Tombs of A'bre

By Robert E. Vardeman and Geo. W. Proctor

Wars have been fought. Evil has been defeated and kingdoms won. But the real challenge lies ahead destined to strain the friendship of freebooters Davin Anane and his other-worldly companion Goran One-eye.

For Goran, his home in an alternate plane of existence beckons. He has the key to unlock the gateway--but first he and Davin must face the enticement of immortality offered by the secret of the Tombs of A'bre. And Goran discovers the sorcerer who imprisoned him in the world of Raemllyn is among those immortals.

To open the Tombs of A'bre, to accept immortality, Davin must come to grips with losing a friend and staunch battle-companion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Cenotaph Corporation
• Release date: Apr 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370781065

Book preview

Fed to Rats!

We're in a pit! the Jyotian cursed aloud. Juusapt led us into a pit!

Light flared overhead. Juusapt stood twenty-five feet above them, holding a torch high and peering down as a king might view an insect.

Davin instinctively slid dagger from sheath. The cleric was within range, although the angle was all but impossible.

Save your weapon, thief, Juusapt called down. You will need it soon. You might consider using it on your own throat! Others in your position have taken that route.

Davin's gaze darted about the pit. A full ten strides it measured in diameter. What puzzled the Jyotian was the rusted iron grate directly across from him. Was it also a remnant of a civilization that dwelled in this land long before Pahl was built—a shaft that connected with an underground water source?

A series of squeaks came from behind the grating. Two rats slipped through the wide openings formed by the grate's flat crisscrossed bands and ran directly for Davin.

The Jyotian pulled sword from sheath. With one stroke he sliced both furry creatures in twain as they reached his boots.

Davin, there's no time to stop and play with pets, Goran chided. We've other matters to attend. A couple of sewer rats are no problem.

Rats! Davin repeated.

Goran's eyes followed the Jyotian's gaze across the pit. Rats, hundreds of them, poured through the grating

Tombs of A'bre

Swords of Raemllyn #8

by

Robert E. Vardeman & Geo. W. Proctor

Swords of Raemllyn Series

To Demons Bound

A Yoke of Magic

Blood Fountain

Death's Acolyte

Beasts of the Mist

For Crown and Kingdom

Blade of the Conqueror

Tombs of A'bre

The Jewels of Life

The Tombs of A'bre ©1995 Robert E Vardeman & Geo. W. Proctor

The Tombs of A'bre was originally published by

New English Library (ISBN: 0-340-61774-8)

This Smashwords edition published by

The Cenotaph Press © 2017

ISBN:

Cover © 2017 by Robert E. Vardeman

Dreamstime Illustration

Map © 1985 by Geo. W. Proctor

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other

people. If you would like to share this book with another

person, please purchase an additional copy for each

recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase

it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please

return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

If you'd like to learn more about the authors, please visit the website at The Cenotaph Road

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Sample chapter The Jewels of Life

Author Biographies

Tombs of A'bre

by

Robert E. Vardeman & Geo. W. Proctor

Chapter 1

Davin Anane licked dry lips and swallowed hard. The latter action merely served to remind him of how parched his throat was. A goblet or twelve of wine would go far in washing away the taste of the muddy river water circumstance had forced him to drink during the past week. The journey south from Uhjayib, a city renowned for its fierce gorillas—not all of the bestial variety—had been difficult. It had proved far more arduous than normally since it had been made on foot rather than on horseback.

The people of Pahl are most generous with their bounty. Goran One-Eye swept wide an arm as thick as a tree limb toward the tables laden with earthenware jugs. His nostrils flared when he inhaled deeply. Savor the aroma of all the wine brimming in those containers. And the intoxicating perfumes worn by Pahlese women! Breathe it in, friend Davin! It's enough to make your head spin.

Davin, last son of the House of Anane and recently proclaimed Lord of Jyotis by High King Felrad, gazed in wonder at the snaking line of Pahlese men and women dancing down the cobblestoned street lined on both sides with countless tables bearing a thousand times that number of bowls and jugs of wine. In Lower Raemllyn's city-state of Pahl the time of midwinter festival had arrived, and the residents of this western coast metropolis celebrated with wild abandon.

In and out through the long wooden tables twirled and pranced men and women in multihued costumes that flowed like bright liquid about the dancers. Laughing gaily, the revelers flung small presents wrapped in refulgent red and yellow ribbons to cheering onlookers who scrambled to snatch the prizes from the air.

As comely as were the women with their celebration-flushed cheeks and wide smiles and as anxious as Davin was to add the weight of coins to his empty purse, he could not pull his attention from the wine.

