He let out a bellow of rage and spun wildly, swinging his sword in a deadly arc. A dozen skeleton bats burst into puffs of thick bone-dust as the blade struck them. Yet the undead vermin continued to swoop and whirl about him. Blood snaked in fine rivulets down Tyveris's face, and countless pinprick bites covered his arms and neck. With every swing, more of the creatures burst apart in a spray of delicate, desiccated bones. The air was thick with dust, choking him, but there was no pause in the steady rhythm of his swings.
Finally the chamber was quiet, save for one last skeleton bat flopping weakly on the ground. Its bones were crushed to fine powder under Tyveris's boot as he made his way toward the stairs.
I'm coming for you, Kelshara, he was tempted to shout, but there was no need. The sorceress knew. He started up the broad stone steps, keeping his sword held ready in his hand. At the top of the stairwell a corridor stretched before him, ending at a door.
Ancient-looking stone sarcophagi stood upright to either side of the corridor, facing each other in pairs. Carved into the lids of the coffins were bas-relief death masks-likenesses of the corpses sealed within. Eyes inlaid with lapis lazuli and onyx stared menacingly at the warrior. Stone mouths carved into cruel, frozen smiles mocked him. He smirked back at them and started down the corridor.
As Tyveris passed the first pair of sarcophagi he felt a stone shift beneath his foot. A click echoed from the walls as some unseen mechanism was sprung.
Fortunately, he didn't waste a heartbeat considering his action. Even as he lunged forward, gleaming blades sprang from the mouths of the two death masks to either side of him. The blades met with a ringing sound just behind his head.
His momentum carried him forward, past the next pair of sarcophagi. Expecting another set of swords to spring from the mouths of the death masks, he hunched down. The motion nearly cost him his life, for this time the blades sprang from slots hidden at knee height; Tyveris barely managed to dive over them as they clanged together.
He charged down the corridor, blades hissing through the air all around him. The deadly barrage did little more than shred Tyveris's tunic, for he had trained long and hard to deal with such traps. But as the warrior leaped over the blades erupting from the penultimate set of stone coffins, he stumbled and skidded painfully to his knees.
The abbey's dulled my skills more than I'd suspected, Tyveris thought ruefully as he waited for the last trap to spring.
The grating squeal of metal against stone rang out in the corridor, but no blades erupted from the sarcophagi. The trap, it seemed, was stuck.
Tyveris glanced at the death masks, at the swordtips jutting halfway from them. If he moved, he might just set them off. Of course if he just sat there, Kelshara would most definitely stumble across him sooner or later.
Not daring to inhale, the warrior wriggled forward on his stomach until he was past the last pair of blades. As if in answer to his murmured prayers to Oghma, they remained locked in place.
Tyveris lay in front of the closed door, catching his breath and letting his heart slow, but only for a moment. Then he hauled himself to his feet. Beyond the door he found a narrow flight of steps. He gripped his sword firmly and headed up to the tower's uppermost chamber.
"You should be dead, you know."
Kelshara stood in the room's center, her hair shimmering in the moonlight that streamed through the chamber's open window. She smiled. It was a cruel, secret expression. "When I tore the card of fate in two, it should have ripped your heart apart. It's worked on other men."
"I don't care about your sorcery," Tyveris lied. "It has no effect on me." He watched her calculating eyes drift to his sword. Despite her cool demeanor, he could see a faint flicker of anxiety race across her features. "I am here for the Tear of Everard."
"So it appears," Kelshara replied acidly. "Toz! Bring my new treasure to me."
The kobold scurried out of a darkened alcove bearing a small box of finely wrought gold. Kelshara snatched the box from the creature's gnarled hands. "You are slow, as always, Toz," she snapped. Almost casually she pointed a finger at the kobold, and a spark of crimson fire leaped forth, striking the creature in the chest and flinging it into the chamber's wall. The kobold let out a shrill shriek and cowered against the cold stones, its eyes pulsing in pain.
Kelshara ignored her servant. She opened the box and took out a gem, clear and glittering. The Tear of Everard. "All men perish," she hissed. "But I have found the secret of eternal life." She clutched the stone tightly. "You will die this night, warrior. But I shall live forever."
Tyveris lunged forward, sword before him.
