“If axe can cleave it,” Chert rumbled, “then it is a dead demon indeed, for I will confront it now!” With that pronouncement, the tall barbarian strode into the barrow, not waiting to see what his associates would do. The others followed on his heels, and the three humans and one cave bear faced the unknown together.
The antechamber they entered was illuminated by light that streamed in through the doorway exposed by the fallen slab. It was a chamber about six paces in width and five in depth. The low ceiling of stone made Chert, Curley, and the bear crouch out of necessity; Gord stood stooped over for another reason, feeling oppressed at the thought of the tons of stone over his head. Many of the slabs were old and cracked, and he tried not to think about what would happen if the whole affair came tumbling down.
Yurgh, seeming agitated, pushed his way to the front of the group and swung his barrel-like head from side to side, sniffing the musty, foul air. Then he issued forth a horrible growl that seemed to make the stones ring with its ferocity. The three adventurers saw that the monstrous ursine was glaring at the narrow opening in the rear wall of the antechamber’s rightmost portion, its lintel joining the outer blocks of the wall there. Then they heard a shuffling sound.
A grinning apparition suddenly leaped around the corner of the opening and into their view. It was a dead, gray-colored thing, a rotted corpse with tattered lips falling away to reveal yellow teeth bared in the grin of death. Somehow it still lived; a half-life of awful sort existed within the body and animated it with fell force that gave its decaying flesh and leathery, mummylike skin the power to move with speed and purpose. The unnatural condition that imbued this thing exuded from its putrescent eyes. All but the bear recoiled at the sight of the horrible thing.
The creature before them was clad in the moldering remains of what had once been garments of some priestly sort. Although it seemed to be able to move with agility, the arms and legs of the corpse belied this. These members appeared to have been wrenched and disjointed, so that they now protruded at unnatural angles. Yet the thing did move, and its withered right hand had the strength to hold the corroded iron of a mace.
All of this was perceived in an instant, for the pause of the undead corpse was only momentary. The thing gave another leap, arms and legs going out at crazy angles, and moved to attack the bear, which was still in the forefront. As the zombie advanced it raised its flanged metal club, intending to bring the weapon down upon Yurgh’s head. The monster’s skeletal face looked even more fiendish as its jaws opened in a soundless effort to shriek its hatred and fury.
Yurgh was not simply waiting for the stinking thing’s blow. The bear also lunged forward, and this move carried the animal close to the creature so that the mace impacted on the matted bristles of Yurgh’s humped shoulders, at the same time that the maw of the animal stretched wide and clamped shut on the thing’s crooked left arm. The weapon blow certainly hurt the bear, but Yurgh seemed to pay it no heed. With a savage shake of his massive head, the bear sent the zombie flying sideways-all of the thing, that is, but its left arm, which had come loose at the shoulder and was still in the bear’s mouth. The creature smacked into the wall of the antechamber with a meaty sound, but without hesitation was up on its twisted legs again, mace rising for another attack.
Gord, finding himself on the zombie’s flank as it again advanced toward the bear, took matters into his own hands. He lunged forward, ducking under the zombie’s upraised mace, and thrust his swordpoint into the creature’s right leg as the thing was turning to meet this new threat. Gord withdrew his weapon quickly, but not fast enough to avoid a grazing blow from the mace. He saw stars as an iron flange glanced off his forehead, and he reeled back. Although blood now blinded his left eye, Gord had seen enough to know that his stab had apparently done little harm to his opponent. He took a second to shake his head, trying to clear his senses, and when he looked up again he saw the foul creature was aiming another blow at him.
“To your grave, damned thing!” Chert cried as he came up behind the creature and brought his great battle-axe down. Because of the low ceiling and the closeness of the melee, the blow could not be delivered with full force, but it was still strong enough to send the blade through the steel plate and chain mesh protecting the undead thing’s shoulder.
The barbarian’s blow did not fell the zombie, but it threw the thing off balance, so that the mace it wielded swished through empty air. As it exposed itself thus, Curley Greenleaf jabbed his spear forward, scoring a hit on the zombie’s rotting body. “This thing is tough,” he shouted to his companions, ducking another swing of the undead cleric’s rusty mace.
The bear growled hideously, but the crowded conditions did not permit it enough space to attack fully. Yurgh had spit out the moldering member from his mouth, shaking it free and then trying to clear the foul taste from his mouth. Gord had moved back and was also out of the fight for the moment, trying to clear his vision and staunch the flow of blood that was running down from the wound on his head and blinding him. Chert and the druid continued to press the zombie so that it could do naught but face them in return.
If the damage done to its undead body caused it pain, there was no evidence of it. Gaping jaws still sounding its silent scream, lambent hatred burning in its eyes, the zombie sought to crush its foes with the weapon it had used in life.
“When I stab it, you strike from the side!” Greenleaf shouted as he dodged another swing of the iron mace. Then he thrust his spear forward into the thing’s body again.
The barbarian gave a cry that sounded like “Brrrr!” as he swung his weapon in an arc perpendicular to the zombie’s body. With both of his hands clasped on the haft of the great axe, his teeth clenched, his muscles working to their fullest, Chert drove the blade hard and true, hitting the thing at the waist just as the druid yanked his spear out of its torso. The curving blade cut the rotting thing nearly in half, and the zombie fell back and down.
The thing twitched and jerked, but did not stand upright again. Its lolling head showed only empty eye sockets where the evil light had burned a moment earlier. Then the air was filled with the sound of a deep, dry chuckle coming from the interior of the cairn, so pervasive that it seemed to flow right through the stone itself. It was the most evil sound Gord had ever heard.
“Yurgh! Guard the doorway there,” the druid said, following the words with a gesture and a few guttural sounds. The bear complied, moving next to the opening on the back wall that the zombie had come through. Curley turned and surveyed his friends, a thin smile on his lips. “Well, that’s that,” he said. “Now, Gord, let’s take care of that gash on your head.”
Gord had overcome the dizziness that beset him when he was hit, had managed to clear the blood from his left eye with a piece of linen torn from his undershirt, and was dabbing at the wound. The druid moved him near the entrance and peered at the cut in the light there.
“It’s not a serious wound,” he said, “but who knows what foulness was on that mace? I’ll have it taken care of in a moment!” The young thief watched as Greenleaf took a small jar from his belt pouch, opened it, and with a bit of clean cloth took out a small portion of the amber-colored ointment therein. The stuff made his skin tingle when the druid applied it to the wound, the cut stung briefly, and then all pain was gone. A small moan of satisfaction escaped Gord’s lips as the magical medicine finished its work.
“The wound is closed, my friend,” said Curley, “and your forehead is as good as new-except for a small scar you’ll have there. Clean off the rest of the blood, and we’ll be ready to get on with this business.” The druid turned back inside the chamber then and saw the barbarian examining the remains of their foul and unnatural foe.