Part 1:  The Quick

"Drink it!"

Rell shoved the brimming stone mug  into the reluctant soldier's hand. 

"S-Sir?"

"Drink it and get down there... that's an order."

"Y-Yes, sir."   the young soldier put the mug to his lips and drank it down while Rell and the others watched.   Insa and Atiem stood close by,  while Ragge kept to the shadows as he always did.   They were gathered around a deep hole in the dead center of a huge excavation...  A crater within a crater.  The rest of Rell's men watched half-heartedly from as far back as Rell would allow.   After the first few dozen times they had no further interest in the proceedings... the end result was always the same.  They knew how it would go, and each soldier glad that it wasn't HIM drinking the potion and descending into the Tomb.

The young man finished the potion.   It was already beginning to take effect.  His breaths came faster and faster until the movement of his chest was just a blur.  His eyes fluttered... blinking hundreds of times a second.   The boy seemed to vibrate even though he was standing still.

"I think he's ready."  said Atiem. "Send him down."

Rell lit a torch and tossed it to the shimmering soldier.   The boy grabbed it out of the air with such speed that his arm seemed to have never left his side.

"Down."  ordered Rell. 

The soldier was gone.    Rell and the others gathered around the pit and peered over the edge.  It was a straight drop of about ten feet that ended in a smooth stone hallway.  Dust and dirt were everywhere, and there were hundreds of recent footprints on the floor.  The soldier stood directly beneath the hole, torch held aloft.   He looked  frantically up and down the hallway;  his head was just a flesh-colored blur.

"Don't just STAND THERE!!"  shouted Rell.  "RUN!  Get Going Before-"

The soldier was gone; his torchlight dimmed and vanished as he sped away   A split-second later, a blast of fire erupted from further down the corridor, and then something *large*  zoomed past the entrance hole.    A cloud of dust and sand billowed up into the observer's eyes. 

"Dammit!"  said Insa.  She rubbed her eyes and coughed.   Atiem frowned at her, and then returned his attention to the hole. 

There was nothing but dark silence for a while.... and then the soldier's dying scream pierced the air  The haste potion made the boy sound like a tortured bird.  They ended as suddenly as they began.

"Damn."  said Atiem.   "He didn't make it as far as the LAST one, from the sound of it."

"Not fast enough."  said Rell.

"Haste potions don't get any faster."  said Insa.  "And that one was our last.    So much for Ragge's idea."

The silent watcher stepped forward.  His imposing bulk was made even larger by the suit of  steel plate-mail he wore.   His face was hidden behind a full helmet.

"Got something to say, Ragge?"  said Rell. 

The huge man's eyes glared silently from beneath his helm.

"Didn't think so."

"So what are we going to do now?"  said Insa.  "We must have fed thirty men to that Tomb and we've still got NOTHING!"

"We try it again."  said Rell. 

"Were you not listening?  There IS no again.   No more haste potions.... there's nothing left."

"We'll buy more."

"No."  said Atiem.  "The potions and the explosives are cleaning us out.   We've wasted enough time and money.    No man we send down there coming back alive... no matter WHAT potions or spells we put on him.  This thing is a death-trap."

"'What are you saying?"  spat Insa.   "You saying we should give up?  Go home empty handed?  That is NOT an option!"

"No.  I'm just saying that we may need to bring someone else in on this."

"No More Partners!"   protested Rell.

"No, not a partner.   A specialist.   Someone who's done this type of thing before.   Someone who has the exact skills that we need."

"And how do you propose to PAY this 'specialist'?"   said Insa

"With a little forethought, we can get him to do it for free."

"So you've somebody in mind then," said Rell.

"Oh, yes.  Absolutely."

"How long is it going to take to find him?"  said Rell.

"He's secretive... but word is he's been spotted nearby.   One night's journey from here in a little town called Montfort."

------

The streets were dark gray blurs streaked with light, and the denizens of Montfort were barely noticeable at all.  

With his blue cloak billowing behind him, Blaymore zoomed up and down the avenues at a speed inconceivable to most humans.  His hood was drawn tight over his head, and it remained there despite the stiff wind.    He was invisible... not from a spell, but from the simple fact that he was moving faster than any human could see.   Those that DID catch a glimpse of him saw only the bright blue streak that was Blaymore's trademark.  He was the Blue Death... The fastest, and quite possibly the deadliest man alive.

As he ran, the speeding assassin's thoughts turned to his latest problem.  His ONLY problem... December.  The cold-blooded criminal had managed to acquire possibly the most dangerous weapon on Ifreann.   The fact that  Montfort still existed was testament to the fact the December has yet to use, or even understand the Dagger of Malfaygur.   But it was only a matter of time, and the Dagger's curse would turn any attempt to remove it from December's clutches into a fiasco of the worst kind... it would be the end of the city at best.  And at worst... the end of everything.

"HELLLP!!!"

Blaymore skidded to a halt.   Someone needed help.   Someone close by... not that it mattered; with Blaymore's speed, the other side of the city was less than a heartbeat away.   He headed off in the direction of the cry...

"Gods, HELP MEEE!"   It was a woman's voice.    By the time the latest cry faded, Blaymore was crouching in an alley peering out at a crowd gathered on the street.   There was a woman, smooth of skin and dark of hair.  She was beautiful.   And she was screaming for no apparent reason...

"HELLLLP!"

The others present were making no attempt to either help or harm the woman.  There were seven men, four of which were soldiers, judging from their armor and weapons.   Of the remaining three, one was a blond, blue-eyed man armed with a rapier.   He was short, and dressed in expensive silks and jewelry that would have certainly made him a target if it weren't for the others with him.  This man was conversing with another... a gruff looking fighter who was sporting armor similar to the soldiers.   He stood in a commanding stance, with his hand never straying far from his weapon.   The final man could hardly  be described as a man at all... he was more like a mountain of armor.   He was approaching eight feet tall, with shoulders perhaps five feet across, not counting the massive shoulder plates.    Not a single inch of this man's skin was exposed... everything was hidden behind thick steel plate-armor that must have weighed a ton.  Or two.  The huge bastard sword strapped to his broad back looked as if it could chop through a redwood with a single blow.  

"HELLLLP!!!"

The woman continued screaming, and the others just watched.   They were waiting for something.

Blaymore's intuition told him to leave this group alone.  This woman was in no danger, and if she WAS, the men with her could more than handle anything that Montfort's criminal-minded citizens could throw at them.    But Blaymore didn't leave.   He watched as the sharply-dressed man spoke to the woman.   She screamed again, with more volume and desperation than before.

<<Okay, I'm curious.>> thought Blaymore.  <<And it's not as if they can HURT me...>>

Blaymore's lips moved imperceptibly behind the sash of blue cloth that covered the lower half of his face.  He wove the spell of illusion... and a cloud of thick blue smoke began to pour out of the street near the assembly of men.  The cloud thickened, and formed into an exact image of Blaymore.   The image held Blaymore's scimitar, midnight black on one side and polished to a mirror finish on the other.   The sight was truly imposing... as it was intended to be.

The woman gasped, and all the soldiers turned toward the image.  The blond man smiled, as if welcoming a long-expected friend. 

"What's going on here?"  Blaymore spoke through the false image with a deep, resonating voice.

"Allow me to introduce myself,"  said the smiling man.  "I am Atiem.   This lovely creature here is Insa, and this pile of armor is Ragge.  Oh, and this is Rell and his men."

"I didn't ask for names," said Blaymore.  "You were making this woman scream for help.  Why?"

"No one MAKES me do anythi-"

"Ahem!  We were just trying to lure you here, my good man."

"Why?"

"Because we need your help, of course."

"Not from what I can see.  What's going on... Why the deception?"

"Deception?   It wasn't actually at TRUE deception...  Insa-dear's screams weren't entirely fallacious.   She DOES need help.  All of us need your help."

"Explain yourselves.  Now."

The man calling himself Atiem looked up and down the street as if checking for eavesdroppers.  He saw no one, but frowned nonetheless.

"Now that we have you here, how about we retire to a place that is less... exposed."

"I don't have time for this.  You have something to say, you say it here and now."

Atiem's smile twitched, and Insa's eyes narrowed into a poorly-disguised sign of disapproval.  

Rell's fingers played around the pommel of his sword.  

Ragge did not move.

"Are you SURE this is the one?"  said Insa.  "He doesn't look like much to me."

"Let's not be fooled by appearances, my dear,"  said Atiem. 

The Blaymore-image sighed and began to fade.  The assassin had had enough.

"No!  Wait!"  yelled Atiem.  "She didn't mean anything by it!  We still need your help!"

The image solidified.

"Speak now." 

"Have you ever heard of  Manark the Great?"

"A mage,"  said Blaymore.  "Old and Dead."

"I see you are a student of history,"  said Atiem.   "So am I.  But Manark was not JUST a mage...  he was perhaps the GREATEST of the ancient mages.   His power was unmatched in his time, and many of his feats have yet to be reproduced by the paltry wizards of today.   Manark devoted his life to good... to healing and benefiting mankind.  Unfortunately he took all his secrets to the grave with  him.  The secrets of his power and vast knowledge were lost to humanity... "

"Get to the point."

"The point is, I...we... have discovered the final resting place of Manark the Great.  His Tomb... and all

the secrets that are hidden within... lie just one night's journey from here."

Blaymore frowned.

"Who are you people?"

"As I said, my name is Atiem-"

"No.  Who ARE you?   None of you look like mages.  So, if this tomb and its contents are real, what is YOUR interest in it?  And what does it have to do with me?"

"You're quite right, we're NOT mages."  Atiem shot a quick glance at Insa that did not go unnoticed.    "And I am not even a true historian... I am a bard who has a more-than-passing interest in some of the old historical ballads."

"You dress richly for a bard."  said Blaymore.

"I have the great fortune to be the royal bard of a small kingdom east of here.   I was also fortunate enough to meet the lovely lady Insa... daughter of the king.  We fell in love, and now we are to be married... at least we were until the queen fell sick.  Now the king refuses to grant me his daughter's hand unless I can recover the Tomb."

"What does one have to do with the other?"

"The Tomb contains three items... Manark's Great Staff,  his much-coveted book of spells, and the ashes of Manark  himself.  The king wants the spellbook in hopes that one if its healing spells can cure his wife.  If I restore his happiness, then he will grant me mine."

"Ours."  added Insa.

"Healing spells,"  said Blaymore  "No Quickfire, no False-Dawn, no armies of demons tearing across the countryside.  Just healing spells."

"Well no one knows for SURE what's in the book, but Manark was concerned with healing and the preservation of life, so one would only assume that-"

"And the staff?"

"A focusing tool,"  said Atiem.  "Made of a rare steel/gold/platinum blend, and bejeweled with diamonds.  ANY mage's spells would be greatly improved if focused through the staff's crystal.   It's worth almost the weight of the entire tomb in gold."

"And your king want's that as well?"

"No,"  blurted Rell.  "But MINE does."

"And Ragge here is on a quest to return Manark's ashes to the barbarian lands.  Manark did much good in those lands, and now they wish to honor him with... with whatever those barbarian chaps do down there.   Ragge has taken a vow of silence... he will not speak until Manark's ashes rest in his king's hands."

