the time being, all they could do was wait for the dawn and hope that the undead did not renew their attack.

  “Joey...” Alena said slowly, before turning her eyes to the wizard. “Nyssa tells me that you made that ball of fire.”

  “I did.”

  “Mmmm,” she said, nodding her head. “That was a new spell, wasn't it?”

  “It was.”

  “Were you trying to kill Paul, or...”

  “Of course not,” he replied defensively. “The spell just went wrong! The ball was supposed to fly, not roll around on the ground, and I was supposed to be able to control it.”

  “Both of which would have been the case,” Myra nodded, “had you cast it properly.”

  “Obviously! But, it was the first time I...”

  “Here's an idea, Joey!” Alena said, snapping her fingers. “Next time, try casting a new spell not in the middle of a battle. Or is it going to take actually killing one of us...”

  “One time I...”

  “Twice,” Myra interrupted. “The first time you tried to create a lightning bolt...”

  “Okay. Twice!” he admitted. “That's no reason...”

  “Yes, it is!” the ogress disagreed.

  “She's right,” Darek asserted.

  “Alright,” the wizard admitted with a sigh. “She is. I'm sorry. I really won't do it again. I just thought I was getting better and...”

  “You are getting better,” Nyssa interjected with a smile. “A lot better. I was amazed you were even able cast that spell.”

  “Thank you,” he replied, smiling at her in return.

  “On the other hand,” she continued. “It's like Alena just said; that was an incredibly stupid thing to do.”

  “She didn't say that,” Joey pointed out.

  “That was an incredibly stupid thing to do,” Alena said obligingly.

  “You see,” Nyssa nodded, before turning her eyes to the ogress. “You know, Alena, it's no wonder we're best friends.”

  “No,” the ogress chuckled, “it's not.”r />
  “So,” Joey said, “are we done berating me for the moment?”

  “For the moment,” the fairy replied.

  “Wonderful. Now, Paul, how about sanctifying the ground before those things show back up.”

  “I can't,” the paladin explained. “If they attack again, I want to have the strength to turn; not to mention, be able to handle some healing.”

  “If the ground was sanctified,” the wizard replied, “they wouldn't be able to reach us.”

  “That's true,” Paul ceded, “But, at the moment, I wouldn't be able to sanctify enough ground for us all to take a stand on. I've already channeled too much divine power for that.”

  “Anything's better than nothing,” Joey asserted. “You really should have sanctified the whole camp before the sun went down.”

  “In retrospect, I agree. However, as none of our camps have ever been attacked by a legion of miscellaneous ethereal nightmares before, the thought didn't occur to me.”

  “Grathis must have sent them,” Darek said thoughtfully. “Which means; he has to know where we are.”

  “Obviously,” Alena replied, shaking her head. “Hordes of incorporeal undead don't just wander around the countryside.”

  “Why don't they?” Joey asked. “To me, at least, it seems just like the kind of thing they would do.”

  “That’s because you don't know anything,” Nyssa pointed out.

  “Teach me.”

  “There are a number of reasons,” Myra replied. “First, most of them are extremely dangerous...”

  “We just killed who knows how many,” Joey interjected, “and didn't lose a single man.”

  “Yes,” Alena nodded. “Of course, our entire band is armed and armored with magical equipment powerful enough to protect us from their attacks and end their unnatural lives. On top of which, one of our traveling companions happens to be the it, who was able to warn us before they even had a chance to attack. Without both of those advantages, there's a good chance none of us would have seen another dawn.”

  “Not to mention the fact that the gods are watching over us,” Sarrac smiled.