[Blood Bowl 04] - Rumble in the Jungle

by Matt Forbeck - (ebook by Undead)

  Lästiges poked the camra with her fingers, and the opening on the front grew larger. “Wide-angle shots,” she said, “for the latest HD crystal ball formats.”

  “HD?”

  “High Density; they weigh twice as much as a normal crystal ball, but the image clarity is stunning.”

  “Push!” Dunk shouted. “Push!”

  “Brains! Brains! Brains, Brains, Brains!”

  Dunk growled in frustration as he bent his back to his task and gave it every last bit of energy he had. Dirk, Spinne, and Jiminy did the same, and the door moved faster. The voices of the zombies seemed closer than ever.

  The door only had inches to go before it would slam shut. “One more push!” Dunk said. “On three. One! Two!”

  Before he could reach “Three!” a rotting arm shot through the opening. Dunk staggered back, the arm’s ragged fingers missing his face by a feather’s width.

  “Run!” he said, scrambling in the other direction. The arm clawed at the open air where he’d just been standing, hoping for purchase on something fleshy and warm, he had no doubt.

  “Hold it!” said Dirk.

  Dunk froze. The arm was stuck there, flailing about. Although it strove for purchase, it found none, and the heavy door refused to move under the zombie’s weight.

  “They can’t move it,” Dirk said. “We’re safe.”

  A horrible moaning sound issued from somewhere deep inside the pyramid’s black bowels.

  “I wouldn’t go there quite yet, son,” Slick said, a waver in his voice.

  “We can’t just stay here,” Dunk said.

  “Why not?” asked Jiminy.

  Another arm shot through the gap between the door and its frame, as if in response; then another, another, and another. Soon it seemed as if the door had grown a dozen different arms so that it could grab anything that tried to push against it. Thankfully, Dunk noted, it hadn’t grown any feet.

  Dirk reached out and snatched one of the arms in an iron grip. Then he set his foot against the broadside of the door and pulled. With a sickening crack, the arm came free of its owner, and Dirk tumbled backward on the floor.

  Dirk scrambled to his feet, and the arm flopped off him to land by his boots. It lay there, still, even more lifeless than it had been before.

  Two more arms stabbed into the gap where the first had been.

  “We need to find a way out of here,” Dunk said. “That door won’t stop them forever. Lästiges, bring that camra over here.”

  Dunk walked to the far wall of the pyramid. As he neared it, the light from the camra fell upon a waist-high table of stone. The top of it had been carved away to fit the body of someone smaller than Dunk, perhaps Pegleg’s size. This depression bore dark stains that Dunk instantly recognised as blood, as did the system of thin gutters designed to drain the blood from the table. The thin gutters ran together into a larger one on the floor that ran back between Dunk’s feet and towards the door.

  “Human sacrifices,” Jiminy said, an uncharacteristically reverend tone in his voice. “In the old days, the lizardmen used to hunt people around these parts and offer them up on this altar to their dark gods. I hear tell they would rip the heart out of a screaming man’s chest and wolf it down whole before the thing even stopped beating.”

  “What happened to them?” Dunk asked.

  “They moved on, I guess.” Jiminy motioned towards the doorway with his head. “As you might imagine, I don’t get out this way all that often. Don’t suspect anyone else does either.

  “The continent’s lousy with lizardmen, slann, skaven, and far, far worse. Out here on the islands, we have a far easier life.”

  “Why’s that?” Dunk asked, as he motioned for Lästiges to keep exploring by her camra’s light.

  “Most of these bastards can’t swim worth a damn.” Jiminy smiled, back to his usual, jovial self. “A man with a boat can make his own destiny around these parts, and he can escape it too.”

  As the musician spoke, the scratching and moaning at the door suddenly stopped. Dunk turned in time to see the grasping arms all pull back out of sight.

  All eyes in the room stared at the door. No one said a word. After a moment, Dunk realised that they were all holding their breath too, including him.

  A booming knock came at the door, followed by a booming voice. “Fantastic!” said Baron Somebody. “You have found the Ancient Temple of Gloom!”

  “Fantastic isn’t the word I would have used,” Slick muttered.