"Three quests.  Three treasures.  One Tomb."  said Blaymore  "And how does this involve me?"

"Well, we've discovered the Tomb and the entrance, but now-"

"Let me guess... traps."

"Exactly.   Despite his good nature, Manark suffered from sever paranoia in his later days.  I'm ashamed to say that we've already sent six men to their death in attempts to explore the Tomb and retrieve the items.  We've tried everything... we've wasted nearly everything we have on hired mages and haste potions, but we're still empty-handed.   And Insa's poor mother grows sicker by the day.  If she dies, there will be no happiness for the king OR for us."

"What makes you think I can do any better."

"Dear sir, I am a bard... your exploits... your abilities, have been  immortalized in a half-dozen ballads.    You've been to the barbarian lands... visited Ragge's people.... their tales speak highly of you as well.    You've done this type of thing before-"

"Many times.   Buy why would I do it for you?"

"Well, I-"  Atiem seemed to be at a loss for words.  "I suppose I-"

"What's in it for me?"

"What do you desire?"

"The book.  The healing spells."

"But, sir!  We need the book for-"

"It will take me three seconds to read it from cover to cover... assuming I know the language.    I will inspect the items... if I deem them dangerous then they will remain in the tomb with no questions asked.   If not, I bring them up and turn them over to you... AFTER I copy whatever spells interest me.    Those are the conditions of our deal."

"Agreed."

"Wait!"  said Insa.  "I think we should talk this over, first!"

"IF this man can get the treasure,"  said Rell, "then the deal is fine with me."

"Ragge?"

The armored one nodded slowly.

"Insa?"

The woman thought for a moment.  Atiem looked at her with something less than love in his eyes. 

"All right."  she said.

"Good,"  said Atiem.   "The Tomb is a night's journey from here by wagon, but with your speed,  if you can pull us-"

"Do I look like a pack-horse?"

"Oh, so sorry.   Forgive me..."

"I will travel with you."

"With us?"  all three said simultaneously.

"Yes.  Is there a problem?"

"Wouldn't you rather go on ahead and have us meet-"

"No."

"But-"

"I ride with you.  Take it or leave it."

The three looked at each other.  None of them raised any objections.

"Well then,"  said Atiem.  "I guess we'll be taking it."

----

Blaymore didn't believe them for a second.   Three men on nearly identical quests, all conveniently involving the tomb of a long-dead wizard.   And each person managed to find others, settle their inevitable differences, and come up with one single plan of action.  

That just didn't happen in the real world.

And the bard... his lies had nearly given him away.   Blaymore's deeds may be legendary in the barbarian lands, but in 'civilized' Ifreann he was mostly unknown.   The only bard who knew enough of him to write a song was dead...  an event that Blaymore had seen to personally.    So Atiem was a liar, and not a very good one at that.

This was either some poorly-constructed plot to kill him, or these people were seeking something far more deadly than a wizard's ashes, staff, and spellbook.     But if the latter were true, why would they agree to his terms to examine the artifacts first?   They knew that nothing dangerous would ever leave that Tomb by HIS hands.   And if his death was the objective, then why the elaborate scheme?   They had wanted him to convey them with his speed, or  to run ahead and meet them at the Tomb.   Why?  Why didn't they want an extended journey? 

Either way, Blaymore had no choice but to follow along and discover the truth.   What enemy would DARE send these fools after him?   And if the artifacts were real, then what was their TRUE nature?

Healing spells?   Doubtful.   But what if the book DID contain spells?   Manark lived during the same time period as the insane mage Malfaygur... could his book of spells contain a cure for the Dagger's curse?   Or was this all part of the plan to lure him in?   Who else knew of the dagger and his search for a way to neutralize it?   December, perhaps.  But this was not his style. 

<<Curiouser and curiouser...>>

Blaymore's false image followed the men and woman toward the edge of town, where their caravan of three wagons had made temporary camp.     The *real* Blaymore was close by, dodging from shadow to shadow at a speed that made him invisible.    Perhaps he was fooling them, perhaps he was not.  It didn't matter.   There were more of Rell's soldiers diligently standing guard over the horses.   They never saw Blaymore as  he zoomed ahead and inspected the wagons.

The first was crammed with tents and camping supplies, though not enough for an extended stay.   The others were passenger wagons.   One was plush and comfortable, with lots of pillows.   Obviously it belonged to the woman.  The other was relatively plain, with simple, thinly-padded benches. 

"I'm sure you'll find this wagon sufficient."  said Atiem.  He was leading the Blaymore-image to the second passenger wagon.   

<<I guess I need to conserve my magic.>>   Blaymore stepped into his image and dispelled the illusion, then he entered the wagon.   Ragge immediately followed; the knight's weight caused the carriage to tilt and lurch violently as he stepped inside.

"What's this?"  said Blaymore. 

Atiem leaned in an smiled.

"Ragge here will look after you during the trip."

"I don't' need a guard.   I'm helping YOU, remember?"

Ragge's cold eyes glared from beneath his metal helm.    Blaymore wished he could see the man's face.  He didn't seem familiar, but he WAS from the barbarian lands... and one never could be too sure.

"Fine,"  said Atiem.  "But this is HIS wagon... I hope you don't mind."

"Why are we leaving now?   At night?"

"Time is of the essence....we'll make camp later tonight, after we get a good distance away from the city.  We'll rest for five or six hours and continue... "  

"Is that wise?"  said Blaymore

"Why not?   With both you and Ragge along, I seriously doubt we'll have to worry much about brigands.  Do you?"

Blaymore remained silent.   Atiem smiled.   He lit a small lamp and placed it in a holder inside the carriage.  Then he closed the door.    Blaymore didn't hear the door lock, nor did he detect any magic sealing him in.   

After a while, the carriage began to move.   The slow, rhythmic motion would have lulled most humans to sleep... but it just aggravated Blaymore.   He was accustomed to moving at MUCH greater speeds... this slow progress was maddening at the least.

With the silent Ragge still glaring at him, Blaymore slipped into a deep meditative state.  He breathed deeply.   His mind slowed... almost to normal.   His senses remained sharp, and he could snap into action at the slightest sign of movement from his large 'guest.'   Not that such a thing were likely, for Ragge appeared to be in a similar state himself.

They rode in complete silence for what seemed like days.   Blaymore knew that it was only a few hours, but in this slowed state his perception of time was even more warped than usual.    The wagon came to a halt, and the door opened.  Atiem stuck his head in, studied the motionless passengers for a while, and then turned to speak to someone outside.

"They haven't moved and inch." 

"Let them sleep."  replied Rell.

"If they ARE sleeping..."   Atiem closed the door, and Blaymore listened as Rell's men made camp.   No one bothered them for a while, and then Atiem returned with an offer of freshly-killed rabbit.   Neither Ragge nor Blaymore moved, so the bard left again.   The two were disturbed no more.  Finally, the men outside settled down and there was silence.  

Everyone was asleep or on guard... Blaymore was rested, his reserves of magic were fully restored...now it was time to explore.

Blaymore mouthed the words to his illusion spell, creating an exact image of himself *on top* of his physical body.    He became intangible and stepped through the wall of the wagon as if it weren't there, leaving the image behind in his place.   When he was outside, he  became invisible.

He crept around to the other passenger wagon and listened.   There were two voices engaged in conversation.   Blaymore recognized them as belonging to Insa and Atiem. 

"...really do all you say?"  said Insa.

"Of course he can.  He IS a legend, after all... and all legends are based on truth.   By this time tomorrow, we shall have the book.   By this time three days hence, your mother will be cured-"

"And then we shall be married."

"Kiss me, darling..."

Blaymore stepped away, frowning.  Could this man's story be true? 

Blaymore sped through the camp until he found Rell.   The soldier was in his tent, studying a map by lamp-light.  One of his men peered at it over his shoulder.

"Once we get the staff..." said Rell.  "we'll head home by this route-"   He indicated a little-used trade route on the map.   "It'll take five days, maybe six... but then it will finally be over.   We'll be heroes-"

Blaymore backed away.  

He returned to Atiem's wagon, but the sounds of passionate lovemaking from inside turned him away.  Distrust and minor curiosity gave him no right to intrude upon that, so he left them alone.

With nothing more be learned, Blaymore returned to his own wagon.  Instead of dispelling the false image and slipping back into his place, Blaymore added a little more magic, reinforcing the illusion so that it would last through the night.   Ragge seemed not to have moved.   Blaymore considered questioning the barbarian knight... but if he stuck to Atiem's story then he wouldn't answer any of Blaymore's questions anyway.   Instead, Blaymore left the camp and found a spot a few hundred miles away in the deep woods.  

The trip took just a few seconds, with another four or five spent looking for an adequate place to sleep.  

At this distance, even if Atiem and his entourage knew *exactly* where he was, it would take days for them to reach him.  Blaymore nestled himself into a large tree and allowed himself to fall deeper into own mind... into a kind of quasi-sleep that was as close to the real thing as he would get until this thing was over.  His senses were still alert, and he would awaken at the first sign of...

---

...dawn.   Hungry and cramped, Blaymore swung down from his tree-top and zoomed back to camp.  As he expected, Rell and his men were preparing for the final leg of the trip, while Atiem and Insa were treating themselves to a breakfast over the embers the night's fire.   It looked like rabbit, and they had plenty to share.  Blaymore made himself invisible, and then reached down and grabbed a snack before returning to Ragge's wagon.  Once there, dispelled his false image and sat down in his place.   They sat in perfect silence, and in about an hour the wagon began moving again.

They traveled most of the day without stopping, and it was well into the early evening when the wagon finally halted.   The door swung open almost immediately, and Atiem stuck his head inside.

"We are HERE, good gentlemen!"  he said with a seemingly genuine smile on his face. 

Blaymore stood, stretched and stepped outside.  

They were on a high ridge that surrounded a *deep* depression in the ground.  The crater was the size of a small town, with jagged rock walls that bore cracks and blast marks.  The stone was worn and weathered... Some very powerful magic had been used to excavate this site, but had been used a long time ago.   There also appeared to be some fresh holes blasted into the crater walls.    At the bottom of the excavation site was a expanse of what looked like sand and gravel, probably the remains of the crater's interior.

"How did you excavate this?"  said Blaymore.

"Funny thing, that."  said Atiem.   "This Tomb has been sought-after for centuries.... explorers, mages and knights have been blasting holes in the countryside since well before our grandparents were born.    One fellow excavated this site decades ago.   He didn't find anything and went on to other pursuits... but the poor chap had been right all along.   He just didn't go deep enough.   All WE had to do was come here and do some more blasting at the very bottom.  Knocked a hole right in the top of the Tomb.  Down there-"

Atiem pointed into the crater.   At the bottom a mound of sand and rock with a large hole in the top of it.  Pole lanterns framed the opening, and a small campground had been set up around it. 

"How convenient for you,"  said Blaymore. 

"Quite."

"Come on then.   Let's get this over with."

"Impatient, are we?"

