Treasures of the Forgotten City (Ultimate Ending Book 1)
Page 13
"That was it!" Waif cries. "We did it!"
Quickly you gather your things. Each of you brings a hand-picked array of treasure, and you take a few moments to stuff it securely in your packs. While you do, the noises beneath your feet continue. They grow louder in volume, until finally the Hall itself starts to rumble.
"Let's go," you say sternly. "Now."
Rocks and debris begin to shake from the ceiling, filling the hall with plumes of cascading dust. The two of you run for the exit. You stop to look back one last time on the grandeur of the Hall of Kings, willing your brain to emblazon this moment so you can enjoy it for the rest of your life.
The ground shakes as you race down the tunnel. It's long -- longer than it first looked -- and in a moment's panic you wonder if you'll make it in time. You imagine the irony of losing everything at the very end, but then you break free, hurtling past the once-hidden opening and into a world of sun and azure sky.
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You look up and are surprised to find yourself beyond the city walls. Sand rushes down from two different hillsides in an avalanche of movement. It feels like the entire desert is shaking.
"Look!" Waif cries. "The city!"
Not far behind you, Atraharsis is sinking. You watch the buildings go, then the walls, then the broken minarets. You continue to scramble backward, throwing one arm over your eyes as the last tower is covered in sand. A swirling cloud of dust rolls over you, very much like the sandstorm that started it all. When the smoke clears, there's nothing left where a city once stood.
Waif doubles over in a fit of coughing. He looks grey from head to toe -- you're both totally caked with dirt and dust. "The city beneath the sands," he finally says. "Gone again."
You heft your rucksack with one hand. It's pleasantly heavy. "Gone but not forgotten," you chime in. Waif laughs, and together you turn in the direction of your camp.
A smile paints its way across your face as you walk back. Aside from a few scrapes and bruises, you made it out virtually unscathed. Best of all you fulfilled your grand-uncle's lifelong dream. His estate will be safe now, his legacy secured for generations to come.
"You know," Waif says, pointing at the distant obelisk. "I wouldn't mind trying for one of those star gems again. Not right now," he adds hastily, "but you know... someday...."
The obelisk key is a five-pound lump pressed into the small of your back. "Yeah, maybe," you say with a grin. "Someday..."
THE END
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Very carefully, you and Waif begin picking your way through the streets of Atraharsis. The going is slow at first. Rock and rubble lay strewn everywhere; there's not a building in the city that hasn't lost a good portion of its structure to the ravages of time. Sand is everywhere as well. It's piled high against the city's pitted stone architecture, leaving sweeping dunes that rise and fall in most of the open areas.
"There's some sort of a square through there," you point out. Up ahead, through a dirt-choked alleyway, you can see a wide swath of worn cobbled road. "Let's see what it is."
You're leading your partner beneath the shadows of two very decrepit-looking buildings when you feel the ground begin to rumble. The rumble turns into a full-blown shake as the noise increases in volume, and plumes of dust begin rising from every visible surface.
"Get against the walls!" you shout.
Since the walls themselves are shaking this seems counterintuitive, but a little protection is better than none at all. Across from you, on the opposite side of the alley, Waif is huddled in a tight ball. There's a shifting, grinding noise, and then suddenly an enormous piece of the building comes loose!
Quick! Roll a single die! (Or just pick a random number from 1 to 6)
If the number comes up a 1 or 2, GO TO PAGE 63
If the number is a 3, FLIP BACK TO PAGE 137
If you roll a 4, 5, or a 6, TURN TO PAGE 115
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"Waif!" you shout. "Ummm... your torch!"
Your partner is already waving the firebrand at the slug's massive body. It might feel the heat, but being down here for its entire life has rendered the creature totally blind.
Retreating along the corridor you came from is not an option. You'd only be trapped against the stone portcullis. All you can do is look for another exit, so you circle along the outer wall of the chamber. Waif keeps the slug at bay as your fingers dance in the darkness, searching for any kind of opening. Then...
"Wait... stop! Look OUT!"
You forgot about the tapestries! As you trip backward over the moldering pile, the slug shifts in your direction. The dust-caked fabric breaks your fall, but the last thing you see is the enormous slime-coated monstrosity slamming down on you.
A bit gross, but this is definitely
THE END
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There are too many blocks, too many combinations. Too much margin for error. Your gaze shifts back to the marble column.
"Think you can climb it?" you ask Waif. He nods. Sorta.
You step back as he gets to it. Remarkably, he makes solid progress. Waif's fingers and toes find minuscule cracks and fissures in the column's surface. In just a couple of minutes, he's halfway up.
"What's that?" he asks abruptly. You listen, but you don't hear anything. To your surprise, Waif slides back down the column. He cocks his head curiously, then his eyes go wide and he heads for the staircase.
"RUN!"
There's no time to ask questions. With a last reluctant look toward the star emerald, you fly down the steps after your friend. It's not until you reach the second floor that you hear it. Or rather, you feel it...
The Queen's Tower is shaking.
A rumble begins somewhere beneath you. It grows louder and louder as the floor trembles. In no time, the Tower fills with dust. Chunks of stone break free from the walls, creating deadly projectiles that cartwheel downward all around you.
Waif keeps glancing back to see where you are. His eyes urge you to hurry. At long last you reach the bottom, where the two of you go flying out of the Tower entrance. You run far out into the street, not stopping until you're several blocks away.
CRASH!
From a safe vantage point, you and Waif watch the strange yet beautiful sight of the Queen's Tower collapsing in upon itself. A wave of harmless dust rolls over you both, and then you're staring at nothing but a large pile of rubble.
