Bloodstained Blade-Chapter 41 - The Underworld

The four of them entered the hallway cautiously, and only after the mage cast a new spell that made her eyes glow with an intense violet light. “It’s so I can see traps better,” she explained before moving forward, one careful step at a time.

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No one liked the idea of Altharia being anywhere near the front of the group. They argued about it, and it was clear that no one else could do what she could do, either. In the end, all that Ivarr could do was stand close to her left while Sammel took up the rear with a torch.

The blade ignored all of that and instead focused on the place they were. It didn’t have the best vision, and unlike their mage, it had no way to see magic. It couldn’t even feel how cold the place was, even though everyone else complained about that. All it could do was keep a close eye on the way the stones fit together and hope to spot something before they were all murdered, and it spent the next century lying here on the floor.

That was harder than it would have thought, though, given that the hallway was hardly bare. While the dark gray stones fit together tightly, there were a number of plaques and inscriptions. At first, it feared each one of these small monuments might contain similar magics to the door, but they turned out to be nothing more than paeans to the Mage-King Al’Hazzarin.

Each separate plaque took the time to wax philosophically about him or someone close to him. The first few were about what a great man he’d been and how much he’d accomplished in his nearly two-hundred-year reign. This one talked about his rise to power, and that one talked about how he founded his capital and how lavish his palace was.

After a while, some of the plaques were no longer about the mage king himself. They were about some favored servant. Most of those were placed above a niche that included the skeletal remains of what they could only assume was the servant in question. There was one that discussed the accomplishments of his most fearless general and another that praised his favorite horse.

Those few scattered corpses weren't even enough to trigger its Endless Malaise. It had ticked higher when they were surrounded by the recently dead goblins in the last room, but here, there was nothing at all. It had no idea just how little energy centuries-old corpses might have left to leak. After a while, it became hard for anyone, including the sword, to take the danger of this place seriously.

By the time Ivarr and Sammel started to joke about how long it would be until they found the final resting place of the man’s favorite dog, the mystique was gone. They'd spent weeks building this evil tomb up in their mind, and except for the strange defense on the front door, it seemed to be nothing more than a museum full of dusty relics.

Their caution was renewed briefly, and everyone hesitated when they found the next set of large brass doors three hundred feet into the mountain. However, they relaxed immediately when it was found to contain the remains of the mages’ many wives.

The room was practically a harem for the dead. Up until now, the hallway had been a solemn, sterile list of accomplishments and trophies. This room, though, was painted with bright, colors, and draped with fine silks. Most of that paint had flaked off, and most of the silks had rotted away, but it was still possible to see the intended effect.

Each of the bodies was laid on a dais that looked like a couch or a bed, and the women were meant to look like they were sleeping. That effect was entirely overshadowed by the illusions that had been woven over each woman.

The effect wasn’t powerful enough to cover them completely. It was translucent and showed their bones underneath, but it was still enough to see what each of the women had once looked like, and they were clearly beauties plucked from all races throughout the known world. The way that they glowed faintly in the dark room as they lay there even gave them the grim sight a somewhat angelic appearance.

The blade wasn’t touched by it, but the mortals that accompanied it stood there for several moments, silently appreciating it, before Ivarr’s friend ruined it. “I thought this guy was supposed to be all about evil magic,” Sammel Joked, “To me, it looks like he just wanted to get laid.”

That much was true, but the blade ignored the idiot along with everyone else. They discussed everything they’d seen with more deliberation.

“Behind the pretty colors and painted faces, I sense much evil here,” the priest said. “Especially from those doors.”

The bronze doors that stood on the opposite side of the room were impossible to miss. They were twice the size of the ones that they’d come in through. They were decorated with a bas-relief image of what it could only assume was the mage Lord at a scale that made him nearly ten feet tall. He stood there in his regal prime with his hands on his hips as if he was judging them.

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“What do you sense?” the mage asked. “I see no magic there. The only magic in this place is on the corpses.”

Though every attempt had been made to make him look good, the doors did not make him look handsome. That was a strange trade-off. So was the fact that the doors didn’t seem to be locked, either.

