Private Tales The last gift

[Movrin]

It was a small place, barely a village, more like a flock of houses in the middle of sand and grass, where people stretched out lives that would have been considered insignificant by some. There were more animals than humans and elves, more twinkles of light in the skies at night than those that lit up in windows near ground. Movrin liked places like these. Not like one might like a breathtaking scenery or the most elegant jewelry, but rather like somebody could appreciate field flowers in between a long, tiring journey.
Because in a way these houses were his flowers, in the middle of his travels. People were better here. They actually cared for their dead, and were kind to their living, they lacked the fast-paced stupidity that most inhabitants of major cities had.
They didn't shun him as much. At least, not here. After all, they had their own traditions and customs that the rest of the world liked to consider dark and barbaric.

The old woman who let him sleep in her house and who reached out to him was a powerful witch, a wise and just person. She wouldn't have been taken kindly in Elbion or any other pretentious citadel of knowledge, because she drew her strength from blood, and that was, for some reason, seen as dirty.
She woke him up one morning, the scent of magic still clear around her, her eyes heavy with sorrow, and told, that her family, which she had been waiting for to return since autumn had been taken by the sand. She had seen them, she knew where they were and that she herself would never reach their bodies and return. Her age had taken its toll. Yet she still wanted to do what was proper, and Movrin would never decline such wish, it would go against everything that he believed in. He would give these people their last rest, the last gift they deserved.

There was only one thing standing in his way: the road through these parts could be dangerous, and traveling around was alike to a death wish. He had intended to wait for one of the seasonal caravans, but now a different solution had to be found. Luckily the stars aligned in the best way they could, and the villagers managed to find an adventurer nearby, one who had agreed to help. For a price, of course.

He didn't know who the adventurer was, and he doubted that it would really matter. They were all of the same sort anyways, the same urges, the same wants, the same tactics. To put it shortly, they were people.

Movrin was told that adventurer would find him in the outskirts of the village, as they had to set out. So he was there in the agreed place and time, standing next to a simple wooden cart, pulled by a trusty mule. He kept a bit of space between himself and the animal. It would pass soon, but creatures like these always felt a bit uneasy around him.
Not that he blamed them.

Kalia Oro Khastan

 

[Kalia Oro Khastan]

An interesting village indeed, with absolutely no safeguards against the raising of the dead and little in the way of any major defenses except against the regional monsters. But Kalia felt at home here, the sands of the desert were the lands he grew up in, the terrain he knew, the place that forged him.

He was more than happy to be returning to somewhere at least in the same country where he lived and died, and it was just his good fortune to find a job not long after his arrival in this remote and dangerous village. He made his way towards the meeting place where the client waited that he was supposed to escort. Normally escort jobs were handled by larger groups that were able to watch all sides, but him being the only adventurer available probably factored into him being the only man hired for the job.

He made his way to the outskirts of town. He most loved looking up at the starry sky on a clear night like this, no sand storm on the horizon to mar the view. He had an uninterrupted view into the great abyss of the heavens, and somewhere up there his own heaven sat with his followers watching him from on high.

He shook his head, if he could smile he would have. All of those people, the entire population of Djedi Akhmis, the people that defied the gods to follow him instead. He only hoped they could forgive him for making them share in the wrath of the gods with him.

He arrived at the little cart and approached the man beside it. He couldn't see much beyond the robes, but this man held himself differently. During his time as king he learned to recognize the posture of peasants, nobles, soldiers, warriors, and professionals. Where a peasant tends to walk with relaxed shoulders the noble normally stands with nose in the air and shoulder back. But this man stood like a professional, back ramrod straight and eyes that looked ahead instead of down his nose, shoulders that were relaxed but prepared.
If he were an enemy it would be fatal to underestimate him.

He approached the man and stopped a little short of him just so he didn't have to bend his neck down so much to look him in the face. The painted eyes of his mask stared at him from the shadow of heavy brows cast in the face of the mask.
In spite of his foreboding appearance his echoing voice behind the mask was rather cheerful and boisterous, like a tavern fool that spoke with a heroic tone about tall tales of adventures that never happened.
"Good evening, I assume you are my client? This is a clear night without a breath of wind on the air, I apologize if my enthusiasm is out of place, but I am thrilled to be back in my own country you see and I am excited to get started!
Although perhaps you can give me more details on the job, the one's who hired me were somewhat vague."