Blaymore ignored him. 

"Rell!  Ragge!   Insa!   Our man wants to get going!   Come on, lets get down there!"

Rell detached himself from his contingent of men who were busily unloading the supply.  Behind him Insa and Ragge both stepped out of their respective carriages.   Ragge's carriage rocked violently when he lifted his armored bulk out of it.   The trio approached and gathered around Atiem, who led them all to the edge of the crater.   There, a set of large steps had been carved into the stone.    Like the strange holes in the crater wall, these steps also appeared to be recent.

"After you,"  Blaymore nodded to Atiem.

"But of course."   Atiem started down, with Blaymore right behind him.   They descended for what seemed like ages, and when they reached the bottom they were *still* a good distance from the Tomb's opening. 

"Tell me about these traps,"  said Blaymore as they walked.

"Yes, the traps,"  replied Atiem.  "Well, none of US has been down there ourselves-"

"Naturally."  said Blaymore.

"But from what we can see, there are these large stone... things... that line the walls near the entrance.    They're incredibly fast, and they can shoot jets of flame quite a fair distance."

<<Great,>> thought Blaymore.  <<More golems.>>

"Beyond that, I can't say.   The few men we've had that got past THOSE things fell victim to something else further inside the tomb where we couldn't see."

"What about scrying spells?"

"The entire place is warded against them."  said Insa.  "We don't know anything other than what we can see with our own eyes."

"So you want me to go into this thing blind."

"I assure you we have seen quite enough death on this venture,"  said Atiem.   "If I didn't think you could do it, we wouldn't have come to you."

"I was unaware that my reputation had spread so far."

"Well... truth be told, most consider you to be some kind of myth.   Vengeful Demon of the Night, and all that."

"So how did you know I would help?"

"We didn't.   Ahh, here we are!"   They were standing atop the small mound of sand surrounding a hole in the bottom of the crater.   While Ragge and Rell lit the pole-lamps, Blaymore peered into the hole.  It was a straight drop of about ten feet into a stone hallway.    The walls were slightly scorched , and the scent of old smoke wafted out of the opening.

"Torch?"  Rell offered him a lit torch.

"At my speed they just blow out."  said Blaymore.  Rell shrugged and kept the light for himself.  "Do I get a rope?"

"Afraid not."  said Atiem.    "The guardians awaken at the first sign of movement.  Lowering a rope would just give them a head start on you."

"I see."

"Well-"   Atiem shrugged expectantly and waved his arm toward the tomb.  "Good luck."

"Luck has nothing to do with it."

"Of cour-"

Blaymore was gone.

---

Blaymore had his night-vision spell activated before he hit the floor.   He landed in a crouching position and paused for a split second to survey his surroundings.  He was near the center of a corridor that dead-ended behind him and intersected another walkway not too far ahead.   The dead-end drew Blaymore's attention. 

There was a statue of that looked like a dragon on top of a stone pedestal.  The entire structure was perhaps nine feet tall, and it filled nearly the entire width of the hall.  The dragon's wings were spread in an attack position, and its jeweled eyes gleamed at Blaymore even as he studied it. 

<<Guardian!>>  Blaymore turned away just as the statue blasted away from the wall.   Fire shot out behind it, and the thing raced down the hall towards him.

Blaymore ran.

He reached the intersection and turned right...  Another dead end, also equipped with its own dragon-statue!    Its eyes began gleaming the instant Blaymore turned the corner, and a long stream of fire shot out of the dragon's stone mouth.  

Blaymore went intangible, intending for the flames to shoot through him.   The effect would be uncomfortable, but the alternative was even more so.   His cloak was heat resistant, but who knows what kind of magic these dragons used to create their flame...

<<Wait!>> 

At the last instant, Blaymore leapt to the side.  Even though he was intangible, he felt the intense heat as the bolt of fire shot past him... had he stood still it would have incinerated him.

<<Enchanted Fire!>> he thought.   <<Damn!>>   

The flames would burn him no matter *what* he did.    Still intangible, he tried to push his way through the wall... the stone rebuffed him with a nasty shock.

He turned and ran the other direction.   The second statue followed, propelled by a huge burst of flame from its rear.  The first statue emerged from the entryway just as Blaymore passed the intersection.  The speeding assassin was hoping for a collision between the two dragons, but the statue stopped to allow its brother to pass, and then fell in line a good distance behind it.

Blaymore felt another burst of heat.  His speed was allowing him to outrun the flames for now, but that wouldn't save him for long.  He needed space to run, and the tomb was an unfamiliar maze of corridors and literal dead ends.   It would only be a matter of time before a wrong turn left him cornered with no place to run. 

Blaymore doubled his speed.  His legs , which were already a speeding blur, became too fast to be seen.   His blue cloak billowed behind him as he put more distance between him and his pursuers.   The stone statues were fast... but they weren't faster than HIM. 

He saw the corridor end at an intersection just ahead.  He had two choices... left or right.

<<Left!>>  Blaymore slowed and pivoted on his heel. 

Another dead end!  Yet another fire-breathing statue roared to life.

<<RIGHT!>>

The searing flames barely missed Blaymore as he shot out of range.    The passage ahead was long and narrow, but it ended in another statue-guarded trap.   The forth statue sprang into action.   Spitting fire from front AND back, it roared down the hallway straight towards Blaymore even as the assassin left its three brethren behind.  

<<Dammit!>>

He was trapped.    But wait!   There was an intersection about halfway to the end... a single corridor branched off to the left.   All he had to do was reach it before the dragon-statue got within range.

<<No problem.>>

Blaymore ran faster... too fast for any human to see... straight towards the approaching guardian.   With two seconds to spare, he pivoted and zoomed down the hall.    A plume of flame scorched the walls of the corridor behind him.   Just as they had done before, the guardians slowed, stopped, and arranged themselves in an orderly line before following him down the new path.

Fortunately this one was not a dead end, but the walls were a series of alcoves, each of which spat forth a fire-breathing statue as he shot past.    Soon there were seven... eight...ten... fourteen guardians belching flames at Blaymore's heels.

<<Gods, how many of these things ARE THERE!?!>>

The hallway made a sharp curve to the right.  Blaymore took it without slowing, and he knew his pursuers would have to drop some of their speed to keep from smashing into the walls.   That bought him some more time, but he had to find a way to get rid of them entirely before they cornered him.

He emerged into a large rectangular chamber, with six hallways leading out of it.   He stopped for an instant to consider a path.  Choosing one at random, he sped out of the chamber just as the line of speeding statues were entering. 

Dead End.

Fire roared down the hallway in front of him.

Blaymore spun.   He HAD to get back to the chamber before the other statues followed him down this path!

He ran... his speed doubled with every other step.  The walls were a continuous gray blur down either side.

The guardians were already lined up and ready to blast down the hallway, but Blaymore shot past the lead statue with less than an inch to spare.    The statues turned and started to belch fire as he zoomed around the edge of the chamber.  He *dare* not try another passage at random with these things right behind him.  They had to be dealt with, and FAST.  

Time to study the enemy.

Blaymore spun and ran beside the closest statue.   It tried to swivel towards him, but Blaymore simply kept pace with it while his ran his keen eyes and gloved hands over the dragon's flank.  The others all turned towards him, but by the time their blasts of flame reached him Blaymore had already moved out of the way.  The flames bathed the stone dragon that he has spent two entire seconds studying.    The guardian was scorched, but remained intact, mobile, and quite deadly.    Blaymore inspected another dragon in a similar manner

The craftsmanship was excellent.  There were no moving parts.  No joints, hinges or seams.... everything was exquisitely carved from one block of solid stone.   Except for the eyes.

The jewels.   That was the key.

The chamber was almost too crowded to maneuver, and standing still for more than three seconds would mean a very painful death.  Blaymore reached into his cloak and retrieved one of his invisible daggers. He took aim at one of the guardians and threw the dagger without stopping.    The blade bounced off of the dragon's stone face... but the *second* dagger that followed lodged itself in the left eye-socket.   The jewel popped loose and clattered onto the floor.   The effect was immediate... the one-eyed statue went haywire.   It began spinning in a tight circle, spraying fire in all directions as its brethren tried to avoid it.

<<Not quite the effect I was hoping for, but it'll do...>>

Blaymore selected another statue.    Dodging the fire from the others, he circled around and approached it from behind even as it was attempting to swivel towards him.  He leapt onto the statue's back and crawled up to the head.  With a dagger in his hand, he dislodged both jeweled eyes and dismounted less than a second before the remaining statues  would have bathed him in their fire.  The blind statue slid to a halt and was still.

Using a similar technique, he deactivated the other guardians with his usual speed.  

Now, Blaymore stood in a silent chamber filled with unmoving statues and dark corridors.    He took a second to get his bearings.   He located the corridor that had brought him to the chamber as well as the one that he had already tried.  That left four others.  He selected one at random and threw one of his invisible daggers into the darkness.   A guardian roared forth, but Blaymore quickly disabled it.

He tried another hallway and was rewarded with silence.  In the blink of an eye, Blaymore was gone.

---

The tomb was a maze.   Corridor after corridor, Blaymore's speeding blue form continued its exploration.   There were fewer dead-ends as he went further into the tomb, but of course all them released deadly guardians as soon as the assassin set foot into them.  Fortunately, the stone dragons weren't as lethal now that he knew how to deactivate them.   He also came across a few chambers where six or more passages intersected.   These were obviously meant to be traps, but Blaymore used his daggers to select the correct path and was on his way in seconds.

Onward and onward.    He explored hundreds of corridors... all of which looked exactly alike except for a few scorch marks, presumably from the guardians.   There seemed to be no method or pattern to the Tomb, it was as if its builders constructed random corridors whenever they got the whim.  Even the ones that didn't dead-end seemed to go absolutely nowhere. 

Blaymore stopped to think for a moment.

<<I'm wasting my time here.   There has GOT to be some kind of pattern.    Wait a minute...>>

With all his speed, Blaymore hadn't noticed the slight downward slope to the corridor.  The angle was so small that the causal observer would not notice, and at his high speed, Blaymore would have missed it entirely had he not stopped to rest.

<<This is a tomb,>> the though.  <<So I need to go DOWN...>>

Blaymore sped down the hall until he came to a new intersection.   Only one of the new paths maintained  the downward slope, so he chose that one.  It, too, came to an intersection.  Blaymore continued, going further and further down into the tomb.   At last he felt like he was getting somewhere.

Eventually he came to a very long, straight corridor with no other intersections as far as his eyes could see.  It was smaller than the others, not as tall and much more narrow.  The corridor dead ended behind him, but there was no fire-breathing guardian waiting for him.  Instead, there were three curious burn-marks on the wall.

Blaymore's senses detected nothing, but all of his experience screamed 'trap.'

His experience was correct.

He was standing at the very beginning of the corridor when he saw a flash of green light.   He immediately jumped back into the previous hallway... and three thick beams of light shot down the corridor and struck the marks on the wall.     The stone smoked for a few seconds, and then the lights disappeared.

<<Hmm...>>

Blaymore waited.   About a minute later, the light struck again.

