“Why aren’t we setting them off?” Ermolt asked, oblivious to Elise’s building rage. He looked at his feet, as if trying to work out which floor tiles were trapped. He wouldn’t find them. Every tile was cracked and uneven already, and they slid around as the group walked over them.
“There’s no one to reset them.” Claus shrugged, and then giggled. “The traps up here have all been spent on wandering undead and roaming guardians. Well, that is, when they weren’t triggered by panicking Priests the day of…” He paused, and shivered. “You know.”
Elise finally contained her rage enough to speak up. “I thought you told us there were no traps up here,” she said, keeping her tone as even as she could. “That people lived here, and that it would be stupid to have traps.”
“Oh, uh, right.” Claus paused, shrugged, and then nodded. “I was lying. And to continue being honest, I lied just a moment ago. There might be a few traps no one has stumbled over. A byproduct of having so many, you know? So, I thought if I didn’t tell you about them, you’d stumble over them and maybe they would kill you.” Elise must have made an angry noise in her throat, because Claus squeaked and turned around to face them. “They’re out of the way though! We won’t come across them! I promise!”
Ermolt pointed forward and the old man continued leading the way. He and Elise shared a glance that spoke volumes about how much they both trusted Claus. At least he was out in front, and maybe the poison darts would hit him first. “I’m curious though,” the barbarian said after a moment of silence. “What you said still stands. People lived here. And not just Conscripts—Priests. Why all the traps?”
“Every moment of worshiping Isadon is about nearness to death.” Claus paused as he struggled with the stone door at the end of the hallway, but Ermolt reached over his head and tugged it open. With a nod of thanks, he continued into the room beyond. “For the regular folk in the city, their nearness to death is the nearness everyone has. An unfortunate accident, or a sudden illness, or even the whim of a God or dragon.”
“Oh, right,” Ermolt said, “if you lived in Marska when it was still a living city, then you were alive during the Age of Dragons, huh?”
“Of course. But we’re not talking about being alive—we’re talking about death. One thing at a time, please.” Claus cleared his throat and led them forward. The walls in this hallway were cracked and crumbling, and daylight leaked in on one side, though none of the gaps were very large. “Being a Priest, you had to live closer to death than the normal person. The traps were the representation of that. They aren’t here to kill people, but are a test. A constant reminder. Your death can come at any moment, and with poison darts and scything blades and falling rocks around every corner, it can be much closer and more sudden than a wasting disease, dragon’s attack, or clumsy carpenter.”
“But what happens if you aren’t smart? Or if you’re slow?” Ermolt gestured to Claus, even though the old man couldn’t see it. “You know, like, as you get older.”
“If you die, you can still serve.” Claus shrugged. “And not just as an example, although that was part of it. The dead body could be used as an undead servant, until the ravages of time made it unpresentable. The spirit would then serve Isadon in Maehala as well, in whatever capacity He needed.”
Elise jolted as if struck. “Maehala—is that like the Nether for Isadon’s followers?”
“The Nether?” Claus laughed, a bitter and almost ugly thing. “They’ve given name to the darkness that hangs omnipresent since Isadon’s death?” He continued to cackle for a moment, and then the laughter dried up, quick as it came. “No. Everyone goes to Maehala. Or, did. When it existed.”
Elise frowned at that. A realm of the dead that wasn’t the Nether? It sounded wrong… and yet, so right. The thought of eternal darkness after a life well served had always sounded ignoble. Perhaps Maehala was real.
But also, perhaps, Claus was an old man whose mind was destroyed by endless hours spent fleeing from things that would kill him with a glance.
Claus led them through a set of massive double doors at the end of the cracked hall, and into a room that appeared to have collapsed into the level below. They skirted the edge of the room, where the bare lip of the floor that remained was wide enough to walk on.
“It’s funny,” Claus said, filling the silence with his odd chuckle, “because some of us used to think that’s why the traps were here.” He tested a bit of the floor with his foot before continuing on. “See, as a Conscript, you think maybe it’s that Isadon needs all the help he could get managing the souls of the dead, and so he wanted to make sure he got a steady stream of spirits that were devoted to helping him.”