 

[Movrin]

The night was indeed clear, and it filled his senses with the rustling of the desert sand, gleaming of stars and, shortly afterwards, the soft sound of footsteps, masked by the sand. It also brought many other sensations, ones that would go unnoticed by many others. The beating of life, the taste of death and the desperate wishes of beings between the two. Most of those went past him as blurred, unclear flashes, some were more defined, but, just as the sounds did, they were all soon pushed out by the approaching figure.
Most probably the adventurer who was to accompany for the job. But Movrin forgot that for a moment, because the mere presence of this person drowned him with the touch of death so strong that his memory struggled to recall anything similar to it. This was different. Something he didn't know, and it made Movrin's eyes flash with interest under his hood, as he watched the stranger approach.
Perhaps it was a reek of recent death, brought by the hands of this adventurer? A sense of some magic unknown to him? Or something else altogether.
A curse even?

Movrin couldn't tell yet, but whatever it was, he was determined to find it out. In the due time, of course, because he still had the job to do, and that was just as important.

"Good evening," he bowed his head in a fluid yet firm motion, before his eyes once again began boring into the mask that covered the stranger's face. His voice had somehow surprised Movrin, with how lively it was. As if there was no press of death all over this person. How very curious indeed. "You are correct, I am the one you were asked to accompany. It is reassuring to hear that you are somehow familiar with these lands," his tone was steady, calm. Very unlike the keen interest that could be felt in every fiber of his being, if one looked closely enough.
"The job is fairly simple. The woman who hired you lost her family to the desert. She wants them burried properly, so we are to find them before it is too late for that."

 

[Kalia Oro Khastan]

His voice grew slightly more somber at the news and details. "I see, a tragedy for her. Had I known I would have offered her my condolences."
He brightened again quickly enough though.
"Well, I suppose the sooner we get off the sooner we'll have it done with. The sands shift quickly and a sharp wind could come up at any moment. We should find the bodies before any inclement weather steals them away."

He moved beside the cart. He could see well enough with his height from there and could watch their flank, though it's not clear how he could see at all. The mask had painted eyes and no holes through which to see, but he seemed to have no problem at all in spite of this.

The mule was now a bit more skittish with two disturbing presences, after this job that will be one tough ass.
Kalia moved his shoulder cape to the side and checked his weapons, his Khopesh was sheathed at his hip and he had a double bladed scepter sheathed on his back.

In essence he looked like one of the old pharaohs of Vel Anir, wearing bronze armor and using bronze weapons of that era and culture. As a freelance adventurer he claimed he found this equipment in one of the ancient tombs in Vel Anir, but in truth this was the very same armor and weapons he used when he was alive, the mask itself was the burial mask he wore in his tomb and was fashioned in the likeness of his true face.

 

[Movrin]

Truly curious indeed. Movrin was catching every whisk of magical air around this individual as a hound might launch for the smell of blood. Although, of course, it was a lot more metaphorical. He didn't actually have to smell anything. And he remained quite calm, given the circumstances.
His age did that to a person.
"We all have to face the inevitable, sooner or later," he nodded shortly, "Do not feel sorry for what you did not know."

He responded with another nod and swiftly sliding on top of the cart to the following words of the adventurer. He was right. Desert was ever changing, and it was the wise thing to do to start moving as soon as they could. Movrin also noted that the mule seemed even more disturbed, although it did follow his lead well enough. A good animal it was. In the company that was probably not what it hoped for.
Movrin, uncharacteristically for himself, found it hard to care about that. He had a job to do, and a highly interesting case to study.

As he tuned himself more and more to the odd sensation coming from the man, he understood that it was most certainly not the odor of strangers' death. But it was also not the aura of a typical living corpse, with which he was familiar well enough. This was something else.
He weighted his options. And, surprisingly, the most direct route came out looking like the best to choose. After all, this being had seemed very cheerful and open. Maybe he would answer a genuine question.
"I wouldn't want to seem terribly rude," Movrin finally spoke up after they had been moving forwards for a short while, "But I have to ask. Are you alive?"

