Chapter 31

Living Dead

Stefan woke up with his head resting on someone's leg and a throbbing headache. Around him was total darkness. Thankfully, the smell had lessened. That was good. It meant he was still alive, and not the lunch of the creature. He felt the leg shift beneath him, and gently raised his head to give whoever it was some room. He heard a groan in the darkness, and timidly responded.

"Everyone alright?" he whispered.

"Alright?! Are you--"

Several people hissed out of the darkness to silence Fineus' outburst. Good. They might be in pain, but they would live. Stefan made a head count, listening for the reply of each person in turn. Everyone was present and smarting, save for one of Guro'jintal's warriors. The Troll had broken his neck from the fall. Molgoby had been luckier, swearing he had landed on his head, and complained only of a slight pain around the base of his horns. Everyone else had far less severe injuries and, after a minute of recuperation, were ready to go. Guro'jintal and Lyra stood on either side of the Tauren, who had trouble staying on his feet.

After fumbling in the dark Geraldros was able to get his contraption working once more. In the glow of the light globe, they could see the steep drop they had tumbled down earlier, ending in a heap of caved in rock. The only option was to continue down the passage the cave-in had punctured. At this point, they might not even be venturing to the tomb, but off a random tangent of tunnels, to be lost forever. At least, so went Fineus' rant.

"Fin, if you don't quit the bulls[i][/i]hit, I'm going to help you," said Haydric. In the quiet gloom, everyone was afraid to talk above a whisper, for fear of something hearing them. All but Fineus.

"Talk is cheap, Human! Think you're tough with those stilts of yours? Wait till I--"

Molgoby couldn't take it anymore. With a firm but nonviolent placement of his fist, he silenced the Gnome, and threw the unconscious motor-mouth over his shoulder. Haydric nodded his thanks, and they continued on in silence.

---

Unlike the previous passage, this one was not covered in runes, and consequently, was devoid of traps. Stefan wasn't sure if they had gotten lucky, or been placed horribly off track. But they had gone over it time and time again; there was no going back. After several long minutes of endless, straight path, the passage opened up into a crypt, where several Nerubian carcophogi sat quietly, gathering dust. To the others' dismay, Geraldros sneezed, sending up a cloud of decay.

They split into two groups, moving amongst the coffins with caution. The way things were going, the dead might as well have risen against them too. Luck wasn't on their side. Stefan chose this time to eye the rich detail the Nerubians had chosen to embellish their carcophogi with. Patterns were wrought in gold and truesilver, polished to a beautiful finish. Beneath the layer of dust, they reflected as if brand new. He slapped his hands together in an attempt to remove the dust, coughing as a result.

Something on the floor caught his attention. It wasn't dust, but the absence of it.

[i]Was the carcophogus moved? I don't remember...[/i]

"Stefan," said Haydric, a few feet in front of him, looking at another coffin. "This one's unlocked."

[i]Uther's right buttocks.[/i]

The wood of the coffin's body exploded in a shower of splinters as a something reached out and grabbed Stefan's shirt. It pulled him forward and slammed him into the coffin repeatedly, then shoved him away. Stefan fell onto his a*s, dazed. Still reeling, he scrambled with his maces, bringing them up to cover his face as a clawed hand took a swipe. There was a loud hissing sound, and a hunched, withered figure was flailing on the ground, gripping one of its bony, clawed hands that burned with an invisible flame. Stefan ended the horrible scream by driving his mace into the creature's throat, silencing it forever.

"Undead!"

---

The coffins littering the room weren't holding Nerubian dead at all. Ghouls had been waiting in their place, awakened by the disturbance of Stefan's troupe. Now the room was a flurry of dust and combat as the defenders were taken by surprise. The Undead had flanked Guro'jintal and Lyra, who fought to push the charging monsters back. Molgoby was left with the unconscious Fineus still on his back, snoring lightly. Two ghouls errupted from a pair of coffins ahead, and began to shamble towards the giant Tauren. Without thought, Molgoby whiplashed the Gnome off his shoulder, senting one of the Undead sprawling as Fineus went airborne. He dodged a swipe of the second one's claws, then delivered a blow directly to the ghoul's face, crushing its skull. By now the second one was up and careening towards Molgoby, claws outstretched. The Tauren lifted a coffin's metal lid into the air like it was a sheed of paper and brought it down on the approaching threat. Needless to say, the Nerubian metalsmiths were experts at their trade.

Lyra and Guro'jintal dispatched their opponents with practiced patience, typical of the graceful dance that was the Troll's way of war. Stefan hurried to Iyana's aid, where a trio of ghouls thought they could find an easy meal. One lay on the floor, its head nearly sawwed off by one of Iyana's daggers. The other two were circling slowly, fearing a similar fate as their colleague's. Iyana threw one of the daggers, lodging the projectile in one of the monster's chest. This didn't kill it, but a winded up blow from one of Stefan's maces nearly disintegrated its head. The second darted forward but Iyana was faster, driving her remaining dagger under the ghoul's jaw and into its decaying brain. She withdrew her weapon, and the ghoul toppled over. Stefan pulled her other dagger free, planting a kiss on his Elven lover's cheek as he returned it to her.

"You forgot this," he said. She grunted with a smile.

There was a shriek from above. A ghoul had leapt from the wall and was descending towards them, death in its eyes. Stefan froze, caught completely off guard. Then there was a loud discharge and suddenly, the ghoul vanished in a cloud of smoke. Stefan and Iyana were thrown back by the blast. Coughing and spitting, they rose to their feet, Stefan's eyes askance in search of the divine intervention.

Mae was standing next to Geraldros, who looked back at Stefan with a similar look of astonishment. In the Dwarf's hand was a compact rocket launcher, smoking from a recent shot. They looked at each other once more, both in complete disbelief.

Then Geraldros' chest began to bounce, and soon the Dwarf's laughter was echoing throughout the chamber. Stefan joined him in the respite.

They were cut short when a loud, scr[i][/i]aping sound invaded their moment. Haydric pointed to a large, stone slab that blocked a passage. It was rising slowly, supported by clawed hands. More Undead. Stefan's eyes darted to the only other exit out of the room besides the way they came, yet another dark, foreboding passage.

"Let's move," said Stefan. "We can't get lucky that often."