by Dante King
We left the One-Eyed Ogre and made our way across Erst to the fountain, the zombie Resplendent Crusaders trailing along behind us. The crowds had disappeared almost completely now, as most people had either passed out somewhere or had gone home.
We found the fountain at the lonely center of a square, with only a few stumbling drunks keeping it company. It was a large, impressive piece of architecture. Multiple jets of water gushed from sculptures of stylized fish, mermaids, and mermen. One merman was wearing a breastplate, and carved into it. was the unmistakable image of Xayon’s tornado symbol.
“I told you I knew that symbol,” Elyse said.
“Man,” Cranton said, his bony shoulders hunched over, “I can’t tell you how many hours I’ve spent staring at this damn fountain. Even with the help of a good lungful of greenfoil, I haven’t been able to figure out the secret entrance.” His eyebrows suddenly lifted, and a goofy grin appeared on his face. “Hey, I have an idea.”
Isu glared at him. “All those hours, and suddenly you have an idea tonight?”
“I just never had any friends with me.”
“Let’s hear it,” I said.
“What if we all sat around the fountain and just smoked, like, a wagon-load of greenfoil? I know someone who’d still be up at this hour. We could go see him, get as much greenfoil as we can carry, and bring it back here. Another guy I know has a pipe as big as this fountain. Might be able to cart it down here and get to smoking. I figure this puzzle can’t stand against this amount of smoke-powered brainmass. Then, of course, maybe we could, uh, split the bill, and—”
“Somehow, Cranton,” I said, “I think sober minds might be better at solving this problem.”
We all walked slowly around the fountain for quite some time, scanning the surfaces one by one and investigating every little detail. Nothing seemed to pop out, though, and as dawn crawled closer, we became increasingly weary and frustrated.
Elyse slumped against the fountain while Rami sat cross-legged in front of it, staring at Xayon’s symbol on the merman. Isu contented herself with scowling a good 10 yards away, obviously uninterested in the quest. Plumes of smoke drifted through the air as Cranton sought inspiration from his pipe.
Dawn’s light wasn’t far from the horizon. We only had a few more hours until morning came and the square was filled with people.
I was at the end of my rope. And the only person who might shed some light on the mystery was halfway to the stars by now.
“Cranton,” I said as I waved the smoke away from my face, “you probably know more about this fountain and the square around it than anyone. Is there anything else nearby that’s as old as the fountain? Something that may have been built around the same time?”
“Well… yeah man, there is one thing. But I don’t think it’ll help.”
“Show me anyway.”
“This way, brother.” He gestured for me to follow.
A green cloud divided us as we walked across the now-deserted cobbled square, until Cranton stopped in front of a bronze statue of the Lord of Light. It was sculpted in a pompous style, depicting the Lord of Light standing in a triumphant pose and gazing out over the square.
“This is the oldest statue of the Lord of Light in Erst,” said Cranton. “It was built at the same time as the fountain.”
The statue’s eyes seemed to be looking right at the fountain. The Lord of Light was holding a bow, as he was often depicted, and on his back was a quiver of arrows.
I climbed up onto the statue’s plinth and started investigating. Triumph surged through me when I saw that one of the arrows in the quiver had a tiny carving of Xayon’s wind symbol on it.
I felt the bronze arrows in the quiver and discovered that the one with Xayon’s symbol on it was loose.
“I think I’ve found something,” I said.
I pulled on the arrow and, despite some initial resistance, it started to come out of the quiver. It felt as if it was attached to a spring, and I kept pulling until I heard a click come from somewhere inside the statue.
Things suddenly went quiet.
“Did you do something?” Elyse called out. “The water in the fountain has stopped flowing.”
The ground beneath my feet began to rumble.
“Lord’s Brightness,” Cranton said. “Vance, man, you did it!”
I jumped off the statue, and we raced back to the fountain. The water was quickly receding through a hole in the bottom.
