In the Grip of Time

by Adam Jacob Burgess

  The plains on which they travelled had been blessed with harmony for many years, so much so that most people now referred to the area as Pāx, meaning peace. The region had once been rife with divisions and conflict between the royal houses of Pompeux and Vanus. Without their petty squabbles over meaningless, historical delineations of land, peace had been maintained between Pāx’s city states of Rhyddinas, Spearca, Brastos and Zell for more than fifty years. A revolution in Rhyddinas freed the city from subservience to their warring monarchs, and inspired similar revolts in the other major cities of the area. With no power, the royal houses crumbled into insignificance. The land now belonged to no city in particular, but was instead jointly shared by all the cities and towns of the region. The Rhyddinians had attempted to spread their revolutionary politics to Dorienne, but were unsuccessful, leaving the relationship between the two states somewhat fraught.

  Despite the years of peace within the region, bandit groups and wild beasts had begun to appear again in more recent years. Although it differed from bandit to bandit, most were just itching to cause trouble, raiding a travelling salesperson here, killing a farmer’s cattle there. It was one such group that suddenly called a halt to the adventurers’ trek. A mix of humans and goblins, there were fourteen of them. They wore simple, rugged clothing, with scarves pulled halfway over their faces. Two of the men held a chain each, tied to an enormous, orange reptile, which snapped and spit as it saw the adventurers.

  ‘Let us pass,’ said Vadania, firmly.

  The bandits looked at one another, and then again at the adventurers: sizing up their chances.

  ‘But you haven’t paid the toll,’ replied one of the goblins, snorting as it spoke.

  Sawwse felt as though she were looking into a hall of mirrors. The goblin was a similar size to herself, but had none of a gnome’s delicate features. Instead, the goblin’s face had been stretched and squeezed, bulging and sagging in all the wrong places.

  ‘It’s in your interest to let us pass,’ grumbled Osrik.

  The lizard lunged forward, hissing as the chains yanked it back.

  ‘That’s not how we see it,’ the goblin spoke again.

  The little gnome opened her mouth to suggest a diplomatic solution (or at least a calm conversation), when the two men holding the giant lizard’s chains released them, and the ravenous beast came half-scurrying, half-sliding towards her, snapping its jaws and hissing. Vadania unsheathed her short swords and walked calmly towards the monster. As the monster leaped, the elf sprang into the air, up and over the lizard, slicing through its neck on either side as she landed. The pitiful creature began a headless dance, scampering away before stopping dead. One of the two men that had held its chains comforted the other as he began to cry.

  Rangrim, who had been quietly feeling awful up until this point, stepped forward and burst out laughing.

  ‘Incredible,’ he boomed. ‘We’re just getting started. Get ready to meet Slǣpan Gigas.’

  The dwarf reached behind him as he spoke, but his hand grasped at an empty scabbard strapped to his back.

  ‘Oh no,’ he said, mortified. He turned, shame-faced to look at the others. ‘I must’ve left it back at the-’

  There was a loud thunk as Vadania thwacked the hilt of one of her swords hard into the back of Rangrim’s head. He blacked out immediately.

  ‘Now he won’t get in the way,’ the elf said, turning to glare at Sawwse and Ruby. She signalled for them to wait with the unconscious dwarf. Ruby clutched at Sawwse’s tunic and hid behind her. The gnome was raring to get involved somehow, but just as she was about to protest, she felt Corinne’s hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Perhaps the two of you could wait here, while we,’ she whispered, pausing over her choice of word, ‘negotiate.’

  Osrik and Larn took out their battle-axe and rapier respectively, while Corinne leafed through a small, neatly arranged book of spells.

  Sawwse watched with wide eyes as her team moved closer to the bandits, weapons in hand. Meanwhile, Ruby transformed into a hamster and tucked herself into Sawwse’s shoulder, quivering. Rangrim lay next to them. While the rest of the adventurers prepared for a fight, Rangrim was lost to the world of the unconscious. It wasn’t a long sleep, but it was a fitful one, full of bad dreams and even worse memories...

