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     Erik spent the remainder of the day burying his mentor, laying his
body to rest. He would return with Arrandar and the other priests and
give the old wizard a proper funeral. For now, the shallow grave would
serve to protect his body from the animals and insects of the Shaar.

     It was two days walk across the open grasslands before Erik came to
the small lake where his people made their camp for the season. Nomads by
nature, they had no permanent buildings anywhere in the camp. The largest
structure in camp was the long-house, a hide tent forty feet long, held
up by four posts, on in each corner of the tent. All the other tents in
the village were roughly a dozen or so feet in diameter and as much as
twenty feet tall, held aloft by a single center pole and anchored by long
spikes at regular intervals along its base.
     As Erik approached, a feeling of dread came over him. Something was
not right about the settlement. There were normally women and children
milling around the camp, but Erik could see no movement at all around the
camp.
     Starting into a run, Erik first ran into the long-house, perhaps the
elders called a meeting of all the people.
     The sight the young prince beheld as he entered horrified him.
Several bodies lay sprawled along the floor of the tent, gutted and caked
in dried blood. Neither women or children were spared, and it seemed as
though whomever attacked the village carried the bodies of the dead clans-
people into the long-house after the battle was over.
     The sight grew worse as Erik looked around the room. What he saw
next caused min to drop to his knees as he retched. From each of the
tent's four posts hung the limp and mutilated bodies of the clans most
influential members. His father hung at the far end of the long-house, a
noose around his neck and his arms left severed at his feet. Across from
him hung in a likewise manner was Arrandar, the high priest, who not only
had his arms severed, but his entrails splayed out along the ground
before him. The high priestess and Erik's mother lined the posts closest
to him, both possessed of their arms, but stripped of their hair and
clothes, hung naked from the pillars with strange runes carved into their
persons.

     Erik awoke, sitting bolt upright, from his nightmare. It was a
recurring nightmare from days long past. Two years had passed since that
dreaded day. Two years since he last walked the plains of the Eastern
Shaar.
     "The nightmare again?" asked Arnara. The elf and he met almost a
year ago, about the time Erik came north, leaving his ancestral home.
     Arnara was a priestess of the moon goddess Sehanine. Her blue-black
hair held just the slightest shimmer to it in the light of the campfire,
looking not unlike the star filled sky above them. Green eyes furrowed in
concentration as she methodically polished the silver head of her
warhammer, removing any hint of tarnish from its surface. The priestess
was considered beautiful even among the elven folk and Erik became
entranced by her from the very beginning.
     Erik looked at her now, remembering the first time they met.

     Arnara and a handful of her companions were beset upon by a hoard of
kobolds, a diminutive species with dog like heads topped with small
horns, standing no more than half Erik's height. The kobolds outnumbered
the elven party twenty to one, and though most of the elves were expert
warriors, kobolds were adept at applying their greater numbers to an
effective advantage against all but the most deadly foes.
     So intent were both sides in their battle, that none noticed the
wizard's approach. It took but a few moments for Erik to realize what was
happening. He'd never heard of kobolds before, but many a tale had been
told about the fay people whom settled in the deepest woods.
     At first, Erik was unsure whether or not he should interfere in the
battle, but when one of the elves went down under the onslaught, a
beautiful woman with hair the color of midnight and eyes of the deepest
jade, the young mage was inspired to action.
     As he'd done so many times before in the past year, Erik raised his
hands in arcane gestures and recited the spell that sent loose a bolt of
magical energy streaking toward the nearest kobold to the fallen elf. The
missile hit home, striking the miniature beast in the chest and lifting
it from its feet. The kobold slammed into the ground a few feet away,
dead.
     Surprised at how effective the simple evocation was against the
small creatures, he quickly cast a second bolt. Realizing the new threat,
a dozen of the small beasts turned, almost as one, rushing the magician.
     Erik brought his hands before him, touching his thumbs together,
fingers spread, fanning out before him. Uttering the words to his newest
spell, one he recently learned from his late master's scrolls, he brought
the rune forth in his mind. A searing fan of flames erupted from his
fingertips, engulfing more than half of the oncoming kobolds,
incinerating the first few almost immediately, the rest burned to ashes
within seconds after. The second half of his attackers halted in their
tracks, not wanting to meet the same fate as their comrades, the
remaining kobolds turned tail and ran.
     The first kobolds to retreat were soon followed as the elves, given
a small moment to recover, solidified their defense, cutting down any
kobold who ventured to near the circle the elves created around their
fallen friend. The kobolds, losing more than half their forces with half
again that fleeing the newcomer, fled the battle, taking arrows and
insults alike from the elves as they retreated.
     Joining the elves whom he aided, Erik looked at the fallen elf, whom
was not so terribly wounded as it first appeared. She sat with her knees
pulled tight to her body, cradling her left leg, which had a severe gash
torn through the thigh by a kobold's spear.
     Regaining her composure, the elf sat up straight, folding her legs
beneath her the best she could, raised her hands to the darkening sky.
She reached up as if to touch the moon rising from the horizon and sang a
low melodious tune. Her hands began to glow in eldritch power and she
lowered them upon the wound in her leg. The gash stopped its bleeding,
then knitted itself closed. All that remained of the wound was a small
scab that would in time fall away, leaving pure, unscarred flesh behind.
     Inviting Erik to join them in their camp, the elves introduced
themselves to him and the raven haired priestess proclaimed herself in
his debt. Erik told them of his life, and how all in a period of three
days, he'd lost his mentor, his family, and his clan.
     Moved by Erik's tale, and feeling indebted to the young human,
Arnara stood and swore friendship to him, promising that so long as she
lived, he would always have family to turn to. Erik from that point on,
swore upon his sword and upon his ancestors that he would come to
Arnara's aid if ever she needed him.
     Since then the two have traveled together, and Arnara's mission
became Erik's, one again, giving the young lad purpose in life. She saved
him that night, he thought, as surely as he'd saved those elves. The debt
was long repaid and a lasting friendship formed from it.

     The priestess looked at her companion, asking the question again
with her eyes.
     "Yes." Erik answered, after several moments, his voice still shaky.
     "It has been occurring a lot of late, my brother." She said,
inferring, as oft she did, her vow to him.
     "I fear I will never learn whom it was that slaughtered my clan."
Erik sat upright, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "It has been over two
years and I haven't any better idea what happened to them than I did that
day."
     "Our stay in Assur has led me to some interesting information."
Arnara changed the subject. It was a common enough occurrence, Erik's
brooding. Often after such a nightmare, a melancholy would settle over
the barbarian wizard. It sometimes took days, even weeks for him to
recover from it. "There is a pyramid in the Raurin desert, a few days
travel north from the dustwall." Arnara heard a pair of drunken sailors
spinning tales of a haunted pyramid in the dust desert.
     To a casual listener, the story would sound like the mindless
drunken babble one would expect from two sailors over a pitcher of ale,
and indeed much of it was, but too many of the insistent sailor's fact
held true to Arnara's knowledge of ancient realms history. She decided to
check further into the sailor's claims, and found out that several men
had indeed gone to the pyramid, and the few that returned claimed that
their companions were killed by a hoard of skeletal warriors.
     Erik wasn't paying attention, but she spoke anyway, "If the tales
hold true, there are skeleton guards that protect the place." She went on
for a few minutes, describing the kind of traps one would find in a
pyramid. Arnara appealed to Erik's greed, finally, "Pyramids are often
filled with the treasures of dead kings."
     Erik looked up, though the look in his eyes still held more than a
hint of despair.
     "A king's ransom, Erik." She prodded on, not wishing to lose her
adopted brother's interest, "With it you could buy an army." She said,
"An army to hunt down those who destroyed your people." Arnara hated the
words she spoke, but in his state, the thought of revenge would be the
only thing that would bring Erik from his melancholy.
