Inside, the building’s floor was paved. There were no windows, and the only light was from a hole in the ceiling. The walls were bare save for Elvish script that was etched into the wall opposite the door. The floor in the middle of the chamber had been broken, but that appeared to have been done by the hands of man, not time.
“Was this a temple?” Ricar asked.
“No,” she replied and read the text. “The Dread Commander sleeps below. None may enter.”
She turned to Ricar. “This is a tomb.”
The wiry man nodded and looked down at the hole. “It looks like they’ve breached it.”
She looked past him and saw that stairs lay hidden beneath the floor. She could sense the energy flowing beneath her feet. The building appeared to be gathering the life force of the surrounding forest to power a spell. She touched the floor and could feel a lingering enchantment. Perhaps it was an enchantment of protection. One someone had broken through with brute force.
“I think we should go down to investigate,” Ricar offered.
Rhania knew he was right. She looked at the script and took a deep breath before walking over to the hole. It was pitch black below and it looked like a gaping maw. As she stood over the threshold, a malevolent aura emanated from it, striking her in the face and knocking her onto her backside. It was filled with rage and grief, and she found it almost overwhelming. Then, it disappeared as suddenly as it came.
“Madam Arbiter, are you alright?” Ricar was standing at the threshold where she had been just a moment earlier, staring into the abyss. At length, he turned around and eyed her with concern. “You look pale. Perhaps you should rest.”
“No, I’m fine,” Rhania said as she scrambled to her feet. “You don’t feel it?”
Ricar shook his head slowly. “No, what was it?”
“Nothing,” Rhania said quickly as she got to her feet. She pulled a glass ball from her pouch and chanted a spell as she tapped the magical energies flowing through the floor. Soon, the ball glowed a pale blue, and she handed it over to Ricar. “You lead the way. I will follow.”
Ricar nodded dubiously before padding down the stairs. Rhania’s pulse quickened as he descended into the abyss. It was not long before the inky blackness swallowed him, and the light he held up. She took a deep breath as she stood at the threshold. Another wave of malevolence struck her, but it was weaker than before.
“Are you coming?” Ricar’s voice sounded muffled and distant even though he couldn’t be more than ten yards away.
“Yes,” she called after him.
Hesitantly, she followed after him, fighting off her unease. Every fibre of her being screamed for her to turn back. The stairs began to wind, leading them deeper into the earth.”
“Do you feel it?” she called out into the darkness.
“I don’t think so,” came the reply.
She gasped as she bumped into Ricar’s back. The man held the orb to her face and his voice came out of the darkness. “Of course I’m unsettled, but who wouldn’t be?”
He paused before continuing. “However, this place clearly has an effect on you. Perhaps it is due to your elvish blood. I won’t think less of you if you want to wait on the surface. I swear on Aertani that I will report everything I find back to you.”
Rhania gritted her teeth. “No. Who knows what is lurking down here?”
Soon, the stairs led them to a short, earth lined passageway that ended in a stone door that had been broken open. Ricar held his orb up to the elvish script that had been etched into the frame. Part of it had been scratched out.
“So, they have breached this chamber as well,” she heard Ricar mutter under his breath.
“What was that?” she asked, playing dumb even though she had heard every word clearly.
“I was just wondering what the text said,” Ricar replied.
“It says that someone is carrying out their eternal sentence within,” Rhania said, deciding that this wasn’t the time for a confrontation. They still needed each other. “Their name has been scratched out.”
She took a step back and readied her dagger as Ricar raised his sword. He cocked an eyebrow at her. “It could be dangerous inside. We need to be prepared.”
Rhania cursed her lapse and nodded. Slowly, Ricar turned around and entered the chamber. Rhania was close behind. Pale lights winked into life as they entered, illuminating the small, square chamber. In the middle of the chamber, lying on a slab of stone were the desiccated husk of what was once an elf. It wore only ragged trousers, and a deep wound was visible on its bare chest.
“A sword wound,” Ricar murmured. He frowned as he held the orb close to the body’s chest. “It looks fresh…”
Before she could stop him, Ricar reached out and touched the wound. The body gasped and jerked upward. Rhania yelped in surprise, and Ricar leapt back, his sword at the ready. The elf grasped at its chest frantically, as though looking for something.
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“It’s gone, it’s gone!” he rasped in elvish. “They’ve taken it!”
“What have they taken, elder?” Rhania asked in Elvish as she rushed over to place a calming hand on his shoulder.
“The humans, they’ve taken the Blade, the Blade of Pestilence!” he cried as his rheumy eyes looked around the chamber. “It’s gone! Filthy thieves!”
“Where could they have taken it?” Rhania asked.
“To the font of power,” he babbled. “They will restore it and use it against us! You must stop them!”
“Where is this font of power?” Rhania pressed.
“Ah, you are not of the cursed Venyirila,” the elf spat. “Good. Follow your senses. They will lead any true elf to…”
The elf turned to look at Rhania and paused. He reared his head back as he studied her. His lips curled into a sneer. “You are no elf. What are you?”
Rhania bristled and she felt blood rush to her face. “My mother was first born.”
“Who cavorted with a human,” the man’s eyes turned crazed again. “What depravity! You and she are no better than they!”
Without warning, the man lunged at her. His fingers curled into talons that reached for her throat. He shuddered abruptly as she plunged her dagger into his gut. Their eyes locked, and she saw that his were filled with hatred as the life slowly faded from them. She pushed the body off, and it turned to dust before it hit the ground.
Ricar asked as Rhania looked at the dust at her feet numbly. Elves didn’t see her as their own. Even ones as ancient as this one.