  --

  Head in a fug, eyes bagged and crusty, Rangrim gradually became aware of a heavy shoe kicking his rear. He lay slumped on Hero’s Point, the grassy mound that overlooked his mountain village.

  ‘Wh-,’ he tried to form the words, but his mouth felt glued together.

  ‘Wake up, you lump.’

  Rangrim slowly wiped the sleep from his eyes, but the daylight stung when he tried to open them.

  ‘Wh-what’s going on?’

  The many figures he saw around him appeared as silhouettes, backlit by Elra’s bright rays. Quite a crowd had gathered up on the mound. They grumbled as he began to slowly lift himself up.

  ‘Get up you stupid oaf, and look at what you’ve done.’

  Grimbald, the village elder, chastised the young dwarf. With an effort, Rangrim raised himself up, rocked unsteadily, and stumbled back onto one knee. The world spun wildly around him and, after a brief pause, he vomited up all of last night’s ale onto the elder’s shoes.

  ‘Oh, Rangrim.’

  His mother’s voice could be heard above the crowd as she stood arm in arm with his father, disapproval radiating from them both.

  Rangrim was yanked to his feet by the elder.

  ‘Anything missing?’

  The elder shook him.

  ‘Do you see anything missing?’

  It was a struggle for Rangrim to focus, everything spinning as it was, but after a few moments it clicked.

  ‘Th-the sword! It’s been lifted.’

  ‘Yes. Yes it has, hasn’t it.’

  Grimbald thrust him forward and he fell to his knees once more. An extremely large sword lay flat on the ground in front of an ancient stone block.

  ‘Rollo and Khanan’s stores were both raided last night. Do you think that’s a coincidence?’

  ‘But the legend?’

  Rangrim was taken aback. The sword, known amongst mountain dwarves as Slǣpan Gigas, was supposed to watch over the mountain village until a hero worthy of waking its true power retrieved it. The fact that it had been removed was shocking enough, but Rangrim couldn’t countenance that he might be the legendary hero, especially since he couldn’t remember anything of the past night, beyond a hazy memory of leaving The Rugged Pony as it closed, and stumbling off in search of food and company.

  Seemingly reading his mind, the elder answered.

  ‘I’d rather the sword lay dormant for twelve more centuries than for you to be the hero.’

  Rangrim bowed in shame. He glanced up to look for his parents, but they had already begun to walk away, shaking their heads in disappointment…

  --

  ‘Wake up, wake up.’

  Sawwse spoke quietly into Rangrim’s ear until he opened his bleary eyes.

  ‘What happened?’ he asked, sleepily.

  ‘Well, there’s no need to go into specifics,’ Sawwse replied. ‘Suffice to say, we took care of the bandits.’

  ‘My sword!’ the dwarf exclaimed. ‘I need to go back for it.’

  Rangrim sat bolt upright and immediately regretted it. The pain from Vadania’s blow seared across his vision, almost blinding him.

  ‘That’s not possible,’ Larn said sneeringly. ‘We’re about to reach the tomb.’

  Rangrim looked around him in confusion. A large outcrop of jagged limestone stood before them, and they believed the tomb to be inside. On the back foot, the young dwarf made to speak when Sawwse interrupted him.

  ‘Why don’t you tell him how you got your scar, Larn?’ she said with a grin.

  Sure enough, there was a fresh nick on Larn’s cheek. He flushed angrily.

  ‘Had I been o
n my-’ Larn began.

  ‘On your own. Yes, yes. Perhaps then you’d have missed the goblin’s slingshot,’ retorted Sawwse.

  ‘Well, I didn’t see much of a contribution from you out there,’ snapped Larn.

  ‘She thought you could handle them on your own,’ posed Osrik, joining in.

  With a look of thunder, Larn turned his back on the others and climbed up the rocks. Osrik took Rangrim’s hand and hoisted him up to standing. He explained that Vadania had carried him here as he slept, but she had then gone ahead to find the entrance to the tomb. The younger dwarf felt a gnawing shame growing in the pit of his stomach. He laughed loudly, and clapped Osrik on the back.