“Remarkable,” Elyse said. “Absolutely remarkable. I’ve never seen this fountain run dry. Not during hot summers or city-wide cutbacks, never.”
Rami had gotten to her feet and smiled. Even Isu had approached the fountain to watch.
When it was finally empty of water, the ground shook again, and a large slab of stone slowly slid open in the bottom. Steps led down from the secret doorway into inky darkness.
Rami dropped to her knees and whispered a quick prayer to Xayon.
“This must be the lost temple of legend,” she said, awestruck. “I always heard rumors of its existence, but never dreamed I would actually find it.”
“One thing I know for sure,” I said, “is that a place like this is going to be riddled with booby traps. I figure a bunch of skeletons could be really useful for that. Better a skeleton takes a giant pendulum blade to the torso or gets run over by a troll-sized steel ball than any of us.”
“I’ll return to the cathedral,” Elyse said.
“Bring all the skeleton warriors and Fang back here,” I said. “Use Grast’s wagon so that you don’t scare the locals. I’ll go back to Market Street and raise the skeletons of the dead slavers and their goons. They’ll make useful trap fodder.”
“What should I do?” Rami asked, excitement making her voice quaver.
“You go with Isu and grab some torches to light our way down there.”
Isu folded her arms across her chest. “Really? You’re sending the former Death Goddess on a retrieval errand?” I nodded with an amused smile on my face, and she threw her arms into the air and followed Rami.
I turned to our party’s latecomer. “And Cranton…”
“I’m way ahead of you there, brother!” he said, eagerly packing some dried greenfoil buds into his smoking pipe. “I’ll have a celebratory puff and keep an eye on this place while you guys go and do your thing.”
I chuckled. “That’ll work, yeah.”
An hour later, just as the distant eastern horizon was beginning to turn gray with a hint of the approaching dawn, everyone was back at the fountain, with undead soldiers ready to die a second time and torches lit.
“Xayon, here we come,” I whispered as I led my warriors and companions into the darkness.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The smell of old death was strong here. Dried-out husks of bodies, cracked yellow bones, decaying leather, rusted steel. I didn’t know if I could smell it—or sense it?—more acutely because I was now the God of Death. It was far stronger than any tomb or crypt I’d explored before.
At the bottom of the stairs, we found ourselves in a large entrance chamber. It was very long, stretching 50 yards or so to the end, and was approximately 20 yards across. Pillars lined stone walls that had once been covered in detailed frescos in a myriad of colors. Most of the paint and plaster had crumbled away. Eight closed doors led further into the forgotten structure. The largest three were made from a black metal rather than iron like the rest.
I waited for everyone to file into the chamber and smiled to myself as I looked upon my army. It was small and motley, but I could depend on every one of my warriors, from the lowly unarmed slaver skeletons I’d just raised to the massive undead lizard and the zombie Crusaders. Sarge, one of my earliest skeletons, still wielded the paladin’s greatsword, and our victories thus far were a testament to his mastery over it.
It was true that I had less than two dozen troops in total now, not counting the women, but this little group standing before me was a seed, an oak shoot with a
single leaf that would grow into a towering tree.
I closed my eyes, and instead of the two dozen footmen standing before me, I saw a vast army of undead covering a plain from horizon to horizon. A million undead troops, maybe more, all serving me, each willing to go to the ends of the earth for me.
It was a glorious vision, one worth working toward. I would have that army one day. I didn’t believe in destiny, but I would make it happen.
“The entrance is secured,” Elyse said. “Grast is up there with two Crusaders and my official letter. As discussed, he’s going to tell anyone who asks that this is private Church business and that nobody is allowed down the stairs.”
“Good.”
“And I’m ready,” Rami said, “to do whatever it takes to bring Xayon back.”
Isu scoffed but suppressed it quickly before she flashed me a tight-lipped smile.
“I will do whatever the God of Death asks of me,” she purred. Her delivery was smooth, but there were barbs in those words.