     "We will go to this pyramid, Arnara." Erik said, rising to his feet,
"We will splinter these skeletons and take the treasure that will buy my
people's peace."
     Erik honestly felt that the souls of his ancestors would not be at
peace until he found out whom it was that killed them. Arnara knew it and
felt sorrow for Erik and his lost clan.
     "Not so fast my impetuous brother." Arnara called him back, "There
will likely be more than skeletons guarding the treasure." She continued
only when Erik looked back a her, his attention fully upon her every
word, "Where there are pyramids filled with treasure, there are
undoubtably mummy's or ghosts, perhaps even a lich." She warned.
     "I fear no lifeless corpse." The barbarian boasted. Until now, the
only undead he'd encountered were the unthinking kind, Skeletons and
zombies raised by wizards to attack the two. Even the few ghouls they met
weren't vocal enough to determine more than an animalistic type of
intelligence. "How are we to gain entrance to this pyramid?"
     "I don't yet know." Arnara admitted, "We have all tomorrow to think
of a way in." The priestess began to theorize on possible ways to enter
the pyramid when a sound caught her ear. She motioned for her companion
to be silent, as she inclined her head to the side, listening to the
sounds of the early morning.
     Erik looked around, peering into the predawn darkness. The sun would
not be up for another hour yet, and it was difficult to see by the light
of the dwindling fire.
     Arnara lifted her warhammer, "Come out, whomever you are." She
called into the forest.
     A diminutive figure emerged from the forest, seeming to come from
the folds between the leaves and branches, perfectly camouflaged until it
decided to show itself. Arnara had to take a second glance before she
recognized the small girl approaching them.
     "Away your weapon, cleric." The halfling's voice called out as she
approached confidently.
     "How long have you been following us?" Arnara asked.
     "Since Assur, of course." The halfling replied, coming clearly into
the firelight.
     Arnara looked at her now and recalled seeing this same halfling in
the tavern where she learned of the pyramid in Raurin, "What do you want?"
     "Scout is the name." She said proudly, her chest puffing out a bit,
"Scout Banderfoot, at your service."
     Arnara put her hammer down and took a seat, her eyes never leaving
the new arrival.
     "You are headed for Raurin, for the haunted tome of Zarrakar." Scout
replied, knowing more about the duo's destination than they themselves
had.
     "What is it to you?" Erik asked, wary of the little halfling.
     Scout was short even among her own people. Standing fully a hand's
width below three feet, with brown hair and eyes to match.
     "How is it you know all this?" Arnara asked, her tone suspicious
without being accusing.
     "I . . . Overheard the same conversation you did about the pyramid
and took note of your interest in it." Scout said, "I have been meaning
to go out to that place myself, but on my own, I would surely have been
killed. I thought myself fortunate that a pair of fine warriors are
headed in the same direction as I." She smiled. Scout looked Arnara up
and down several times, almost leering at the priestess, but paid the
well-muscled invoker no mind.
     "You expect us to let you join us in our expedition?" Erik asked,
and again the halfling ignored the male.
     Only a curious eye from Arnara prompted Scout to speak, "I know much
about Zarrakar and his pyramid." Scout boasted, "Even a way to get
inside." She grinned.

     The following morning, Arnara and Erik set out for Raurin and the
pyramid of Zarrakar, with Scout as their guide. It took almost an hour to
convince Erik that the diminutive Scout would be an asset to their team,
but finally he acquiesced. Now, with Scout and Arnara sharing a mount,
They crossed from the southwestern edge of the Aerilpar forest through
the Midwinter pass and into the desert Raurin.
     "The pyramid lies four days north and east, then a days travel due
east." Scout remarked as they passed the final stretch of mountains into
the dust desert. The heat assaulted them suddenly, as though they'd
crossed an invisible wall that marked the edge of the desert from the
mountains that surrounded it.
     "You have been there before?" Arnara asked. Erik gave up trying to
converse with the stubborn halfling who refused to answer the wizard's
simplest questions.
     "Nope." She replied, "But I know of a few who have been there
before. I even saw a map leading to the place once."
     "I don't suppose she has the map with her now." Erik muttered to his
adopted sister, who had become an intermediary between the other two,
though they understood each other perfectly.
     "I didn't have the opportunity to . . . Obtain it." Scout said,
answering Erik's question, though she directed it upwards at Arnara,
whose head sat above the halfling, shielding the shorter female from the
direct heat of the desert sun, "But I got a very close look at it and I
committed the map to memory." She said, pointing a stubby finger to her
temple.
     "We shall see." Arnara said, thoroughly amused at the rivalry
between the huge barbarian and their new companion.

     Three days passed and more than half of the fourth when the trio
spotted an oasis, a refuge from the endless dry sand of the desert.
Several strange trees and plants grew around a wellspring of clear water.
The trees were oddly shaped and colored compared to those any of the trio
had seen before.
     "That is not supposed to be here." Said Scout, and Arnara spurred
the horse toward the water hole.
     As they approached, the companions found the area around the oasis
marred by the bones of long dead nomads. Desert wanderers who met an
unnatural death by this place of seemingly abundant life.
     The two horses came upon the dead bodies around the pool. None bore
any signs of battle injuries. The bones were scattered everywhere, as
though all the skeletons were scooped up and their bones separated and
thrown randomly about the perimeter of the oasis.
     "Poisoned water?" Erik asked, looking at Arnara for confirmation.
     "That would explain the unusual trees and the bodies." She replied,
unconvinced of her own words.
     "It could be some kind of evil magic." Scout offered, "This place
isn't supposed to be here." She reiterated her earlier comment.
     Erik nodded, "Let's find out." He said, releasing the reigns of his
horse to cast a spell that would allow him to see any magical items
before him. He brought his gaze over the pool of water, then the trees
around it. Nothing before him seemed to glow with any magical radiation.
     "No magic lies within the trees or water." He confirmed to the
others. Erik allowed his gaze to come over the bones strewn about the
oasis. "Strange." He said in a curious tone, dismounting from his horse.
     "What is?" Arnara asked, her warhammer in hand as she and Scout also
dismounted.
     "There." He said, pointing to a discarded lower leg, still wearing
the boots that once belonged to the leg's owner, "That boot glows lightly
under my gaze."
     "Magical?" Scout asked, rubbing her hands together, speaking
directly to the wizard for the first time since they met.
     "It appears so." He replied, too intent on the item to notice.
     "I found its companion." Arnara called from several paces away, "A
strange boot to wear in a desert." She said. The boot seemed to be made
for cold weather, heavily insulated and covered with thick the grey fur
of a northern wolf.
     "What is this?" Scout asked, picking up a long curved horn of
silver. She lifted it and examined the outer bit of it in her small
hands, "It seems a bit large for a water horn." She observed.
     "It isn't." Erik replied, coming up to the halfling, "It's a war
horn." He said, "It is used to signal ones companion and stir them to
battle."
     "Well, at least it will fetch a fair price for its silver." Scout
replied, tucking the item into her pack as best as the large item would
fit.
     "More so than you think, little one." Erik grinned, "It too glows
with magic, even more so than these boots."
     The horses stirred nervously then, shuffling about nervously, though
no visible signs of trouble were about.
     "What's wrong with the horses?" Scout asked, herself now feeling
more than a bit nervous. By now both horses were neighing and rearing,
running about in circles obviously in great fright.
     "I don't know, but . . ." Arnara's words were cut short as the sand
beneath Erik's mount flew all about, the horse toppled to the ground, a
large gash in its side.
     Above the horse, stood a large insect like creature resembling a
giant preying mantis. The mantis removes a garish looking spear from the
horse and peered around, looking for its next victim. Taking in the view,
the thri-kreen made some kind of clicking noise with its mandibles.
