They entered catacombs as big as the city. Passing tomb after tomb, crypts, and mausoleums. The very walls were made of human skeletons. Stacks of skulls, archways made out of femurs, doorways of spinal columns, intricate architectural details designed with fingers and toes. The whole place was a mass grave; an ossuary decorated by a pattern obsessed bone collector. 

"Generations must be buried here. A tad on the morbid side for me, but who's accounting for taste?" Grimble lit a pipe and its fragrant aroma was pleasant in the stifling air. 

"Reminds me of the hull of a ship I once crewed on." Øregård was at home with death, bones, and bodies. 

The Gastraddar ogre walked in the dark with no need for light. His bulging blue eyes dilated and saw his surroundings like a cat in the night. Mevner having no night vision ability relied on his ring and the glow from Grimble's ax. Shadows fell on a thousand skulls, empty eye sockets watched them make their way deeper into the maze of tunnels. 

The crypts fell away to more natural-looking caverns with primitive less ornate burial chambers. The main tunnel grew larger and spindling stalactites hung from the ceiling. Øregård stopped walking and raised his sword pointing further down into darkness. 

"Turn out the light," he said in a gruff whisper. 

Mevner did and Grimble shook his hammer to dim it as well. It took a few moments in pitch blackness to realize but there was light in the tunnel ahead. Mevner moved up behind Øregård and spoke to him so quietly that even Pathos de Martín, standing right next to them, strained to hear. 

"If I can get his arms exposed, you know what to do?"

Øregård gave a brief and almost unnoticeable nod in the affirmative and led them into the next section. 

The ceiling opened upward into an enormous cavern. The soft purple glow of eerie bioluminescent fungus reflected off a vast calm pool. The purple mushrooms were twisted, pointed, and bright striped. They might as well have had a sign posted saying poison. They grew around the underground lake and up the walls of the cavern. Occasionally a water droplet would fall disturbing the surface and sending ripples across the water and ceiling; bringing the cave to life. 

They stopped at the edge of the lake. There was no telling how deep it went. On the far side, a thin sloop docked at a stone pier and a marble vaulted entrance loomed beyond. 

"Don't step in the water." Mevner knelt and spread open his hand above it. 

"It's lovely to skate in the wintertime." 

The ice ring's glow intensified to a brilliant blue and a frost spread out across the lake. Steam rose off the surface and the temperature in the room dropped significantly. The water molecules began to shift to a solid-state and the surface reflection dulled to a soft white as the pond froze. Cracking sounds came as the ice penetrated deeper. 

Below the surface movement became abundant. 

"There're people down there!" Grimble lifted his hammer. 

"No Grimble." Mevner stepped in front of him. "Not people, look." 

They watched as horrid zombie looking creatures clawed and scratched from below the ice. Mevner touched the surface and deeper cracking sounds echoed across the chamber. The movement slowed and came to a stop as the pond froze to its bottom; trapping those below in frozen animation.

Mevner stood up. "I think it's safe now." 

They walked across the frozen lake guided by the dimming light of the purple mushrooms. Elegant footprints appeared ever so briefly as they melted the ice just enough to be visible and gave Pathos away as she moved in silent invisibility. She was like a guardian angel and the thought of that made Mevner happy. 

They climbed up the dock on the other side and started down the next tunnel. It was square-shaped with flat stone reinforced walls. Every few yards there were alcoves and in the hollowed-out spaces stood skeletons of soldiers dressed in rusted old armor and holding rusty tipped spears. 

A spell Melock once put on Mevner when he was no more than ten and had cut himself on an old rusty pitchfork came to mind. He took his left wrist in his right hand, felt the pulse of blood moving through his body, and whispered.

"I know you don't want the tetanus shot but it's good for you and will protect you from the rusty cut."

It had a strange and hard to understand incantation but he knew it prevented disease and infection that came from contaminated iron. He felt de Martín's slender wrist glide into his hand. He felt the pulse of the invisible woman, placed his finger over her veins, and repeated the words. It had always sounded like a parent talking to a small child. Charms of protection often took a playful form. She pulled her hand away and tapped him on the shoulder two times in thanks. 

There was brighter light ahead and more skeleton soldiers. Thousands filled the next chamber. It had vaulted ceilings and was as big as a cathedral. Torches burned from chandeliers casting shadows on the army of the dead. They stood in perfect formation; rusted swords, shields, and spears at the ready. A row was made down the center that led to another tunnel at the far end. 