“I’m still feeling pretty mellow from the ol’ greenfoil,” Cranton said, a grin plastered across his face. “But I’m ready, man. I remember stuff better when I’ve had a toke, and I’ve read a lot of old scrolls about this place. Shit, I still can’t believe I’m actually in here!”
“Well, just watch your step,” I said. “Greenfoil also dulls your reflexes, and believe me, Cranton, a place like this is the last place you want slow reflexes.”
“Don’t worry, man. I’ll be all right.”
“If you want your limbs to stay attached to your bodies—and losing a limb is mild compared to what some of these traps will do to you—you need to do exactly what I say when I say it. I’ve dived a hundred crypts, so I’m the key to you surviving this place. Don’t go off on your own unless I order you to. Don’t touch anything, even if it looks harmless—especially if it looks harmless. And, most importantly—and I cannot stress just how important this is—do not, under any circumstances, pick up anything that looks even remotely valuable. That shit is guaranteed to have a very nasty trap attached to it. Do you all understand me?”
The women and Cranton nodded. Isu knew all of this well enough; there had been plenty of traps in her crypt. Rami probably had a little experience in places like this as well, and as an enjarta, would be on high alert on any mission anywhere. Elyse and Cranton, on the other hand, had me a little worried. Neither had much experience with ancient structures like this. The last thing I needed was for one of them to inadvertently set off a gigantic booby trap that could kill a bunch of my undead warriors. Or all of us, if it was bad enough. I’d have to keep the pair close to me.
“I’m going to send a few slavers’ skeletons across the floor of this chamber just to check for pressure-activated switches,” I said. “Those are the first kinds of traps we’re likely to run into. Wait here while my skellies do their thing.”
I sent out two slaver skeletons to walk across the floor, testing each one of the large stone tiles to see if any of them were pressure-activated. Sure enough, halfway through the chamber, the skeleton sank an inch into the floor. A horizontal shower of darts immediately blasted out from both the left and right walls, smashing bits off both skeletons and punching holes in their skulls.
They were damaged, but not in the way a living being would have been. They could take a great deal of punishment and pretty much had to be smashed into piles of broken bones before they could be considered truly dead, again.
They pushed on until the other skeleton activated another pressure switch to a far more damaging trap. Two hidden steel cables, which had been waiting, stretched like bowstrings, snapped tight across the chamber, slicing both skeletons in half at the waist.
Even after being cut in half, the skeletons kept going as legless torsos dragging themselves along the floor.
“Damn,” Cranton remarked with a grin, “those guys just don’t stop.”
“The undead possess rare powers of resilience,” Isu said, her eyes glowing briefly with an eerie light.
The skeleton torsos finally reached the far end of the chamber, after having personally checked every stone.
“Listen up everyone,” I said, “this chamber is safe to move through, but we don’t know anything about the doors and what’s behind them. I’m sure at least a couple of ‘em are gonna be trapped. Examine them closely, but don’t touch anything, and for the love of… Death? Can I say that? I feel like I should be taking my own name in vain sometimes. Anyway, for the love of whatever, don’t open any of them. Okay, spread out and see what you can find.”
The other living and I spread out through the chamber and began examining the doors. They each had a unique symbol carved into them, but there didn’t seem to be anything that clearly indicated which of them were safe to open and which weren’t. None of them bore Xayon’s tornado sigil.
I wasn’t happy I had to use them all so fast, but I did have my slaver skeletons here as trap fodder. Better them than us, anyway. I was about to order them to begin opening doors when Cranton ambled over to me.
“Vance,” he said, “I’ve looked at all the symbols on the doors, and I think I know how to figure out which ones we can open.”
“How so?” I asked.
“Okay, man, so each of the symbols is the symbol of a god or goddess. Some of them are ancient gods that almost everyone has forgotten about. Except us historians, that is.”
“All right, and how does that help us?”
“You’ve heard about the Divine Feuds, right?”