Another thri-kreen emerged behind the stunned trio, surrounding them.
     Behind Erik and his friends lay the strange oasis, and to either
side was a spear wielding mantis warrior.
     One thri-kreen, the newer arrival, through a vicious triple-bladed
object at Scout. The thief ducked barely in time to avoid being sliced in
half by the projectile. To her surprise and horror, the crystalline
object returned to the hand of its wielder.
     Erik drew his sword and called out for battle. He charged the
closest thri-kreen, but the creature leapt easily from his reach and
slashed at him from behind, a vicious cut sliced across Erik's back.
     Scout was up, a small leather thong in hand. She whirled it above
her head a few times, then let the stone it held fly into the head of the
thri-kreen engaging Erik. The rock hit home, slamming into the thri-
kreen's head, though the beast seemed not to notice, ignoring the impact
in favor of the more immediate threat. Its partner, it knew, would easily
dispatch the two remaining nuisances.
     Not giving Erik any opportunity to strike effectively at itself, the
thri-kreen managed more than a few strikes, though none as severe as the
one across the wizard's back, wearing him down slowly.
     Changing tactics, Erik stepped out of the thri-kreen's reach and
lifted his hand, gesturing towards it, while holding his sword arm above
his head. Speaking the incantation he'd learned so well, Erik sent two
bolts of magical energy speeding toward the creature. The thri-kreen
tried to dodge the bolts, but the magical missiles adjusted to its
target's new position, striking it in mid air as the thri-kreen leapt,
trying to get out of its way. Erik did not pause to consider the
effectiveness of his attack, recasting the spell as soon as the first was
complete.
     The other attacker was attacking both females simultaneously,
deflecting Arnara's hammer with its polearm while clawing at the annoying
halfling. Both sides held only minor wounds thus far, but the thri-kreen,
with its greater height and many arms held a distinct advantage.
     Erik managed to work his back toward Arnara, giving each other some
rear protection. The thri-kreen fighting the two women took a severe hit
by Arnara's hammer, but managed to strike the halfling hard enough to
send her flying out of the melee. Scout landed hard against the desert
sand. Erik couldn't manage to gain enough distance from his attacker to
cast any more spells without risking any serious injuries.
     Regaining her senses, Scout fished in her pack for the horn she'd
found, "I don't know what kind of magic you have, but whatever it is, it
better be good." She said as she raised the silver horn to her lips.
     The horn sounded clearly, splitting the air with a resounding blast
too strong to be made by the small lungs of a halfling. Before Scout, a
quartet of armored warriors appeared from nowhere, three of whom wielded
a battle-axe in one hand, the fourth held a sword and spear.
     Talking only a brief second to gather their surroundings, the four
berserkers charged into the melee, hollering battle-cries.
     Surprised by their new found allies, Arnara and Erik fell back,
taking a moment to catch their breath. They both looked to Scout, who
stood holding the silver horn and shrugging, not knowing any more than
her two companions.
     With their reinforcements, Arnara and Erik found an easier time
against their formidable thri-kreen opponents. Erik exhausted his
remaining spells on the first thri-kreen, blasting two of its arms from
its body. The two berserkers at his side made short work of the creature
afterwards.
     With its companion down, the remaining thri-kreen leapt out of the
battle, taking several spears and a few sling stones at it fled.
     Three of the berserkers stood at the end of the fight, the fourth
fell in battle and disappeared, returning to whatever realm he came from.
The remaining three turned to Scout and saluted her, then they too
disappeared.
     "That's some horn." Arnara replied, and Scout heartily agreed.
     Erik turned to look at the remains of his horse. Arnara's horse fled
after the initial attack.
     "We are on foot now, it seems." Erik said somberly.

     It took more than double their original estimated time to reach the
pyramid. The loss of their horses weighed heavily upon all three
travelers, though Erik seemed more accustomed to traveling on foot than
his companions. And even with Arnara's magic, they were sorely pressed in
the areas of both food and water. Not another single creature crossed
their paths since the incident with the thri-kreens. All three counted
themselves fortunate for it.
     The pyramid came upon them almost magically as they crossed over a
large rise in the desert sand. It loomed awesome and foreboding before
them. The walls of the pyramid pitted and scarred from the many sand
storms that blew through Raurin, which gave the dust desert its nickname.
A single monolithic structure, the pyramid stood taller and larger than
any castle any of them had ever seen. It rose over two hundred feet into
the air and its base, to Erik at least, seemed beyond measure.
     "You said you knew a way in." Erik turned to the diminutive
halfling. She shot him a glance and started toward the pyramid at a
strong gate. Erik looked towards Arnara, an amused look in his pale green
eyes. The two strode to catch up to the swiftly moving Scout.
     Ten minutes later they stood at the base of the pyramid, Scout stood
looking up at the ancient tower's sloping walls.
     "There doesn't seem to be any way in." Observed Arnara. Scout
ignored the comment, or perhaps she didn't hear it, so great was her
concentration, following every small pit and scar along the pyramid's
side.
     "We're on the wrong side." Scout said quietly, more to herself than
to her companions. She sprinted north, running a stubby finger along the
pyramid's base as she skirted it. A few more minutes of looking, Scout
found the telltale mark she was looking for. "There." She pointed up
towards the top of the structure.
     "I see nothing." Erik replied, squinting against the blaring sun,
whose light seemed to set the pyramid on fire. Erik hope that it was just
a trick of the light and not indeed the effects of the scorching heat. He
was reminded just how dry his throat was just then.
     "Wait here." Scout said, pulling some climbing gear from her pack,
then replacing it upon her back. She donned the climbing spikes and
started up the pyramid, slipping a bit at first until she found a secure
hold in the myriad pits of the structure.
     Nearly half an hour passed before Scout descended again, "There is
indeed an opening, as I have been told." She started, "But it's very
small. Barely large enough for myself to get in." Defeat in the
halfling's voice.
     "Is there any other way in?" Asked Arnara.
     "None that I know." Answered the halfling.
     Erik pulled forth the scrolls that contained the sum of his magical
knowledge. Within he thought, there might be a dweomer that might let
them pass through, or perhaps widen the opening Scout found. After
several minutes of reading, Erik looked up to his companions.
     "I believe I might have a spell here." He said, "It is a simple
spell of alteration, but it requires a bit of powdered iron to cast it."
The wizard held his hands out before him, "And I fear I have none."
     Both the priestess and the thief's eyes dwindled at the
announcement.
     "Perhaps there is a substitute we can use?" scout offered.
     "Wait." Erik halted her after a moment, "Here is something." Erik
read on, quickly skimming the intricacies of the spell, "This requires no
components and is similar to the alteration I came by earlier."
     "Do you have the materials to cast this one?" Arnara asked,
hopefully.
     "It requires none." Erik replied, "But it is a bit harder to cast.
The spell is more powerful than the reduction spell I hoped to cast
before it. With it I can alter my shape to that of a falcon, but it only
works upon the caster." He lamented.
     "Then cast it." Arnara replied, "You might find the powdered iron
within the pyramid, or perhaps another entrance I might fit through."
     "No." Erik said emphatically, "We will not split the group apart,
and we know not what dangers lie within the pyramid."
     "He's right." Scout agreed.
     "What then?" Arnara was at a loss.
     Scout dumped the contents of her pack on the sand at her feet,
sifting through the played out contents. "How much iron did you say you'd
need?" She asked Erik.
     "Just a small amount." He confirmed, looking again at the spell on
his scroll, "A pinch is all that is required, to be sprinkled upon the
recipient of the spell."
     Scout held up a small file before her, triumphantly. "My grapple and
spikes are made of iron, we can file away enough of them to cast the
spell!"