“Do you know who he was?” Ricar asked, breaking Rhania out of her funk.
She shook her head. “This place is ancient. He must have been entombed thousands of years ago.
“Do you think it predates the years of light?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Rhania said as she looked at the slab he had been lying on. There was a slot in it that looked big enough for a blade to fit inside. “He was impaled to this slab with his own sword for thousands of years.”
“So it seems,” Ricar mused. “I didn’t think elves were that hardy.”
“This place is drawing magical energies from the forest,” Rhania said as she looked around the chamber. "Perhaps that was keeping him alive.”
“That’s quite the punishment,” Ricar frowned. “I wonder what his crime was.”
“I assume it involved the sword he was impaled with,” Rhania replied. “The question is, what was he planning to do with it before he was entombed here?”
“I’m more interested in where they could have taken it,” Ricar remarked.
Rhania sheathed her dagger and studied the man. Now was the time. “I think it’s time you were honest with me.”
Ricar raised his eyebrows in surprise. Rhania held his gaze and he eventually chuckled before shaking his head. “I suppose you’re right.”
Rhania blinked, caught off guard at his sudden frankness.
“One of our people found an old elf tome in the woods quite by chance,” Ricar continued. “I believe it was somewhere close to the brook we crossed on the way in. Anyway, it was remarkably well preserved. We had to take it over to Dinburn for translation, of course.
He paused for effect and Rhania gestured for him to continue. “The tome chronicled the tale of an elven leader, who despairing at humanity’s rise to prominence after breaking free of the shackles of elven slavery did the unthinkable. He beseeched the Dark Gods for power to turn the tide back in elven favour. He was led to this Blade of Pestilence. Before he could unleash it on humanity, another tribe, horrified at his actions, hunted him down. His followers were slaughtered at the village nearby, and he was imprisoned with his blasphemous blade here. Apparently, it happened around the time of the Final Alliance, so the entire affair was hushed up to avoid fractures in the already fragile alliance.”
"Did this tome detail what the blade does?” Rhania asked, trying to conceal her turmoil at the fact that one of her mother’s people had turned to the Dark Gods. Perhaps that was why he had reacted so violently when he discovered that she was only half elven. None of the elves she had encountered in the kingdoms of men had ever shown anything but curiosity when they discovered her heritage. She put those thoughts from her mind and focused her thoughts on the man before her.
“Vaguely,” Ricar replied evenly. He paused and the faint hint of a smile crept across his face as Rhania looked at him expectantly. “Well, we’ve seen one of its effects already, creating those monstrosities we’ve seen.”
“Anything else?” Rhania asked.
“No,” Ricar shook his head. “However, its new wielder seeks more power for it. Presumably to raise a larger army.”
Rhania narrowed her eyes. “To what end?”
“Well, this blade was a gift from the Dark Gods. It is possible that his mind has been corrupted…” Ricar replied and allowed his voice to trail off.
“So, why was your lord after it?” Rhania asked tersely. “The village, it was built to break into the tomb, wasn’t it?”
“It was,” Ricar confirmed. He paused before giving Rhania a sideways glance. “It’s a dog eat dog world out here on the frontier. The Empire’s influence is weak, and we are largely left to fend for ourselves.”
“So you wanted to seize power to defend yourselves,” Rhania asked sardonically.
Ricar smiled wryly. “I will leave that to your imagination.”
Rhania raised her eyebrows and Ricar took a deep breath. “All we knew when we were searching for a way into this place was that the sword could be a powerful tool. Whatever our intentions were, they died when we discovered its true nature.”
Rhania raised an incredulous eyebrow and Ricar’s eyes widened. “Do you think Sir Ilian wants to turn our people into that thing we saw in the village? Why would he want to rule over a circus of freaks? That sword is dangerous and foul, and it is killing the woods.”
Rhania sighed. “Your words have moved me, Master Steward. I have a clue as to where our quarry might be, so let us make haste. I don’t know what will happen when he gets that sword to the font of power, but I do not wish to find out.”
“My hand to Aertani, I intended to kill you once Glonn was dealt with,” Ricar said.
Rhania stopped in her tracks and turned around to face him. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
“But you have saved my life, twice, and I am a man of honour,” Ricar continued. “If we manage to retrieve the sword, you must take it into the Arbiter’s keeping.”
Rhania shrugged. “That won’t save you from an inquest.”
“I’m not worried about that,” Ricar said, flashing a cheeky grin. “Your order has little authority out here, but I expect that you will have broad powers when it comes to dabbling with artefacts of the Dark Gods.”
Rhania nodded and watched him carefully.
“I am offering my full cooperation in dealing with this partly because I have seen the horrors it can bring, but also in exchange for leniency when it comes time to pass judgement on our crimes,” he said.
“You and your lord would submit yourselves to our judgement meekly?” Rhania asked incredulously.
“Not meekly, no,” Ricar said with a wry smile. “Are you qualified to pass judgment on us?”
“No,” Rhania replied slowly. “But I will speak in your defence provided your actions going forward merit them.”
Ricar shrugged. “That’s good enough for now. I hope that with this, we can put aside our mutual suspicions because if we do not trust each other completely moving forward, I fear that the servants of the Dark Gods might establish a foothold in my Lord’s backyard.”
Rhania nodded. “You can lead the way out. I’ll need to get to the surface to get my bearings before looking for the font of power.”
Ricar moved towards the door, giving her a wide berth. “This place is my home, Madam Arbiter. My great grandfather was born here. I have no desire to see it share Nitherin’s fate.”
“Then we had better move quickly.”