What a way to start a new job. But he was really terribly curious.

 

[Kalia Oro Khastan]

The question was unexpected, but Kalia was not unprepared. He wasn't so naïve to think that nobody would be able to sense his cursed undeath. This man was used to being around the dead, so it made sense that he would be the one to discover it.
Still he was silent at first for a long moment processing.

"You are perceptive. I suppose the body I am locked within is indeed dead, I thought I had disguised myself sufficiently to mask the stench."
He removed his ornate mask revealing the tight wrappings behind it that covered his face entirely.

He looked at Movrin with the featureless face of wrappings.
"I trust my secret is now yours as well? I have no desire to deal with clerics and hunters trying to 'cleanse' me."

 

[Movrin]

Movrin had witnessed more than his own fair share of luck and misfortune, and he rarely hoped for the former. Not because he didn't believe in any good in this world, he did so, even if in his own way, to a certain extent, but because luck was always bound to be less possible. Otherwise it wouldn't be luck anymore, something rare and special to expect and await.
Nevertheless, this time life showed its better side to him. Maybe because it did so through the dead. After all, where the living tented to failed those around them, the dead often showed honesty.

"I see," he nodded from his place in the cart. Highly interesting indeed. He noticed how the stranger only referred to his body as being deceased, not himself. A curious way to put one's words, something that Movrin would gladly analyze later on. "And you can rest assured, I have no business spreading the secrets of others," his voice stayed even while saying so, calm, definitive. Movrin didn't throw the knowledge he was given around carelessly, be it some ancient texts or details of somebody's existence.
"You have the right to wish for whatever existence," Movrin nodded once more. He truly had no business poking around other's paths in life... or even death, if they didn't desire so.

But his curiosity, ah, his curiosity was a flame that one couldn't extinguish easily. "Although I do have to ask: why not?" he turned his head a bit, the gaze of the pale gray eyes as steady and distant as ever, "Why not seek the final path till the end?"
It wasn't a question meant to insult his companion. Movrin truly wanted to know, because he knew well enough for himself, that if anybody would ever try to resurrect him after dying, he would seek the closest means for reversing it. Right away.
That was proper. That was where the beauty of life and death was. In the fact that they were finite, but always moving forwards. Not skipping back.

 

[Kalia Oro Khastan]

"Hm... There's a thought... Why not let them find me and give me the final release..."
He replaced his mask as he walked beside the cart in silence for another moment of contemplation.
Why not? in his heart that's what he perpetually wanted, wasn't it? freedom from this curse and freedom for the mortal coil... But the curse, it came down to the curse and how little he still knew about it. His soul was trapped in his body when the gods struck him down so that he will not ascend to a higher existence.

He finally spoke after the long moment of silence, "While I do desire rest, I fear that true death will not give it to me. The best I can surmise without experimenting is that I will be condemned to the void where I might cease to exist, and that thought truly terrifies me."
He draws his Khopesh and drags the tip through the sand while he walks.

"I accomplished great things in my life, My power knew no equal. I even created a new resting place for my followers, a new heaven separate and out of reach from the gods of this world. My people who worshipped me now reside there, I can still hear their prayers echoing in my mind, giving me strength to go on."

He realized he had begun rambling in a disjointed and unconnected fashion, so he shook his head and would have smiled to himself if his skull were capable of it.
"Roundabout answer, but I hope it's satisfactory. I'm cursed, and I've yet to realize the full extent of this curse the gods have struck me with. That is why I fear death."

 

[Movrin]

Movrin watched as the tightly wrapped face of a deceased body got covered with a mask again, and then listened closely to what this man had to say. It was intriguing, even if he could feel that a lot of detail was being left out in this short retelling of a most curious faith. He found himself forgetting about their task, the wide expanse of sand and possible danger around them, as he tried to tie together the abrupt facts and sentences.
It had been a long time since Movrin had heard something this interesting, this new in a trade he thought he knew well enough. Another place to reside after death? A curse from the gods, damning one for complete extermination after death?