“I’ve heard about it here and there,” I answered, “but I can’t say I’m an expert.”
“That’s already more than most people, man. Most people wouldn’t even know what I’m talking about it. These wars happened thousands of years ago, and they’ve been almost forgotten. I’m not gonna bore you with all the details, but the sigils on these doors represent the gods and goddesses who fought in this battle, the Battle of Dragon Mountain. A number of gods and goddesses who were allied with Xayon turned traitor and joined the enemy. Other gods who were with Xayon fled the battlefield. In the end, only three gods remained on Xayon’s side. She lost the battle, of course, but escaped with her life. Her three remaining allies, and most of their troops, weren’t so lucky.”
“So,” I said, “the doors with sigils that represent the traitor gods and goddesses are almost certain to be trapped… but only a devotee of Xayon, or a historian like yourself, would know that. And the loyal gods’ doors will be safe to open.”
“Oh, yeah, I hadn’t considered that, man! So, the loyal ones were the God of Trees, whose sigil is an oak tree; the Goddess of Rain, whose sigil is a drop of water; and the God of Stone, whose sigil is a mountain.”
I nodded and ordered my first slaver skeletons to open the door with the water droplet sigil. We waited with bated breath as the door creaked open… but nothing happened. Directly behind the door was only a pile of rubble blocking the passage. Next, a skeleton tried the door with the sigil of a mountain and found more of the same.
“Damn it,” I muttered. “One door to go, and if the hallway behind that one has also collapsed, then we’re shit out of luck.”
The skeleton opened the door, and beyond it lay a long, narrow passage.
“Looks like you’re staying here to guard the chamber, buddy,” I said to Fang, giving him a scratch behind his ear.
He grumbled but did as I said.
“Actually,” I continued, “that goes for everyone but my skeletons. I’m going down the passage by myself. It’s gonna be tight in there, with no room for mistakes. We can’t afford to have an inexperienced explorer setting off a trap, not in close quarters like that.”
The women weren’t particularly happy about this, but they knew that what I was saying made sense. Cranton didn’t seem to care too much, though; he was busy examining the chamber in detail, murmuring to himself and taking mental notes.
I headed into the darkness of the narrow tunnel with five slaver skeleto
ns. I was carrying a torch, as were each of them, but I was the only one who was armed. The passage was very narrow, so we had to walk in single file. I stayed in the center of the column, just in case one of the lead skeletons triggered a trap; either the first or last person in the line would bear the brunt of it, and I didn’t want that to be me.
We turned a corner and found another long, narrow stretch of hallway ahead of us. The floor was gently sloped all the way, leading us about a hundred yards further down into darkness. I was always suspicious when I came across an incline like this in a tomb or crypt; this was a perfect setting for a classic “crushing ball” trap, in which a trigger would release a gigantic steel or stone ball that would roll with increasing speed down the incline, rolling over everything in its path.
“Tread carefully, boys, tread carefully,” I said to the skeletons as we advanced with caution.
I kept my eyes trained on the walls for signs of triggers and inched my way down the incline, making sure that my skeletons did the same.
When we were about halfway down the incline, I began to notice bits of bone on the sides of the passage. Then, as we edged our way forward, the shards became complete bones. A little further on, they were complete limbs. Some even still had bits of rusty armor attached to them. I walked past a skull, and then another that was half crushed. Something had hit these bodies with tremendous force, something very heavy; the impact had been powerful enough to smash these explorers to pieces.
As we progressed closer to the bottom, I saw a strange sight: a thin vertical beam of daylight was shining like a lone white reed in the darkness below. There had to be a skylight leading up to the surface, but it couldn’t have been more than a few inches in diameter. But why would there be a skylight all the way down here?
When we came to the beam of light, and I thought about climbing up onto one of my skeleton’s shoulders to investigate it more closely, my sixth sense piped up and stopped me from getting too close. And I had long learned to trust my sixth sense completely.