     Erik looked at one of the spikes, turning it about in his hand, "It
might work." He agreed.
     At once Scout took to filing down the spike, careful to have the
shavings fall onto a small patch of leather which she used to keep the
blade of her delicate cutting tools sharp. A few moments was all it took
to file away enough iron to cast the spell.
     Erik took the time to start studying the alteration. It took a few
hours before he was ready, having both spells locked in his mind and
ready to cast. Finally, he stood up, replaced his scrolls and stepped
before the elf. A few words of the incantation, he spoke, his voice
starting out soft, then rising, Completing the somatic portions of the
spell, he raised the hand holding the powdered iron above Arnara's head,
his other hand, held waist high, about three and a half feet from the
ground. "Laemnarem neferterium redunarus." Erik spoke the final words,
sprinkling the powdered iron over Arnara. Within seconds, the priestess
shrank to stand equal to Erik's hand, a hair smaller than the halfling
looking on them with wonder in her eyes.
     Erik took a deep breath. Sighing, even he was impressed by the
effectiveness of the spell. "Begin your climb." Erik said, "It will take
me a minute to prepare for the next spell." Arnara nodded and both she
and Stout started back up the rope that lead to the small hole in the
pyramid's surface.
     Quickly scaling the pyramid, Arnara called down to her companion. He
nodded and began a second spell. Erik disappeared, a large falcon
standing where his feet were moments ago. The bird took flight, climbing
into the air above the pyramid. It circled once, calling out, then
swooped for the hole before his companions.
     "Look." Scout said, pointing off into the distance. Arnara obliged,
peering into the desert's horizon.
     "It appears we made it just in time." She took a last look at the
fast approaching dust storm, then dropped down the chute, following her
feathered companion. Scout grinned mischievously, gathering her grapple
and rope, then descended the chute as carefully as she could in the
confined space.

     Arnara barely made it to the end of the chute, before the spell's
duration ended. All at once she grew to her normal size.
     "Look out below!" Hollered Scout, as she slid uncontrollably down
the same passage Arnara emerged from.
     "Where is Erik?" She asked, regaining her composure and picking up
those items that worked their way loose in the rapid descent.
     A wolf entered the room just then, staring at the two maidens as it
entered. Arnara drew her hammer, thinking the wolf meant to attack.
     The wolf stood on its hind legs, then, its form shifting to that of
a human. Erik stood before them, grinning, "A wonderful spell." He said,
"A pity to have been lost."
     "What do you mean?" Asked Arnara.
     "It was a powerful spell." He repeated his earlier statement, "The
scroll that contained it allowed for only one casting."
     The priestess nodded in understanding of her friend. In order to
cast such a spell beyond his own normal abilities, Erik used the magic
contained within the scroll to trigger the transformation, thus burning
it up in the process.
     "We will come by such a spell in the future, I am sure." She
promised. A nod from the wizard showed his agreement of the statement.
     "What did you find down that passage?" Scout asked, being unfamiliar
with the intricacies of spell casting, and finding the whole conversation
tedious.
     "It leads to an anteroom." He replied, "There are several
passageways, but they are each blocked by stone doors engraved with
various runes."
     "Let's check it out." The halfling replied, taking a torch out from
her pack and using some flint to light it.
     "Glad to see you came prepared." Arnara commented to her diminutive
companion. Scout replied with a nod as the dim light from the chute they
used to enter the pyramid gave way to the glow from Scout's torch.
     The wind outside the pyramid seemed to be picking up, by the sounds
coming from the end of the chute. The sandstorm, they knew, was upon
them. Such storms were commonplace in Raurin, lasting anywhere from
seconds to hours, even days, so say those who inhabit the dust desert.
     The room about them was small, barely six feet square and with a
ceiling barely inches above Erik's head. The walls were adorned with
hieroglyphs undecipherable to either the cleric or the mage. A few
skeletons lined the walls of the small chamber, and Arnara instinctively
drew her hammer. The corpses, she quickly realized, were that of the
previous tomb raiders to visit the pyramid.
     "Come." The simple command drew her from her contemplations, and she
responded absently, her mind trying to consider how these people managed
to gain entrance to the chamber. The same way they must have, she mused.
     The trio entered the anteroom, a larger chamber, approximately
twenty feet wide and half again that long. The ceiling was nearly as high
as the room was wide. "What room is this?" Arnara asked, awed at the
various paintings and sculptures that aligned the walls and floor of the
room. Even the ceiling, high above them, was painted and inlayed with
several relief sculptures.
     Scout walked to the nearest door in the chamber and pulled out a
sheet of parchment from a fold in her tunic. She flattened the parchment
against the wall beside the door and began translating the inscriptions
she found.
     "Where did you get that?" Erik asked the halfling.
     "I've been meaning to visit old Zarrakar for a long time." She
replied, "As best as I can make out, this door seems to lead further into
the lower levels of the pyramid. If what I've learned is correct, the
throne room is above us, and the burial chamber of Zarrakar is above
that."
     "And the treasure room?" Erik asked, the hint of greed sparkling in
his eye.
     "Through here." The halfling replied, a similar gleam in her large
round eyes.
     "Wait!" Arnara's command froze the two in their tracks, "What about
the mummy that lies withing the pyramid?" he pointedly asked.
     "Such creatures are better left alone." Scout replied, then started
to proceed through the passage.
     "No." Arnara said evenly, turning the halfling about again.
     "Pardon?"
     "I will have this mummy." She said, "I will see it destroyed."
     For the first time since meeting this pair, Scout started to wonder
if maybe picking these two adventurers was a bad choice.
     "Fine." Scout acquiesced, "But first let us prevail ourselves of the
treasures within. We may find something to aid in our battle against your
pet mummy." She reasoned.
     Blood lust filled Arnara's eyes. Erik recognized it from the few
times he'd seen her face the unnatural denizens of the undead. He
returned her look with a stern glare of his own, temporarily calming the
undead slayer.
     "There will no doubt be traps all along the passages to the
treasure room." Scout reasoned, "We will have to be very careful." The
halfling brought the torch up before her, carefully examining each step
before she took it. Often she spotted a slightly raised block of stone
and surmised it to be a pressure trap, stepping on the stone would likely
set off some death device the pyramid's architects placed to foil tomb
raiders such as themselves.
     As careful as she was, Scout did not find every trap in the stone
floor and walls of the passageway. Her hand barely touched the segment of
wall, placing upon it no more pressure than would an ant crawling upon
its surface, but it was enough to set off the trap anyway.
     "Chatool!" The image of a long dead pharaoh spat at the intruders.
Speaking a language dead almost as long as the pyramid they walked
through. "Nefertari, balatem semi, arkanroolah!" The words could have
been a warning, the trio thought, though it sounded more like a sentence
of death to the ears of any who listened.
     The floor dropped suddenly, out from under them. Scout dropped her
torch and it skipped along the wall twice before dropping into the
darkness below them.
     All three companions slid down a sharply slanted passageway that
felt as though it dropped them a hundred feet below the surface. Indeed,
even to the eyes of the elven priestess, who could see well even in the
darkest night, this place was a mass of cold black nothingness.
     Arnara could feel several scrapes and cuts along her arms and legs.
She landed hard, and her chain armor did little to cushion the fall.
     "Is everyone all right?" Erik called out into the darkness.
     Scout replied in a series of curses that would make a pirate blush.
     Arnara said nothing, instead she called upon her goddess, praying
to Sehanine for her to light their way. Before Arnara, began a dim glow,
a globe of almost twilight, steadily growing brighter until it
encompassed the immediate area, completely illuminating everything within
twenty feet of the sphere.