Kelshara gave a small cry of surprise, taking a startled step backward, but even as Tyveris lifted his sword for a killing blow she recovered her composure. She reached out a hand toward the warrior's heart as strange, guttural words rippled like dark water from her tongue.
An invisible hand clutched Tyveris, and he found that he couldn't breathe. His blood seemed to freeze in his veins, and his vision blurred. Slowly, shivering with cold, he sank to his knees. It was as if all warmth had been drained from him. He could even see it, like a trail of sparks on the air, flowing from his body into Kelshara's own.
The necromancer laughed, her cheeks blushed with color. She was draining the essence of his life and drinking it up, making it her own.
Tyveris tried to shout, but the sound was barely a whisper. He struggled to move, but his limbs seemed to be made of lead.
Suddenly a voice hissed, "That is the last time you will ever strike me-or anyone."
Kelshara turned to gaze at the kobold in surprise, but the magical stream still flowed toward her. Tyveris found it hard to concentrate, and the room started to tilt and spin before his eyes.
From amongst the rags of its filthy tunic the kobold drew a dark, jagged-edge knife. "Once I was strong and handsome-like him," Toz spat, his voice oozing malice. "And then you gave me this … this twisted form. And the pain. For too long I've suffered the pain of serving you." The kobold's eyes flared with countless years of spite now unleashed. "But I will suffer it no more, Kelshara. I will suffer you no more." The kobold lifted the knife and took a menacing step toward the necromancer.
"Halt!" Kelshara cried, lifting a hand.
Toz shuddered to a stop. He grunted, trying to bring the dagger down in a deadly arc, but his hand merely trembled, frozen.
The necromancer laughed cruelly. "Foolish Toz. Do you forget the magic that binds you to obey me? Then allow me to remind you." She made a slashing motion with her hand, and Toz gurgled in pain. As though he were some fantastical marionette, the kobold moved to mirror the necromancer's motion, plunging the knife into his own chest.
The kobold howled once in agony, then slumped motionless into a growing pool of black, foul-smelling blood. Kelshara gazed at her servant with fierce satisfaction. And in that moment of distraction her attack against Tyveris wavered.
The magical force draining the warrior's life flickered and vanished. Warmth flooded back into his limbs. He felt weak, strangely hollow, but he was alive. Kelshara turned to him, a startled look on her face, realizing her spell was broken. She lifted her arms to entrap him once again, but this time he did not give her the chance.
He sprang forward, slamming the sorceress into the wall, the point of his sword resting against the hollow of her throat. "Give me the Tear!"
Hatred glittered in her eyes like poison, but finally she lowered her gaze in defeat. "Very well," she hissed. He thrust out his hand. She opened her clenched fist over his upturned palm.
Tyveris swore as he felt a sharp sting on his thumb. He shook his hand, and a small black beetle, bright with yellow blotches, fell to the floor with a plop. It scuttled away before he could smash it with his heel. Tyveris felt fury blaze hot and crimson behind his eyes. He raised his sword threateningly. "Give me the Tear!" he bellowed.
"Never!" Kelshara spat. From the folds of her robe a dagger appeared, stained with venom. She brought it down in a slashing motion, but Tyveris easily countered the blow with his own blade. She nearly managed to twist out of the way, but not quite.
The sword cut a long, sinuous gash across her arm. At the same time Tyveris felt searing fire run down his own arm. In confusion he looked down, only to find a wound that was the mirror image of the one he had inflicted upon the necromancer.
Black words of magic began to tumble from Kelshara's lips, but Tyveris attacked again before she could complete her spell. This time his blade bit deep into her shoulder. She slumped against the wall, moaning.
Tyveris swore as his own shoulder burst into brilliant pain. Blood coursed down his chest. He leaned heavily against the table, his head swimming dizzily. Kelshara watched him, her face a grimace of agony … and yet that same triumphant smile twisted her lips.
"Yes, warrior," she whispered. "Each wound you inflict upon me strikes you as well. Our lives are linked by the sting of the deathmirror beetle. But I am stronger now than you. Go on. Strike me again. I will survive the blow. You will not"
Tyveris shook his head, fighting to stay upright. He knew she was right. Darkness swam dangerously at the edges of his vision. Her magic had weakened him, drained him of his strength. His muscles felt as if they'd been turned to water. He looked down at the sword in his hand, sharp and wicked, slicked with blood. For so long the blade had been his life, everything that he was. Now it had failed him. He had nothing left.