  “I’m sorry,” Dunk said. “You’ll have to come back later. We’re doing the dishes.”

  “Ha! Ha! Ha!” the baron boomed. “You tickle my funny bone, stranger!”

  “Shove off,” Dirk said. “We’re safe in here. Your zombies are too weak to move that door.”

  “Oh, that’s where you are wrong, stranger. Perhaps one zombie could not move the door. Maybe not five or even a dozen! I, however, have hundreds of zombies, perhaps thousands! If I wish the door moved, it will be moved!”

  “If that’s so, then why hasn’t the door moved yet?” asked Dunk.

  “Because I have a proposition for you, strangers! I would not have thought about this on the beach, but who knew you would be so foolish as to try to escape me in the Temple of Gloom? Far better that you be torn to pieces by my zombies than have to face the horrors you may find inside.”

  “He’s bluffing,” said Slick. “What’s not to like about this place? It’s dry, the stone absorbs a good deal of that oppressive jungle heat, and it’s refreshingly free of zombies.”

  An ear wrenching groan shook the pyramid from its foundations, vibrating up through its every stone, and even through the bones of those who stood upon it.

  “Maybe we’d be better off with the zombies,” said Lästiges.

  “What do you want?” Dunk shouted at the door and the fat bokor beyond.

  “The Temple of Gloom is also the home of the Lizard’s Claw, an artefact of unparalleled mystical power. Legend says it is buried deep within the temple’s bowels. Only the bravest and most worthy have a prayer of finding it.”

  “That’s us out then,” said Slick. Spinne shushed him.

  “If you return to me with the Lizard’s Claw I will set you free!” Baron Somebody said. “I will personally escort you to your boat, stock you with supplies, and send you on your way. I will even have my zombies hum a little departure tune for you. Nothing special, just a little something I made up.”

  “And if we refuse?”

  “Come, strangers. You are not so foolish!”

  Dunk turned to whisper with the others. “I say we go for it,” he said softly. “Between certain death and likely death, I’ll go with likely every time.”

  “I don’t know,” said Dirk. “I’m all for cracking some zombie heads and then racing off into the jungle. You and I can fight a delaying action while Jiminy and Slick help the ladies get a head start.”

  “No.”

  Dunk had to look around to see who had spoken. Eventually his gaze landed on Lästiges. She had her hand on Dirk’s shoulder, and she was squeezing hard.

  “You are not sacrificing yourself for me, and I am not running off into that jungle without you. We may die in here.” The pyramid shuddered and howled once more. “We will probably die in here, but we’ll do it together.”

  Dunk reached out and held Spinne’s hand as Lästiges spoke. The two of them didn’t have to say a word to each other. They both knew they felt exactly the same way.

  Dunk wondered if Dirk would put his foot down. Would he insist on sacrificing himself to save the life of the woman he loved? Or would he swallow his pride, his sense of what a man should do, and comply with her wishes?

  Dirk reached up and held Lästiges’s hand. He gazed into her eyes, and said, “All right. We stand together. We live or die as one.”

  Jiminy cleared his throat. “Or as six,” said Dirk, “whatever.”

  Before Dunk could turn to answer the bokor’s request, he noticed that t
he room was getting darker. Then he heard the stone moving, and he spun around to see the door closing, fitting perfectly into the doorframe that surrounded it on four sides.

  As the door scraped into its ancient home, the noise from below reverberated throughout the temple. Somewhere, someone screamed. Dunk wished he could be sure it hadn’t been him.

  24

  “It looks like the only way out of here is down,” Dunk said, pointing at the narrow stairwell Lästiges had found with the light on her camra. The altar had hidden the top of it from view until the reporter had gone down on her hands and knees to really look.

  “It looks dangerous,” said Spinne. “You go first.”

  Dunk smirked at her attempt at humour, and then lowered himself down the steps. He only got a few feet before he stopped.

  “I can’t see a thing,” he said. “Any chance I can get a light down here?”

  “Lästiges is not leading this little adventuring party of yours,” said Dirk.

  “Party?” said Jiminy. “I knew I should have brought my guitar, or a margarita, or both.”

