The Tomb of Ahkiar

As the room fell into silence once more, the thief’s head was afire with thought. Intrigued as he was by the journey, and greed being a large factor, he was still hesitant to quest with this dwarf. But greed is a powerful thing, and visions of vast piles of gold danced through his mind. His attention returning to the dwarf, he broke the silence.

"It’s a tempting proposal you offer me, dwarf. But I cannot simply go about calling you ‘dwarf’ and you calling me ‘master thief’ for an entire trip. I would know the name of you and your companion before we set about negotiations."

A smile split the dwarf’s face from ear to ear, and once more his eyes refused to share in it.

"My name is Kaedin Jord, and that of my companion is Olaf Catlen. I believe we shall both profit well from this excursion, Jagahd."

As the two made themselves comfortable around the table and talk turned to coin and treasure, it occurred to the thief that he had never told the dwarf his name. He shivered briefly, and then shrugged, a problem for another time.

* * *

Darkness was just beginning to fall when the trio arrived at their first destination, an ancient cemetery long abandoned in the center of a forest full of twisted and diseased trees. The fading light of the sun barely illuminated the rusty gates of the graveyard, and perpetual mist shrouded the interior. A dreadful silence persisted throughout this place, and even the jovial dwarf seemed subdued.

Jagahd was not a man who enjoyed the sound of his own voice, and he was perfectly happy to allow the silence to continue, if only to avoid speaking to his other companion, the fighter Olaf. While Kaedin insisted on telling a thousand tales of adventure to the thief, Olaf rarely spoke to anyone but himself. The dour and at least half-mad man walked with a stiff-legged gait, glassy-eyed and seemingly a part of a reality far different from that of his companions. Jagahd had often wondered in the two weeks that had passed since Kaedin’s intrusion into his life why the dwarf had recruited the man in the first place. Thickly muscled, sporting terribly worn armor and a battered old sword, the fighter definitely looked the part, but his incoherence led the thief to wonder just how the dwarf had recruited him. During the journey, Olaf had never once spoken to Jagahd, and only once said anything to their intrepid leader.

While Kaedin always had a story, he was not nearly so forthcoming with his plans for the expedition. After his initial briefing of the thief on that fateful day two weeks back, he had said nothing of where they were going, nor of why they were deep in the heart of this terrible forest with the sun dropping swiftly over the side of the world. When asked, that strange half-smile of his would surface, and he would change the subject.

Now they stood silently before the rusted gates and stared into the murk. Olaf started muttering to himself once more, fingering the hilt of his broadsword. Jagahd tried to ignore the mad fighter and finally broke the silence.

"Alright, dwarf. Just what are we doing in this godforsaken place with the sun in full retreat? The undead revel in these areas, and I have no wish to confront such creatures in their own land."

Kaedin grinned, a wild look passing briefly across his eyes.

"Ah, there’s more truth in yer statement than ye might realize, lad. We have need of a fourth member for a specific task that we will face once we have reached the tomb."

"And just who are we going to find in a graveyard hidden in the midst of a forest, dwarf? You’re just as mad as this lunatic here," the thief said, pointing at the babbling fighter.

That terrible aura that the thief had seen in the dwarf’s eyes on occasion was in full force once more. A twisted smile split the scarred face in two, and then he turned off into the mist.

"Perhaps ye’d like to see for yerself. Come along, my friend."