  ‘At least I still have my fists,’ he bellowed, deflecting his embarrassment.

  Eventually, Vadania emerged atop the craggy limestone. The bright glow of the sun cast her in shadow and Sawwse was reminded for a moment of Alla’fyr, the red-cloaked mercenary that had been with Osrik when she first met him.

  ‘The entrance is here,’ Vadania called down to them.

  A sense of foreboding flashed in Sawwse’s skull, but dissipated instantly.

  The formation of the rocks made a natural stair, making it easy for those as small as Sawwse to climb up. At the top, Vadania stood next to an opening in the limestone that led down beneath the surface. Ruby, in her human form, looked cagily into the dark space as the elf tried to convince her to rappel through the hole.

  When they reached the bottom they found themselves in a dusty, square stone room. The comparative brightness of the sun initially made the room appear pitch black, but they discovered that it was in fact lit by torches hanging from the walls. There were rows of racks standing against the wall, covered with a huge grey sheet. A patch of the floor had been cordoned off with pegs, and a grey cover lay over the top of this as well. There was a space with a patterned archway above it leading to a small corridor into another room. A thin band of symbols ran along a high point on each of the walls.

  Larn stood in the centre of the room, revolving slowly in order to examine the symbols on each wall. His eyes were alight with excitement. Pointing, he said, ‘This is fascinating. These appear to be an ancient pictorial language, but I have no knowledge of the symbols.’

  Vadania approached him.

  ‘Can you tell what they might mean?’

  He was silent for a few moments, turning and deciphering in his head.

  ‘I fear I am conjecturing, but this appears to be an old ward. Many ancient cultures left magic wards on their tombs to protect their dead for perpetuity.’

  Corinne began to raise her arms, muttering something quietly.

  ‘The ward has long since passed,’ Larn added. ‘Instead these symbols might tell of this culture’s afterlife myth. I’ll look ahead for more information, and see if they offer any clues.’

  He nodded to himself, before walking through the patterned archway.

  Vadania watched Larn exit the room. Sawwse sidled up to her.

  ‘I’m not saying he’s a barrel of laughs, but he seems quite useful now,’ she said, in her smuggest voice. ‘He taught a few of those bandits a thing or two as well.’

  The elf looked down at Sawwse. She opened her mouth to speak when they heard a crash from the next room. Rushing in, they found a man being held up against the wall with one hand by Larn, whose other hand held a rapier to the man’s throat.

  ‘Talk,’ Larn snarled.

  Chapter 11: Tombs and Temples

  A ring of light encircled Larn as he knelt on the floor. Forbidden books lay open, sprawled across the room: contradictory information on rituals awaited his consumption. He’d analysed and synthesised all the knowledge that he’d found, and noted any correlations between the books: fourteen points along a circle of chalk, a lot of gold, and a humid temperature. He hadn’t felt particularly good about stealing gold from the university, but firstly, this research was important, and secondly, the vice chancellor’s pay was overinflated to a ridiculous degree anyway.

  Reading from his notes, he recited an exiled language. It was forbidden, almost forgotten, but he needed to know that this worked. This research would expand the field.

  A light breeze began to blow. The books began to turn their pages. It came from a space directly in front of him, within the circle. It was accompanied by a loud sucking noise, like a drain capturing water. Picking up speed, the wind whipped at his clothes and bit at his fingers, ears, nose. He held onto his notes with one hand and steadied himself with the other. Then, an ear-splitting pop.

  The force with which the demon was brought forth seemed impossible. The air filled with pages upon pages. Shelves snapped, candles melted, glass smashed. And the grinning white face laughed.

  Knocked onto his back by the force, he cowered. A contract appeared on a gold leaf page, held within a phantom hand.

  ‘Y-yes. Anything. Please take anything,’ Larn screeched.

  The white face surveyed the room. Shelves full of anatomical specimens, detailed drawings of the biological makeup of dwarves, elves, humans. One such drawing focused on the differences between human legs and those of elves.