     Scout almost wished Arnara didn't cast the spell at all when she
looked around to see several rotting corpses strewn about the passage,
signs of battle marred their torn bodies.
     The trio didn't have time to wonder what it was that so horribly
slew the warriors, for in seconds, a mass of skeletons clawed their way
into the sphere of conjured light.
     Scout screamed in fear as one of the skeletons slashed at her. The
thief ducked under the wild swing and threw herself back, coming to land
at her wizard friend's feet. More Skeletons moved in from the other side
of the magical light, moving in, clawing at the intruders.
     Enraged beyond reason, Arnara lifted her silver warhammer, striking
down the nearest of the undead abominations. So forceful was her blow
that it shattered the skeleton's skull, sending pieces of bone
everywhere, cutting thin lines of blood along the priestess's face and
arms.
     Again she struck, this time joined by Erik at her side. Scout put a
stone in her sling and began to whirl it above her head, meaning to send
the missile at the skull of any skeleton who got too close.
     Erik and Arnara fell into an easy rhythm. Not so few times they'd
came against skeletons in a march against them, though never had they
faced so many at one time. The wizard held several more spells in memory,
though he was reluctant to use them, his supply of casting materials fast
dwindling.
     "Somebody better do something quick." Scout called out, sending
forth a stone, crashing into the head of a skeleton that managed to get
through her friend's defenses. The stone crashed into the creature's
temple, splintering almost a quarter of the thing's skull, but still it
came on.
     Scout scrambled back from the skeleton, nervously prying the magical
horn from her pack. With all her might, she blew upon the silver horn.
     Nothing.
     The noise made from the enchanted item seemed no more than a loud
gasp of air.
     Terror crossed the halfling's eyes as she lifted her dagger in a
feeble defense. It took all the skill the thief could muster to parry the
razor-sharp bone fingers of the unholy creature before her.
     "Enough!" Arnara shouted, smashing her hammer into the rib cage of
yet another skeleton. Keeping her attackers at bay, she used her free
hand to lift a silver pendant from her chest, the symbol of her deity, a
full moon with a radiant moonbow around it, "By the fey goddess of the
moon and of the night, begone unholy denizens of evil, turn back from her
lady's silver glow!" With that, the holy symbol roared to life, a
blinding flash came from the silver moon, pouring in waves over the
nearest of the skeletons.
     If the featureless face of a skeleton could show fright, Erik could
swear now, that these creatures did indeed draw away, horrified by the
holy bath of moonlight.
     The most immediate threat away from him, Erik turned to see his
small companion. Scout was fiercely battling the skeleton that passed
beyond him in the battle. The small thief was holding her own. But
received several wicked cuts along her short arms for her efforts. The
wizard lifted his sword, severing the skeleton's head from behind with
one measured blow.
     Still, more skeletons approached them, a seemingly endless sea of
undead coming tor Erik and his companions. Still, he and Arnara fought,
with Scout striking from afar with her sling.
     Behind you.
     The voice entered Erik's thoughts, he turned to Scout, but quickly
realized that the voice he heard was male.
     There is a secret passage behind you. The voice entered Erik's head
once again.
     "A passage?" He asked, though Arnara took it for a statement.
     "Where?" Arnara called back at him, ducking below the sweeping arm
of her closest foe, and smashing it in the pelvis with her hammer. The
skeleton toppled to the ground, bereft of a supporting left leg when its
hip splintered under the hammer's impact.
     "Behind us." Erik replied, unsure of the validity of the voice he
heard.
     At once Scout was at work, running her hands against the stone walls
of the chamber. "I found it." The thief cried out before long, already
climbing into the crawlspace she discovered.
     The remaining two warriors backed up to the passage, accepting the
final strikes they took as they scrambled through the passage.
     "How did you know of this tunnel?" Arnara asked, hurriedly replacing
the stone before any of the skeletons could follow.
     "I don't know." Erik confessed, "I heard a voice. At first I thought
it was you or Scout, but the voice seemed to come from inside my own
head."
     Scout regarded him suspiciously, but Arnara, trusting in her adopted
brother completely, would have none of that. She looked again at Erik,
silently prompting him to explain.
     "I know not who's voice it was." He said, "Never have I heard it
before."
     "Another wizard?" Scout offered, though she still doubted Erik's
statement.
     "I do not think so."
     "Come." Arnara interrupted, "We will have time for such speculations
later. For now, let us see where this tunnel ends."

     The crawlspace widened after it turned a corner several paces away,
allowing far all present to walk upright and with ease. A little further
on they came to a fork, their path splitting. Before them stood three
passages, one before them and one to either side.
     "Which way do we go?" Erik asked, and the answer came to him.
     Left.
     "There it is again." He said, meaning the strange voice that
informed him of their escape rout earlier.
     "What does it say?" Arnara, understanding her brother's statement,
asked.
     "Left." He said, and the voice echoed his words as he spoke them.
     "Do we trust this strange voice?" Scout said, skeptically.
     Arnara thought for a moment, "It lead us to safety once before." She
said.
     "To place us in greater peril at the hands of the monster's master,
no doubt." Though even to the halfling, the remark sounded unlikely.
     "Left it is then." Erik spoke, "And may the gods be with us."
     Arnara clutched her holy symbol in silent agreement.

     The passage lead up several staircases, winding this way and that.
Often, either Scout or Arnara spotted the signs of a secret passage
leading to various antechambers. Each time they attempted to enter the
chamber, however, the voice returned in Erik's head, warning him of
danger and prodding them on.
     When at last, the strange voice brought them to a door, barely
perceptible in the wall. The portal opened to what appeared to be the
pyramid's throne room.
     Stepping around a large pillar tat partially concealed the secret
passage from the rest of the chamber, the group looked upon a large
square room, ornately detailed in fine paints and relief sculptures on
every wall. To the left of the entrance they came through, stood the
throne atop a small dais. Entering fully into the throne room, the most
prominent article within, except for the throne itself, was a large
sarcophagus standing in the center of the room. The crypt appeared
unmarred, the seal upon the lid unbroken. The coffin was painted with
designs and reliefs that rivaled the room around it. Gold and gems
studded the sarcophagus, the dim light in the room seeming to come from
within those gems.
     "Welcome." A voice spoke softly, both in Erik's head and aloud. The
wizard recognized the voice as that of the one who guided them to this
point.
     "Who are you?" Erik asked, drawing a slender dart from its place on
his bandoleer.
     "Where are you?" Arnara asked, more to the point.
     "I am behind the throne, dear lady." The voice said, "Come forth,
that I may look upon my liberators." It beckoned.
     Drawing their weapons, the trio spread out, gradually coming around
to view the mysterious speaker.
     "Where are you?" Scout asked, as the throne came fully into view.
She expected someone, the ancient pharaoh Zarrakar, perhaps, to be seated
upon it. She was almost disappointed when no one stood before them.
     "The sword." Erik answered the halfling's question, though even he
was unsure of how he knew.
     A great sword hung by two chains from the ceiling of the chamber,
along the wall behind the throne. Incredibly well balanced, Erik could
tell simply by looking at it. The marvelous blade was fully a foot longer
than his own, and ornately decorated with the features of a hunting bird
and appeared as though it were made entirely of a single piece of
mithril. The pommel ended in the hooked beak of a hawk, and the blade and
cross-guard were carved to form the likeness of feathered wings. Even the
length of the blade appeared as two long feathers, back to back. The
details of the feathers along the blades made miniature serrations that
would no doubt leave a vicious cut along whatever it hit. Adorned with
sapphires, rubies and emeralds, the enchanted, for there was no doubt at
all that the sword was indeed enchanted, blade seemed to have a life all
its own.