The old man shrugged and shoved a bit of rock out of the way, by dropping it into the room below. “Those of us who were Conscripts for long enough to become Priests knew the truth of it, though. Death comes for all of us. It lurks around every corner, in every shadow, and it’s always ready to lash out from any direction at any time. As soon as you forget it? Poison dart to the neck. Spinning blade takes your head off. Block of stone pounds you flat.” He shrugged, almost casually. “You learn to not forget. There’s nothing you leave undone or unsaid. You live ever day to the fullest. No regrets, because you may never get to put them right.”
Elise found herself smirking. “The Temple of Ydia was similar,” she said, remembering her days in the Temple. “But of course, in the opposite direction. We kept a lot of living things for decoration. Birds and lizards, and other animals in cages or terrariums. Plants too, especially those not native to Khule. We had a constant duty to keep everything alive. It usually involved the newer Conscripts running everywhere with buckets of water and bags of food for everything. Though for much of it, some old Priest or other would adopt something as their favorite, and they would tend to it directly.” She gestured vaguely northward, towards the Temple she knew lay far beyond. “The Conscripts would direct their prayers and faith towards the beacon lights, but the Priests would pray over the living things that would not otherwise survive that far north or south, or whatever. It was just a representation of Ydia’s power—to those who visited—but to us it was a reminder. Just as we had to work and slave and pray to sustain the life of the plants and pets, Ydia’s power sustains our lives. For each ache and pain that we suffered, she suffered a thousandfold for each of us.”
Elise realized she’d gone a bit preachy, and the apples of her cheeks grew hot. Claus had paused ahead and was staring at her. “Are you a Priest of Ydia, then?” he asked. While his tone was casual, Elise could easily read the tension in his body language. The idea of being in the company of a follower of Ydia chafed him.
She couldn’t blame him.
Ydia likely took part in whatever the other Gods had done to erase Isadon from history. To turn Marska into a husk of ruins.
“Conscript,” Elise said, “but no longer.” She pursed her lips and looked beyond Claus, unable to meet his judgmental glare. “I will never go back. I couldn’t bring myself to pray to Her again. Ever.”
“Ah,” the old man said, and he continued moving through the room. “She wouldn’t answer your prayer, eh?” He led them around the corner, and struggled once more with the stone door that led them out of the room. “That’s why you want the Favor, right? You wanted to do yourself what She would not.”
Elise went to answer, but Ermolt interrupted, clearing his throat. “It’s of no concern. We need to get the Favor, and we don’t want to talk about why.” He stepped between Elise and Claus, as if separating them. “We aren’t here for sermons, High Priest of Isadon.”
“Hah!” Claus said, laughing with all of the legitimacy of a thief telling you they weren’t going to steal your purse. “I wasn’t going to give you a sermon.” He opened the door and led them off the narrow ledge, into the next room. “I was never much good at them anyway. Making it to High Priest was based on my service to Isadon, not my services to His followers.” He paused, and then barked with laughter once more. “To b
e honest, I think most of them hated me. Even if it was just the slightest thing.”
The next room he led them into was smaller, with doors all around. Five of them were made of wood, and so had dissolved to nothing. Two of them were filled with solid blocks of stone, and the other three were just as impassible, due to the large walls of pointed spears that had once been part of some trap centuries ago.
Within one of the traps, an animated skeleton was caught. Magical energy crackled around it, and its bones rattled as it tried to claw at them. It was pinned to the wall by the spears, and it seemed it would be there for all eternity unless someone helped it down, or reset the trap.
“Enlein,” Claus said, offering the skeleton a bow. It stilled at the sound of his voice. “Looking well, as usual.” He laughed, and the skeleton returned to trying to free itself. Claus turned and looked at Elise and Ermolt. He started walking once more, but this time backwards, so that he could continue facing them. Elise was impressed by the old man’s agility. “This next room is the one with the teleporter. It should be active already, since I left it on the last time I was up here. Which was… fifty years ago?” He shrugged. “Regardless, I warn you—if there’s a guardian left on this floor, it will be drawn to that magic.”
