Friedrich continued to free the dark elf from the webs binding him, but he paused momentarily upon the utterance of a name. “The Queen of Spiders?” he asked in confusion.

“It is why we came here,” said the man as his head was fully uncovered. “Are my companions alright?” he asked as he looked over to his dead friends.

“I am afraid not,” said Teleri.

“I suspected so,” sighed the man, wrenching an arm free with the help of Friedrich. “It is a stroke of fortune that the webs binding me were thin enough to let me breathe through them. My name is Nelmor, strangers. What are yours?”

The four introduced themselves, but Friedrich noted that Pheston seemed unusually abrupt when saying his name.

“Well met,” said Nelmor, standing up and stretching; he felt stiff from his imprisonment. He walked over to each of his comrades and closed their eyes while muttering a quiet prayer in Balmorian—the language of the dark elves; the Balmori—under his breath. “I suggest we leave at once before the Queen of Spiders returns.”

“Who is she?” asked Marina, failing to hide her disgust.

“In human tongue, you would call her Valmyra, but to the Balmori, she is Ly’riyaksh. We were sent down here to capture her, but with my friends dead, it is a fool’s errand.”

Pheston raised an eyebrow. “How big is this spider that she would take so many of you to carry her back to…where, Balmoria?”

“You do not understand,” said Nelmor, looking down the passageway to make sure there was no sign of the Queen of Spiders. “It is not the weight that is the concern, it is whether or not we can kill her to expose her soul.”

“Her soul?” asked Friedrich, his hand drawn to the goblin mask hung around his neck. “What do you mean by that?”

Nelmor hurried over to one of his dead companions and sifted around his pockets before pulling out a turquoise stone that looked eerily familiar. He held it up and drew out a basic wooden mask from underneath his cloak and held them out together. It bore as basic of a face as could be imagined, featuring two rounded eyeholes and a small slid for a mouth. To call it a face was being generous. The party exchanged worried looks, knowing now what Nelmor and his group were planning to do.

“When we killed her, we would have drawn her soul into this gem. Once combined with this mask, it would grant whoever wears it the ability to assume her powerful form.”

Nelmor was not a mere tomb raider; he was a soul hunter.

“Should we help?” asked Friedrich, looking to the others.

“We shouldn’t,” said Marina.

“Foul magic or not,” said Teleri, “this creature is desecrating a tomb. She’s better off dead and her fate is of her own making.”

“Tell you what,” said Pheston, putting his hands on Nelmor’s shoulders. “You just found yourself a new bunch of friends, who will gladly aid you in this here quest of yours. You did us a favour in slaying the trolls outside—”

Nelmor looked puzzled. “How did you—

“—so we’ll do you a favour and kill this Queen of Spiders for you. The people of Millstone will no doubt appreciate it, eh? Squashing two insects with one stone. Sounds like a fair deal to me?”

“I am not sure…”

“Nonsense!” boomed Pheston. “We’re experts in the soul department, especially the auburn lad over there. Tell him, Friedrich.”

“We’ve…dabbled with soul masks,” said Friedrich uneasily. “At the very least, we’re no stranger to killing monstrosities.”

Nelmor looked hopeful. “You would do that for a strange?” he asked. “With no payment required?”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“Tell you what,” said Pheston again. “You can take credit for killing that spider and we’ll take credit for killing the trolls. We’ll do a little good deed switcheroo there, eh?”

“I accept your terms,” said Nelmor. “You are sure you can handle yourselves?”

“Handle ourselves?” chuckled Pheston. “My friend, I spent forty years in Keldracht killing demonic beings daily. I can handle a few spiders, don’t you worry. Backed up by my friends here? She’s as good as dead.”

“Are we sure we should imprison her soul?” Marina whispered to Teleri. “We have no idea what he’s going to do with it.”

“Leave that to me,” said the Alaurian, careful not to let Friedrich and Pheston hear her. Marina gave her a concerned look, but said nothing further.

“What was your plan, Nelmor?” asked Friedrich. “Before it went awry.”

Nelmor held up the soul gem. “The magic in this little gem is already primed and ready to use. All I need to do is focus on it before the killing blow is struck and Valmyra’s soul will be pulled into it upon her death. In theory, it is that simple.”

