A’mon Sol knew his servant-witch had betrayed him, but he spared her no thought for the moment. She couldn’t act against him directly; the geas he held her under would assure a slow and painful death if she did. But she would suffer an eternity of torment for this! A second arrow struck his chest, nearly toppling his stone throne with its blast of magical force that rippled through his desiccated flesh as it pinned him to it. But the archer was not his first concern and he turned his gaze to the charging warrior and dwarf. They both stumbled in their tracks, dropping to their knees, as he wrecked their bodies with horrible pain, but then struggled back to their feet and pushed forward. He had to admire their fortitude, but even if they reached him they had little chance to do him any lasting harm. As a lich, he was resistant to most form of physical damage and extremely difficult to destroy. Faeryl sent forth another wave of holey energy that irradiated the remaining undead hiding in the shadows. Her dispelling had no effect on the lich, but it drew his attention long enough to free Aeron and Tarl from his agonizing gaze. The lich wondered for an instant at the sight of a drow priestess who wielded the power of a god deity; had Lolth lost so much of her hold on the dark elves that they returned to the fold of their surface brethren? Then his attention was stolen by a flash of blinding light and the unmistakable crack of electricity as a bolt of lightning struck across the chamber. He tried to laugh at the foolish attempt; liches are immune to such attacks. But suddenly he realized he hadn’t been the target and looked to the blue flamed toped rod that had been his appendage for two thousand years, which was now nothing but molten slag running through his fingers. His phylactery, the repository of his soul, was destroyed… and him with it! In the instant the lich realized his existence was over, the weight of time crashed in on him and his body crumbled to dust as the un-life that had animated it winked out. For a moment, the companions stood in awed shock… their plan had actually worked… the lich was gone! Then a thud drew their eyes as the girl whose naked body had hung in midair to one side of the chamber crashed to the ground; the spell that levitated her died with the lich. Faeryl moved to the girl’s aid, while Nykira rushed into Aeron arms as he scanned the chamber to take stock of the others and in search of any other threat, and Tarl strode forward to poke at the lich’s remains with his axe, just to assure that it was really nothing more than dust and ancient robes, with Galen joining him. “Just as I told you,” Elzabeth’s voice drew their eyes to the far side of the chamber as she stood before an open metal trunk large enough to hold several men, lovingly stroking the cover of an ancient tome. “These are mine as we agreed,” she cooed with avarice. “Take your pickings of what else is here.”