He awoke to agony, his head throbbing with his pulse, his throat raw. Thidrek opened his eyes, and saw that he was still in the enormous chamber. He lay on his back on the cold marble floor.

The flickering light was different, harsher. Erratic shadows danced like demons beyond his sight. Thidrek moved his head, and fresh pain forced a moan from him. He saw that the candles were gone. Torches now hung from the walls in sconces that had not been there before. Dread weighed on him like an anvil.

Thidrek gritted his teeth, then tried to sit up. The ache in his head increased with the effort. The warrior heaved himself upright, and as he did so he heard the clank of metal. He looked down, and saw thick iron manacles clamped around his wrists and ankles. Heavy chains snaked away from his bonds, disappearing into the gloom beyond the pillars. He still wore his armor but his weapons were gone.

Thidrek shifted, trying to rise to his feet. As he did so, the chains moved as if alive and dragged him back down. He came down on his shins, so that his legs went under him and he sat on his haunches. Fresh pain assaulted his nerves.

Laughter echoed through the chamber, a deep, mocking sound. Thidrek looked up, and saw a figure swathed in black robes step from the shadow of a pillar. A hood hid his tormentor’s face. The laughter came again.

“Who are you?” croaked Thidrek. “Why am I bound?”

The voice, a man’s voice, chuckled once more before it spoke. “What you truly want to ask is why you would be bound in paradise.”

Thidrek shook his head, a denial as well as an attempt to clear his still clouded senses. “No, this cannot be sainka badal !”

“In that, you are correct,” hissed the voice. The robed figure loomed over him. “We are in my lair, deep beneath the mountains. You are not the first fool to seek the precious Warrior’s Reward. You who live by the sword are so eager to divest yourselves of your self-pity. The legend makes a fitting lure for your kind.”

“Lure?” The old warrior gasped. “But, the legend is ancient…”

“The tale of sainka badal is ancient indeed. And yet, it is merely that. A tale. The alfari who dwelled here ages ago created the legend to represent a symbolic goal, an ideal toward which their warrior’s could strive. It is only small minds such as yours that have misunderstood the nuances of the legend for so long. Pettiness and fear twisted the noble truth of sainka badal. ”

“The dead…I saw them…made my peace…”

“Mere illusions,” scoffed Thidrek’s tormentor. “It was all too easy to glean your pitiful exploits from your mind. I conjured the images of your victims to draw you in, knowing that one such as you could not resist a chance for absolution. The ‘trial,’ the portal, the map, it is all a mummer’s farce I have used to dupe so many others like you. It never ceases to amuse me.”

“The woman…” Thidrek’s throat was slowly constricting. It felt as if two hearts thudded in his chest.

“She was one of my concubines. A pity. She was such a beautiful creature, once. I fear necessity forced me to use her as a vessel.”

“Who are you?” The old warrior rasped. Each breath was becoming more painful than the last.

Another malevolent snicker issued from the hood. “Why, don’t you recognize me, my blade brother ?”

The stranger pushed back the hood. Thidrek’s eye’s widened, his gasping and choking becoming frenzied.

Ferran leered down at the chained warrior. “I assure you, this form is no illusion. A humble innkeeper draws no suspicion. This guise is one of many that I have worn over the centuries since the founders of Ulmer came here.”

“The legion…” whispered Thidrek, his head thrown back in a desperate effort to open his airway.

“Alas, I never served.” Ferran pulled back one long sleeve to reveal a forearm bare of both tattoo and scars. His hand was missing no fingers. “But I give thanks to the rigors of the warrior’s life. Your bodies last so much longer.”

The sorcerer crouched before the warrior and placed a hand on Thidrek’s chest. “Ah, almost time. It is just as well. I must return soon to The Shadowed Rest. The serving wenches can grow so worried for me.”

Ferran stood and gestured toward the chains, which came alive again to pull the warrior to his feet. Something writhed behind Thidrek’s ribcage.

“I should tell you that my concubine lived twice a normal lifespan. The stronger the host, the longer the life. You, I expect, will serve me well for decades to come.”

Nausea swept over Thidrek. The old warrior retched, and something pushed up his gullet. He opened his mouth, wider and wider. A black tentacle forced itself past his teeth. Thidrek stood paralyzed as it lashed the air before his eyes.

“As for me,” Ferran said softly, “I settle for nothing less than eternal life.” His hand reached out reverently to grip the flailing thing. The sorcerer produced a crystal flask from within his robes and brought the tip of the tentacle to the opening. A thick, red liquid leaked into the flask. Finally, the sorcerer released the tentacle, which slowly withdrew back down Thidrek’s throat. The chains went slack, and the old warrior collapsed to his knees.

“A simple process transforms the creature’s essence into an elixir of immortality. Ah, forgive me. Alchemy makes for such mundane conversation. Tell me more about your great victories, Thidrek! It will be many years before the creature has dried your body to a withered shell to be replaced. I am sure you have enough tales to pass the time until then!”

The sorcerer’s laughter rang out again as Thidrek gave voice to screams, the cacophony filling the chamber as if to echo forever.

Story was plucked from:
http://www.dndadventure.com/html/short_story/ss_warriors_reward.html