  The demon cackled, crackled and boomed, as the wind began sucking in to form a vortex. Larn held on to the legs of his heavy oak desk as he felt his own legs being torn apart. Sinews snapped, muscles melted, bones smashed, and his legs were ripped off into the ether. Out of the vortex came machinery, the likes of which he had never seen before. Thin copper wires coiled around reinforced steel pipes, which then connected to various shapes and sizes of metal. The metal separated into two prosthetic legs that jutted forcibly into the scholar’s newly formed stumps. He howled with agony.

  The contract floated towards him, reducing in size as it did so until it was but a speck of dust resting on his forehead.

  Another explosion and the demon was gone, setting the room ablaze. Larn cowered and whimpered, his eyes glazing over as he sank into unconsciousness.

  --

  ‘Talk,’ Larn demanded.

  ‘I don’t understand-’

  ‘Talk,’ he rasped.

  Larn smashed the man against a shelf of artefacts and nudged his rapier closer to the trembling skin at the base of the man’s neck.

  Sawwse and Vadania ran into the room and stood agape at the scene in front of them. The man was human, and wore wine-coloured trousers with a dusty cream shirt. Assuming he must have had a weapon, Vadania quickly looked for it. But all she could see was a trowel on the floor next to a patch of earth. The man was clearly unsettled and panicked.

  ‘Help me, please,’ he shouted.

  The other guild members had followed the gnome and elf into the room. Upon seeing the team arrive, Larn reluctantly let go of the man.

  ‘I don’t like you,’ he said, slowly backing away, raising his eyes to the glyphs decorating the walls as he did so.

  Meanwhile, the man brushed himself down and smiled nervously at the recent arrivals to this tomb. Locking eyes with Sawwse, he addressed her as he spoke.

  ‘I knew they would send someone tough, but I didn’t expect to be roughhoused like that.’

  Sawwse attempted to reach up and place a comforting arm around the man, but due to her stature she settled with resting her hand on his forearm.

  ‘I’m so sorry for our… animated colleague. He’s just eager is all, and he sometimes loses the run of himself. They didn’t pass on your name, Mr-’

  ‘Lin. And yes, well. That’s okay.’

  He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his sweating brow.

  ‘Anyway, I’m glad you’ve arrived. All of you.’ He paused. ‘Most of you.’

  Larn was at the other end of the chamber inspecting an owl’s head on a humanoid statue. The others stood together facing Sawwse and Lin. This room was almost a mirror of the previous one, complete with glyphs on the walls.

  ‘Lin, perhaps you could describe the situation in detail. They’re a bit lax
back up at, er, head office.’

  Sawwse jovially elbowed him in the side, making a ‘what are they like?’ kind of expression.

  ‘Yes, well, I suppose. I did already explain all this to your other colleague who arrived here not long before you.’

  Vadania caught Osrik’s eye, who had also worked out that this ‘colleague’ must be someone else investigating the magical energy. Lin stared at Sawwse’s blank face.

  ‘I presumed they were your colleague. A nice woman with a red hood. She was very polite,’ Lin continued, shooting a dirty look at Larn. ‘Anyway, I’ll explain again. It all started when our university got a tip off about this tomb. We’d had a guest speaker arrive and hint that there were worthy archaeological finds here. They weren’t joking.’

  Lin whipped the cover from another set of shelves and his eyes lit up.

  ‘This is just what we’ve found on the first floor,’ he said, picking up a small wooden spinning top and holding it out in the palm of his hand. ‘This is fascinating. We wouldn’t have expected an artefact like this to be in this kind of-’

  ‘Is there any way you could start closer to the end?’

  Osrik’s low, gravelly voice cut across Lin. Standing with his hands on the hilt of his battle-axe, he cut quite the imposing figure.

  ‘Yes, yes of course,’ Lin answered quickly, thinking it best to comply, having been accosted once already. ‘We suspect finds of even greater significance lie further into the tomb. However, there are some monsters that currently lurk down there, and they are endangering potentially very significant discoveries.’

  ‘So the university sent us to clear the tomb?’ Rangrim said, speaking aloud as he worked it out.