     "Yes, good warrior." The sword confirmed his suspicions, the beak on
its pommel moving as is spoke. The bird-headed pommel's emerald eyes
blinked as the head strained to look upon its liberators, "I am grateful
to you for rescuing me from this vile place."
     "Who . . . what are you?" Arnara asked. The priestess heard of such
magical items, swords and other weapons that were so enchanted that they
took on a life of their own.
     "I am Arken'Dranleir." The sword introduced itself, "Dragon's-
Breath, in the modern tongue. So named because I was forged in the flames
of dragon fire." It stated proudly, "I am the finest sword on all Abeir-
Toril. I was forged long before humans walked the realms, even the
dwarves and the elves were but an infant race when I was created."
     "I'm impressed." Arnara said, sarcastically, hardly believing that a
mere sword could be as pompous as this one appeared. Erik, on the other
hand, had never in all his life seen such a spectacular work of
craftsmanship.
     "Come forth, young swordsman, that I may once again find purpose in
battle."
     Erik looked to Arnara, cautious about the blade that hung from the
wall before them. He'd often heard tales of cursed weapons who forced
their owners to wield them until they eventually died in combat.
     The sword laughed, an old and disarming chuckle came softly from its
beak. "Fear not, barbarian." It reassured the mage, "I am no curse, save
to those whom my blade strikes."
     Erik's eyes went wide in disbelief. How could this thing read his
thoughts, he wondered.
     "Of course I can read your thoughts." Arken'Dranleir replied to
Erik's silent question, "How else do you think I could speak with you
back in the pit with the skeletons?"
     The logic seemed sound to the young wizard, and he did indeed want
to take the wondrous blade into his hands.
     "Why would the sword of Zarrakar wish to be possessed by the
raider's of its master's tomb?" The cleric asked.
     "Zarrakar was a fool!" The blade hissed, the emeralds that composed
the bird pommel's eyes glowed fiercely, "I could have offered him advice
that would have made him the most noble, powerful ruler of his time. He
would have been loved and revered by his people, even to this very day,
if only he would have listened to me."
      "Instead, he chose to ignore me. He preferred the use of his
damnable mace and armor to my spectacular blade. That useless, lifeless
piece of gold and mettle." Arken'Dranleir lamented, "On his death bed he
commanded that I would be placed within the pyramid with him. I pleaded
with Zarrakar to release me to another, so that I would remain in the
world and not an adornment on some mantle. He refused and I have been
stuck here for centuries passed, useless and alone."
     The sword's words turned brighter then, "But now you have come to
rescue me. You have come to take me back to the world, no longer a
useless bauble, but a force of good and justice once again." Its beak
almost seemed to turn up in a smile at the thought.
     "Are those rubies?" Scout interrupted, the greed in her voice
obvious. Both Erik and Arnara scowled at their diminutive companion for
her avarice.
     "Within these walls is a treasure so large, you could build kingdoms
of your own." Arken'Dranleir promised, "You are the first to have entered
this deep into the pyramid and live to tell the tale. All within remains
intact and for the taking. I can show you all Zarrakar's secrets, all his
treasures, if only you take me with you."
     "A king's treasure!" Scout elated, "Take the blade, Erik. Let us
find some treasure." The thief ran across the throne room, towards the
large double doors that lay at the chamber's main entrance.
     "No! Do not . . ." Arken'Dranleir shouted, but it was too late, the
halfling flung open one of those doors, only to come face to face with
two giant scorpions.
     Scout stopped short, just beyond the reach of the closest scorpion.
A sickly, bitter smell assaulted the halfling as she scrambled back into
the throne room.
     Scout tried vainly to close the great door between herself and the
scorpions, but one of the beasts managed to get a large pincer between
the crack of the door. The scorpion threw the door open, sending the
halfling sailing across the chamber into the stone coffin that marked the
center of the room.
     The scorpion's scuffling filled the room as a multitude of armored
legs scraped along the stone floor.
     Erik reached over the sarcophagus in time to pull Scout away from
the fast approaching scorpions, "I am out of spells." He warned, taking
his sword into his hand.
     "No!" Arken'Dranleir screamed again, "Take me!" The ancient sword,
so long unused, craved for the thrill of battle once again.
     Erik ignored the magical blade, preferring the knowledge of his own
sword to that of an unfamiliar one.
     Arnara had her hammer out at once, ready to engage one of the six-
foot scorpions if it got too close. "Ware their tails." She warned her
comrades, "Their poison can kill almost instantly." Heeding her own
words, Arnara stepped cautiously back from the fast approaching arachnid.
     Scout climbed behind the throne, hurriedly pulling a stone from her
pouch and nestling it into the leather thong of her sling, though she
knew there wasn't enough space to effectively use it from where she hid.
She debated whether or not to try once again using the magical horn that
summoned the berserkers against the thri-kreen.
     "Back!" Erik shouted, "Out the way we came in." But as one scorpion
moved to engage the elven priestess, the other came around to face the
magician, cutting off their means of escape.
     All the while, Arken'Dranleir pleaded for Erik to take it within his
hands, to destroy these creatures with his mighty blade.
     Both Erik and Arnara were sorely pressed, parrying both pincers
while avoiding the scorpions' deadly tails.
     "Why didn't you tell us those things were there?" Scout shouted at
the magic blade, panic evident in her voice.
     "I tried, you impetuous fool." The sword retorted.
     "Are there any other ways out of here?" Arnara called over her
shoulder, One of the scorpions pincers managed to grab the sleeve of her
armor, cutting a piece of it off as well as managing a small gash on the
cleric's wrist.
     Pain shot through her arm and Arnara missed the sword's reply,
though she already knew the answer.
     Erik worked furiously against the scorpion before him, parrying and
managing a few attacks of his own. More than once, the scorpion passed a
pincer through Erik's defenses, cutting deep gouges in his thighs and
arms. The wizard's attacks slowed, and though his blade cut off a small
piece of one of the scorpion's pincers, the limb was still very much
useful to the creature.
     Attacking with both pincers at once, Erik managed to stumble back
away from one claw, but the other managed a firm grasp on his wrist,
tearing the sword from his grasp. A deep gash cut across Erik's hand and
blood flowed freely from the wound.
     Seeing her friend's distress, Scout pulled Arken'Dranleir from the
hooks on the wall, tossing it to Erik as he came near.
     "Yes!" Arken'Dranleir screamed as the wizard grasped it. Erik could
feel the blade's excitement at being offered the opportunity to cut
against the scorpion's armored hide, to be used in battle once again.
     The scorpion came in, closing for the kill. Erik, his new sword in
his left hand, parried the incoming pincer. Amazed at the ease of use of
the sword, Erik renewed his attack. Just then a feeling washed over the
wizard. Bathed in green light, Erik's wounds began to close and his
strength returned fully.
     Grasping Arken'Dranleir firmly in both hands, Erik moved in on the
scorpion. The next time it attacked, Erik crossed the incoming pincer
with the magical sword. A soft, sawing sound came from the scorpion's
hide and a severed pincer dropped to the ground.
     Elation filled Erik's mind, and he knew that it came from the sword
in his hands. Urged on by both his own confidence and his new weapon's
desire for more scorpion flesh, the wizard lunged in at the creature.
     Jumping onto the scorpion's back, Erik's sword came down across the
scorpion's tail, cleaving it in half, and on until the blade was buried
deep within the now dead scorpion's back. Again, a rasping sound came as
Erik pulled Arken'Dranleir out from where it lay imbedded.
     Arnara's armor was torn in several places where the scorpion managed
to get passed her hammer. Though none of the wounds she sported were
deep, Arnara was covered in many places with her own blood.
     Coming around behind the scorpion, Erik lashed out, cutting off two
of the creature's legs. Unbalanced by the sudden loss, The scorpion fell
back onto its belly. It recovered quickly though, turning to engage this
new threat to itself.