<<Must be a timer.>>   he thought.  Blaymore timed the interval.

He had no idea how long the corridor was or what awaited him at the other end, but he now knew he had exactly fifty-six  to get there and find out.  The corridor was too narrow to dodge the beams, and the they were arranged vertically... one at aimed head level, one at the midsection, and one aimed just above the ankles.  There was no way around them.

It was another race.

Blaymore readied himself.   He watched the beams singe the stone wall for a few seconds.  When they vanished, so did Blaymore.

The hallway was longer than he first estimated.  Four seconds should have taken him to the end of *any* corridor, but the end was still nowhere to be seen.   The walls were gray blurs down each side.   The friction from the floor was causing even his heat-resistant boots to smoke.    Seven seconds into the run, Blaymore increased his speed even more.   His whole body was hot.  The enchanted hood an sash he wore around his head were the only things keeping the wind from erasing his face.  Fifteen seconds brought no sign of the corridor's end.   Twenty seconds... Blaymore ran faster still...

At twenty seven seconds Blaymore *thought* he saw something up ahead.   At his current speed he should be approaching it like a bolt from a crossbow...  but at thirty-two seconds the shadow he had seen was no closer than it had been before.   It was still *very* far away.

Blaymore frowned, gritted his teeth, and ran *faster.*

Thirty four seconds... *Faster.*

Thirty-eight seconds... *FASTER*

At forty one seconds, Blaymore encountered the second part of the trap.

The floor beneath his speeding feet turned to loosely packed sand.   There was no sign or advanced warning... one moment he was running faster than the human eye could follow, and the next his traction was completely gone.    For the first few steps, glass crunched under his feet as the friction from his boots fused the sand.   He tripped, stumbled and managed to stay upright, but his vast running speed had been reduced to a crawl. 

Forty-six seconds...   Blaymore saw the end of the sand-trap up ahead.   It was a good distance away, he tried to run...

Fifty seconds ... glass and sand flew up into the air... he wasn't going to make it...

Fifty-four seconds... he saw a flash of green light

<<DAMMIT!!  Think FAST!!!>>

Blaymore got down on one knee and lowered his head.   The top-most beam of light would pass over him, but the other two...

He reached into his cloak and pulled out his scimitar.   He flipped it around so that the mirror-surface was facing *away* from him, and buried the tip of the weapon in the sand in before him.

Three emerald beams of light came down the corridor.

The first passed harmlessly overhead.   The second and third struck the reflective surface of the blade.   Most of the energy was sent racing back down the direction from which they had come, but some was absorbed by the blade.    Blaymore could hear the metal whine as it was warped by the heat.  

<<Come on, just a few more seconds...>> He wished he had a clear view of whatever mechanism was creating the beams.  If he did, he could reflect the beams back on it and destroy it, but it was still too far away. 

The beams vanished.   He had another minute... and the reflective surface of his scimitar has been ruined.  His 'shield' wouldn't work a second time.  Blaymore sprung into motion.    It took seven seconds to get out of the sand trap, and another three to build back up to his previous speed.     Ten seconds gone... and there would be no more second chances.   Praying that there was only *one* sand-trap, Blaymore increased his speed to make up the time.   

His eyes focused on the shadow up ahead.   

At twenty-one seconds, he saw a dull green glow within the shadow.  

At thirty seconds the shadow became room, and the green light within it grew brighter as he approached. 

Forty seconds... Blaymore could make out a strange network of green lines in the air.   He was so busy trying to figure out what it was that he almost missed seeing the second sand trap.

Almost.

<<Not THIS time!>>   Going through it was out of the question; he couldn't afford to lose one ounce of his speed.    Blaymore ran faster. 

The edge of the trap approached... Blaymore jumped.

The instant his feet left the ground, he went intangible so that the wind resistance wouldn't slow him down.  His leap carried him over the trap, and he came dangerously close to bashing his head open on the stone ceiling.  He landed on the other side, became tangible, and ran for the room ahead.  

He had lost only four seconds. 

At exactly fifty seconds he began to make out the details of the room.   There was a large gemstone set into the far wall near the ceiling, and this stone was feeding green energy down into a second gem that sat atop a rotating pedestal in the center of the room.  The second gem was a multi-faceted prism, that split the first gem's power into a web of deadly lines that swept the chamber walls.  Three of those lines shot down the corridor once every fifty-six seconds.    Blaymore could see the gem rotating into a position that would roast him alive.

Fifty-four seconds... Blaymore didn't wait to see if he would make it or not.   He reached into his cloak and drew his last invisible dagger...

Fifty-five... 

He aimed carefully.   He would only get one shot...

Fifty-s-

The blade flew from his hand and, instead of knocking the prism off of the pedestal as he had planned, the gem shattered, creating a spray of colored dust.   The web of green lines vanished, and the first gem's beam came down and began to scorch the bare surface of the pedestal. 

Blaymore skidded to a halt just inside the room.  He was tired.   His legs hurt and his feet were beginning to throb.

<<THAT was fun.>> he thought.    While he rested, Blaymore took stock of the room.  It was empty save for the smoldering pedestal, the power gem in the wall, and the deep grooves burnt into stone.    There were no exits save for the one which he had just come through.

<<Well... what now?   Don't tell me I've come through all that for nothing!>>

Blaymore scoured every inch of the chamber, looking for hidden switches or touch-plates.   He found nothing.   He searched again, and found the same.   

Meanwhile, the pedestal at the chamber's center began to crumble under the onslaught of the gem's emerald energy.

<<Damn.>>

Blaymore sighed.   A large chunk of the pedestal fell to the floor.

"Wait a minute."   Blaymore watched as the emerald energy slowly ate away at the room's only furnishing.  The progress was maddeningly slow, but eventually the entire pedestal collapsed.   The single emerald beam from the wall now struck a spot of the floor.  

The effect was instantaneous.

With the unmistakable sound of stone scraping against stone, a large door opened in the far wall.

"Glad I stuck around."

Before the door had even opened completely, Blaymore step through and into a large rectangular chamber.

It was the main chamber of Manark's Tomb.

Spaced evenly along the two longest walls were huge chests.  Each one sat open, and each was filled to overflowing with gold and jewels.   At the far end was a large altar, which held a single jewel-studded golden urn.   On one side of the altar was a golden staff that had been thrust into the stone floor.  Atop the staff sat a focusing crystal that was remarkably similar to the prism in the other room.  It was slightly larger than a man's fist.    On the other side, another pedestal held what looked to be the largest book Blaymore had ever seen.   The leather-bound tome was at least a two feet from top to bottom, and at least one full foot thick.

Out of curiosity, Blaymore zipped over to the nearest chest.   The gold and jewels looked inviting, but the assassin was no fool.   He stepped over to one side and prodded the chest with his ruined sword.  As soon as the blade touched the treasure, the chest and all its riches vanished.   A blast of fire billowed out from a small hole in the wall and would have incinerated Blaymore had he been standing directly in front of the chest.

<<No greedy man would get out of this room alive.>>

Blaymore moved on to his main objective... the altar.   He touched the staff, the book and the urn with his sword.   Nothing happened, so he stepped closer to investigate. 

The book drew his attention first.   He opened it slowly.  His muscles were tense... ready to bolt at the first sign of a trap.   There was none.  

Blaymore flipped through the magic Tome. The ancient book was remarkably sturdy, and it held up amazingly well as the assassin used his speed to view each of thousands of pages...

<<It's just as they said... healing spells....>>

The first third of the book was filled with common spells.  Simple enchantments, potions and balms that most healers or mages would already know.  But then came some extensive passages dealing with bizarre diseases that Blaymore had never heard of.   He studied these closely, lingering for as long as a full second on each page.    The symptoms of these strange afflictions were described in gruesome detail and accompanied with horrific illustrations.   Some of the suggested treatments seemed as dangerous as the diseases themselves, but the intent was clear... the preservation of human life.   Any healer would sell his soul... some literally... to get a hold of this tome.  The book's value would no doubt cause some trouble among those who discovered it, but the tome itself contained nothing that was a great threat to human life.  It was harmless.

The staff seemed similarly innocuous.   There were no traps or stray magic attached to it, and it seemed to be a common, though  incredibly expensive, focusing staff.   It would fetch a *very* high price on the basis of the metal alone, and if the crystal actually did enhance magical spells, then its worth could easily double or triple.    As with the book, the object's value may cause strife among a few traders, but the staff itself was no cause for alarm. 

The urn was adorned with diamonds, rubies and emeralds.  The top was not sealed, so Blaymore careful opened it and peered inside.   Ashes.  

<<By the gods,  everything is as they said it was.    Ashes, a Book, and a Staff..>>    Blaymore gathered the three items and placed them on the floor.   The book and urn were too heavy to carry them both at once.   And the staff was long and unbalanced.   He would need both hands, which meant making three trips. 

Blaymore re-ran his route in his mind several times.   Then he grabbed the Staff and vanished. 

Three minutes later, he returned.   He picked up the urn and vanished again.

Three minutes after that, he returned again, grabbed the Tome, and disappeared for the third time.

At the entrance, Blaymore deposited the items on the floor and looked up at the hole in the Tomb's ceiling. 

"HELLO UP THERE!" he called.

"What?"  said a woman's voice.  It was Insa.  He saw her peering down at him, and her face was soon joined by Atiem's, as well as by Ragge's helmeted head.     "What's that?  He's back already?"

"THROW DOWN A ROPE!   OR A LADDER!"

"By the gods..."  said Atiem.

"He's hasn't been down there twenty minutes yet!"

"ROPE!"

"Did you get the Items?"  yelled Atiem.

"YES, NOW THROW ME A ROPE!"

"The Staff,"  said Insa.  "What about the Staff?"

"Did you get the Staff?"  called Atiem.

Blaymore got a sinking feeling in his stomach.  Something was wrong... Back in Montfort, Atiem and Insa said they wanted the Book.  The Staff belonged to Rell, so why were THEY so worried about it?

"WHERE IS RELL?"  Blaymore yelled.   He was suspecting treachery, but Rell's gruff voice yelled back.

"I'm here!"   Rell peered over the edge.   "Where are the treasures?"

"Right here."   Blaymore grabbed the urn and held it up so they could all see.  "Now throw down a rope and let us see about getting them up out of here."

"Where's the Staff?  Hold it up."

Blaymore found himself holding up the unwieldy Staff almost before he realized what he was doing.   It was long enough to reach the top of the hole, and if he held it high enough one of them could easily grab it without bothering to rescue him.  Instead, he held it up, but kept it away from the opening.

"By the gods,"  said Rell. 

"There it is." 

"Thank you,"  said Insa.    The dark-haired woman glanced at the Staff and gave a quick half-smile.  The Staff shot out of Blaymore's gloved hand and up through the Tomb's opening.   Insa snatched it out of mid-air and waved at Blaymore.

"Do have fun down there with that musty old book and those filthy ashes,"  said Atiem. "We have what WE want."

Blaymore wished he could say he was expecting this betrayal, but he wasn't.  

He reached for one of his daggers, but of course he had none.  He'd used the last one on the crystal.