The Jyotian and his Challing companion, Goran One-Eye, had spent the past month traversing the western coast of Lower Raemllyn, leaving Felrad and his victorious fighters to reclaim the Velvet Throne of the High King far behind. The road had been dry, dusty and hotter than any winter ever sent by Jalya, Goddess of the Seasons. At least hotter than any winter he recalled, Davin thought as he wiped his hands on the thighs of his breeches and edged closer to the tables and their tempting goods.

Wine, Goran! Fine drink to tempt, then please the palate. I never thought to see wine again after you lost our horses. Davin maneuvered closer to a table on his left. If his money pouch lacked weight to purchase a jug to quench the fires in his throat, he had other talents that would provide. Davin Anane was not known as a master thief without reason.

Lost our mounts? Me? You wound me deeply, friend Davin. 'Twas bloodthirsty brigands who cut our horses out from under us as though they were pincushions for their arrows. Where lies my fault? Goran's single good eye followed the progress of a red-haired maid whose ample breasts appeared they would escape her bodice with each bouncing step she danced. The walking mountain in man form clamped a meaty paw to the Jyotian's shoulder. Now there is a sight that awakens life in my weary eye! The women of Upper Raemllyn pale beside the beauty found here in Pahl.

Brigands? Those were angry townsfolk of Elkid seeking your hide for tanning in return for the way you cheated them at the gaming tables! Davin tried to shake off Goran's hand, but the Challing's grip remained firm.

Davin cast an irritated glance at his hulking companion. Besides the wine, the Jyotian caught sight of a table spilling over with smoked meats, sausages, loaves of bread and wedges of cheese. More important, the merchant who peddled his wares stared fully engrossed in the weaving line of dancers. What was wrong with Goran? Usually the sight of such tempting morsels set his stomach to growling. It would be easy to move while the dancers provided a diversion.

Townsfolk—brigands? Details of little concern, Goran replied with a shrug of massive shoulders. We eluded the whoresons! That's all that matters.

The dust caking my throat and the protests of my belly matter more, Davin answered, trying to shake free of the Challing's grip. If you'd unhand me, I'll tend to both in the blink or two of an eye.

Wine, food, who cares? Goran shrugged again. I spy something far more interesting.

The red-tressed wench? Davin Anane jerked away from the Challing to watch the maid with pillowy breasts prance down the street. You're thinking with your gonads again!

In all the time they had traveled together, Davin had yet fully to understand his friend. The only things predictable about Goran One-Eye were his unpredictability and his unerring penchant for finding trouble where none existed but an instant before.

No man born of woman was the barrel-chested giant. Goran was a Challing, a shape-changing entity nine parts mystic and one physical. Yanked from another plane of existence by a sorcerer who bound Goran to human flesh and soon found his throat slit by Goran's hand for the effort, the Challing journeyed across Raemllyn seeking the means to return to his home world of Gohwohn.

Although why the Challing sought this homecoming lay beyond Davin's reckoning. To be certain, Goran described Gohwohn as a realm of perfection—a world of eternal peace and serenity, except for the occasional keedehn, a dragonlike creature that relished the taste of Challing flesh. For the Jyotian it sounded like the most boring place in all the universe.

Gohwohn lacked emotion, the wide variety of sense-stimulating experiences found in human realms—the very things that most appealed to Goran while trapped in solid flesh. And by all the gods, the Challing did his able best to sample every human vice, depravity and corruption available to him.

Ah, Davin, my dear friend, Goran chided, must you always be so single-minded? Wenches? There are wenches aplenty throughout Raemllyn. I speak of other things in this fine world—bigger things to occupy our attention.

The one-eyed, flaming-haired giant abruptly stepped forward, turned his imposing bulk and blocked two men who strode toward the wine-laden table that so mesmerized the Jyotian. With a quick sweep of hand and arm Goran artfully lifted a wineskin and passed it to Davin.

The Jyotian thief did not question but sidled into the crowd as he tugged cork from mouth, lifted the skin and let a stream of deep red liquid gush forth over his lips. While Pahl's grapes could not compare with the vineyards of Jyotis, Davin's throat offered no protest to the sweetness that rolled down it. Nor did his flagging body complain when renewed energy spread through his limbs in a warm glow.

Ahh, a pleased sigh pushed from deep in his chest when he lowered the skin after the third long sampling. I almost feel like a new ...

Davin swallowed the remainder of his words as his eyes lifted and his gaze alighted on the object Goran had spied earlier.

