“Mal…” The air was getting colder still. “I don’t think this room was buried in the Cataclysm. Look. Magic or no, none of the walls are cracked. The chests don’t look as old as the wood on the ships or from the other chests we found. I think this was put here well after the Cataclysm. See….”
Dhamon pointed to the far end of the room, where three stone steps led to a wall sealed with more of the green wax. “I think we should leave here. You ought to—”
“There!” Maldred exclaimed. “There hasn’t been the lock or door made that could defeat me!” He and Varek stepped back and flipped open the chest, coughing when a swirl of dust erupted. On the heels of the dust cloud came a diaphanous figure with glowing red eyes.
“Undead!” Dhamon snapped, drawing his sword and lunging forward. “Well and truly wonderful.”
The creature was vaguely man-shaped, but as it moved, it grew and separated, becoming two. The first floated toward Maldred, wispy arms outstretched, mouth forming and cackling. The second sped toward another chest, thrusting insubstantial arms inside, solidifying, then breaking the wood. Another creature came out.
Dhamon raced toward this second chest, sword sweeping in front of him and passing through the again-transparent creature. His sword continued its path, striking instead one of the wood columns and cleaving it in two. Rocks rained down from the ceiling, stinging his arms and head and doing nothing to the creatures.
“By the vanished gods!” Varek cried. “What are these things?”
“Wraiths,” Dhamon shot back as he swung again.
“Your death,” one of the creatures answered, its haunting voice echoing off the stone walls. There were four of the undead creatures now, the newly freed one dividing also.
“We are free,” one of them whispered. “Bound no longer, we will join our brethren.”
“Yes,” another joined in. “Free, we must go.”
Maldred swung at one directly in front of him, snarling as the blade passed through it, inflicting little, if any, damage.
“Why don’t you just die?”
“Free,” they repeated as one.
“We are at last freed from our prison,” said the one nearest Dhamon. Dhamon raced to another chest that one of the wraiths was attempting to open. It glared balefully at him and solidified an arm to take a swipe at him, but Dhamon was faster, bringing up his sword at the last moment and meeting something solid. The wraith howled. Its eyes glowed brightly and seemed to burn into him. “We could not answer the summons, trapped. Free, we can answer now!” It floated to another chest and thrust an arm inside. In a moment, another creature was free.
“Free!” It became a hissing chant, and through it Dhamon heard Maldred gasp as he continued to spar with one of the creatures. Varek muttered curses at one hovering near him, jabbing at it with the glowing dagger he’d taken.
“Brothers, this one stings!” the wraith howled, as Varek’s blade burned the thing’s insubstantial form. “This one must die first.”
“Sweet death,” they chanted. “Death to the man who stings.”
Dhamon heard a splintering, popping sound cut through the chanting. “No!” he shouted. “Mali Varek! Look out!”
One of the wraiths had solidified adjacent to a wooden column and tugged at it, laughing manically when it broke and brought down part of the ceiling with it. Big chunks of rock fell on another chest, splitting it open and releasing more undead.
“We are free!”
“We are summoned! Called to join our brethren!” another cried. “I feel the pull!”
“Let it pull you out of here,” Dhamon shouted. “Leave us!”
Some of the creatures were indeed slipping from the chamber, a cloud of death gliding into the cavern beyond. Others were working on the pillars to bring the building down.
“Maldred, Varek, get out of here!” Dhamon barked. He realized that the undead were going to break open the rest of the chests and free the rest of their macabre comrades, using the rocks falling from the ceiling. The weight of the rocks couldn’t hurt something that was already dead:
“We are called!”
“Magic!” one of them wailed. “I smell magic.”
“It is in the man’s blade. It stings us.”
“Magic!” became the chant as three of the wraiths descended on Varek. One stretched out a diaphanous hand and wrapped it around the glowing blade.
“It stings me!” the wraith cried, but it refused to let go of the weapon. “Magic! I will drink the magic!”
“Dhamon! Help!” Varek tried to pull the dagger from the creature’s grasp, but its two companions had solidified and were holding him in place.
“Sweet magic,” the wraith cooed. Finally it released the weapon, but the blade no longer glowed.
“Sweet magic,” its companions echoed as they hurled Varek against the stone wall, so hard that they momentarily stunned him.
They turned as one to Maldred. “Magic!” they cried.
Dhamon frantically tried to push the wraiths away from the pillars, at the same time trying to make his way around the shattered chests to reach Maldred, now surrounded by the ghostly images.
“There is magic in this man!” one cried. Its eyes glowed white hot in anticipation.
“Sweet sorcerer,” the wraiths chanted. “Sweet death for the sweet sorcerer.”
“Fight me!” Dhamon howled, but the wraiths seemed interested only in Maldred. One of the undead solidified in front of Dhamon to block him.
“The sorcerer’s blade!” the creature cried. “It was forged in magic. Drink the magic!”
“Sweet magic.”
“The man!” another keened shrilly. “He holds far more magic than his weapon. Drink the magic!
Drink his life!”
“Sweet magic.”
“Varek!” Dhamon shouted as he swung at the wraith before him. It reached a clawed hand out and scratched at Dhamon’s face, the nails like icicles digging into his skin. “Varek! Get to Maldred!”
Varek shook his head and pushed away from the wall. The ghosts smashed another pillar, and a great chunk of the ceiling fell, burying Varek. From beneath the rubble the young man groaned, and Dhamon saw that rocks were pinning the big man, too.
“You say you’re been summoned, you filthy thing!” Dhamon spat at the wraith, blocking him. He rained a series of blows against the creature, all of them ineffectual. “Leave! Go to whoever’s calling you.”
“Sweet magic!” came a cry from the chamber beyond the building. Dhamon realized the creatures had discovered the sack containing the magical trinkets.
“Drink the magic!”
“Sweet magic,” cooed the one in front of Dhamon. In a breath it became insubstantial and drifted to join its feasting brothers.
Dhamon hurried toward Maldred, slipping around rocks that barred his way, around a chest where more undead were surging forth.
“Drink the magic!”
“Sweet magic!”
“We are summoned! Called, we must answer!”
“Dhamon!” Maldred’s bellow was filled with pain. A quartet of the undead remained around the big man, and Dhamon watched in horror as one reached ghostly hands inside of Maldred’s chest, the arms solidifying. The big thief screamed.
“Sweet magic!” the four undead cried as they thrust their claws into Maldred’s body and feasted. Dhamon tried to pull them off, but his hands closed on nothing but bone-numbing cold air. He gasped and redoubled his efforts.
“Can’t hurt these things,” he grunted. “Can’t do a damn thing to them!”
“Summoned, we must answer!” one cried from the cavern beyond.
“Sweet magic,” the four in the room repeated. “Sweet magic gone.” As one, they glided to the door and beyond, into the cavern where a cloud of the creatures hovered like fog above the stone floor. Swiftly the cloud lifted. The wraiths faded from view.