"What's this about, Atiem!"  he shouted. 

"Well... I'd love to stand here and tell you all the little details while you think up some plan to escape, but I really have more important things to do.  Ta-Ta!"

Atiem stepped away, as did Insa, Rell and Ragge.  Blaymore was left with a clear view of the evening sky, framed by the jagged edges of the Tomb. 

The view didn't remain clear for very long.  

A shower of rocks and dirt began pouring down through the hole.   They were filling in the Tomb's entrance.   And if Insa was a mage, she would no doubt enchant the stone so that Blaymore couldn't pass through it.

<<Not good...>>

Suddenly, the walls began to shake.   It was an explosion. 

No, not one... but several.

Though Blaymore couldn't see outside, he guess what was happening.   The fresh holes in the wall of the excavation site...

They were collapsing the crater.   Sealing him in.

It took several minutes for the quake to stop, and during that time, Blaymore simply stood and waited.   There was nothing else to do.   He was trapped.  The walls of this Tomb were enchanted, so he could not simply walk through them.   The Tomb's only entrance was now buried under hundreds of thousands of tons of rock and earth.  He was trapped.

<<Not good at all...>>

---

Part Two:  The Dead

The caravan rolled hard across the country side, throwing up a thick cloud of dust as it navigated the little-used trails.    The over-worked horses had pulled the wagons at a full gallop for hours, their failing metabolisms sustained by Insa's magic.   Their route skirted the major towns and instead kept to the unsettled countryside.   As they traveled, the land grew more and more barren, until they finally found themselves winding through an empty wasteland dotted with dead trees.  

"Almost there,"  said Atiem.   He sat atop the foremost wagon, leading the caravan toward its destination.  Ordinarily he considered such a task beneath him, but at this point he couldn't take the chance of anything going wrong.

Beside him, Insa nodded silently.    Sweat poured down her face.   Adding her power to the horses strained muscles was more of a task than she would admit.   Still... the journey was almost ended. 

An hour later, a black dot appeared on the horizon.

The caravan approached the crumbling, vine-covered castle walls with unchanging speed,  but as it drew near, Atiem grew impatient and whipped the tired horses into a even greater frenzy.   Before them, the rusted metal gates stood open   They were expected.   

The overworked beasts yielded their last ounce strength just after passing the gates .... and  collapsed in the outdoor courtyard that lay beyond.   The caravan creaked to a stop.   Rell's soldiers dismounted and began unpacking the supplies, while   Rell watched on with arms folded... as if daring someone to suggest that HE do any work himself.  

All around them, stone courtyard looked on in silent decay.   Cracked and crumbling blocks were carpeted with mold, and the walls were criss-crossed with a network of parasitic vines.   The castle appeared not to have been inhabited for quite a few years.  

Of course, nothing could be further from the truth.   Even as the wagons were unloaded, the castle's caretakers emerged from the shadows...  rotting zombies shambled out of the open corridors, their flesh sliding off of their flimsy frames as they shambled toward the wagons.    When they drew near enough, the soldiers backed away and let the undead servants take over the job.

"Looks like we've got two or three dozen here,"  said Insa as she slid off of the wagon.    The slim, dark-haired woman was the only female in the group.   "Although their condition could be better."

"The Old Woman's growing stronger,"  replied Atiem.   "She's been busy."    The short, sharply-dressed man looked around with a clear expression of contempt for the rotting servants.

"Better get used to them."  said Insa.  "When we're done, there's going to be a WHOLE lot more."

Atiem sniffed and walked over to one of the wagons.   He reached in and retrieved a long wizards staff... the Staff of Manark.   He held it up to the evening light and admired its bejeweled beauty.

"There's more precious metal in this staff than in most royal treasuries..."  he said.

"Think she'll let you sell it when we're done?"   replied Insa.  "You we need the money... although you'd just waste it all again."

"Shut your yap, woman!"

"I'M not the one who squandered the Old Woman's fortune!  Noo.... I had to use my paltry inheritance to make up for your stupidity!"

"And MY gold kept YOU in diamonds and furs... so DON'T start with me!"

"ME?!?   MY tastes are simple... YOU'RE the one dressed like a prince."

"I AM a prince!"

"Oh, bring the damned Staff and come on!   Let's not keep the Old Woman waiting..." 

Insa spun and purposely whipped Atiem's face with her long hair.    She then walked gracefully up the broken, decrepit stone stairs that led into the main body of the castle.

"Rell!  Ragge!"  shouted Atiem.   "Let's go!" 

Rell appeared from behind a wagon and followed Insa.    

"Stand calm, men."  he shouted to his wary troops, who were being left alone with the zombies.  "These buggers don't bite.   Yet."

Just as the soldier started up the steps, the very last wagon of the caravan began to rock and creak loudly as it's sole occupant disembarked.   The man was a huge... eight feet tall and covered from head to foot in heavy steel armor.   His booted feet thundered against the stone as he stepped down.  The man adjusted the  gargantuan bastard sword that was slung across his back and then joined the others as the ascended

The interior hallways were dark and damp... causing Atiem no end of discomfort.   After turning into the first corridor, Insa was forced to use her magic to create a ball of light to guide the group.    There were zombies inside as well... although the deeper they went into the castle, the fresher and more 'whole' the zombies appeared.   Some were still dressed in their burial-rags.

"Must be working on the newer cemeteries,"  said Atiem.

"Obviously."  replied Insa.

Eventually they emerged into a long, wide hallway lined with statues.   The floor was covered with a rotting red carpet that led to a set of double doors at the far end.   When the group approached the doors, they swung open of their own accord.   The aging hinges protested loudly.

Insa, Atiem, Rell , and Ragge entered the royal bedchamber.  

Ancient silk cloths hung low from the ceiling like a collection of spider webs, obscuring the huge bed that sat in the center of the room.

"wellllcome." 

The voice reminded Atiem of the sound fingernails make when drawn across a fresh slate.   Only worse.

"We have returned, Old One."  said Insa.

"diiiiiid you briiing the Stafff?"

"We were successful,"  said Atiem.  "As I knew we would be."

"Shhoww meee." 

The silk cloths began to flutter like curtains in a  breeze.   They drew up and away from the bed, revealing its occupant.

To say the woman was old would fall far short of the truth.    She as beyond old... beyond even ancient.   The frail collection of skin and bones was a living fossil, preserved for all eternity, yet still alive.   The hairless, round head was splotched with scars, liver-spots and other marks of antiquity.    Each of her limbs looked alike... fleshless extrusions that had given up all hope of movement years ago.   The only way to tell an arm from a leg was to see what lay at its end.

The Old Woman looked upon her visitors with her one good eye... the other was dead and simply stared off into nothingness.

Atiem held up the Staff.

"Cllossser."

With a sigh, Atiem walked over to the foot of the bed and held the Staff before the woman.   She studied it for a long time... long enough for Atiem's arms to begin shaking with the effort, then she grinned a wide, toothless smile.   Her gums were shriveled and black.

"It's truuuee!"   she said with glee.  "It isss the Sstafff!"

"You doubted us?"  said Atiem.

"Ov COURSE I did, ssimpleton!"  spat the hag.  

Atiem's shoulders drooped, and behind him, both Insa and Rell snickered.

"The two of you have done well..."

"Mother, Rell helped too."   said Insa. 

"It was nothing,"  said Rell.   Insa grasped the soldier's hand in her own and they exchanged smiles. 

"I have come sso farr," continued the woman.  "Six hunndred years of life... only to die at the hannds of that barbarian!  It took another hunndred years to ffight my way ffree of the netherworld's vengeful hunters... but even after ressurecting myself I have been trapped in his decayed, half-dead form.  And then I find that my children have squandered my gifts... wasted my fortune AND my power.   But you have redeemed yourselves, young ones.   Tonight... thiss Sstaff will returnn mme to my vital youth!  Inssa... you must make yoursself ready.  You will use what remains of the powwer I bequeathed you  to perform the cerimony.   It mmust be done at mmidnight... in the courtyard by the light of the full moon.   Tonight vital energies will be transferred out of my receptacle, BACK innto me.   I shall be young again... and my power resstorred!   Then I sshall REBUILD-"

"Ahh, with all due respect,"  said Atiem.  "You're getting a little excited.  You're not young YET, so maybe you should rest until this cerimony is complete."

"Yesss."  The Old Woman nodded.   "Insa, my daughter... go and gather your energies.    Rell... have your men begin cleaning the castle in preparation for my illustrious return."

"Cleaning?"     Rell frowned.

"What about me?"  said Atiem.

"You are uselesss,"  said the hag.    SStaay out of the way.   Now leave me... all of you."

The silken cloths descended, obscuring the bed and its horrid occupant once again.  Rell, Ragge, Insa and Atiem filed out of the room, and the double doors swung closed of their own accord.

"Well that went well,"  said Atiem with a sneer.    He was still carrying the staff, which Rell snatched out of his hand as soon as the doors were closed.

"I'll watch over that,"  he said.  "Treasures should be guarded... something you haven't shown much talent for."

"Watch it, Rell."  said Atiem.  "Insa's favor may have kept you breathing all these years, but this is the royal castle... at most, you're just a servant  here."

"And you?"

"When my mother returns to health, I will be PRINCE again!"

"HA!"  said Rell.  He performed a perfect military turn and marched down the hallway.   Ragge followed after him, but veered off down a different corridor just before Rell vanished from site.

"Just the two of us."   said Atiem.

"Just the ONE of YOU," replied Insa.  "I must meditate.   I'll be in my room, and I expect NOT to see you until this is over.   I'm sure I speak for mother as well." 

With a twist and a fling of her hair, Insa left her brother standing alone in the hall.

---

Naked except for her thin silver necklace, Insa sat cross-legged in the center of the floor.   Her room was a sharp contrast with the rest of the castle... The carpet was soft and thick, and bore an intricate design that drew the eye to its center, where Insa was currently seated.     The furniture was modern and quite expensive, and the air held not a trace of the moist rot and decay that wafted through the remainder of the castle.

Insa mumbled lowly to herself in an ancient tongue taught to her by her mother.   It wasn't a spell, but a mantra of focus that pulled the remains of her power from the far corners of mind and concentrated them, preparing them for use.   Her mother's gift had been finite, and the night's cerimony would more than likely leave her powerless...  But with the return of her mother, none of that would matter.   The Old Woman would provide for them all, even Atiem if he didn't screw anything up. 

Insa pushed the intruding thoughts of her brother from her mind and put more focus into the mantra.   She felt the power centering  and building.   It sent waves of pleasure through her young supple body... rewarding her for her efforts.   She gathered more power... and more... she would need every last ounce.  After a few more minutes, Insa's long black hair started to crackle with energy, and the gem around her neck began to glow.

"Ahhh..."  she sighed.  The Gathering was complete.

She could hold this energized state for hours... more than long enough to use the Staff to restore her mother.   It would take concentration, however.      

Someone knocked at the door.

Insa stifled a curse and waved a slender hand in the air.   The door unlocked and opened.

"There you are."  said Atiem.  "We need to talk-"

"It isn't time for the cerimony."  Insa spoke in a series of long sighs.   "Leave me before you break my concentration." 