  “What’s a margarita?” asked Lästiges.

  Jiminy grinned. “A magical concoction, a peerless potion, an incredible elixir. Or, as we like to make it: rum, orange liqueur, and a healthy dose of the drink of the Lustrian gods: tequila.”

  “Sounds horrible.”

  “Only in the most delicious and debilitating way.”

  “Can you give me the camra?” Dunk asked Lästiges. “Unless you want me to carry you down here piggyback.”

  “I wouldn’t want to take Slick’s place.”

  The reporter reached out and tapped the camra three times in different places, faster than Dunk could follow. The camra fell into her hand, and she caught it neatly. She then reached out and tapped it on Dunk’s shoulder while giving it a clockwise twist.

  The camra leapt to life again and hovered over Dunk’s shoulder. When he looked at it, it looked at him. Otherwise, it stared over his shoulder at whatever happened to be in front of him. He noticed that it followed his gaze wherever it could manage it, even switching from one shoulder to the other if necessary.

  At first, Dunk found this distracting, having something always hovering near one ear or the other. He’d learnt to ignore the fact that Lästiges had it around her all the time. As a Blood Bowl star, he’d seen far more camras than he could count, and he’d been on Cabalvision so often he sometimes didn’t recognise the mirror in his bathroom as not being a crystal ball showing his image. Still, he’d never been on this end of a camra before, and it took a little getting used to.

  Dunk looked down into the hole in the floor, and the camra looked right after him, shining its light before him. The beam spilled down the musty steps, casting their edges in sharp shadows. Its strength faded before Dunk could see an end to the passage. He took a deep breath, and then continued downward without a word.

  The stairwell was only wide enough for one of them to pass at a time. Dunk came first with Spinne right behind him. Jiminy came next, peering around two sets of shoulders in case he could help as a guide. Slick trotted after him, making sure his short legs kept up with the steady pace that Dunk set. Then came Lästiges, grumbling about the loss of control of her camra and how Dunk had better get her some great shots and let her take the credit for them. Dirk brought up the rear, carefully scanning the darkness that lay behind him for any sign of trouble.

  After a long while, the stairwell turned at a right angle to the left and continued down. It did so again and again, and soon Dunk realised they were spinning their way down into the bottom of the pyramid by the longest, straightest route possible, other than a direct drop, which he kept on guard against at all times.

  The horrible rumbling from below kept sounding, increasing in both frequency and volume. The vibrations shook dust from the tight-fitted brick walls, and loose stones from the ceiling.

  Other than that, everything seemed to be going well, right up until they hit the first trap.

  Dunk put his foot down, and felt the flagstone beneath it give just a bit and then click. He wanted to jump straight out of his skin, but instead he froze right in his tracks.

  Spinne avoided bumping into him, but just barely. Slick tripped over Jiminy, and the two ended up in a pile right behind Spinne. Dirk had to reach out to catch Lästiges when she almost tripped over the pair.

  “What’s the big—” Lästiges only got a few words out before Dirk clapped a hand over her mouth. She started to protest, but she stopped at a glare from Dirk.

  “How bad is it?” Dirk said softly to Dunk.

  Dunk sucked at his teeth. “I can’t tell,” he said. “I stepped on a trigger plate, but I don’t know what it’s attached to.”

  He twisted around to look at Spinne, being careful to keep his foot planted, and his full weight upon it. “Back off,” he said. “Take the others with you.”

  “I’m not losing you to a damned booby-trap,” she said, her jaw set firm. “Not after all we’ve been through.”

  “I hope you won’t, but there’s no sense in all of us risking our lives against whatever this is. Back up. Please.”

  Spinne stared at Dunk like a rock. Only a slight quiver in her eyes told him how disturbed she really was. She might break down about this later, when they had time for such a luxury. Right now, she was as strong as tempered steel.

  She leaned forward and put her hands on Dunk’s shoulders, kissing him tenderly. After a too-short moment, she pushed away and hustled the others a dozen yards back up the stairs.

  At first, Dunk was relieved to be alone. Then he realised he’d finally have to deal with whatever it was he’d got himself into.

