Mud and Magic Ch. 11

Astra'il leaned over the root, her cloak stained with blood in several places. Behind her, the globe of darkness dissipated, revealing several more black riders laying in the dirt. "Come now, before more of them show up," she said, pulling Rhys to his feet.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, limping along in her wake. "I didn't mean..."

"No need to apologize. You did what you said - blowing up the fire. Just be careful inside," Astra'il said, throwing him a wary grin over her shoulder.

Rhys shuddered as he followed her across the devastated camp site, his gaze drawn to the scorched corpses littering the ground like oversized, blackened leaves. Arrows stuck from necks or eye sockets like macabre, miniature flag poles. Others had the tell-tale round stab wounds made by Borna's stinger and a few Astra'il had felled with precise sword strikes.

They reached the entrance to the crypts, a low, curved ramp disappearing under one of the massive trunks. Someone had placed fresh torches into sconces along the walls. Rhys could see the remains of a beautiful mural depicting wreathed elves carrying a sarcophagus in an elaborately bedecked procession.

Gael and Borna huddled a few feet further down the ramp. Rhys and Astra'il joined them.

"Where's the rest of them?" the dark elf whispered.

"Probably still down there," Borna muttered. "Only the deaf and the dead could have missed the commotion we caused."

Rhys winced. "What can we expect down there?" he asked Gael.

The elf shrugged. "No idea. I didn't have any reason to creep through the halls of the dead before. But since no one has come to investigate our little massacre, I guess there are enough rooms and corridors in between to muffle the sound." He made his way to a set of large metal doors. They hung askew on their hinges, whatever decoration they once had obliterated by a massive impact.

"Well, at least I'm not the only one misjudging their spells," Rhys muttered.

"Maybe you're brooding too much," Astra'il said encouragingly. "Forget you've ever eaten a Disjunction Stone."

He followed her into the crypt proper. The smell of old stone greeted him. Illumination from the torches behind them quickly turned into a strange twilight. The hallway was tall and narrow, made from a strange stone which reflected the light both with a white and green shimmer, like a mixture of bone and jade. Alcoves at even intervals probably once held flowers or gifts for the dead but they were empty now save for some shattered vases or bits of colored glass. Above them, set into the walls, were small round crystals, providing the barest hint of illumination. His companions seemed comfortable with the light levels but it was far too dark for Rhys to see anything but shadowy outlines. He picked a rock off the floor and concentrated, placing a Light spell onto it. Gentle, golden illumination spilled from between his fingers.

The group walked for nearly two minutes until they reached an intersection.

"This place is much bigger than I anticipated," Gael said, his voice throwing whispering echoes off the walls. "Maybe we should split up and explore in twos."

"Oh, that will be fun," Borna muttered. "How shall we notify you if we find anything important? I have misplaced my carrier pigeons."

"I can help," Astra'il said. She dug around in a pouch at her belt and produced a set of rings, intertwined bands of silver set with a circular piece of moonstone. "Please don't lose it," she said, sliding one ring over Rhys' finger.

"Aw, how romantic," Borna chuckled. "Shall I speak some vows?"

Astra'il stood on tip toes and breathed a kiss onto Borna's lips, shutting up the cursed girl. Then she pulled her head down and whispered something into her ear. Her hand slithered under Borna's coat.

The cursed girl growled and closed her hand around Astra'il's wrist. "Not now," she warned.

"Now you know when we could play at marriage," Astra'il quipped. She clapped Gael's shoulder. "We'll take the eastern corridor."

"Wait!" Rhys said. "How does the ring work? What does it do?"

"Kiss the stone, speak my name and whatever you say next, I will hear," Astra'il said with a bright smile. She whirled away and hurried after Gael.

"So, you and me again, huh?" Rhys asked Borna. "And what was that about 'playing at marriage?'"

Borna grinned. "She wanted under my loincloth in our pretend wedding night. And I'd rather have you at my back than him." Her tail slashed east.

"You don't like Gael." Rhys turned west, his rock light illuminating their way. Several yawning doorways were visible ahead.

"No secret there," Borna said, silently walking beside him. "I have seen his type way too often already. Zealots. Too many preconceptions, too many principles set in stone. Unwavering thoughts, yet very loose weapons. Without the promise he gave his sister, he'd be at your throat, mark my words."

"And poking the bear is a wise choice?"