If he was century or so younger, he would have been as giddy as one could get with this new knowledge and acquaintance, however, as he wasn't like that after all, Movrin simply followed the story with a few slow nods and thoughtful noises.

"Your story is most fascinating," his quiet voice finally mixed with the steady steps of the horse and gentle sweeping of the wind. "Both the faith you have given to your followers and the one that follows you," Movrin turned his gaze to the man once again, trusting the horse to keep them on their way.
"I do not know much about you, but, if you do so wish, after we have fulfilled this request, I could try to help you gain more insight into this curse you speak of," because how could he let an opportunity like this slip away? It wasn't every day when he got to study death's diverse ways. "My name is Movrin, excuse me for not introducing myself sooner, and you could call me a student of all matter related to death. And despite my knowledge being most humble, I would be honored to help you with what I can."

Was it altruism? No, most certainly not. If this were a simple curse, Movrin would have passed it with ease. But this was different. Like a scroll full of secret knowledge, simply put in front of him. How could he let it go just like that?

 

[Kalia Oro Khastan]

"Hmmmm"
He hummed thoughtfully for a moment. He had never had the opportunity nor means to study his curse in depth. He had heard of a college in a city called Elbion on the Northern coast that studied magic and he thought he would have to eventually make his way there, but if Movrin had a way to help him then that was an answer to prayer!

"I've been trying to figure out the curse, but I've not made any progress on my own."

He turned the sightless painted eyes of the mask to look at the magic user riding on the cart beside him. The mans face wasn't expressive, but his eyes revealed keen interest.
"If your offer is sincere and you have some ideas for how to proceed, then I gratefully accept. And I must apologize for not introducing myself as well. I am Kalia Oro Khastan, currently an adventurer, former god and king of ancient Djedi Akhmis and her people. It's an honor to meet you."

 

[Movrin]

Somebody could have said that Movrin was giddy as a child who had just gotten the opportunity to open a marvelous, yet previously unexpected gift. The man himself would have never used such an expression, mostly because children and their business rarely worried him, unless their life had come to the most sorrowful of all outcomes. And still, there was exactly that same air around him, even if it surrounded a pale man past the bloom of his years.
"Curses are an elusive matter. At times it takes one detail to untangle them. Or simply some time," he spoke in the same tone as before, only the rhyme of his speech had changed. It was now the slightest bit faster.
Time, time was indeed an intricate matter, and one that often kept the most curious things hidden. But Movrin still had time left, until his own last journey, even if his life would not be as long as that of an pure-blood elf. But he still had many, many years left. He could wait, as long as it would take to solve this puzzle.

"The honor is all mine," he bowed his head shortly, before returning his gaze to the road. "Perhaps the place where you come from could hide a key to your faith? Or the nature of your power? There are many threads we could follow, and one of them is bound to be the right one. After all, any magic has an end."

 

[Kalia Oro Khastan]

Kalia nodded and turned his attention back to the sands before them. The sand truly did make him feel at home. He didn't know why the thought occurred to him but it made him wish he had the chance to be a kid, it made him wish he could have had friends and ran about playing silly games with them without a care in the world.
He recalled wishing this often while he was still alive and seeing the children that prospered under his rule. But such was not his lot in life or death. Immediately being forced into the army as soon as he could hold a spear to become the first half-giant super soldier in the Djedi Akhmis army, his life was that of a slave soldier, he had no choice and no influence... until he forced his way out of his station.

The sands brought back so many memories it was easy to get lost in them. But what he wanted to remember if there was anything in Djedi Akhmis that would have clues about his curse, when he first awoke in his own tomb he didn't recall anything in the writings or hieroglyphs that mentioned a curse, but he also didn't read all of it so there could have been something he missed.
That thought gave him hope, though the chances were slim it was enough to investigate, to see if the priests who buried him knew or recorded anything about the curse the gods placed on him.

But all of this would have to wait until this job was finished. Finding bodies in the sands was truly a race against time before the desert claimed them forever, the breeze was not strong but tiny gusts were beginning to shift the desert.

"Do you know if we have much farther to go? You can see as well as I that we are running short on time, and now I am eager to complete this job as quickly as possible."

