a grating howl. Mark lunged the heavy bronze candle-holder forward, the prongs tearing through the skeleton’s tattered robes and smashed into its bare ribcage, breaking several with a noxious crunch. If the creature felt it, it did not show as it scraped and clawed at him trying to get closer.
Mark struggled to hold the unholy thing at bay as he reached for the pouch of water at his side. Callisto had told him it would not kill the wraith but would wound it enough to finish his task. He bit the cork off and splashed the water at the thrashing fiend…and nothing happened. He cursed and dropped the sack of water and with a growl pushed forward, slamming the creature into the wall. A loud crack sounded as the creature’s skull bounced off the back of the stone and for a moment, it seemed dazed. Mark pulled the candle prongs from its ribs and flipped the shaft around, driving the solid base forward, crushing the thing’s skull to powder against the rock.
Mark staggered back, the candle-holder still clutched in his hands as the skeleton crumbled to the floor. “What the hell was that?” He muttered to himself. “This can’t be real... this can’t be happening - skeletons don’t just come back to life...”
A loud, angry shriek tore through the room from the hallway behind the podium and he knew that was not the wind this time but the wraith he had been warned of. All of a sudden, all the torches within the temple flared to life, violent faces flickering within the flames.
Mark remembered the water bladder and cursed as he retrieved it from the floor. Nearly all of it had spilled upon the dusty stone, rendering it useless to him. Another vicious wail echoed around him and he almost ran for the freedom that outside offered. But he couldn’t - if he didn’t honor his promise, Josh would die. He shook the leather sack and hoped there would still be enough water for the task ahead.
He climbed up the raised platform and looked down the short, eerie hallway, the torches wavering in an non-existant breeze. He stepped forward and something crunched beneath his foot. He glanced down to see the bones of a long dead warrior, his armor all but rusted away. Mark dropped the long candelabra and picked up the warrior’s short sword. The blade was rusted and brittle and he doubted it would hold up if he had to strike anything solid but it felt better in his hand then the candle holder.
Mark entered the hallway and a warm burst of rotting air struck him and he almost retched as he covered his nose.
“Come into my domain, mortal,” a deep voice crackled from the room beyond, “if you dare...”
“You owe me, Josh.” He cursed moving further down the corridor to the room beyond, the open water in one hand the sword clutched fearfully in the other.
The air grew colder the closer he got and by the time he reached the opening he could see his own breath, but he could also see the diamond-encrusted altar he had come for. He peered into the room slowly but could see nothing of threat, yet his instincts told him differently. There was something evil in that room.
“I just need to run in, find the diamond, pry it free and run out - it’s that simple.” He told himself, fidgeting with the pouch of water in his hand.
Before he could even move, a twisted, clawed hand reached down from above the doorway and grabbed him, pulling him into the icy room. It threw him against the stone wall.
“You think you can come in here kill my minion, then steal from me mortal?” The wraith hissed violently. “Foolish mortal, you should not have come here!”
Mark gasped for air, desperately trying to rise to his feet; the impact had winded and disorientated him, he could hardly hear or see. He finally found his balance and stood, his eyes taking in the translucent, disfigured being that hovered before him.
His hand was wet and he looked down to see the bladder of water had burst as it had struck the wall and the warriors’ sword lay
Mark struggled to hold the unholy thing at bay as he reached for the pouch of water at his side. Callisto had told him it would not kill the wraith but would wound it enough to finish his task. He bit the cork off and splashed the water at the thrashing fiend…and nothing happened. He cursed and dropped the sack of water and with a growl pushed forward, slamming the creature into the wall. A loud crack sounded as the creature’s skull bounced off the back of the stone and for a moment, it seemed dazed. Mark pulled the candle prongs from its ribs and flipped the shaft around, driving the solid base forward, crushing the thing’s skull to powder against the rock.
Mark staggered back, the candle-holder still clutched in his hands as the skeleton crumbled to the floor. “What the hell was that?” He muttered to himself. “This can’t be real... this can’t be happening - skeletons don’t just come back to life...”
A loud, angry shriek tore through the room from the hallway behind the podium and he knew that was not the wind this time but the wraith he had been warned of. All of a sudden, all the torches within the temple flared to life, violent faces flickering within the flames.
Mark remembered the water bladder and cursed as he retrieved it from the floor. Nearly all of it had spilled upon the dusty stone, rendering it useless to him. Another vicious wail echoed around him and he almost ran for the freedom that outside offered. But he couldn’t - if he didn’t honor his promise, Josh would die. He shook the leather sack and hoped there would still be enough water for the task ahead.
He climbed up the raised platform and looked down the short, eerie hallway, the torches wavering in an non-existant breeze. He stepped forward and something crunched beneath his foot. He glanced down to see the bones of a long dead warrior, his armor all but rusted away. Mark dropped the long candelabra and picked up the warrior’s short sword. The blade was rusted and brittle and he doubted it would hold up if he had to strike anything solid but it felt better in his hand then the candle holder.
Mark entered the hallway and a warm burst of rotting air struck him and he almost retched as he covered his nose.
“Come into my domain, mortal,” a deep voice crackled from the room beyond, “if you dare...”
“You owe me, Josh.” He cursed moving further down the corridor to the room beyond, the open water in one hand the sword clutched fearfully in the other.
The air grew colder the closer he got and by the time he reached the opening he could see his own breath, but he could also see the diamond-encrusted altar he had come for. He peered into the room slowly but could see nothing of threat, yet his instincts told him differently. There was something evil in that room.
“I just need to run in, find the diamond, pry it free and run out - it’s that simple.” He told himself, fidgeting with the pouch of water in his hand.
Before he could even move, a twisted, clawed hand reached down from above the doorway and grabbed him, pulling him into the icy room. It threw him against the stone wall.
“You think you can come in here kill my minion, then steal from me mortal?” The wraith hissed violently. “Foolish mortal, you should not have come here!”
Mark gasped for air, desperately trying to rise to his feet; the impact had winded and disorientated him, he could hardly hear or see. He finally found his balance and stood, his eyes taking in the translucent, disfigured being that hovered before him.
His hand was wet and he looked down to see the bladder of water had burst as it had struck the wall and the warriors’ sword lay
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