Borna laughed softly, a sound so unfamiliar, Rhys stopped dead in his tracks. "What can he do? His arrows probably will just bounce off."

"Unless he goes for the soft parts," Rhys said. "I'd watch my cute butt if I were you."

Now it was Borna to do a double take. "Did... did you just compliment my... ass?"

"We're on a quest, Borna. Complimenting is all I can do right now," Rhys said, his eyes sparkling.

She blushed furiously. "How about we try and watch out for traps or the like?"

Rhys looked around. "Considering the amount of plundered alcoves, I would think that any grave robbers would have tripped them before us. Twice over, at least."

"Remember that room under Storm Harbor," Borna cautioned. She peered into a doorway. "Odd."

"What?" Rhys joined her and illuminated the room she had looked into. It was a narrow chamber, wide enough for an elaborately decorated sarcophagus on a wide plinth. The lid had been placed upright next to the base. It depicted a beautiful, naked elf woman clutching a carved staff against her slender body. The sarcophagus was empty.

"This is recent," Borna muttered, indicating fresh tracks in the sheets of dust covering the floor. "Someone took the body."

"Let's look around," Rhys said, limping across the corridor. He looked into another chamber. The view was eerily similar. Another open sarcophagus, this time the probable occupant had been a male elf. According to the chiseled lid, he had worn a wide headband taming a flood of hair and carried some kind of crystal orb in front of his stomach, just above an impressively sized phallus.

There were four more chambers along their corridor and each one had been desecrated, the sarcophagi emptied.

"They're not skulking around here," Borna said. "Maybe there's another level below."

"Rhys." Astra'il's voice came from about waist-height. Rhys nearly dropped his rock light. Shaking his head, he raised his hand. The moonstone ring shone in a silvery light. "We have found some burial chambers. The bodies are gone. We'll return to the intersection."

Feeling a bit strange, Rhys touched the ring to his lips. "Astra'il. We'll join you there."

"Let's go then," Borna muttered, slinking past him. "No need to keep your girlfriend waiting."

* * * *

"How deep does this thing go?" Rhys asked no one in particular. They had met back at the intersection and walked along the last corridor they hadn't yet tried. It went due north and ended at another wide ramp which corkscrewed downwards.

"I am as surprised as you are," Gael confessed. "We have found twelve empty sarcophagi in total. I thought that would be every single High Mage, even those from before the Fall."

"What about the rest of their families?" Astra'il asked. "They didn't just bury the heads of the household, did they?"

Gael made a face. "I'm no authority on burial rites. If the inscriptions on the lids were any indication, they only buried those who actually had become High Mage and burned the rest like proper elves." He shrugged. "And look what it got them. Stolen and possibly defiled like some common carcasses."

"Now this smells like proper undeath," Borna muttered, inhaling deeply. "Be careful."

Gael stopped and sniffed. "I'm amazed at the acuity of your senses," he said. "For me, the scent of rot is barely perceptible." He nocked another arrow. "Can you tell me what lies ahead?"

Borna shrugged. "No clue. It smells like rotting flesh. Probably no skeletons then." She waited until Rhys was close. "Try casting your Armor spell."

"I just hope I won't turn into a somewhat-"

"Do it!" Borna snapped. Rhys fell silent, surprised at her sudden ferocity. He gathered energy around himself. This time, it was much harder, on account of a lack of power sources. There was some earth energy he could tap into, but that was it. My flesh is as hard as steel and still flexible, Rhys thought emphatically, turning the power inwards like he had done under Idunn's supervision time and time again. He opened his eyes again. "How does it look?" he asked.

Borna's tail stinger slapped against his shoulder. He noticed the impact but he also noticed the metallic ring the wickedly sharp bone spike produced.

"Finally," Borna muttered. She accelerated and joined Gael who knelt next to the entrance to the next level. Her face showed acute disgust. Rhys sniffed. There was the aroma of old stone and stale air but apart from that...

A whiff of something vile hit his nostrils and he froze. He had smelled this particular aroma before, back home on the farm when they had rescued Mirrin. His dead Gran had smelled like that, at least a bit. That aroma had lurked under decades of smoke and herb smells, too faint to consciously notice but now that he smelled it again, that particular stench hit him like a hammer out of nowhere. He gasped.

A moment later, something leaped out of the doorway Gael was kneeling next to. The elven archer rolled sideways, got up his bow and released his arrow. The shot didn't stop the attacking... thing but it at least diverted it. Hissing, it scrabbled back into the darkness. The hisses intensified at least a dozen times.