Atiem stepped inside and closed the door.

"You aren't very nice to me all of a sudden.   After all I've done."

"After all YOU'VE done?   It was MY power that kept you alive all this time."

"Your power?"

"Mother's power.    My inheritance.   But at least I have spent mine wisely...  all you had to do was watch over her fortune until mother returned, but when the time came you barely had enough to mount the expedition to find the Staff."

"But maybe I haven't spent it all..."  said Atiem.  "Maybe I held some back...saved some..."

"You are physically incapable of saving ANYTHING.    Now get out."

"No."

Insa opened her eyes and turned her head slowly towards her brother.

"I have enough power in me now to reduce you... and the wall behind you... to ashes."

"But you wouldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"You need me."

"For what?"

Atiem just stared at Insa with a curious look on his face.

 

"Are you drunk?"

"A little."

"You have never been a LITTLE drunk in your life, Atiem."

"I was celebrating for the Cerimony."

"I don't see why.   Once I use the Staff to restore her and transfer her power, the most YOU can hope for is-"

"But what if something happened to the Staff?"

"You wouldn't!"  Insa's eyes pulsed wicked red, and then calmed down quickly.  "No... you'd have to wrestle it away from Rell, and you're not man enough to do that."

"Rell."  repeated Atiem.

"Besides... mother may still be weak, but her zombies can still rip you apart if you try to cross her.  Or you could end up like Ragge."

"Ahh... but Ragge is still alive!"

"Only because mother used him to store the bulk of her power.    And she managed to do that AFTER Ragge had killed her!  She's very much ALIVE now, so betray her at your own peril!"

"Don't worry..."

"I'm not.   Now LEAVE!"

Atiem smiled, nodded and let himself.   When the door closed behind him, Insa returned to her meditation.   After a few moments, however, she stood and began dressing herself...

---

Rell watched with silent displeasure as his highly-paid men used their expensive swords to clear vines from the courtyard.   The rotting zombies worked side-by-side with them as they prepared for the cerimony that was just a little more than an hour away.

"Best living soldiers in three month's journey,"  he grumbled,  "and she has them doing PARTY DECORATIONS!"

"Maybe you should find something else for them to do."  said a voice from behind him.   Rell turned, and say Insa.    She was dressed in her traveling clothes, which covered most... but not ALL... of her smooth curves.

"Darling..."  Rell's stern expression cracked and broke into a wide, silly smile.   He stepped forward to take Insa in his arms, but she backed away.

"Don't,"  she said.  "I'm... holding the power for the cerimony."

"Of course,"  said Rell.  "The least the old bat could have done was leave us a few hours together before she started this foolishness."

"Foolishness, is it?"

"You know what I mean.   There have to be a lot of EASIER ways to return from the dead."

"But then mother always was complex."

"Got that right.   At least I got a  hundred years of life out of the deal."

Insa looked confused.

"Well... maybe not free,"  said Rell.  "I DO have to keep YOU happy every night.  I trust I've done an adequate job over the years."

"Adequate."   Insa smiled.

"Remember that night in the camp when we fooled the blue fellow?   You used your power to make him look like me while the two of us-"

"Ohh, yes.   I remember that.   Such a trusting fool."

"Well I wasn't talking about him... I was talking about us.  Maybe we should do that again... out in the wilderness, surrounded by men and animals."

Insa blushed.

"Shy all of a sudden, eh?   You are a woman of many surprises.   So... do you think your mother will allow us to marry after this is over?"

Insa shrugged and looked around at the men.   She studied them as if looking for something.

"Well,"  said Rell.  "Somehow I expected more of a reaction."

"To what?"

"I just asked you to marry me, Insa."

"What?  OH!  I'm sorry... I have to keep my concentration.  It's very taxing..."

"So, will you?"

"I... It depends on mother."

Rell's smile faltered.

"What?"

"I get the feeling she doesn't like me."

"Why?"

"She never intended for me to be a part of this.   From the beginning is was just supposed to be you and Atiem.   Not me."

"And Ragge, don't' forget about him."

"Now you're being funny.     But I'm serious... she gave you power to keep yourself and your brother alive until you could restore her.   I was right there in the same room that day...Hell, I even tried to defend her against Ragge... but she didn't even MENTION me.  She wanted me to grow old and die just like all the rest of her servants.    Do you think she knew about us back then... all those years ago?   Do you think THAT'S why she wanted me to die?"

"I don't know..."

"Because if it is, then there's no way she's going to allow us to marry."

"Perhaps we should discuss it with her BEFORE we return her to power, then?"

"No..."   Rell shook his head.  "Sounds too much like betrayal, and you KNOW what she'll do.  To me, at least.   Hopefully she'll be happy enough to just let us be..."

"Hopefully."

"So if I can't touch you, what brings you to my side?"

"Oh yes.  My... brother... just left my room.   He said he was going to steal the Staff."

"That lying bastard couldn't steal a coin from a blind deaf-mute!   What's he going to do, take it from ME?  I assure you, the Staff is quite safe."

"Certainly, but I thought I would check on it nonetheless."  Insa looked deep into Rell's eyes.    "I don't see it around here... where did you hide it?"

"Somewhere safe."  said Rell.   "It'll be here for the cerimony."

"But perhaps I should-"

"Don't worry your little head over it.    I've protected you, your idiot brother, and this dilapidated castle for over two lifetimes... I think I can keep a Staff safe for another hour, don't you?"

"Yes,"  said Insa. "I'll see it... and you, at the cerimony then."

Rell nodded and went back to watching his men.    Insa watched along with him for a moment, then turned and walked away.

"That was strange,"  said Rell after his lover had departed.  "You MEN!   Keep working while I go check on something..."

---

Centuries ago, a lone warrior, armed with naught but his sword, his armor, and his own formidable strength, fought his way past the unending hordes of flesh-rending zombies and entered the castle of the Yagli, the She-Liche.   He slashed through the armed guards, both living and undead, and bashed his way into the powerful old hag's inner chambers.  There, the warrior wrestled with every manner of abomination... ghosts and ghouls, wraiths and shades, imps and spirit-hunters... all called forth by the liche's undying power.  With blow after fierce blow, he bested them all, until there were none left to best.    It was then that the ancient she-demon herself felt the ever-sharp blade of his mighty bastard sword.    The hag coughed up black blood as she died, and with it she invoked her curse...

For the old woman knew her time was near and though she fought valiantly, she held back enough to perform one final dark act:   She bound the very source of her evil power to the soul of the one who had slain her, where it would lay festering in his soul until she could return from death to reclaim it.   The warrior resisted, but  strong though he was, the warrior could not repel an attack against his very essence.   His mind warped and twisted to her power, and she folded him against himself... forever silencing his will and making him as a zombie, even though he still lived.   Though the bulk of her power was bound to his being,  he had no will of his own to make use of it. 

And so he became... eternally strong, yet weak beyond all weakness.   Both more and much less than human.   He waited.    For hundreds of years he waited.   And now... he still waits.

Ragge stood motionless in center of his room.   Beneath his heavy metal helm, his eyes stared blankly at the wall before him.    The door to the room was closed, but not locked.   There was no need... Ragge had no intention of going anywhere or doing anything until he was summoned, and anyone foolish enough to disturb him would likely end up driven into the floor like a nail.   Unless, of course, it was one of the Masters.   Ragge always obeyed the Masters.   Atiem, Rell, Insa... the Old Woman.  Ragge's entire being was the sum total of whatever duty either of them tasked him with.   And when there were no duties... he waited.  

There was a forceful knock at the door.    

Beneath his immobile stare, the machinery of Ragge's mind began to churn... the knock was not the light tap of Insa, or was it Atiem's arrogant rap.   That left Rell... but Rell never knocked.    Perhaps it was not one of the Masters...  someone else?   An intruder?

The door opened and Rell entered, still dressed in his traveling uniform.   Ragge's mind readied itself to accept whatever orders the sergeant-at-arms gave him.

"Ahhhh...."  said Rell.   "Still the same, I see."  He stood in front of Ragge and inspected the barbarian's  armor.   Then he looked up into Ragge's eyes.

"And how exactly do YOU fit into all this?"  said Rell.   "Oh, I know the story...Storing the old hag's power; keeping it safe for her return.   But what of the REAL Ragge?  Where is HE?  Is there still a man behind all that armor?"

Silence was Ragge's only reply. 

"I'll bet there is... but I've lost bets like that before.    And even if you ARE still in there somewhere... how badly did the Old Woman twist your soul?    Will you stand by her when your burden is lifted, or will you take up arms against her?   Can you answer me that?"

Ragge stood silently.

"Didn't think so.    I guess your actions will speak for you, then.    Be a shame to have to put a warrior like you down... but chose the wrong side and I won't hesitate to do it.    See you at the cerimony..."

Rell walked away, leaving Ragge to his own private void...

---

With the hard work of Rell's men and the Old Woman's zombies, the courtyard was soon restored to something approaching its former splendor.    The green vines were ripped away, their roots painstakingly dug out of the cracked stone.    The stones themselves were scrubbed and scrubbed again... then polished until each block gleamed like marble in the moonlight.    Centuries of rust were scraped off of the main gate, and then it too was polished.   The stone stairs leading up into the castle were swept and washed, and then a plush red carpet was rolled down over them, creating the regal walkway down which the Old Woman would descend.

In the center of the yard, the zombies had painted a giant pentagram surrounded by powerful sigils.   The ink they used was a noxious concoction of arcane herbs and powders... and blood.   The brushes were thick tufts of human hair set into a handle of bone... also human.   Each stroke was overseen by the Old Woman, who watched from her bed by looking through her zombie's eyes.   Of course, all of this was not accomplished without a cost.   Many zombies, especially the older ones, lost fingers, hands, or entire arms while tirelessly performing their tasks.  These were sent away and replaced with others, but in the end the Old Woman's cadre of servants was reduced by almost half.

When all was done, the courtyard stood empty and silent, as if in awe of what was about to transpire.   Then the attendants began to assemble.

Rell's men came first.  Each was freshly bathed, dressed in their best clothes, and carrying their shiniest, sharpest weapons.    They formed a semi-circle at a safe distance around the pentagram, and stood at rigid attention.   Though they were fifteen in number, they looked like a proud army of soldiers, not the petty mercenaries that they really were.

Next came the zombies.   Save for a few held in reserve, those undead that could still stand lined the walls of the courtyard, spacing themselves at even intervals.   Once in place, they simply stared off into space... waiting patiently for their Queen.

Next, Rell himself arrived.   He descended the steps wearing his best dress uniform.   The former...and future... sergeant at arms positioned himself at the bottom of the stairs, standing off to the right.   He held the Staff of Manark tightly in his hand.  The base rested near his tip of his right boot, and the top loomed high above his head.   The enchanted Staff and its focusing gem were glowing slightly, casting a golden hue on Rell and making his weapons gleam. 

The space across for him, on the left of the steps,  was reserved for Atiem.   That space was empty.