“In theory.”

“Yes, she’s the one who wrapped up all five of us, something her children were incapable of doing.”

“No point wasting our time here then,” said Pheston, twirling Vigr around. “Let’s go beat the soul out of the invader while the day is still young.”

Nelmor found one of his companion’s lanterns and lit it as Marina dispelled Shockwave. Once the quintet was ready, they marched down the corridor with Friedrich, Pheston, and Teleri taking the lead.

“Do you trust him?” Teleri whispered.

“With a soul mask?” asked Pheston, trying to stifle a laugh. “Not a chance. Who knows who he’s going to sell it to in the future?”

“Then what was all that about swapping deeds?” asked Friedrich.

“Needed him to think we weren’t going to double cross him. It worked and you can thank me later.”

“Spider!” called Teleri, bringing up her bow and unleashing an arrow. It soared down the corridor and pierced the crawling menace with a squelch. “There was only one.”

“Good shot,” said Pheston.

“All of my shots are good shots.”

“No arguments here,” muttered the smith.

The five continued their journey deeper into the tomb. They made their way down many staircases and saw coffin after coffin, but not a single one of the dead stirred. Pheston was particularly relieved by this because he had little desire to desecrate the corpses of his people, even if they were being controlled by a foul necromantic magic.

The reality of just how large this tomb was sunk in as the group continued their delve. Friedrich questioned Pheston about it, only to receive a shrug in return and an incomplete answer about honouring ancestors. This told Friedrich that the old man had no idea and was too proud to say it. As the group explored, Marina’s mind was on other things; namely, the soul stone.

“Did you create this stone?” asked Marina, growing more worried by the second, especially considering her companions’ eagerness to assist in the dark elf’s endeavours.

“By Bellama, no,” said Nelmor. “It was a gift. We were instructed to make our way here and seek out this specific soul. The man who sent us said that our path was intertwined with that of another and that once we obtained the Valmyra’s soul, we would be rewarded. Sadly, the man did not count on us not surviving.”

“Who was this man?”

“He was a peculiar fellow, I must say. He said his name was Elketh.”

Marina did a doubletake. “Elketh?”

“Yes. Like I said, a very strange individual. He wore multicoloured robes that I’ve never seen before; truly unique. He always covered his face and spoke to us a riddle that took us some time to decipher, but it led us straight here.”

“Friedrich!” called Marina to her friend up ahead. “We have a problem.”

And so they did. The ground suddenly gave way beneath Friedrich, Teleri, and Pheston. As the bricks collapsed, the three fell into darkness. Marina and Nelmor ran towards the hole in the floor, sending a small glow of light into the pit below.

“Are you alright?” asked Marina, upon seeing her three friends.

“I’m stuck,” said Friedrich, trying to move his arms.

“As am I,” said Teleri.

“Great,” snarled Pheston. “We’re stuck in a web.”

Marina illuminated her staff with crackling lightning and pointed it into the pit. The thin strands of web twinkled as they caught the light. As she charged up her staff to destroy the web, she was suddenly kicked in the back and tumbled into the pit to join her friends.

“Sorry about that,” said Nelmor lightly. “The four of you seem like nice people, but I cannot risk another failure to capture the Queen of Spiders.”

“You bastard!” called Pheston, struggling to move his arms.

“You were much easier to play than I had imagined,” said the dark elf, his face contorting into a smug grin. “I thought that we would be halfway to the surface by the time I had to start pulling out sad stories about how tragic it was that I lost my friends. I do appreciate the rescue, mind. Unfortunately, I need bait and I doubt you would have agreed to sacrifice one of you, so it had to be all of you.”

“It’s not too late to fix this,” said Friedrich. “Help us get out of here.”

“I am afraid not,” said Nelmor, pulling a couple of vials from his bag. “You see, spiders don’t much like fire. When I throw these little bottles down and blow up everything in the pit, Valmyra’s soul will be as good as mine.”

There came a clicking noise from somewhere in the darkness of the pit.

“Ah, it looks like she is awake,” said Nelmor in a snivelling voice. “I hope your deaths are not too painful.”