 

[Movrin]

When Kalia asked how much more they had to go, he didn't look at the shifting sand around them, as it would have been almost useless, but at the skies above them, tracing patterns between them, measuring, approximating, using a century worth of experience he had gathered while traveling, guided only by the skies and roads that were more of a luxury than certainty in his travels.
"We're more than halfway to the place I was given. If all goes well and they haven't been touched by any misfortune, we should be able to return by dawn the latest," he finally spoke, lowering his gaze once more. Of course, his estimate would work only if there were no other beasts looming over them, but now, knowing the nature of his companion, Movrin was quite sure to say that there were very few creatures willing to attack not one, but two beings tied so closely to death.
There was a beauty in how everything clung to life so desperately, only to loose it in the end anyways. And in the way how everybody avoided those close to the last path, before it was the time to give out the final gifts.

"I have no unfinished business left here. We can set out to whatever place you think could give us some clues as soon as we are done with this," as soon as they would give the proper care and respect to these people, they could embark on a journey far more curious. Not to show any disrespect to the deceased they seeked in the desert. All deaths were equal, some just more than the others.

 

[Kalia Oro Khastan]

He nodded and quickened his pace slightly. A new hope filled his soul as they made their way to the given location of the bodies. He spoke a as they approached the area, excitement obvious in his voice and mannerism.
"My home country is still largely covered in sand, Djedi Akhmis. Myself and all my subjects were buried there. Djedi Akhmis is now a stark evidence to the crimes of the gods, for at least I had the fortune to be buried after I was already dead. The priests who did the deed in the names of the gods likely struck Djedi Akhmis from the history books to hide this divine crime.

The city is a tomb now, a necropolis. But it was once lush and beautiful, the buildings crafted by the finest artisans in the Amol-Kalit desert, the fountains equally so grand. The temple to the gods was probably the most beautiful construct in the kingdom, rivaling even the palace in its grandeur... Now the city is nothing but a half buried city of sand, untouched by looters for how completely it was forgotten. I saw non when I first awoke, but no doubt animals and monsters have moved in since I left."

As he spoke he thought back to those times and would have smiled if he could. He always intended to go back, but didn't know it would be so soon.
He looked to his new friend, "What is your home like, Movrin? I'm sure times are very different now than they were a few hundred years ago."

 

[Movrin]

Movrin hurried his mule as well, much to the animal's displeasure, to better keep up with Kalia. It would do them all better to reach the bodies as soon as they could.
"It does sound like a once magnificent place," he nodded, making a soft humming noise at his companion's words. A place that had lost its former glory, like so many others alongside it. There was something very poetic in structures like that, even if this sensation was dulled by how widespread it was. "And one that might hide some answers. Sand is a good stronghold, but I'm sure we could find a way to see through it. Even if it is now infested with different beasts," after all, Kalia was an experienced adventurer, as far as Movrin knew. And, well, he himself had a few tricks up his sleeve, even if he preferred to avoid using them as much as he could. Knowledge, however, had a cost, and it was one he was willing to pay.

He was somehow taken aback by the question about his own home. People very rarely had any interest in his backstory, seeing the fact of him being an undertaker, a necromancer, as one that somehow robbed him of any past. Be as it was, after a few moments of surprised silence, he tried to answer. "I was born in Fal'Addas but I haven't been there in more than a hundred years. I doubt it has changed much. I lived in Elbion for a long time, and it is indeed different now. Larger, noisier and more drawn into quarrels. More beautiful than ever as well," there was a wistful note in his voice, "The last place I called home was in Amol-Kalit. It's lost to the sand now as well, at least for me. There wasn't much to see there other than that anyways," he couldn't help but let his mind drift away for a moment, memories of his life in the desert vivid in front of his eyes. Just as the day he left to pursue life different than that of his teachers, knowing well that it would cut him off from them for good.
He had very little regrets. But there were still moments when Movrin felt dull longing for what his life could have been, and what it had never become.

 

[Kalia Oro Khastan]

Ah, this man had been a traveler. That must be where he learned so much about the undead. He nodded, satisfied with his answers.
"You've been to many places, I envy that you're able to do that while still alive. While I lived my travel was purely for diplomatic or violent occasions with little time off for myself. I must admit, it is nice to wake up in a time where nobody knows you or recognizes your name."