Rell frowned and shook his head in disgust, but then corrected himself when Atiem actually appeared.  He had missed his cue and arrived late, nearly stumbling over his own feet as he assumed his position.   The Old Woman's son was wearing the same clothes he had worn on the caravan... he didn't even have the respect to clean himself up.  

Ragge and Insa appeared next.   The metal-clad warrior emerged from one of the corridors and walked slowly across the courtyard.   Meanwhile, Insa began an equally slow descent from the top of the stairs.  Ragge and  Insa entered the pentagram at the same time, and where they stood side by side with a distance of ten feet between them.

The assembly stood in silence... another dramatic pause before the arrival of the Queen.    Five minutes.   Ten.  

Finally she appeared.   The shriveled hag rested on a platform of pillows that was being carried by a contingent of her freshest zombies.   They descended the stairs and stopped just inside the pentagram.  There, they lowered the Queen to the ground.   She looked up at her daughter and smiled while her carriers took their places against the far walls.

Now, all were assembled.

"Now how's this supposed to work again?"  whispered Atiem.  "Does she draw the power from Ragge before or after she restores my mother?"   Rell silenced him with a fierce frown.

Insa raised her right hand and gave a shout.  The Staff of Manark lifted free of Rell's grasp, floated across the threshold of the pentagram, and then sank to the ground beside Insa.  She grasped the artifact and held it before her.     The Staff reacted to her power by doubling, and then tripling its glow.     It was now surrounded in a fiery halo of white and gold light that was centered around the focusing gem at its apex.

The pentagram suddenly flared to life, glowing a fierce red.

"And now we begin..."  said Insa.    She started chanting and focusing her mind on the power she was keeping within her.   She began to delicate process of 'tuning' that power to the Staff, so that it could magnify her abilities.   As she did so, the Staff glowed even brighter.  

Insa extended her left arm straight out to her side, pointing her fingers at Ragge.  The connection was made.  The metal-clad warrior shifted slightly as Insa drew a small amount of energy and attuned it to the Staff as well.    Insa fixed her eyes on the Old Woman.

When the spell began, a single blast of energy shot forth from the Staff and enveloped the hag.   Stray bolts of power sparked off in all directions, but they were easily contained within the pentagram.  The containment sigils pulsed as they absorbed the stray energy and sent it back into the already-charged interior of the pentagram.   The hag drew a shallow, hissing breath and rose off of her pillows.   She floated five feet in the air, suspended there by the power of her daughter and the Staff of Manark.     Wave after wave of  rejuvenating energy washed over her, sinking into her shriveled body.    Her weak limbs twitched and spasmed... then convulsed... then cramped painfully as new muscle grew inside the thin, atrophied form.   The spots on her skin faded, and hair sprouted from her scalp for the first time in hundreds of years.   The hair was thin and gray at first, but it was soon replaced with long ebony strands .  On her face and body, centuries of lines and wrinkles began smoothing themselves out, disappearing entirely in the space of a few seconds.

Rell watched in awe as his beloved and the Staff of Manark did the  impossible... restored the strength of youth to  a woman that was nearly a thousand years old.     

And even beyond that... when the Old Woman was old no more, the flow of power continued.    Insa began drawing the stored energy out of Ragge and returning it to its rightful owner.   The blistering sea of magic flowed into Insa, out  through the Staff, and then into the now fully restored body of Yigla... the She-Liche.      The process seemed to take hours... and indeed it would have if the Staff weren't magnifying Insa's abilities more than a thousand-fold.   But it was... with the Staff in her hand,  the liche's daughter drained Ragge dry in seconds.  

When the power stopped flowing... the She-Liche dropped once again to her pillows.   Insa slumped and was forced to use the Staff to support herself.   And Ragge... the once-powerful warrior toppled over like an empty suit of armor.  

As Ragge thundered to the ground, Yigla stood and raised her arms high above her head.   She was naked... her smooth skin glowed in the moonlight.    Yagli's long black hair flowed down over her shoulders and hid her form down to the waist. 

"It is DONE!"  she said.  

The soldiers cheered.

"The age of the She-Liche has COME AGAIN!" 

More cheering, and this time the zombies began moaning and hissing... attempting to join in the celebration.  

Off to one side, Insa took a deep breath and  straightened herself.  She stood tall and approached her mother.

Yigla reached out and took the Staff from her daughter.   The liche felt her own power respond to it... growing... yearning to be released.

"This STAFF shall be my scepter of power!   My kingdom shall be restored!   The living AND the dead shall BOW before my NEW power!"

"Yeah, yeah,"   shouted Atiem.  "How many times have  I heard THAT one?"

The room grew silent.   All eyes turned to the soon-to-be deceased son of the Liche. 

"Insolent WHELP!"  shouted Yigla.

"What?" said another voice.  

Confusion murmured through the courtyard... for the second voice was ALSO Atiem.   The SECOND Atiem was standing at the top of the stone stairs, dressed in his finest silks, but looking very much like he had just woken up.

"Don't tell me I MISSED it!" he shouted.   "Oh GREAT!   Mother, please forgive me!"

Below him, the other Atiem smiled. 

Their eyes moving as one, Rell, Insa and Yigla looked from one Atiem to the other and then back. 

"What's going on?"  said the Atiem at the top of the stairs.   When he saw his doppleganger, he gasped and pointed.   "IT'S HIM!"

Still smiling, the FIRST Atiem blurred and vanished.  In his place stood a dusty figure wearing a tattered blue robe.  His pants, boots and gloves were supposed to be black, but the dirt that was ground into them made them appear grayish brown.   The stranger's  face was hidden by the robe's deep hood and a dirty swath of blue cloth tied around his head.  

"It's that speeding blue FREAK!"  shouted the real Atiem.  "He's escaped!   How did you get out of that Tomb!"

"Let's skip the formalities," replied Blaymore. "How about you just attack me so I can kill you all and get this over with.

"GET HIM!"  shouted Rell.    All the soldiers drew their weapons and charged even as Rell quickly backed away and headed up the step.

---

Blaymore sighed and watched the approaching soldiers.   Even at their fastest run, to Blaymore, the group of armed men moved like armed tortoises.    Even if he stood and waited for them... an exercise in extreme patience... their weapons would just pass harmlessly through his intangible form. 

<<After the nasties in Manark's Tomb, this is going to be child's play.>> he thought.  <<Step One:  eliminate the soldiers...>>.

In the blink of an eye, Blaymore vanished from sight.   Not invisible... just moving too fast to be seen.   He looped around the courtyard once to gain speed, and ducked into the crowd of confused, slow-moving soldiers.   He zigzagged through them, going from man to man snatching swords and daggers.  Before the first man even knew he had been disarmed, Blaymore had sped off to the far side of the courtyard.  He dropped their weapons on the stone floor and then picked up one polished short-sword for his own use. 

He could have easily killed them all, but there were already enough zombies milling around without him providing more raw materials to Yigla.  Hopefully the disarmed soldiers were smart enough to realize that this was a battle they couldn't win.

They weren't.

The men overcame their confusion and attacked again. 

Blaymore moved towards the group.   Though he still held his sword, he had no real intention of using it.   As he passed the first man, he paused just long enough to punch him in the face... fifteen times in rapid succession.    The soldier was unconscious before he felt the blow.  Blaymore quickly turned and drove his foot into another soldier's chest.   The spinning side-kick was just a light tap, but Blaymore's speed added enough momentum to send the man literally flying across the courtyard.  

In the split second before the man landed, Blaymore took out two more soldiers.   He felled one with another series of high-speed punches to the face, and the other with a quick, hard kick to the stomach.   Another man was nearby.   He was running full speed, but to Blaymore's heightened perceptions he may as well have been standing perfectly still.   Blaymore rendered him unconscious with a simple spinning hammer-fist  to the side of the head.

Again, Blaymore paused in a corner of courtyard.   Five men lay bleeding and broken, but not dead... all taken out in less time that it took the remaining men to make two running steps.   The soldiers gaped, looking from their fallen comrades to the blue-clad stranger facing them.  

They ran.

Most ran screaming out of the castle, but two of them ran up the steps to cower behind their leader, Rell.

"What IS this!"  shouted Yigla.   "Who is this man!"

"Blaymore, mother,"  said Atiem, who was still standing at the top of the stairs.  "Assassin and legend... and very dangerous.   We owe him for retrieving Manark's staff for us."

"And you repaid me by burying me alive!"  shouted Blaymore. 

"My son thinks very highly of you,"  said Yigla.  "Let us see if you DESERVE your reputation... ZOMBIES - DESTROY THE INTRUDER!"  Yigla thrust the Staff of Manark into the air and the zombies began converging on Blaymore.

<<Yeah right,>> thought Blaymore.   <<The zombies are slower than the...uh-oh...>>

Bolts of emerald energy radiated outward from the Staff.  Each crackling blast was aimed not at Blaymore, but at the lumbering zombies that were lumbering towards him.   At the instant of contact, each zombie began vibrating as the massive influx of energy coursed through its rotting veins.   Their milky, pus-filled eyes glared with a new, ravenous hunger as the transformation began...  Weak limbs bulged with cords of hard new muscle.  Rotting teeth became sharp vampiric fangs.   Spindly fingers sprouted inch-long talons. 

"Behold!"  cackled the She-Liche.  "Behold the power of Yigla, queen of the HUNGRY DEAD!"

<<Note to self:   Next time, take out the zombies first...>> 

The super-charged zombies launched themselves at Blaymore.   Their enchanted muscles sped up their movements, making them  more like rabid wild cheetahs than animated corpses.    They were still slow by Blaymore's standards, but his margin for error had been reduced significantly. He couldn't afford to make any mistakes    Blaymore took a split second to study the situation, and then sprang into action.

Yigla was the source of this... she had to die.

At high speed, Blaymore ran past the two closest zombies and went intangible as he passed between them.   When they both turned and racked their claws down his back, Blaymore got a nasty surprise.

"ARRRGH!!!"  

Blaymore stumbled and barely avoided falling.    He FELT that!   Even intangible, their claws could tear him apart!

Blaymore spun and slashed at one of the zombies with his stolen sword.   The creature lost an arm, but no sooner had the severed limb hit the floor, than another one sprouted from the ichor-dripping stump. 

"Great.   REGENERATING zombies..."

Blaymore dodged a slash... and then another.... and another... the evil creatures were beginning to surround him!  He turned sharply to avoid a grasping claw, and another of the beasts grabbed the edge of his robe and ripped it down one side.

Blaymore decapitated the offending zombie, but six more closed in before he could properly section the creature.      As he fought off the others, the first creature grew another head and came at him from behind.

<<No room to FIGHT!   And intangibility is no good... maybe THIS will work...>>

Blaymore turned invisible, but the zombies continued to reach for him with their deadly claws.   The creatures were tracking him with some sense other than mere sight...

<<Damn!>>

More and more zombies joined the assault.   Supernaturally strong hands snatched at the assassin's blade, attempting to yank it away.   Blaymore felt a set of talons sink into his shoulder.    He freed himself, but left more of his tattered robe and much of his blood behind.  He hoped beyond hope that he hadn't just been poisoned.

