by Ben Walsh
Chapter Sixteen
“The Guardian’s Hut!” Stan gasped, in awe at the magic he had witnessed.
Ernest, Vlad, Ponch, Marvin and Roxie were all speechless, and Maximus had a wry smile on his face.
“Oh, that protection was good Houdazald, truly you were the greatest wizard this world has ever seen,” he said, kneeling to the ground to run his fingers through the dirt.
The cabin was made entirely of wood, and was small in size. It had a small veranda, with wooden pillars supporting the roof above it. There was a small, discrete green door, with no windows or anything else in the front. A thick line of trees remained around the outside, and it was clear that there was only one way in.
Maximus wandered towards the hut, his cloak trailing along the ground. Gradually, others began to follow, with Marvin, Stan and Roxie at the rear of the pack. Maximus closed his eyes, and ran his hand gently across the surface of the wood.
“There doesn’t appear to be any magic or trap on the exterior, but you can be sure there will be inside,” he whispered, “some may be activated by sound, so absolute silence from here on.”
With this, he beckoned for the group to split either side of him onto the veranda, with himself in front of the door. Stan was on his left, alongside Vlad, who was sweating profusely, and Roxie. Worgan remained sat beside his brother, seeming to have lost all interest in the search for the Emerald.
Maximus gently eased the door open, which creaked loudly as he did so. Stan saw the grimace on Maximus’ face, and prayed for nothing to fly out at them. Fortunately, an attack was not forthcoming, and Maximus swiftly swept through the gap and into the dark hut. The hut contained a single room, and was gloomy, with visibility poor. Following Maximus, the seven of them squeezed inside. Once in the hut, the group could just manage to line up along the wall, with little distance between them. The room extended several feet in front of them, and was empty bar a table and a single rocking chair, and a fireplace set back in the far wall. Maximus signalled towards Ernest, and he slowly tiptoed along one of the two side walls and towards the fireplace. Maximus, meanwhile, edged towards the table. Both he and Ernest used a stick, which they prodded into the ground on their intended next step. Stan glanced at Roxie and saw her equally bemused face, unsure as to why they were doing this. All became clear however, when Ernest tapped a floorboard a couple of steps in from the door, and a knife flew out of the wall and inches past his face. Ernest breathed a huge sigh of relief – if it had been his foot landing there, his brain would now be splattered against the far wall.
This increased the tension within the room, so much so that Stan couldn’t bear to watch, and instead scanned the nearest wall. Meanwhile, Maximus had reached the table, and slowly ran his hand along the edge of it. There was nothing on top of the table, so the Emerald would have to be hidden along the rim if it was there. After carefully running his fingers around the entire length of the rim, Maximus shook his head in disappointment. As he tapped the next step towards the chair, the floorboard he had prodded suddenly crumbled, as did the one either side of it, revealing a vast hole beneath it.
Maximus’ foot was teetering between the floorboard next to it and the one next to that, leaving some of his foot dangling in open space. Unfortunately for him, he was putting his weight through this foot, and so his momentum carried him forwards, and he fell. At once, Roxie and Ponch lunged forwards towards him, but they were too far away to reach in time. Stan too was too far away, and looked back from the wall just in time to see Ernest step towards his brother. What happened next seemed to occur in slow motion to Stan. Maximus somehow pulled back his staff as he fell, and reached for the nearest floorboard, which he just found with the very edge of the staff. Simultaneously, he hooked his back foot behind the table leg, and he somehow managed to catch himself, with his life balancing on the strength of a table leg and his staff.
As Ernest stepped onto the next floor board, there was a loud clunk, and before anyone knew what was happening, a large spear drove upwards, out of the ground and threw Ernest. There was a temporary expression of surprise on his face, and he gave out a small ooo, before falling to the floor, motionless.
“Ernest!” Maximus whimpered, in shock. He somehow managed to pull himself to his feet, and crawled towards his lifeless brother, only avoiding setting off another booby trap by luck. By the time he reached his brother, the life had been completely sucked out of him, and he could do nothing but kiss him on the top of the head, and close his eyes. Stan felt tears welling up in his eyes, and used his cloak’s thick, uncomfortable sleeve to wipe away those that he could not fight back.
“Stan,” a voice croaked from ahead, “Stan to the fireplace, use this,” Maximus begged, throwing Ernest’s stick towards him as he fought desperately to hold back tears.
Stan gulped, and took a deep breath, looking towards his friends for support. Roxie’s eyes were a river, and Marvin could not look up from his shoes. He was the only one who could do this. Reluctantly, he gathered up the stick, and prodded in front of him. He cautiously made his way along the wall, carefully ensuring he did not touch anything. Miraculously, he managed to avoid any further traps, and reached the fireplace. He ran his fingers around the edge, looking for a catch or switch. When this failed, he ran his hands over the rest of the fireplace, and to his disbelief he found one, in the form of a false log in the middle of the collection of wood in the bottom of the stove. Stan turned the log, causing the fireplace to hiss loudly. Stan recoiled in surprise and fear, while the remainder of the group watched on nervously, as the fireplace split in two. As it did so, it revealed a small hole in the wall, within which sat a gleaming, purple emerald.
Stan reached out tentatively towards the emerald. In the background he heard a small bang and a scream, but he was so focussed on the emerald that he did not process this. Until, that was, he felt the cold edge of a blade, pressed firmly against his neck.