Pool of Radiance - James M. Ward [46]
"If it weren't for the dark veil that hovers over this place, it would almost be pleasant," Shal said quietly. "It seems so quiet, so peaceful."
"The aura of evil is strong here," Tarl whispered back. "Can't you feel it? I don't think we're going to fool whatever inhabits this place by trying to come in the back door."
"Maybe not," whispered Ren, "but I still think we should take our time and have a good look at the grounds before going in."
"No," said Shal. "Tarl's right. If there are undead here, we aren't going to surprise them no matter which way we come from."
Ren glanced at Shal, surprised by her forcefulness. "Okay, lady. Whatever you say." Striding right up to the front door went against every thieving bone in Ren's body, but he could feel a rush of excitement as he pulled out one of his short swords and prepared to lead the way. "Stay behind me, on either side," he whispered to the others. "Move with the grass, not against it. Try not to leave a trail. Like this," he said, parting the grass gently with his extended sword and stepping lightly so as not to make a sound.
Ren passed through the tall grass with the ease and silence of a leaf floating to earth. Shal and Tarl did their best to imitate his stealthy movements, but despite their efforts, the grass made a distinct rustling sound with their passing. Suddenly, without warning, Ren came to an abrupt stop. Ten feet in front of him, a skeleton hand was pushing its way up through the ground. Clods of earth flew up in all directions as a skeleton warrior burst from the ground and began to walk toward them. Dirt and fungus clung inside its eye sockets and to the remnants of its leather armor. Sow bugs, beetles, and grubs scurried to the ground by the hundreds as the skeleton strode forward, and maggots streamed from the creature's open mouth.
Tarl shook off his own panic and charged in front of Ren, holding out his holy symbol. "Die, creature! Rest! Do us no harm!" The skeleton came to a halt, reached forward one last time, and collapsed to the ground.
Ren walked up to the remains of the skeleton warrior and started peeling off its decayed armor.
Shal stifled a gasp. "By the gods, Ren, what are you doing?"
"Looking for loot. What do you think?"
"You can't rob the dead!" Tarl exclaimed vehemently.
"It's-it's sacrilege!"
"It certainly can't do any more harm than stealing from someone who's alive. What's he going to do with anything, anyway?" Ren asked, continuing to rummage through the creature's remains. He found nothing under the armor, but then he noticed that one of the skeleton's bony hands was clasped tight shut. Forcing it open, Ren removed a heavy bronze chain.
"Nice work, Brother Tarl. I think you just killed a friendly messenger. Take a look at this." Ren held up the chain. An embossed medallion hung from it.
Tarl looked on in horror. Ren was right. The warrior had tried to offer them a medal of Tyr to wear inside the keep. Tarl let out a slow breath as he examined it. It was identical to the medallion Sot had given him, and it showed no sign of corrosion despite the years it must have spent in the ground. Tarl had let his fear get in the way of his faith.
He held the medallion skyward. "Great Tyr, the Even-Handed, God of Justice, once again you have demonstrated your presence with us. Forgive me for not recognizing your messenger."
Tarl held the medallion out to Ren. "This is for you. I guess you didn't need to steal it after all. He meant for you to have it."
The wooden gates of the keep had fared poorly against the elements. Tarl had only to push, and the big doors swung open, revealing a large courtyard lined by the charred remnants of several buildings. In the center of the keep, reasonably