Grimble slammed his hammer on the marble floor and cracked the stones. It glowed red with flame and the army didn't react. Many were in different states of decay but most appeared to have been dead for a long time. It was obvious they weren't alive, yet they were standing under their own force with no visible struts or frameworks holding them up.

"Guess they don't want to play?" 

Øregård shoved his iron twin. "Grimble Grumble." 

They were ready for the fight to start. They wanted it. 

"Let's keep walking and leave these fellas alone." Mevner entered the chamber and began crossing it. 

The army didn't move. Iron Grimble's metal footsteps echoed as they passed. The walls were painted with bizarre murals depicting demons swallowing masses of people, all walking naked into a sea of fire. They were about thirty rows from the next tunnel when the entire congregation did an about-face. 

The sound of two thousand armored soldiers doing a 180-degree turn to face the opposite end of the chamber was enough to scare the daylights out of anyone. 

It was too much for Øregård. In one massive swing of his sword, he halved twenty-odd soldiers. Their bodies and armament fell to the marble with a maddening crash. None of the others reacted; they just stood there facing forward. Øregård stepped back and silence returned to the cathedral. 

Out of the tunnel at the front, Mazlovado appeared looking like the prince of darkness, dressed in fine new black robes with three healed scars across his face. He clapped his hands together to call attention. 

"Øregård, ever the jumpy one." 

Grimble bulldozed his way through the left side, hammering soldiers to pieces, and heading straight at Mazlo. Redwing snapped his fingers and gave the iron golem such a shove, he went flying through columns of soldiers and thudded into the back wall. 

"Settle down, little man or I'll put you back in your box."

He turned his attention to Mevner. 

"Ozgold, the ever-persistent. How do you like my army? This is but a division, I've thousands more." 

Mevner stepped forward. "They look hungry." 

Mazlo grinned unamused and three scantily dressed, pale, and athletic women walked out of the tunnel behind him. They moved in silence and seemed to almost float. They were long-haired, voluptuous, and enticingly beautiful.

"Speaking of hunger. I've mastered control of the undead, even to the extent of the vampire. Feed on him! Drink his life away!" 

The three women jumped toward Mevner at an unimaginable speed. He lifted the fire wand not a millisecond too soon and released dragon napalm on the advancing nosferatu who had revealed fanged teeth and black eyes that transformed their attractiveness into terror. 

They burst into howling flames, shrieked in pain, and retreated. One rocketed straight up into the ceiling, another thrashed through the undead army setting many of them on fire as well, and the third regained her composure and rushed Mevner. Øregård stepped up and with a ruthless swipe removed her flaming head. 

"If you want a fight, you shall have it!" Mazlovado clapped his hands above his head and every undead soldier in the room came to life. 

Mevner was already running and casting. He parted the sea of soldiers with an arcing horseshoe arm motion that sent out an electromagnetic pulse. The rusted metal armor in the front of the room was pulled with the soldiers in tow to the outer walls and Redwing's arms were outstretched in both directions. He stood spread eagle struggling against the iron of the cursed gauntlets. 

Malzovado looked forward and saw the Sword of Doom that he, himself, had conjured into existence, sailing through the air at him. He couldn't break free of the magnetic pull and refused to let go of the gauntlets. In that second, all he could do was watch the dark blade spiral at him and take his left arm from his body below the shoulder. 

The sword slammed into the stone wall behind him and stuck. Mazlo's left arm flew to the magnified wall and he slipped his right arm out of the other gauntlet which sailed to the opposite side. Mevner was almost to him. 

Every undead soldier in the front of the room was glued to the outer walls. In the back, the smashing sound of Grimble single-handedly fighting a thousand soldiers was deafening. Øregård picked up two skeletons and used their bodies like clubs to bash off the oncoming hordes. 

Blood poured out of Redwing's shoulder as he grasped for the amulet with his right hand. He held it up just as Mevner faced him. Mevner reached forward and touched the amulet at the same moment and they both vanished.

Øregård punched his way to the front of the room and pulled his sword out of the wall. The magnetism had stopped and the full strength of the army of the dead turned itself on the twin ogres; one tough as steel, the other pure titanium. 

The shout of "Just like old times, old friend!" was barely audible over the hammering sound of crushing skulls.