No, he told himself, that wasn't true. Remembered words echoed in his mind. You possess something else, Tyveris, something she does not. But what had Mother Melisende meant? Understanding washed over him, accompanied by a wellspring of fear that eddied darkly in his chest. He pushed that fear aside as best he could. He knew what he had to do.
The sword slipped from his fingers to clatter against the stone floor. He sank to his knees before Kelshara.
"The cards never lie," she purred. "You truly are no warrior." She picked up the sword in both hands. "You are nothing."
Tyveris did not look at her. Instead he clasped the ancient quill still tucked into his belt. He had heard the loremasters at the abbey calling upon the power of their god before. He knew that, sometimes, there was great magic in those prayers. Still, he was no priest. He could only hope that Oghma would hear his words anyway.
With a look of animalistic exultation, Kelshara lifted the sword. "All men die," she said coldly.
Tyveris gripped the holy relic. "I have faith that you will help me, Oghma. Grant me your protection."
As Kelshara raised the sword to strike, a blue nimbus sprang to life about the relic in Tyveris's hand. He felt a warmth touch his heart. The soft illumination enshrouded him like a cloak. It brightened, deepened. He rose to his feet, new vigor flowing through his veins. The necromancer stared at him, the fear finally clear in her violet eyes. He was stronger than she had ever imagined.
"I've won, Kelshara," he said solemnly. "Give me the Tear, and I-"
His words trailed off as the blue nimbus surrounding him flared. A thin, gossamer tendril uncoiled itself from the magical aura, reaching out for Kelshara.
"No!" the sorceress cried out, backing away, her voice trembling with revulsion. The sword dropped from her hands and clattered to the floor. 'The deathmirror beetle should only link us in pain!"
She shrank back from the divine aura, step by step, but the blue glow steadily followed her. Finally she backed up against the ledge of the chamber's arched window. The tendril of holy light coiled about her like a shroud. "It's burning me!" she screamed. "Help me! Someone please help me!"
"I will help you, mistress," a wet, bubbling voice croaked. Toz pulled himself slowly to his feet, the knife still lodged in his chest. He grinned, his jagged teeth stained dark with blood. "I am your servant, after all."
With a cry that might have been sorrow as easily as rage, the kobold lunged at the sorceress, grasping at her with gnarled hands. Entangled in a fatal embrace, the two tumbled backward over the window's ledge.
Kelshara shrieked. "But I am going to live forev…" Her cry ended abruptly.
The necromancer's life had ended. But her magic had not.
The tendril of azure light still linked her to Tyveris, reaching him from outside the chamber's window. Even as he watched, a darkness seemed to climb up the shimmering rope like a sinewy viper as black as midnight. It was the final culmination of her spell. Death had taken Kelshara. Now it was coming for him.
The darkness snaked toward him along the tendril, closer, no more than an arm's length away. One touch, and Tyveris knew that he would die. But how could he fight death itself?
It will protect you in the dark days to come.
There was no time to think about it. Gripping the quill tightly, Tyveris thrust his fist toward the thread of darkness.
"In the name of Oghma, be gone!" His voice boomed through the chamber.
Blue light flashed, and thunder shook the tower to its very foundation. The magic was shattered. Shards of azure and onyx flew in all directions. Then came silence. Tyveris blinked. Both the dark and light tendrils were gone. The ancient quill lay in his hand, looking dull and quite mundane.
Tyveris shook his head in wonderment. His body ached terribly, but he was alive. Carefully he tucked the relic back into his belt. He turned and walked slowly from the chamber, leaving his bloodstained sword where it lay on the floor. The weapon had failed him. His faith had not.
He made his way down the stairs and into the night. The storm had ended, and the moon was out, casting its silvery light over the new layer of snow that cloaked the ground, making everything seem somehow fresh and pure.
He found Kelshara and Toz among the rocks in the desolate courtyard, their twisted bodies covered in a burial shroud of windblown snow. The Tear of Everard lay in the necromancer's outstretched palm, unblemished and perfect.
Tyveris bent down and picked up the shining jewel from Kelshara's cold grip. Neither the sorceress's dark magic nor the fall from the tower had damaged the Tear. Just more proof of Oghma's divine presence in the world, Tyveris decided, and he headed off into the night.