Lydara is dead and her loss lies heavy on my heart. Our losses are mounting and I wonder which of us will be next. How many more lives will our mission claim? If we fail, how many more lives will be crushed by the ascension of Kyuss?
We are finally out of the undermountain passage, in the open sunlight and constant peril of the Isle. The last few hundred yards were the most dangerous of the trip. After those vile flesh-things, we attempted to cross the second bridge. We had assumed that the bridge would be unstable, but the danger came not from the structure. Instead, an enormous centipede uncoiled itself from its hiding place under the bridge. The huge monster summoned by the Faceless One could have been one of this thing’s hatchlings. It slashed at Aramir with its mandibles, nearly killing him. The wild elf had seemed indestructible as long as I had known him, but the deadly creatures here just may have his measure. I was unable to assist him, as the monstrous vermin bit at me before I could complete a spell. It nearly killed Urol as he hurried to assist. Luckily, I was able to drag Urol to safety and Galan, praise his courage and skills, was able to save Aramir from death’s door. Aramir unslung Blackrazor for the second time, and this time the foul weapon dispatched the great centipede rather than turning on its wielder.
Afterward, he seemed flush with vitality with a strange gleam in his eye. It faded as we rested, but still it gave me cause for concern. Aramir assured me that he would not fall under the weapon’s spell, but I wonder how he can be so certain.
After resting the night, we crossed the bridge and found some sort of burial chamber. Six mummies rested in niches in the walls, seemingly unaware of us. We arrayed ourselves hoping to bottle them up while whittling them down. Our plan was for naught: as the mummies moved against us, a powerful wave of dread washed over me and I could do nothing except watch the undead things attack my friends. When I finally found my courage, the mummies were overrunning us. Aramir had once again taken the brunt of their attacks, but Lydara suffered the most grievous injury of all: she had been infected with the mummy’s curse. We finally rallied and destroyed the last of the things, but too late to save her.
Her face was wasting away before our eyes, and she knew she was dying. I have never seen anything so horrible. She begged her brother to end her life, to give her a clean death. These wild elves are made of stern stuff, for I do not think I could have done it. Aramir lifted an axe borrowed from Galan, and removed his own sister’s head at a stroke.
We brought her body with us, of course, and soon found the exit into the sunlight. Aramir wanted to bury her, but Urol said we were close to Farshore. The colony must have a priest with the power to return Lydara to the lands of the living. Now we must make all haste to bring her body to safety before decay sets in.
The litany of my failings scrolls through my mind. If I had thought quicker on my feet, the centipede might not have almost killed two of my friends. If I had kept my wits about me, if I had planned better, Lydara might be alive now. I fear that I will let my friends down again in the trials yet to come…but if I shirk this responsibility, who will take it up in my place?
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