"What was that?" Borna asked, wide-eyed.

Gael spat. "A corpse-eater. You are rather slow, demon." He came to his feet.

Borna growled threateningly. "I was surprised. And I am not a demon, damn you!"

"Well," Gael said brightly. "Being caught by a corpse-eater usually means your death. Their bites will paralyze you and if you're really unlucky, you might catch any of a number of diseases thanks to their feeding habits. Rotting meat isn't healthy."

"Do say," Borna said, shivering. "Now what?"

"I wouldn't mind our sorcerer throwing a Fireball or two into that hall ahead where all the corpse-eaters seem to lurk," Gael said smugly. "Worked well enough above. And no need for a guilty conscience this time. These beasts are practically undead themselves."

"Aren't they?" Borna asked.

Gael shrugged. "Those studying the habits of monsters are divided on that. They are too quick and intelligent to be true undead. They lack many of their resistances, they obviously need flesh for sustenance and they can reproduce."

"They can what?" Astra'il was a delicate shade of grey around her nose and mouth.

Gael's tattooed visage twisted into a horrifying leer. "Male corpse-eaters can infect females." He made a very rude gesture. "And the offspring of such a union-"

"I... I think I don't want to know the specifics," Astra'il muttered. "Yikes."

"So, what about that Fireball, Rhys?" Gael asked, indicating the doorway with a flourish. "Anytime today?"

"I prefer to know what I blow up," Rhys said, kneeling down next to the doorway. His knee hit the stones with a satisfying clang. He slid the rock light into the darkness. A chorus of angry hisses greeted it. Quickly, he peered into the room. Astra'il was beside him, her supple body a reassuring sensation against his back.

Something came flying out of the gloom, missing his head by less than an inch. A skull bounced on the stone ramp with a hollow clacking.

"Have you seen that?" Rhys asked Astra'il.

"What do you mean? All those fangs and talons?" She shivered. "There's at least two dozen of these things in there."

"I was talking about the tattered clothing. They wore black and gold."

"Interesting," Gael said. "So whoever is leading this... expedition can turn people into corpse-eaters. Now that we've sated our curiosity..."

"Yes, yes. Fireball. Cover me, please." Rhys shook out his hands and pulled himself to his feet. He gathered as much energy as his surroundings provided and focused it all into an incandescent ball of pure fire. He turned back into the doorway and tossed it into the room. Two shapes flew towards him, past the glowing pinprick of elemental fire, all rending claws and bared teeth. A heartbeat later, someone yanked him backwards. Two arrows and a sword blade crossed his field of vision, taking out the corpse eaters. Their dead bodies hit the doorstep just as the fireball detonated, painting flailing shadows onto the inside of his closed eyelids. A moment later, a chain of explosions echoed through the hall, shaking the tower to its foundations. Overhead, stone cracked and fist-sized rocks crumbled from the millennia-old ceiling. One hit Rhys' head with a sound resembling a helmet being struck with a warhammer, knocking him clean on his back. His hand came up, checking to see if his skull was still whole.

Borna's face came into view. "What the fucking hell was that?" she asked, her voice somewhere between panic and concern. She extended her hand.

"Ow, ow, ow," Rhys muttered, clasping the offered hand. Much more gently than her tone suggested, Borna hauled him to his feet and clutched him against her coat-covered chest. "I wish I knew."

Astra'il cleared her throat. "I think I've seen some tall curvy amphorae in that hall. My Elven is a bit rusty. Gleir-something?"

Gael shook his head. "Maybe that Fireball wasn't such a good idea. Are you trying to kill us all, boy?" He looked at Astra'il. "What was that? My ears are ringing something fierce."

"Amphorae. Before the explosion!" Astra'il said aloud, moving her hands in an exaggerated, almost-hourglass shape. "Runes. Gleir-something."

Gael palmed his face. "Lifegiver preserve me. I'm sorry."

"What? Why?" Rhys asked, trying to hear the elf over the ringing in his own ears.

"Gleir-lafas," he moaned. "'The Keeping Waters.' Embalming fluid. Highly volatile. That answers many questions. For example, what that room was meant for." He came to his knees unsteadily.

"That's it," Rhys said. "I'm done with fire spells. I'll let Lishaka handle them from now on."

"Why?" Gael asked, his visage twisting into a fierce grin. "They're dead and we're not. I'd call that a win."