“It’s not the doors that are evil,” the priest corrected himself. “It's something past them. It's leaking out from the seams and the hinges. We should be very careful from this point forward.”

The priest paused then to pray, but even as he was beginning to exude a golden light, the blade noticed something. Sammel was standing at the back of the group, and he was looking from body to body of the woman. At first, the blade thought he was either being a pervert or simply being curious. It was only when he reached for the bangles on the wrist of the dead woman, though, that it realized he was planning to steal from the dead.

This place didn’t seem dangerous, but the fact that the only magic that was here was on the corpses themselves bothered it. Vanity was one thing, but the best reason for such gaudy magics would be to hide something less savory beneath it. Despite its powers over death, it had no feeling of necromancy.

It knew a bad idea when it saw one, though. Even as it warned Ivarr to stop his friend, it watched the illusionary eyes of that corpse open. Sammel was too busy trying to strip all the gold jewelry off of the body that he could while no one was looking.

That made sense since he expected this to be his last adventure. The young man obviously wanted a big score. Unfortunately, his last adventure came to an end sooner than he would have thought.

“Sammel!” Ivarr cried. “What are you doing?! Stop!”

“What!” he cried out defensively. “I’m just—”

The boy looked up just in time to miss as the skeletal arm in his hands came to life, and thrust into his guts with its knifelike bony fingers. The young warrior staggered back from surprise as much as pain, still clutching his stolen treasure in one hand even as the skeleton refused to let go of his guts, and his intestines came out a little more with every step back.

The whole thing was somehow made more gruesome by the fact that the illusionary mask never faded. The thing that had mortally wounded Sammel was a deathless skeleton, but it was also a dusky belly dancer, and that juxtaposition made the scene even more horrifying.

Even those awful details weren’t as horrifying as the fact that all of the other women were starting to rise now, too. Their slumber had been interrupted, and they rose as one within seconds, surrounding the group completely.

Sammel dropped his gold and drew his sword, even as he tried to pull his intestines free from the grip of his attacker. He never even noticed that he was blundering into another ghostly beauty behind him until she yanked him back and drew her claws across his throat. That was enough to make him whirl around, but even as the steel blade shattered her skull, and the illusion vanished along with whatever force animated her, two more were coming at him from the left.

While all of that was going on, Ivarr fought toward his friend, but before he could reach Sammel, the blade noted the mage was about to be torn apart in the same way. Right now, they were completely surrounded, and no direction was safe.

Not him, the sword said. Sammel is lost. Save the elf, and, or you will be forced to flee alone in seconds.

Whether it was because Ivarr agreed with the blade’s logic or because he wanted the elf, the weapon did not know, but there was almost no hesitation. Its wielder swung the blade hard enough to shatter one of the women who was advancing on Sammel before he whirled and moved to defend the mage, leaving his friend to his fate.

-1 Life Force

Even acting so decisively, though, it was a close thing. The mage might be incredibly powerful, but at this range, she was all but helpless. She couldn’t even start casting a spell before she had to stagger out of reach of the grasping hands, and though Ivarr could slay two and three at a time, they kept closing in.

-1 Life Force

-1 Life Force

In this horrific scene, only Dero was truly safe. Even as the bloodshed started, the golden glow around him increased in intensity, forcing the mob of strangely beautiful skeletons to shy away from him. Those that did not do so quickly enough staggered as they crumbled into dust.

-1 Life Force

For the blade, it was a strange fight. It was used to killing men and monsters that were flesh and blood. Normally, when it struck, it could feel the meat slicing away before its sharp edge, and with each swing, it expected to be bathed in the blood of its opponents.

-1 Life Force

This fight was different, though. With each strike, it found only cold bone and a numbing tingle. It was like the chill of the grave was attempting to drain the energy it collected, but it could find no purchase.

-1 Life Force

-1 Life Force

How much worse would this be if I hadn’t completed the path of death? It wondered. The answer to that was fairly obvious, and it knew that for now, it should ignore those questions and focus on the fight, but that was hard when none of its blows were rewarded with Life Force or souls. It was a strange situation for the Ebon Blade, and it couldn’t help but wonder if there was something here in the dark that might manage to steal even its soul.