Crypt of the shadowking - Mark Anthony [112]
Farther into the chamber stood a circle of huge columns, surrounding the center of the crypt like a ring of sentinel giants. The tomb was deathly silent. The stale, ancient air seemed to smother all sound, as if it resented the intrusion of living beings in a place where nothing had stirred in a thousand years.
When they reached the ring of columns Ravendas stopped. She clapped her hands, a signal for the Zhentarim warriors and priests to withdraw from the crypt. The Zhents, especially the warriors, seemed more than willing to leave the eerie chamber.
"Don't get any rash ideas," Ravendas said to Caledan. "What will transpire within this circle is not fit for simple eyes to behold, so I have sent my servants away. But they will guard the portal with their lives. I needn't remind you there is only one exit from the crypt."
"I really don't think we'll be going anywhere," Caledan said sarcastically, glancing meaningfully at the rope that hobbled his ankles.
With a gesture of mock politeness, Ravendas gestured for the others to follow her. They passed between two of the gigantic columns and entered the circle within.
Caledan could see now that there were seven of the massive columns, each resting on an enormous basalt plinth as big as a small house. The surface of the columns was without carving or sigil, except for a single word that had been incised into the stone of each column perhaps twenty feet above the floor. Caledan squinted at the words through the hazy crimson light, but he could not discern them.
He let his gaze drift upward. The columns supported a domed ceiling about a dozen fathoms above his head. A mosaic covered the ceiling, but in the half-light all Caledan could see were pale, cruel-looking eyes staring down at him from above. He noticed a dark, jagged line running across the center of the domed ceiling. It was a crack, the single flaw he could detect in the construction of the crypt.
In the very center of the tomb stood a dais of basalt bear-ing a huge sarcophagus of flawless onyx. Upon the coffin's lid was carved a figure that could only represent the Shadowking. The figure was manlike in shape, but massive and twisted, the gnarled arms ending in claws, the legs in cloven hooves.
But the face of the Shadowking was the face of a man Unlike the rest of the figure's body, the visage was smooth and perfect, even beautiful. This was how the sorcerer Ver-raketh had looked before dark magic had twisted him into the being of maleficence called the Shadowking. His features were crowned by a pair of dark antlers springing from the unfurrowed brow of the death mask, a bestial symbol of violence.
Caledan could not help but shiver. Within that sarcophagus lay a being of terrible malevolence. But the Shadow-king is a thousand years dead, he reminded himself.
"Cheerful-looking fellow, isn't he?" Ferret whispered. Caledan winced. How could the thief joke at a time like this? "By the way, did you notice those words on the columns are written in Talfir?" Ferret said softly. "I thought you might be interested to know…"
Caledan stared at the thief in surprise, then he jerked his head up to look at the runes carved high on the basalt columns. He squinted through the dimness and saw that Ferret was right. By now the ancient language was familiar enough to recognize, though he cursed himself for being unable to read it.
He thought back to that day when the phantom of Talek Talembar had appeared on the windswept cliff top. What had the phantom told him? What were the words he had used? The exact words?
For a long time his mind was empty. He almost swore aloud in frustration. Then abruptly, like a dam bursting, the memory came to him. It was as if Talembar was speaking once again, only this time inside his mind.
.. .thou might look for its echo