"And the ruckus will have alerted anything above and below us," Borna said, shaking her head from side to side. Rhys reached up and touched her cheek, right by the ear. Blood was trickling down her face.

Astra'il was by his side in a heartbeat. She hummed her healing spell - a bit unevenly - and touched Borna's face. The cursed girl snapped at the dark elf's fingers. Astra'il pulled them back in a flash.

"If you want to eat me, sweetling, you'll have to wait until we're back at the inn," Astra'il said. "I may not be that pious anymore but there are certain things I wouldn't do in a crypt." She twirled away gracefully and repeated her healing spell for Gael. "Better?"

"Let's get this over with already. I'm regretting ever acquiescing to Sylae's wishes," he grumbled. "An incompetent sorcerer, a lusty dark elf and ... whatever you are." His gaze passed over Borna.

"I could tear you limb from limb if you keep this up," Borna promised. "So far, you've talked a big game but, apart from a few arrows, I've seen nothing noteworthy from you either."

Gael opened his mouth for a venomous retort. A strange aroma suddenly wafted through the space they were in, as if they suddenly had stumbled onto a clearing in spring, with all flowers in full bloom. He raised his bow, a gleaming silver arrow nocked.

Rhys slowly turned around. Behind them, on the ramp, he could make out a somewhat humanoid shape, more a translucent cloud than anything. It wasn't a hallucination either - there was definitely something there. The same sense he used to find magical power sources practically sang. The shape reached out what he presumed was a hand.

"Don't," Borna hissed behind him. "It could be dangerous!"

"So you see it too?" Rhys asked. Intrigued, he stepped closer and raised a hand of his own, palm up. "And I don't feel any hostility coming from... whatever it is."

"Maybe that's the point?" Borna snapped. "Ever heard of flytraps?"

Rhys concentrated. His hand was less than a finger's length away from the shimmering manifestation's. If anything, he could feel a burning longing for his touch, a siren call almost impossible to ignore. I hope I won't regret this, he thought. He closed the distance and allowed his hand to be enveloped by the shimmering energy. Something tickled and shot up his arm, a pleasant sensation like sunlight on naked skin. Up his shoulder and neck the sensation raced until it blossomed in his brain. Rhys' knees gave out.

* * * *

Celeste sat up with a start. Her hand pawed the mattress by her side. Of course it was empty. After her outburst a few days ago, Elara had thrown her out and she had claimed one of the empty rooms. The normally routine act of coaxing the door to open with a bit of magic only emphasized how badly out of shape she really was. A bad case of Sorcerer's Burn had hit her and she had spent two days wheezing and huffing in bed while Sen tenderly saw to her needs. Most of them anyway. Whenever Sen tried to sneak a hand under her covers to pleasure her, all Celeste could think about was Rhys, how effortlessly his touches and especially his mouth had soothed her. The clandestine advances of the half-elven maid only reminded her too much of Dara and that was a freshly scabbed over gash in her heart she wanted to let heal some more.

Much more pressing was the question what had woken her up so harshly. She listened. The tower was its usual quiet self. Thanks to the transdimensional nature of the rooms, there wasn't even the chance of hearing any noises from neighboring rooms, no arguing, no heated lovemaking. She used a tinderbox and lit the oil lamp on her nightstand, half expecting to see Desire lurking in the shadows.

No. She can't be here. I haven't touched that idol since... that time. And I probably never will again.

She closed her eyes and slid back onto the pillow, trying desperately to summon the last vestiges of any possible dream she might have had. I am good with visions. I was good with visions, back when I had graduated. Celeste forced herself to calm down, to slow her breath and summon that particular state of mind required to see Beyond. But peace would not come. Enlightenment would not come. There was only the nagging feeling it had to do with Rhys.

Exasperated, Celeste tossed back the covers and slid from the bed. Without a horny elven princess by her side, she had resumed sleeping naked, something Sen had seen as a tacit invitation. And I can't even blame her, Celeste thought as she strode into the adjacent bathroom and admired herself in the mirror. Barely two weeks had passed since she had found herself back at the tower and the regular, nourishing meals had caused her curves to fill out nicely again. She washed herself and wound a loincloth around her waist before pulling on a fresh blue student robe. I hope Eric will be back soon. I need proper clothes, not this costume bullshit, she thought bitterly as the cool, metallic fabric caressed her skin. Her hand went for the bell pull but stopped short.