Master of Chains - Jess Lebow [1]
Purdun squinted his eyes. "Why would a sealed doorway require an invocation to be opened?" The characters were so tiny, he couldn't discern where one ended and the next began. "I don't recognize the language."
Menrick took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest. "That's because it's Infernal."
"Infernal?"
Menrick looked down his long nose at his young master. "Yes, Infernal. And I don't know why the door would need an invocation to be opened, but if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say it wasn't a door that was meant to be opened more than once."
"I don't understand."
"The invocation likely summons a spirit or phantasm," explained Menrick, "some creature from another realm who can destroy the enchantment that guards this portal."
Purdun smiled. "You're saying this isn't a tomb-it's a vault, a treasure trove."
Menrick cocked his head, a stern look on his face.
"Well, I don't know, but… I would say it is quite likely. But I do not think it would-"
Purdun cut him off. "Can you open this door?"
"My lord, I really must protest-"
"Can you or can you not open this door?" demanded the young lord.
Menrick stood silent for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, my lord. I can."
Purdun stepped aside. "Then open it."
"My lord-"
"Open it."
Menrick bowed his head. "As you wish."
The old wizard pushed back the sleeves of his white robe and fished around inside his pack, eventually pulling a handful of scrolls from the cluttered sack. Unrolling them one at a time, he scanned the text until he located the correct passage.
Menrick cleared his throat then began reading. He spoke softly at first. So softly that Purdun could barely hear him. But slowly his voice rose in volume, until eventually Menrick was shouting. Lord Purdun still didn't understand the words his manservant spoke, but the sounds he made were familiar. They had the same tenor and pitch as words Purdun himself used every day.
Menrick fell silent. The runes inscribed so tightly around the edge of the archway began to glow a pale green and the pattern changed shape, transforming from a jumble of lines and curves into recognizable letters and words.
"Thank you," said Purdun. Then it was his turn to read.
Handmaidens of Lolth
Ghouls of Baphomet
Harbingers of death and despair
Bring forth the suffering
Release the shackles of night
Bear down the walls of Dis
Evade the hunters,
The Bebilith, the Retriever, the Vrock
Come now from your places of darkness
As once you were born from good
Return now to do thy bidding
Flaming Balor in the bowels of the Abyss
Accept mine invitation
From the pit I command of you
Tanar'ri come forth
Purdun finished intoning the last word and the ground began to rumble. Rolling waves of earth washed through the ruined cemetery like the wake of a ship slapping up against the shore. Headstones crumbled. Partially collapsed mausoleums moaned under the assault as if the dead themselves were lamenting this intrusion. Trees shook, birds scattered, and both the young lord and his companion were tossed from their feet by the shaking ground.
A hole opened in the dirt just in front of the old tomb. It was rimmed in the same pale green light as the runes inscribed on the archway. A thick gas spilled out, covering the ground like fog. Then the earth went still. All was quiet except for a scraping noise that grew louder and louder.
Purdun swallowed hard, unable to take his gaze off the glowing pit.
The foggy gas swirled, disturbed from the inside. A shadow filled the cloud, nearly blocking out the green glow. And out of the shadow a hideous beast emerged.
"Glabrezu," whispered Menrick. His voice sounded far away, strangled, as if he had tried to hold back the foul word, but it had been pulled forcibly from his lips.
The demon's skin creaked as it stretched and moved across piles of muscle. Standing almost three times the height of a man, the creature turned its massive bulk, shifting its entire body to look at Purdun and Menrick. Its eyes, glowing with the color of rotting