The stone rattled and groaned, fighting for each inch against the pull of the ancient wheels we turned. Dust plumed and dead air hissed when we breached the seal closed for so many years. Even the glow of the walls shimmered and wane tested by the flow of time.

Armed with a spear I marched forward, again designated to lead our procession. My boots clicked in the unbroken silence and even though I walked on my toes, the echoes roared through the dark. Time after time we passed chambers filled to the brim with gold, art, and the dead. Some of which stirred in their restless, eternal sleep.

Bit by bit the maze pulled us down towards the center of the city. Every time we chose steps leading up or a path heading outward, the tomb made us walk down twice us many steps later and curved its corridors forcing us back where we came.

Twice we heard an insane laughter followed by a maiden’s wails.

“Back. Not this way.”

A crowd of bones gathered before us, some still wrapped in their shrouds. The deeper we went the more often such view became. More than once we were forced to backtrack to the previous chamber and take another route.

“They’re herding us aren’t they?”

Darin voiced what rumbled in our minds. More than once we came face to face with the dead but they just stared us down with their unseeing eyes. One such crowd stood before us, unmoving. Carl cut down the nearest cadaver yet that action prompt nothing more than a new one taking place of the one he slain. The unmoving wall of bodies still blocked our path.

“We push through again?”

Earlier, we plowed past one such barrier. I lost count of time, stabbing one scull after another. Even though none fought back, that senseless slaying put a great strain on our group.

“Too many.”

I shook my head, omitting the fact that far behind, creatures of less gentle nature stood and waited.

“You cursed mongrels! What do you want from us?!”

Falarn rammed the line with his shield. Packed tighter than sardines in a can, the dead didn’t budge.

“Leave it!”

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His brother pulled him away and yet again we run.

“Forgiveness me. Vowed… I… burden.”

Dosie whispered in my arms. I’ve been carrying her for the better part of the past two hours as we run from one corridor to another. Frustrated by lack of mobility, her speech deteriorated with each passing sentence. Often she lapsed into her native tongue and prayed.

“For the black and rotting tits of Manbuga! Damn be you wretched…”

A fit of caught silenced him then turned into spasms. Hewing on his knees, Falarn retched bile.

“We’re done. No more running.”

Leon sat on the ground. Large beads of sweat trickled down his face. Out of our six, only my body did not show any signs of exhaustion. On the surface that is. Inside, my bones burned with radiating pain as more and more mana rushed out to regenerate my muscles.

“Least we rest in a first class company, those are all the ancient heroes.”

The chamber walls were packed with richly engraved sarcophagi of knights, mages and nobles. All adorned by gold-plated shields, praising their achievements. Their emotionless depictions studied our group from their stone faces.

Torhok the dragon slayer, son of Fatur the little. Defender of the empire, first hand of his majesty, Alurian. I read the nearest plate.

Sounds familiar?

*Not a clue.*

You sure? With a nose such as this?

*Oh, I am sure you remember all the bugs you squashed, dolt but I had no reason to keep a registry. Do you know how many of those lunatics wandered the lands those days? Some bard came up with an idea, something about becoming a man and getting a heart of a maiden and all those idiots followed, raiding caves and mountains. And all for a bloody piece of meat.*

Well, I’m sure they were after the whole maiden, or at least her rear.

*Humans and their mating habits… *

Says a dragon with a half-human daughter.

Erta’s boiling anger earned me a range of strange looks from Dosie. To sense even that, was that the norm here with magic users?

*No. She is what you call a tracker or a hunter. Her sensitivity is unnatural. Possibly a mutation of sorts. And an annoyance if you are trying to hide or take a nap.*

The dead begun to flood the chamber ending our rest. As if directed by an invisible conductor, they surrounded us, leaving only a single path before us.

“Somebody is inviting us so clearly. Let us take that invitation.”

Carl sheathed his sword and without fear, marched forward.

“Are you out of your dam mind you old fart?!”

“No, he’s right.”

Leon got up and followed the knight’s example.”

“What in the steaming pile of dung are you doing!”

“Look, look at the dead. Do they seem normal to you?”

“Since when a walking corpse is… They act too smart. They cooperate and…”

“They wait.”

“Magic?”

“Magic.”

“And when there’s magic…”

“There’s also a way to undo that magic.”

Sudden understanding dawned upon the brothers. Leon smiled.

“What’s the best way to undo rouge magic?”

“Slay the pigfucker that cast the spell and burn the rest.”

I raised my hand.

“Question. Why are you so sure we are being lead towards that… individual? We may be marching straight into a trap.”

“Unlikely. Those types love to be flashy. They adore staring their victims in the eyes. Besides, we have you.”

“I’m not much of an asset in a fight.”

“You know that, we know that, they don’t have to know that.”