In a desperate maneuver, Blaymore grasped his sword tightly and began slashing at random.   He turned in sudden arcs and sliced away at anything that happened to be within range.   His speed turned him into a whirling blade that mowed down the zombies faster than they could regenerate... but they WERE regenerating.    All Blaymore could hope for was a wide enough opening for him to escape.   When he achieved that, he broke free of the zombie horde.

Blaymore knew he had a chance to strike at their master while they literally pulled themselves together.   The beautiful yet deadly necromancer glared at him from within her pentagram.  Beside her, her equally beautiful daughter Insa was just still recovering from the cerimony.    And at their feet, the immobile Ragge lay like a toppled iron giant.

Blaymore met Yagli's gaze and held it as he headed straight for her.   The zombies fell in behind him at a distance.   The sigils surrounding the pentagram began sparking as Blaymore approached... and they glowed even brighter the closer he got.    Yagli herself did nothing but smile.

Blaymore knew what was going to happen in instant before it would have too late.   Fortunately an instant was plenty of time.   He executed a perfect 90-degree turn less than an inch away from the crackling pentagram.    The first three zombies in pursuit couldn't turn in time.  They skidded into the deadly energy field which flashed bright green and reduced them to ashes as Yagli and Insa watched.  

The remaining fiends narrowly avoided a similar fate and chased after the assassin on his new course.   Blaymore easily outran them, but as he did so he curved around the courtyard in an ever-shrinking circle.  Suddenly he doubled his speed and began using his blade to drive the zombies back towards the pentagram.   They slashed at him with claws and teeth, and even more of his robe was ripped away by their grasping, dead hands. 

But he drove them back.   At his speed, he was like a continuous wall of swords, striking at them from all directions at once.    The zombies tried to spread out and get behind him, but his tight circular course prevented that... no matter where they went, he was there... driving them back into an continuously shrinking circle

And of course, at the center of that circle lay Yagli's pentagram.

The zombies were driven straight into it.   Caught between the whirling blade and the burning energy field, the undead fiends were incinerated by Yagli's own power.   One by one, they fell into the pentagram and burst into bright green flames.  Their moans and shrieks were mercifully short as the energy quickly consumed them.  

Blaymore shoved the final two zombies into the field by hand and smiled as it turned them into piles of fine, hot ash.

The entire massacre had take less than five seconds...

"So much for the 'hungry dead',"  taunted Blaymore.   "Care to step out here and face me, now?"

The She-Liche threw back her head and laughed.

"Those simple beings were just a SAMPLE of what shall come... With the Staff of Manark, I can empty entire graveyards for hundreds of miles, creating LEGIONS of my undead warriors!  Your speed and petty parlor tricks cannot stop the RISE of MY EMPIRE!"

"Bold talk for someone hiding inside a pentagram."   Out of the corner of his eye, Blaymore saw Rell and his two remaining mercenaries creeping down the stairs toward him.   At the top, cowardly Atiem was pressing himself against the wall, trying his best to look inconspicuous.

"You should have struck me down when I was old and weak, assassin!"   said Yagli.

"Not with Ragge still in your clutches.   Not when there was the chance to save an innocent life."

Yagli laughed again.

"You wasted your only chance to slay me for the sake of some foolish brute?  HA!"

"Mother,"  said Insa.  "Restore my power and I shall eliminate this fool for you!"

Yagli ignored her daughter and let loose with an attack of her own.   She  raised the Staff once more and created crackling blast of energy... a cross between fire and lightning...  that shot across the courtyard toward Blaymore.    She immediately followed with another... and another...

Blaymore couldn't outrun the blasts, but he could dodge them easily, a fact which was not wasted on Yagli.    She changed tactics.  

Holding the Staff upright, she slammed the base of it into the ground.    A crackling bolt rose up from the floor.   It shot towards Blaymore, moving across the stone floor like a pebble skipping across a lake.   Blaymore moved a few feet to one side, then did a double-take as the arc of energy changed course to intercept him.

<<DAMN!>>

Blaymore ran, picking up speed as fast as he could.  But he knew that magic was one of the few things he *couldn't* out-run.   He tried to compensate with rapid changes in direction, but the spell was locked onto him and followed him no matter what he did.

<<Time for a change of plan...>> thought Blaymore.    He executed a series of sharp turns to buy himself a few fractions of a second, then ran straight for Rell and his soldiers, who had just reached the bottom of the stairs.

At the last instant, Blaymore went intangible and ran *through* one of the men.     His passage caused no damage, but the lightning-bolt that followed a split-second later blasted the soldier into several hundred tiny, smoldering pieces. 

Blaymore rendered the second soldier unconscious and then ceased Rell by the throat.   He spun the sergeant-at-arms around so that Insa's love was standing between him and Yigla.

"Try another blast like that and your daughter's friend is TOAST!"  shouted Blaymore.   Rell struggled but Blaymore held one arm twisted behind the man's back.  

"BAH!"   shouted Yigla.   She raised the Staff.

"Mother, NO!"   Insa grabbed her mother's outstretched arm and tried to pull the Staff free. 

"AWAY child!"  Yigla shoved her away violently, causing Insa to stumble backwards and fall on top of Ragge's metal-clad corpse.

Insa got to her feet and rushed for the Staff again, but Blaymore's eyes were drawn to Ragge.    Did Insa's impact shift the heavy barbarian's  position... or did he just move on his own?

"MOTHER!"  shouted Insa.  "Rell is MINE... he helped us retrieve the Staff.    I RESTORED you, mother... PLEASE let him live, it is the only reward I ask!"

"REWARD!"  bellowed the liche.  "I bestowed power upon you.... I gave you your very LIFE for the SOLE PURPOSE of orchestrating my return... and now you seek REWARD?!?  Your existence SHOULD have been reward enough!"

"MOTHER...ATIEM please help me!"

Atiem was long gone.   His hiding place at the top of the stairs was empty... in the confusion he had crept down the stairs and was making a run for the front gate.  

It was not a wise move.

"But if TRUTH be told... I have no further need for ANY OF YOU!"

The Staff struck the ground once more.  

Insa's proximity to Yagli meant that she was the first to die.   The arc of crackling power engulfed her before she even knew what happened.    The beautiful young woman... Yagli's own daughter and instrument of her resurrection... exploded in a rain of sizzling, bloody chunks.

"NOOO!!!"  shouted Rell and Atiem both.

Rell was shouting for the loss of his love... and Atiem for his own life.   The second blast struck Yagli's son and likewise rendered him into smoking pieces.

In shock from Yagli's barbarity, Blaymore's grip on Rell loosened.   The loving soldier broke free, drew his sword, and charged the wicked liche.  

"DIE, YOU MURDEROUS HAG!!!!"

Blaymore expected him to run head-long into the deadly pentagram, but instead, he stopped short and sliced at the barrier with his sword.

The effect was the same.   Green energy crackled along the metal weapon, melting it and incinerating Rell's arms up to the elbows.

"AIIIIIGH!!!!!"   Rell fell to his knees.

"You were a good servant, Rell."  said Yigla.  She could barely be heard over Rell's screams.    "But you forget where your true allegiance lies.   Love is not your master... and neither was my daughter.     Through Insa, my power sustained you.  And now it will destroy you."

"NOOO-"

In a flash, Rell was just an outline of ashes on the stone.

"So assassin... It is just you and I now.   No one else to hide behind."

Yagli raised the Staff and prepared to loose the fatal blow.

"Oh I wouldn't say that."

Yagli's young frame was grasped from behind by a pair of huge, metal-clad hands.  Ragge squeezed, and Blaymore heard the liche's bones snapping like green wood. 

"ARRR..."  her cries were lost as the air was squeezed from her collapsing lungs, but the hag was not so easily outdone.   As Ragge lifted her high into the air, she maintained her grasp on the Staff of Manark and twisted around to look deep into Ragge's not-so-dead eyes.   Her own gaze pulsed with power as she forced her Staff-amplified will into Ragge's mind.

The barbarian's grip loosened, and he began to slowly lower her to the ground...

"Resist her, Ragge!"  shouted Blaymore.  "She's controlling your mind!  Fight Her!"

The Staff's focusing gem glowed brighter as it added even more strength to Yagli's will.  Ragge was fighting, but with the Staff in Yagli's possession, would all the willpower in the world be enough?

"The STAFF!"  shouted Blaymore.  "DESTROY the STAFF!"

But the battle was lost.   Ragge released the liche and stepped back while she raised the magic-amplifying staff above his head.    Though injured, Yagli still had strength enough to gloat...

"It seems I have one more former loose end to eliminate before I destroy YOU, assassin..."

The Staff's gem glowed.   Blaymore felt the power building.

"RAGGE!!"

Green fire spat forth and engulfed Ragge... but at that exact same moment, Ragge reached up and grasped the white-hot gem in his hands.  

For a moment, nothing happened... 

...everything was frozen in time...  

The scene displayed before Blaymore was an eternal battle capture in still life:  Fire playing along Ragge's armor, searing both it and the flesh it protected...  Ragge's powerful hands squeezing the gem with all the enormous force he could muster... the She-liche, suffering from her own wounds yet still trying to destroy  her enemy before he could destroy her... and surrounding them all, a deadly pentagram glowing wickedly in the night.

Blaymore had no idea which would yield first... Ragge's armor?   His will?   Or the gem that was amplifying the liche's power?   He KNEW the gem could be shattered, for it was of the same construction of as the eyes of Manark's stone guardians.   Their explosive power had allowed Blaymore to blast a hole in the Tomb wall and struggle to freedom... but the Staff's gem was much larger.   Could Ragge break it?

For just the slightest instant, the three quantities... The barbarian's strength, the liche's will,  and the gem's hardness were the balanced points of a seemingly eternal struggle...

But then the balance shifted.

The gem cracked with the smallest, most unassuming sound...

*...crick...*

Then all Hell broke loose.

The incredible power that had been flowing out of Yagli and into the gem suddenly exploded outward.  The cracked gem became an open spigot for Yagli's energy.    The air was filled with Yagli's high-pitched screams as she and her destroyer were both engulfed.    The blast of power continued outward and was stopped only by the containment pentagram. 

"RAGGE!!"  Blaymore cried.

The power continued to build.  In just a few seconds, the only thing visible inside the pentagram was a searing column of fire and magic.   The sigils glowed white-hot and began to smoke.   The stones upon which the lines were draw began to sizzle and crack under the strain. 

It wasn't going to hold.

Blaymore ran...

...out of the courtyard and across the ragged countryside at frightening speed.   He was a mile away when the liche's castle exploded.   Billowing columns of green fire blasted tons of stone blocks high into the air.     At a safe distance, Blaymore stopped to watch the castle be destroyed.   The power was so great in a span  of minutes there was nothing left but sparks and rubble.   He waited until the green glow of energy died... and then waited longer as the small mountain of burnt stones cooled in the night air.   

Nothing moved for a long time. 

"I am sorry, Ragge,"  said Blaymore.  "After all your people have done for me in the past, I wish I could have saved you.    Rest well, great warrior."

Blaymore watched for a little while longer, and then sped away toward home.

[END]