     Seeing the opening, the scorpion left behind, Arnara came down on
the scorpion's backside with her silver hammer, the impact scored a deep
crack in its hide and once again put the arachnid off balance.
     The scorpion tried to move to put both its attackers in front of it,
lashing out at Erik with its venomous stinger. The scorpion pulled its
tail back in, minus the stinger that once topped it. Together the wizard
and priestess made short work of the last scorpion.
     "It appears that the sword might be useful after all." Arnara
admitted after catching her breath. She stood there, her chest heaving
and bleeding from a dozen wounds. Her armor hung in tatters on her
slender frame.
     "Are there any other surprises you might want to tell us about
before we go on?" Scout asked the sword, acidly.
     "If no one else decides to act impetuously, I will tell you all
there is to know." Arken'Dranleir replied.
     Erik unbuckled his scabbard, his new sword was much too large to fit
within it. "Where do we go from here?"
     "The treasure room should be below us." Scout replied.
     "Indeed." Said Arken'Dranleir, "That room is filled with many works
of art and jewels of great value, but there is another chamber which
holds the true treasures of Zarrakar. It would give me great pleasure to
deprive the wretch of his baubles." The gleam in the sword's emerald eyes
shone brightly.
     "And what about the mummy?" Arnara reminded them all, "That's what
we came for."
     "We came for treasure to buy an army." Erik reminded her, though he
already knew his adopted sister would not be satisfied with mere booty.
     "Then you are both in luck." Arken'Dranleir declared, "For if we are
to reach the treasure, we must first defeat Zarrakar himself."
     "Wonderful." Scout groaned.

     The sarcophagus within the throne room was a sham. A replica of the
real sarcophagus above. The one in the throne room held the mummified
body of Zarrakar's chief advisor. Zarrakar had him killed and mummified
shortly before his own demise, reasoning that he would still need the
man's council in the next world.
     Moving the mummified corpse from the sarcophagus, Erik found a trap
door in the coffin's bottom. They climbed down the coffin into a narrow
passage barely tall enough for Arnara to stand straight. As it was, Erik
had to crouch throughout the entire walk to the real burial chamber of
king Zarrakar.
     "Careful." Arken'Dranleir warned, "I can feel Zarrakar's evil
presence if he is close enough, but I have no way of telling whether the
mummy lies in the treasure room, or within its tomb."
     "How do we fight it?" Arnara asked. The priestess had taken the time
to study a great deal about mummies. She knew that their touch could
cause a virilis disease to spread upon its victims, causing them to die
from infection within a few painful months. She also knew that normal,
non magical weapons would be of little use against such an abomination.
     "The mere sight of the mummy is enough to cause such fear in a
person, as to root him motionless where he stands." The sword instructed,
"Erik, with me in his hand, need not worry about such trivialities, but
you others must beware."
     "I hear fire has a great effect on them." Scout said, producing a
vial of oil from her pack.
     Arnara nodded her agreement. She pulled forth a flask of water,
sprinkling it upon herself and her companions, and as an afterthought,
the sword as well. Uttering a prayer to her goddess, she requested
Sehanine's blessings upon herself and her friends in ridding the unholy
abomination from the world. She then pulled forth a small pouch of three
stones. Uttering the words of another spell, she handed Scout the
enchanted stones and began yet another spell, touching the halfling on
her shoulder and smiling.
     "The enchantment will last but half an hour." Arnara promised,
referring to the small stones she handed Scout, "Hurl them at the mummy
if you get the chance, they will do considerably more damage than your
other stones will."
     Cautiously, they entered the chamber, Erik in the lead with
Arken'Dranleir thrust forward. Sensing the intrusion, the mummy of
Zarrakar stepped out from the next room to greet the trespassers.
     The sword was correct, for upon sight of the hideous creature, all
three members of the party froze in their tracks. Arken'Dranleir used its
will to force Erik into motion and pull him from the magical fear induced
by the mummy. Arnara was only momentarily stunned at the mummy's visage,
but her long standing loathing of such abominations gave her the strength
to resist. Scout was the longest rooted in place, and for a moment,
Arnara feared her spell was of no help to the halfling, but then Scout
stirred from her shock in time to take up position out of the mummy's
deadly reach.
     "Sehanine!" Arnara shouted, her voice filled the room with magical
force as she threw her silver hammer at the mummy's chest. The hammer
disappeared before striking the undead creature, replaced by a
shimmering, hammer-shaped glow. The glow lit up the room, as did
Arken'Dranleir, the emerald radiance of its eyes glimmering throughout
the whole of its blade.
     The hammer hit heavily into the mummy's chest, sending it stumbling
a single step backward. A stone followed the hammer in, slamming into the
mummy's shoulder. A small burst of flame sprung from the point where the
stone hit and quickly dissipated. The mummy stepped toward Arnara, but
was cut off from its intended victim by Erik.
     The young swordsman stepped before the approaching mummy, holding
Arken'Dranleireasily in his right hand. Each time the mummy struck at
him, it met only enchanted mithril. All the while, the sword shouted
curses and insults at the mummy of its former master, thoroughly enjoying
its revenge for having been trapped for centuries within the damnable
pyramid.
     A second stone flew at the mummy, but passed harmlessly wide of its
intended target.
     Arnara tried for a second strike as well, but with Erik in her path,
she could not find an opening. She crossed along the walls of the
chamber, trying for a better vantage point, however, Erik's assault made
even that task difficult.
     The mummy lurched forward, causing Erik to lose his balance and
stumble back several steps. He only barely held onto the sword in his
hands. "I'm out of stones." Scout shouted from behind the mummy, her last
stone being the cause for the mummy's staggering. She then ran headlong
into the anteroom, searching for any weapon against the mummy.
     Zarrakar's mummy, though not as intelligent as it was in life, was
smart enough to understand the implications of the sword before it. The
mummy changed its tactics then, avoiding Erik's blows until it could find
an opening in his defenses.
     Several times, the mummy found its way through Erik's defenses,
though each time the mummy's scabrous touch missed Erik's flesh by mere
inches. So it went on for several minutes, both the mummy and the wizard
fought against each other, neither side gaining any ground. But the mummy
also knew that it would never tire, but the wielder of that dangerous
blade would do so, and soon.
     Four times, Arnara struck with her magical spirit-hammer, but only
once more did it strike, barely clipping the mummy on the shoulder. Often
she would have to hold her attack, fearing that it might accidently
strike Erik instead.
     The spiritual hammer, though barely hurting the mummy, gave Erik an
opening to strike. He dove in, slicing through rotted bandages and into
the ancient ribs of the mummy. Zarrakar reeled backward, away from the
cursed blade, and some part of the pharaoh's spirit wished that he'd
never come across the sword known as Arken'Dranleir.
     Arnara tried desperately for another opening, but she knew before
the moment came, that her spell would not last long enough and the
spirit-hammer was no more.
     The mummy of Zarrakar was more concerned with the sword before it
than with the elven female, and Arnara managed to slip by them into the
room where Scout had disappeared into. She found the halfling in a pile
of treasure, desperately searching through it for some weapon to use
against the mummy. Concerned, the priestess made her way back to her
brother and his battle against the mummy.
     Erik was weakening visibly, and each parry against the powerful
mummy came an instant slower than the rest. Arnara knew she would have to
do something now, or else her brother was doomed.
     The priestess raised both hands to the air, praying to her goddess
for one last favor against the undead abomination before her.
     Arnara gestured toward the mummy, and a bright flame sprang from her
palm. She drew her hand back and hurled the ball of magical fire at the
mummy. The small ball of flame struck Zarrakar square in the back,
sending splatters of flame all across the creature's back.