Magnificent, isn't it? Goran took the wineskin from Davin and drained half its contents in a single swallow. An unexpected treasure, wouldn't you say?

Davin moved forward, oblivious of dancers and merchants hawking foodstuffs that had captured his full attention only seconds ago. "How many do you count? At least fifty diamonds the size of a child's fist, I say. And the rubies—twenty rubies as big as kelii bird eggs, if there is one!"

And gold! Goran added with gusto. Why, the platter is so immense even I would strain to lift it.

I can barely make out the lettering on it. Davin squinted into the brightness of the noonday sun. Something about the royal city of Pahl. Perhaps it's a gift to the citizens of Pahl from Bedrich the Fair during his fight with Zarek Yannis. It was rumored he sojourned in Lower Raemllyn seeking sanctuary for a short while. Could he have left that as a symbol of his appreciation?

No High King shows such gratitude. Goran shook his head. Especially one fighting to keep his throne in Kavindra.

Where it came from matters not. That it offers riches beyond our dreams does.

For another, the gem-encrusted disk held aloft above the city's square by thick ropes would have been a marvel of beauty to behold. Not so for the Jyotian. When he had been falsely accused of murder and driven from his homeland, Davin discovered a quick wit and even quicker hands provided the means for the necessities of life as well as more than a few of its luxuries. The gold alone contained in the disk was enough to see to the needs of a man into his sunset years. The diamonds and rubies would assure he spent those years in a palace fit for a king—or a newly named Lord of Jyotis.

To steal the disk—Davin could not deny the race of his heart or the rush of adrenaline that coursed through his body—would be the stuff from which bards wove their songs over the generations. To be sure, it would be no easy task. Perhaps even impossible.

No, Davin said aloud. Nothing is impossible. It just requires thought and careful planning.

Without thinking, the Jyotian shoved aside a cleric who rudely stepped into his path. The robed priest pivoted and a growl rumbled from his throat. Remembering himself, Davin bowed and added a hasty apology. It never paid to draw attention before a theft, especially one of such magnitude.

The priest tugged his cowl lower, then straightened and looked directly at Goran One-Eye.

Good day to you, Father, Goran greeted the priest cheerfully. My friend has sampled too much of Pahl's fine wine this morn. You must excuse his oafishness. What temple do you serve, if I may ask? We are strangers in your fair city.

I humbly serve Ediena, Goddess of Love and Pleasure. The priest's gaze remained locked on the Challing. The man's arm lifted and he reached out to touch the gold chain around Goran's thick neck. Dangling at the end of the chain rode half a golden leaf.

Goran eased the amulet away from the priest's fingers and tucked it inside his tunic. Davin caught a green flash of witchfire in his companion's good eye and caught his breath. The divided leaf of gold somehow held the key to the Challing's return to Gohwohn. Just what that key was had brought them all the way from Upper Raemllyn's northern reaches to Pahl in Lower Raemllyn. A show of anger from the Challing would ill serve them now.

The Jyotian breathed a silent sigh of relief when Goran contained his temper and answered, A fine lady to serve, Ediena. I shall worship at your temple ere the day is out. Ediena has always smiled upon me, and I have always favored her with ample donations of gold.

Your generosity will be received with gratitude, the priest replied, adjusting his cowl so his face remained hidden in shadow.

Davin cocked an eyebrow when the priest bowed again, then turned and hastened away to disappear in the crowd of revelers. Did light and shadow play tricks on his eyes or did the cleric wear a sly smile on his face when he left?

How best do we filch such a massive gewgaw? Goran's voice drew Davin back to the disk hung high above the town square. The winter sun set gold and jewels afire.

Daring, my friend. Davin's mind raced in time with his pounding temples. There had to be a way to get to the disk.

Daring, hmmph! Daring could also cause our heads to be separated from our shoulders by an executioner's blade, if that daring isn't tempered by caution. The Challing took another swig from the wineskin before passing it back to Davin. However, it would be a pity to allow such a bauble to remain in Pahl. Look at these debauched people. Why, I spoke to a priest of Ediena. They worship only pleasure in this city!

Goran's mock disapproval broke Davin's concentration for a moment.

What priest? Never mind, he said while he crossed the square to a wall atop which the ropes supporting the golden disk were tied.

The Jyotian freebooter drank deeply from the skin, then leaned heavily against the wall as though drunk as most of Pahl's population. His gaze returned to the massive suspended disk. Only two ropes held it.

Where are the guardsmen? Davin looked at the Challing. Were someone to reach the top of the wall, how long before they reacted? Seconds? Minutes?