“Any idea what to expect?” Ermolt asked, looking beyond the old man. He patted his empty hands on his chest a few times. “I find myself unarmed. Is that going to be a problem?”
“Not sure!” Claus said cheerfully, with a smile wider than should have been humanly possible. “Let’s find out.” He turned and shoved the stone door aside, leading them into the room beyond.
Chapter Thirty-Three
There were many things about Isadon’s Temple that surprised Ermolt, but the room that lay beyond Claus’ boney form was a new high. It was unlike any of the other teleporter rooms. This portal was not a structure in the middle of the room, seemingly added after construction. It was set into the wall. Highlighted. Incorporated.
Surrounding the portal were engravings like they had seen in the hallways. The artwork depicted a number of figures—too worn to be identifiable from a distance—standing around the portal. Above the glowing blue membrane was a carved monolith that had to be Grunith.
Given time, Ermolt might have tried to figure out more about these carvings. Perhaps tried to come to a conclusion on who they were, and if it was important.
But he was slightly more distracted by the room’s other contents.
Namely, the mass of vertebrae and ribs coiled in the center, almost directly in front of the teleporter.
At first, he thought it just a pile of large, discarded bones. But as they entered, a massive flattened skull emerged from the bone pile and oriented on them.
The creature’s jaw was separated at the chin, and its body rattled as it spread its jaws. Needle-thin teeth folded out from the split jaw in the mimicry of a hiss. It uncoiled upwards, raising its skull over its coiled mass of a body. The form was already three fen tall when they entered, and within moments it towered over Ermolt, reading up towards the high ceiling of the room.
Ten fen.
Twelve.
Fifteen.
And still with plenty of bony vertebrae and ribs coiled on the ground. The creature had to be at least forty fen long.
Ermolt had never seen such a beast before. Living or undead. Was this a unique monstrous creation? Or a beast long since extinct? He remembered, vaguely, Elise mentioning tales of a Guardian made of bone in the form of a snake. He cringed to think he had dismissed those claims.
They had all paused in the doorway to watch the massive creature unfurl itself, but now that it rose to strike, Claus remembered himself. “Mercy! Mercy!” the old man shrieked, sprinting towards the portal. Ermolt reached out to grab the man by his robes, but he deftly skittered out of Ermolt’s reach. “Oh, mighty naga, I give these adventures to you in sacrifice to Isadon’s glory!” His voice was calm and powerful, which was amusing, considering his arms were wrapped around his head and he was hunched over. “Spare me!”
The creature—a naga, apparently—lashed out with the end of its tail. With little more than a whip-snap sound, the bony appendage smashed into Claus’ side, and the man tumbled end-over-end before slamming into the wall next to the portal.
Well, at least they didn’t have to worry about holding out for another quarter of a bell because Claus was skittish.
Ermolt tried to discern if the old man was still among living, and then decided it would be worth it to fight first, and then help after. He took up a defensive stance just as the creature returned its attention to him and Elise. As his bare hands came up into loose fists, Ermolt realized how badly he missed his hammer. It would have smashed through these bones easily.
But there was no use bemoaning that which had already befallen, as his instructors used to say.
If he couldn’t break bones with his bare hands, he would be a disappointment to his heritage. No barbarian would shy from this fight because they didn’t have a piece of iron on the end of a long wooden stick. He would make do.
Beside him, Elise raised her shield and began to advance, circling slightly to the left. Ermolt took her cue and moved to the right, opposite her. He kept a little further out to try to let Elise take the monster’s attention. She was armed, and had a shield, after all.