The breeze was still light and steady, but as they drew nearer to their destination Kalia detected a long whistle on the wind, like the call of some creature. Naturally, as both men of the desert, the call was familiar to them.

Dune Pickers, as adventurers liked to call them. Al-Rammal Zabal to the Kaliti.

Kalia sighed and drew his Khopesh from his hip and his double bladed scepter from his back behind his cape. "The Zabal seem to have discovered the bodies, once they are locked to a scent they wont back down till they are dead. We'll have to kill them before they strip the bodies clean."
Kalia picked up the pace again, his long leg carrying him quickly across the sand till they crested the last dune hill. He looked down and saw the putrid lizards still circling the bodies.

 

[Movrin]

"I can imagine," he nodded. Movrin found no pleasure in being in the center of attention, having many people following him or waiting for his next decision. He liked his life, the anonymity he mostly had, even if he was quite infamous in some other places. So he could imagine how refreshing it should be to finally gain the freedom from being bound certain actions. To certain faith.

The whistle made him look up, lips pressing harder together, hood almost falling back. Land-bound vultures of the desert. Dune Pickers, as the youngsters now preferred it. Creatures harmless enough to a caravan or even a single prepared traveler, if carrying experience on how to deal with them, but dangerous to all the others. They weren't beasts to be taken lightly.
He hopped off the cart. No use for it while they hadn't dealt with the lizards. Or, probably Kalia more so than him. Movrin rarely engaged in combat.
"Then let's hurry."

However, contrary to his words, before following his companion he lingered at the cart for a moment, drawing a dagger he carried under his cloak. Mostly as a tool, not weapon. Now he used it to make a shallow scratch on his right index finger, just enough to draw blood. With that, he drew a simple rune on the cart. The mule made a quiet, distressed sound. It wouldn't like it, but it would keep most creatures away from it. For some time.

After that, Movrin followed Kalia swiftly, sliding over the sand like a shadow. He trusted the adventurer to deal with most of the creatures. As for the rest... Movrin didn't enjoy killing. But exceptions could be made to those that disgraced the bodies of the deceased.

 

[Kalia Oro Khastan]

Kalia counted about five Zabal, but the sand could be hiding a few more, he had to be wary.
He clanged his weapons together to get their attention, the blades rang out loudly and all five heads turned toward the intruder.
He had to be strategic, if he used magic he had to be especially careful of the bodies they were supposed to recover. If he relied on his weapons he might be victorious, but he had to be careful that they didn't overwhelm Movrin.

The Zabal were now moving up the dune towards them so he had to come to a decision.
He pointed his scepter at one of the incoming scavengers and a lance of acid fired from the blade, it flew directly at the creature but the nimble thing swerved around it, the acid landing harmlessly in the sand.
So much for his precision spells.
As the first creature lunged at the giant he sliced upwards with his Khopesh, catching the beast under the chin and splitting its face up through its nose. That alone would have killed it, but then the enchantment took hold and the creature began to wrinkle for a moment, but it died before the magic could finish it off.

That was one down, four to go. They were more cautious of the giant now, and began to circle the duo.

 

[Movrin]

As he had expected, Kalia dealt with the first lizard in a manner that was nothing short of skillful, even if the beast was more cunning that many others Movrin had seen.
The rest of them were alarmed now, going in circles around them, and he knew that it would be only a matter of time until one of them would decide to strike him, now being the apparently weaker part of their duo.

Or, well, so they could think. Not that it would be wrong to say that Kalia was definitely better fighter than Movrin, but he had a goal now. And Movrin didn't tolerate giant lizards between him and his goal.

Just as he had expected, in a few more heartbeats one of the beasts made an attempt to lunge at him. Had Movrin not been prepared for it, the consequences could have been dire, but now he knew what would come. He raised his hand swiftly, but not the one with the dagger, but rather the other one, with his still bleeding finger.
Movrin murmured a short word of power under his breath, and as soon as he did, a light, red mist surrounded the lizard. In the next moment, it fell to the sand, lifeless, just a step short of him.
It was an ancient spell, one that made blood clot faster. It was usually used for dealing with wounds, but, if enough power was put into it, it could affect the entire bloodstream of a creature. Just as had happened now.

