The Tomb of Horrors by Keith Francis Strohm - (ebook by Flandrel & Undead)

Author:Keith Francis Strohm - (ebook by Flandrel & Undead) [Strohm, Keith Francis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Greyhawk
Published: 2012-06-21T18:13:47+00:00

* * *

The next five days passed in a haze of heat and almost constant motion for Majandra. Rest stops were infrequent and taken only as a necessity—mostly to apply herbs to insect bites and treat the odd wound. Despite their precaution, the expedition was forced to battle its way past several more fanged alligators and even one vampire vine. Lizard folk were, thankfully, not in evidence.

Throughout the long days and seemingly instantaneous nights, the half-elf’s fingers itched to pluck at the graceful strings of her harp. Unfortunately, her body’s exhaustion forced her to throw herself into her bedroll as soon as the evening meal was complete, rousing only when prodded forcefully by the rest of her companions. As a result, Majandra’s instrument remained silent, packed carefully away in its waterproof case.

On the ninth day since the expedition entered the Vast Swamp, dawn woke bright and clear. Majandra groaned as she extricated herself from the bedroll in what had become a regular morning ritual. After a sullen breakfast of hard biscuits and dried meat, she gathered her pack and set off after the third rank of travelers in the expedition. By midmorning, the heat had become a fist that pounded into her body with each step. Despite the oppressive temperature, the half-elf couldn’t help but smile. The trees in this part of the Vast Swamp were thicker, their branches sprouting thick green leaves and colorful buds. Taking advantage of this bounty, more than threescore birds sat atop the tall trees, flitting quickly from branch to branch and filling the air with the melodic chatter of their song.

It didn’t take long for Majandra to add her own voice to the ever-present music that swelled around her. Gently at first, and then with more confidence, she wove her rich alto tone around and beneath the nattering birds, providing a harmonic base that added depth to the natural chorus. She felt her step lighten. The oppressive weight of the marsh air lifted, and she was gratified to notice that those around her were feeling the same effects.

It wasn’t until mid-afternoon that she noticed something was wrong. Cocking her ear to the side, she listened intently for whatever it was that had teased her intuition. She heard nothing. Silence filled the swamp, a brooding absence of sound. She realized then that it was this silence that had struck her as odd. Only a few moments ago, the area had been filled with the sounds of life. Now, the swamp seemed frozen, as if waiting for something to happen.

The hairs on the back of Majandra’s neck stood almost straight up. The bard couldn’t shake the feeling that somebody was watching her. She scanned the surrounding vegetation, shielding her eyes with her hand, but could detect nothing. Unbidden, the memory of her sighting the other day crept into her mind. Despite the heat, she shuddered. What if someone—or something—was watching them right now? There were far more dangers in this swamp than wandering lizard folk and the occasional alligator.

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