Moving on more of that shimmering magic, the creature’s skull flicked back and forth between the two of them for a moment. Ermolt worried it would see him as the larger of the two, and thus more dangerous. But it oriented on Elise finally. With a lightning speed Ermolt hadn’t expected, it snapped out with enormous jaws. Its giant needle teeth hooked around the shield, and Elise was nearly yanked from her feet, the weight of her armor likely the only thing keeping her on the ground. The creature immediately moved its bulk towards her, bony coils trying to encircle while the massive skull held her in place.
Ermolt let loose a bellow.
It rang through the empty room, and even the undead naga hesitated at the sound. He charged in to the side of the creature’s coils. His shoulder was low, and he smashed it into an enormous serpentine rib.
The bone was thick here, but it was aged and pitted. It was weak. Ermolt’s momentum was rewarded. A loud cracking noise echoed around his head, and the rib gave way. Ermolt crashed into the space that had been filled with organs centuries ago.
With a soundless hiss, the creature bucked at the intrusion. Its jaws released Elise. As soon as she could let loose her two-handed grip on the metal disc—without losing both the shield and her arm—she drew her blade. She likely knew the edge wouldn’t do much good against the fleshless creature, but the weight of it would help. Elise ran to the nearest rib and smashed the pommel of her weapon down. It cracked against the pitted surface and drew another thrash of pain and soundless hiss from the creature.
Ermolt lowered his shoulder once more and threw himself at another nearby rib, this time from the inside. But without the ability to build up momentum, he could only slam against it ineffectually. He rubbed his sore shoulder before trying to dive back through the hole he had made in the ribs. But the creature surged forward towards Elise, and Ermolt found himself trapped inside a cage of bone, his improvised entrance carried away from him.
Ahead, the creature looped another layer of coils around Elise. Its head towered over her. The monster opened its jaw again, letting those needle-like fangs unfold threatening. But it didn’t strike.
Ermolt grimaced through the screen of bone as he watched. It was surrounding her in a bony wall, and while she could break her way out in time, such a thing would leave her back open to those fangs.
The problem was that they had separated themselves. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but he had forgotten that Elise’s weapons weren’t made to deal with such a creature. And so, it had isolated her, as any common predator would. But she was unable to deal with it.
Ermolt knew he had to get to her. To save her from being either squeezed to de
ath or bled dry by giant fangs.
But how?
He could try and force his way through the gaps in the ribs that surrounded him—they didn’t seem too close together—but then he would still be on the outside, separated from her by the creature’s bony body. And while he would likely be able to squeeze between the ribs here, the ones closer to Elise were coiled tighter and so they sat closer together. He’d have no chance.
With a growl of frustration, Ermolt took off running. He ran along the corridor formed by the creature’s own ribs. It was almost like running up a flight of stairs that moved and buckled under him. He weaved his way through the creature’s body, and into the coils that surrounded Elise. After the third circle, he was on the inner coil, only fen away from the struggling ex-Conscript.
“I’m with you!” he called out to her, as it was unlikely that she’d seen his approach. She was still focused on the menacing skull hovering over her. “Open me a path!”
She whirled and lunged, ramming the pommel of her sword into the nearest rib. It cracked, but refused to give way. As soon as the strike landed, the monster’s skull whipped down at her. Elise was able to catch the upper fangs on the face of her shield, but the separated bottom jaw came down under the edge. One of the needle-like lower teeth slammed into the armor over her midsection, barely stopped by the metal bands of her splint mail.
Ermolt bellowed in challenge once more and the sound ricocheted off the creature’s coiled form. He grabbed onto the rib Elise had cracked. With the sound of his own voice spurring him on, he shoved forward with a snarl.
There was a moment where the bone refused to budge once more, but it finally split apart. The top of it fragmented and splintered into pieces, but the bottom half held strong. It was nearly four fen long, and more than functional to be a club.
Ermolt brandished the makeshift weapon and shoved forward. He forced his way through the narrow opening and to Elise’s side. With an excited shout, he whirled his new weapon and smashed it into the enormous skull that threatened his friend. Fragments of the rib cracked and broke away from the impact. But the creature recoiled, and as it did, Ermolt could see a visible fracture spreading across a large section of the flattened skull.
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