Goran's reply was a guffaw. They won't reach us 'til they sober up. Never have I seen such gluttony and excess, save when I happened to lose my eye. But I have told you the story of how my eye came to be lost in a tun of summer wine produced by the stamping feet of a dozen Litonyan maidens.

Later, Goran, Davin said, refusing to be distracted from the task at hand by yet another of the Challing's improbable tales of how he lost his eye. Are you game?

I think we should consider another game. Mayhap cutting a few purses. 'Twould be easy enough in these crowds. Goran tilted his shaggy head to an avenue running off the square to the right. Pahl's citizens appear to worship the platter if those paintings are any indication.

Paintings? Davin's head snapped to the right.

Along one side of the broad street Goran indicated, artists displayed canvases. Like religious icons, at least half the proffered works of art were of the gold and jeweled disk.

From here they almost look real, Goran added.

Especially that big one. Davin's racing heart doubled its pace as the seed of an idea began to sprout in the Jyotian's mind. You were right about cutting a few purses. We'll need coins if we intend to be patrons of the arts today.

Patrons of the arts? Goran stared at Davin as though the Jyotian had suddenly lost his wits.

Patrons of the art of thievery! Davin laughed aloud when he lifted the skin and downed another swallow of wine made sweeter by thoughts of the gold and jewels that would soon be theirs.

Chapter 2

Davin Anane cast an anxious glance over a shoulder. He saw nothing except garbage strewn along the alley. He shook his head, silently admonishing himself for what he could only describe as a case of the jitters.

Since joining the fight to overthrow the usurper Zarek Yannis and return Prince Felrad to the throne, there had been little opportunity to ply his chosen profession. He felt as nervous as the first time he had purloined fire opals from a gem merchant's heavily guarded shop.

At least a half-dozen times during the afternoon he had felt the sensation of eyes following him. Yet, whenever he had felt the hairs prickling on the back of his neck, a cautious survey of the streets had revealed only Pahl's ceaseless revelers. The Jyotian shook his head again and looked at Goran One-Eye who licked the last traces of a honey cake from his fingers.

Are you sure you can do it? Davin asked, unable to rid himself of the uneasiness.

Goran smacked his lips with obvious relish and grinned. You just see to hanging that masterpiece and I'll do my part.

Davin shifted the weight of a long roll of canvas he carried from one arm to the other. An unwitting Pahlese artisan had prepared the masterpiece in the space of half an afternoon, his able hands steadied by a plump purse bulging with brass and silver coins. The generous payment, as well as a few golden bists bouncing gently in Davin's pouch, were supplied by the citizens of Pahl, or at least supplied by their slit purses.

I am Challing, Goran continued. Of course I can do it. The cart is prepared.

Davin wrinkled his nose but offered no comment on his friend's chosen method of smuggling the golden disk from Pahl. Less than six months ago they had used the same method to slip a king's ransom in gold beneath the nose of Zarek Yannis' army. He had no doubt it would fool a few provincial guards.

If there were a kink in the cat's tail, it lay in his part in the theft. Should something go awry, at least a thousand pairs of eyes would be able to identify him. There would be no denying what he did should he be caught.

They gather for the speeches. Goran cocked his head to one side, listening to the din of buzzing voices that rose from the other side of the wall they stopped beside.

Davin hastily tied a rope to each end of the rolled canvas, then slipped it over head and shoulder to carry it as an archer might wear a quiver of arrows. Next he drew his dagger and tested its edges with the flat of his thumb. The tinker found earlier near the town square had honed both edges to razor's sharpness with his grinding wheel. Davin shoved the knife securely into its scabbard, let his gaze trace to the top of the wall, fully the height of five men standing on each other's shoulders, and finally looked at the Challing and gave a determined nod. Shall we give the fine people of Pahl something more to talk about than local politics?

May Jajhana be with you, Goran invoked the name of the Goddess of Chance and Fortune.

May she smile on both of us, Davin replied. If she veils our risks, we'll have the fortune of a lifetime—two lifetimes!

Aye, that we will! Grinning from ear to ear, Goran pivoted and with quick strides moved toward the opposite side of the wall where he would position himself beneath the jewel-encrusted disk of gold.

Davin turned to his own task, the wall itself. He found a fingerhold half an arm's length above his head. The width of a hand higher some mortar had worked loose between the blocks of rock in the wall. That was enough for his left hand. He pulled upward until his boots found purchase in a slight crack between the massive blocks. Thus he worked upward by hand and toehold until an arm stretched over the wall's edge let him scramble to the top.

Flat on his belly,