 

[Kalia Oro Khastan]

Two down, three remaining. True to their nature, they weren't about to give up on their prey and were going to fight it out.
Kalia slung the blood off of his blade and awaited the next attack. But as he waited another of his suspicions was confirmed. There was an explosion of sand nearby as four more of the scavengers broke from their hiding places with shrill whistles. It was lucky they were a good distance from the cart, or the lizards would also have made the donkey a target and easy meal.

Two of the Zabal lunged at Kalia while he was distracted by the newcomers.
One fastened its jaws on his thigh, its acidic fangs thrust deep into the wrappings that covered his leg. The other locked its jaws down on his shoulder. Both creatures were frustrated when their fangs couldn't find any flesh to bite into.

Kalia sheathed his weapons to free up both of his hands. While their jaws were locked like this they couldn't be released even in death, even his strength may not be enough to break their holds.
Instead of prying them off he used a bit of his undead gifts.
He grabbed each lizard by the backs of their necks and activated the supernatural touch of the mummy lord, rot.
He grabbed the lizards and began instantly rotting their flesh in his grasp, it didn't stop at where he touched them but the whole creature began to decay. Soon the bones and tendons were too weak to support the tension of the locking instinct and their jaws broke. The creatures fell to the sand where they would rot till they turned to dust.

He drew his weapons again just in time to face the reinforcements as they skated across the sand. Before they could change direction he slashed one with his Khopesh and released the catch on his scepter, the staff extended into a full length spear and impaled another one through the temple.
Down to three again.

He called out to Movrin while he pulled the spear from one kill and the other withered and aged from the enchantment until it too turned to ancient dust. "Movrin, I doubt more are coming, let's deal with these carrion pickers quickly and get the job done."

 

[Movrin]

Movrin hadn't seen the lizards in hiding, so their sudden appearance caught him off guard. Luckly it seemed that he had been deemed a secondary target for these few moments, as the creatures launched to attack Kalia. That was good. Movrin didn't worry about his companion, who, in his essence, couldn't even be killed by these beasts.
He evaluated the situation quickly, making sure that the cart was still safe (even with his rune on it there was a chance that the beasts' bloodlust would be too strong), before dropping to one knee, quickly charting a complex symbol in the sand.

The little battle arsenal his rune magic had was indeed even more rusty that the rest, but Movrin trusted his memory enough to act quickly. There was no room for hesitation here.

"Let's" he called back when Kalia was done slaying the creatures that had assaulted, raising to his feet again.
Two of the remaining creatures turned at his voice, making a new attack at Movrin. One that he was also ready to meet.

He simply made a few long steps back, making sure that he would be well out of range of his little trick. And luck must have been of his side today, because both of the lizards made their way right onto the symbol he had been drawing while Kalia distracted them.
A short flash of light surrounded the creatures, a strong smell of thyme crossed the air, and all that was left on the ground were now two piles of fine dust.
Movrin let out a long breath. He could feel the magic draining out of him, in a way that he had almost forgotten. Battles really weren't his strong suite.

Nevertheless, they were down to one.

 

[Kalia Oro Khastan]

The last creature didn't hesitate, it went after Movrin as the weaker of the two. Kalia drew back and hurled his spear at it, the weapon sunk deep into the creatures flesh, but it wasn't a true throw, the creature slowed for a moment but didn't stop. Before the creature could reach Movrin Kalia thrust his hand into the sand, invoking his dominion over the sands of his homeland.

Just as the creature was lunging into the air to end the undertaker a huge hand of sand reached up and caught the Zabal in mid air around its chest.
The sand appendage then began to squeeze as the creature struggled to free itself, but to no avail. The grip tightened and the scavenger let out a shrill whistle of pain as its bone began to crack, the spear fell out of its side as finally the creature broke, its spine snapped with a sickening pop.

Kali withdrew his hand from the sand and the sand appendage receded, leaving the broken creature dead.
Kalia picked up his spear.
"Now that's finally over, lets get these people back to the village. Bring the cart, we shouldn't risk leaving the donkey unsupervised."