     The mummy thrashed about, desperately trying to extinguish itself.
But every movement caused the flame to spread across the entirety of the
undead monster. Soon the whole being was engulfed within the flames,
thrashing wildly about.
     Erik backed away from the walking torch, but it seemed calmer now.
The mummy was determined to take Erik along with it before it was
destroyed. The mummy waded in, no longer afraid of Arken'Dranleir. Erik
scrambled backward, bringing the sword up between himself and the mummy,
slapping at each limb as it came too close.
     One of the mummy's arms came away as it slammed against Erik's
blade, the force of the blow knocking the sword from his hands. A few
more steps brought Erik into a corner, he had nowhere left to run.
     The mummy, almost within reach, fell to the ground, its legs too
absorbed in flame to support its weight. It crawled forward, clawing at
the unarmed wizard until it came to a stop, less than a foot away.
     The flames died away and the mummy of Zarrakar was no more.
     The treasure room was enormous. Fully twice the size of the throne
room, where Erik found his magical sword.
     Treasures of all sorts lined the walls and floor of the chamber.
Magically lit sconces shone brightly at regular intervals. A half dozen
chests lay sideways, there contents sprawled about the chamber's floor,
the work of the avarice halfling, Erik did not doubt.
     "It is safe to rest here." Arken'Dranleir promised, and none doubted
the words of the ancient blade.
     "Let us rest and heal our wounds." Arnara said, wisely, "There will
be plenty of time to consider the treasure before us."
     Erik and Arnara rested. Arnara prayed all the while, to her goddess,
Sehanine, while Erik studied his mentor's scrolls, memorizing the spells
they would need on their way home.
     "Come, Erik." Arken'Dranleir said, as the young wizard put away the
last of his scrolls, "Let me show you the splendors of the one-time
pharaoh of all Raurin." The sapphires embedded within the blade glowed
brightly, illuminating nearly a score of miscellaneous items within the
chamber. Erik noticed that his own boots, as well as Scout's magical
horn, glowed blue with magical energy. A small glow came from one of the
halfling's pockets, and he suspected the thief had a secret hidden
within. Perhaps she'd already begun picking and choosing her share of the
booty that surrounded them, he mused.
     "There." The sword said, guiding Erik's arm towards a pair of finely
crafted eagles, made apparently of gold, and riveted to a hard leather
backing.
     "What are they?" Erik asked.
     "Breast plates." Arken'Dranleir replied, "The Armor of Zarrakar."
     "I have no use for suits of armor." Erik said, sweeping his free
hand to denote his bare chest.
     "It was not that blasted armor I wished to show you, my young
master." The sword spat, again moving Erik's sword arm so that its tip
rested upon one of the arm guards next to the eagles, "These bracers will
serve the same purpose." Arken'Dranleir promised, "Don them and become as
quick as the cheetah, too agile for all but the mightiest warriors to
hit."
     Trusting in the strange sword, Erik placed the bracers upon his
forearms, and indeed, he felt as though he could easily dodge a dozen
arrows, aimed for his heart.
     Erik smiled, then picked up the golden breast plates, and the rest
of the armor as well, a skirt and collar-guard, and a matched pair of
serpent shaped bracelets made of some golden spring-steel. What are you
doing? The sword asked in Erik's mind, but then it realized his
intentions, and Arken'Dranleir relaxed, more than pleased that his new
wielder indeed found no use for the armor that had been its bane.
     "To replace your torn mail." Erik announced, placing the armor at
Arnara's feet. The priestess stopped praying. Looking down at the offer,
Arnara was once again reassured that she made the right choice in
adopting this human as her brother.
     Turning her back to the wizard, Arnara proceeded to divest herself
of the remains of her chain armor. She donned the armor and stood to face
her two companions, "What do you think?" She asked. The flush of Erik's
cheeks and the leer from the halfling made Arnara uneasy.
     "Perhaps you should wear something underneath it." Erik offered,
turning his gaze towards her chest, his face bright red.
     Scout howled out laughing, holding her belly tight, fearing her gut
would burst, "Nah. I think she should stay just as she is." The thief
offered, "With that thing on, she could stop a charging army." She said,
again laughing, twice as hard as before.
     Arnara looked down at herself, realizing that the crossed breast
plates did little to hide her own figure, which lay mostly exposed at
either side of the armor's plates.
     "The armor was designed for Zarrakar." Arken'Dranleir apologized,
"A man."
     The priestess quickly turned around, removing the collar and breast
plates, and replacing the tattered tunic that would at least offer some
modesty, until they could return to the nearest town and purchase new
clothing. Replacing the armor, she again turned to face her friends.
     "Much better." Erik commented.
     "I don't know." Scout replied, "I think she looked better with just
the armor." She gave the elven priestess a sly wink, then returned to the
business of sorting through all the treasure before her.
     "I will need a weapon." Arnara said, rubbing the blush from her
cheeks, "I lost my hammer in the battle."
     "There." Arken'Dranleir said, pointing its beak towards the feet of
one of the four horse statues that stood in each corner of the room. A
golden mace sat at the horse's feet, a perfect match with the eagle
design of the armor Arnara now wore, "The mace and armor are one." The
sword instructed, though its voice held an edge as fine as its blade,
"They are made to complement each other. If the armor is damaged, merely
beat the mace upon the damaged area and the armor will repair itself."
     "Amazing." The priestess said in astonishment. She stooped to pick
up the mace, and regarded the horse stature before her as she stood.
     "Deridus." Arken'Dranleir said.
     "Pardon?"
     "That is the horse's name. Deridus."
     "Deridus?" Arnara replied, unsure of what the sword was talking
about. The stone statue before her nodded its head and breathed a heavy
blast from its nostrils, stomping a hoof as if to respond to its name.
     "Amazing." Arnara repeated.
     "Hey!" Scout wined, "What about me?" She asked the sword, walking
over to Erik and pointing a stubby finger at the blade's pommel.
     "What about you?" Erik teased, but he then turned to the sword,
"Have you anything in this wondrous room for an irate halfling?" He asked
it.
     "Within one of these chests is a small wand."
     "What does it do?" Scout asked, running to the nearest unopened
chest and, careful to check first for any traps, opened the lid, dumping
its contents on the floor to mix with the piling mound of coins that
carpeted the room.
     "If you concentrate for a moment, the wand will show you whatever
magic lies before you." Arken'Dranleir instructed.
     After toppling her fourth chest, Scout found the item she was
looking for. Concentrating as the sword instructed, she held the wand out
before her. To her amazement, nearly the entire room glowed with magic of
one kind or another. Looking down at herself, she noticed the telltale
blue light shining from her pocket. Scout quickly put a hand over it,
trying to cover the light that shone from within.
     On the floor a few feet from the halfling, was an unremarkable
dagger, but it too glowed blue in the magical wands presence. As soon as
Scout grabbed the dagger, its blade lengthened to that of a short sword.
Elation crossed the halfling's face as she removed her old dagger from
its place at her hip, gingerly placing the new one the empty sheath. The
dagger's blade shortened as it touched the sheath, returning to the size
of a normal dagger.
     The thief scampered excitedly around the treasure chamber, looking
for more enchanted items the wand might find for her.

     The three companions, along with Arken'Dranleir and Deridus, their
magical horse, left the pyramid with several hundred pounds of gems and
gold, confident that the fortune, a king's ransom, they carried would be
more than enough to sustain them, for several years to come. Scout
silently lamented that they could not take all the treasure, and vowed
to herself she would one day return, a team of wagons in tow, to claim
the remainder of their bounty.
     With the sand storm long passed, the travelers had little trouble
crossing the desert south to Durpar, or wherever they could go to spend
such riches.
     After all, Erik had an army to build, and an enemy to discover.