  “Jump back,” Dirk called from the darkness. “The trapper expects you to move forward.”

  You cannot beat a trap, Lehrer’s voice said in Dunk’s head. You can only avoid it.

  Dunk had long thought the man to be his family’s most loyal retainer, until he’d found out that it had been Lehrer who’d betrayed them all. Lehrer’s treachery had blown the entire family apart and ruined their fortunes. Dirk had left before it happened, but Dunk remembered it all too clearly.

  That fateful night, he thought he’d lost his father, mother, and sister. Years later, he and Dirk had found their father again, but he’d been killed during the last Blood Bowl championship game, helping his sons save all of Altdorf from being trapped in the Realms of Chaos forever. At least Lehrer had gone with him.

  Despite his treachery, Lehrer had been a good teacher, as sharp a man as Dunk had ever known. He’d have to have been, to fool every one of the Hoffnungs for so long.

  Dunk knew that as soon as he pulled his foot from the trigger plate something horrible would happen. He could try to leave something heavy on the plate to keep it from ever coming back up and triggering the trap. He’d need something that weighed at least a hundred pounds, though, and he knew that the only things like that around here were his friends.

  The ceiling above him looked solid. He stood no chance of shaking a large enough piece of it, or the walls, loose to take his place on the block. Trying to do so might trigger the trap, and if he somehow succeeded, his efforts might crush him, hurting him as badly as any trap.

  If he tried to throw himself backward, he might be able to make it a few steps upward. The steps proved the biggest barrier to that though. He’d only be able to get a few feet away before stumbling on them.

  Dunk steeled himself, and then lowered his body onto his haunches. He knew he’d only get one chance at this. As soon as his feet left the trigger plate, the trap would go off. He had to make this count.

  With a roar, Dunk dived straight down the stairs, headfirst, his arms stretched out before him. Just before he hit the steps, he rolled up into a ball and let his momentum haul him down several more steps, dinging different parts of his body against the stone edges as he went.

  When Dunk finally hit one step too hard, it laid him out flat, struggling to get his br
eath back and wondering if he’d broken a rib. Even panicked and hurt as he was, he turned around as fast as he could to see what had happened. The camra’s beam followed his gaze, shining back up the stairwell.

  His friends stood on the steps behind where he had stepped on the trap, whooping and hollering for him. Jiminy stuck his fingers in his mouth and gave a gleeful whistle that might have shattered glass.

  Dunk stood up and grinned. His smile only grew wider when he saw the large hole that had opened in the steps, right behind where he’d been standing. If he’d thrown himself backward, he’d have fallen into that black pit for sure.

  Dunk let out a whoop that felt as if it shook the walls. He was thrilled just to be alive. Now they just needed to figure out how to get everyone safely across the pit, and they could continue on.

  That’s when the steps of the stairs above the pit collapsed flat, turning the stairwell into a slide. Spinne slipped forward first and disappeared into the blackness before she could manage to scream. Jiminy and Slick slid right after her, just as Dunk launched himself back up the stairs.

  By the time Dunk reached the edge of the pit. Lästiges had fallen in, and Dirk was on his way down. Dunk’s younger brother had thrown himself to the slide rather than trying to fight gravity with his boots. Then he clawed at the smooth surfaces, hoping to find some kind of handhold or foothold before he joined the others. So far, he’d had little luck.

  Dunk reached the edge of the pit just as Dirk finally slipped over the far side of it. His hand stabbed out to grab Dirk’s outstretched fingers, but only brushed them before Dirk disappeared into the blackness.

  Dunk scrambled up higher and peered down into the pit. In his head, he screamed out the names of all his missing friends. He started and ended with Spinne.

  By the time the camra came up and peered down over his shoulder, the pit, which seemed bottomless, stood empty. Dunk grabbed his head with both hands and cursed. Should he jump in after them? They might need him, but if they were dead, there was no point in dying too.

  “Spinne!” he shouted. If there was any way to do it, she’d answer him. Before that could happen, though, the missing stairs swung up from the far side of the pit and clicked into place, blocking off the pit from any further conversation or exploration.