"That thing stood for four thousand years," you say with as serious a face as possible. "And you knocked it down in only ten minutes."
Waif looks back at you horrified. "But I... I didn't..." He stops only when you break out laughing.
"Relax," you tell him with a pat on the back. "There are still two other jewels in this city to go after."
Glad you're okay, but let's try not to destroy any more pieces of ancient history. TURN TO PAGE 131
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You decide to try a white tile. Gingerly you press down on it with your foot... and nothing happens.
"White's safe," you guess. "Let's try red."
You step on a red tile. Then a black one. There's no reaction at all. You can't help but feel silly. The whole thing is nothing more than a fancy tiled corridor.
"Well that was anti-climatic," you tell Waif. "Let's go."
The torchlight bounces gently as the two of you make your way toward the opposite end of the hall. You're about halfway down when...
CLICK!
"What was that?" you ask nervously.
"I-- I'm not sure," Waif says. "All I did was step on this white tile and--"
A grinding noise erupts from your left and right, followed by a loud hissing sound. The room begins filling with--
"SAND!"
Dozens of small doors have opened in the walls on both sides of the hallway. Sand pours in from all directions. It piles rapidly all around you.
"Quick, Waif!" you shout. "Get back to the--"
You can't hear him. You can't see him. Everything is swallowed by darkness as Waif and his torch are swep
t beneath several tons of cool desert sand. You stumble backward in the blackness, trying to feel your way along the wall until you can no longer move.
Your feet are buried. Then your knees. You struggle against the rising sand, hoping for a miracle but realizing this is probably
THE END
171
Sneak Peek
Welcome to the House on Hollow Hill!
You are MIKE THOMPSON, a teenager in upstate New York. You're walking down the street with your friends Emma and Jake, admiring the autumn leaves on the trees lining the neighborhood.
Jake lets out a big sigh. "Let's go back to the field," he says, tossing a baseball back and forth with himself. "I want to practice my curveball."
Emma laughs. "You're the only kid who spends all day at school and wants to go back for more."
"I don't want to go back to school, I want to go back to the field outside of the school." He turns to you. "Come on Mike, you promised you'd play catch."
You shake your head at him. "I'll play catch with you this weekend. I need to get home and practice the piano." You have a test for music class tomorrow.
Jake sighs dramatically. "That's not what you promised."
"Leave off, Jake," Emma says. "I'm in Mrs. Baramule's class and have to practice too. She's strict! Can you believe she failed my sister for confusing a C with a C-sharp?" She rolled her eyes to let you know what she thought about that.
"Fine. But the next time you need help with anything..."
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The massive house on the corner, old and decrepit, looms over you. "I heard old Mr. Goosen is moving out," you say.
Emma says, "Wow. He's lived in that house his whole life."
"He looks like he's lived there an entire century," Jake says.
Suddenly there is a voice behind you. "Most of a century, in fact!" says Mr. Goosen. You whirl to face him and he smiles. He's wearing a tweed jacket on top of overalls, and his white hair hangs down his back. "Eighty-one years, to be exact."
Jake looks embarrassed, but you grin. Mr. Goosen has always been nice to you. "Is it true?" you ask. "You and your wife are going to move out?"
"We already have," he says, staring up at the massive three-story house. He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks strangely sad. "All that's left are things I can't take with me."
"Can't take with you?" Jake asks. "You mean you've left stuff inside the house? For anyone?"
"Yes, there's still plenty left in the house. I have too much stuff, you know, from all my adventures. I don't know what will happen to it all, now." Mr. Goosen is a well-known traveler: African safaris, scaling the Himalayas. He's done it all!
"You must be sad to leave so much," Emma says.
"Not at all," he replies. "The most important things are the memories! Got them all up here." He taps the side of his head.
Jake frowns with concentration. "Well if you're not taking them, and you don't know what's going to happen to them..."
"Jake!" Emma yells.
Mr. Goosen breaks out in a big smile. "Actually, that's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about..."
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"I have one daughter and four grandkids, and they've already taken what they wanted. Everything else is going to be destroyed!"
"Destroyed?" Emma asks.
"The person who bought my house wants to build a new one," he says. "They're going to bulldoze the old one and everything inside." Mr. Goosen looks stricken by the thought.
"That's terrible!" you say.
Mr. Goosen points at you. "Yes, it is. I'd hate for everything to go to waste... so how would you like to keep something from inside? As a thank you for always being such good neighborhood kids?"
"Yeah!" Jake blurts out. He suddenly looks suspicious, and begins rolling his baseball between his fingers. "What's the catch?"
"No catch at all, son," Mr. Goosen says. "You three can go inside and take something before the bulldozers come."
"When are the bulldozers coming?" you ask.
"First thing tomorrow morning. So you have plenty of time."
Plenty of time? You and Emma have to practice for your music test! You both look at one-another. "Maybe if we just take a quick look..." Emma says.
"Oh, so you won't throw the ball at me, but you'll explore Mr. Goosen's house!" Jake says.
"You mean you don't want to go inside?" you ask.
Jake's frown turns into a toothy grin. "Okay, you got me. Of course I do!"
"Well then it's settled!" Mr. Goosen exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. "The doors are locked, but the key is in the mailbox. OH! I almost forgot. I have many trinkets and treasures throughout my house, but you must promise me you will only take one thing. It can be any item of special value, but once you choose to take something, that's it!"
"Just one?" Jake says. "Aww."
You all turn to look at the house. It looks like something out of a scary movie, dark and ominous.
"Good luck!" Mr. Goosen calls. "And remember, just one item!" He sounds farther away. You turn to thank him one last time... and he's gone! The three of you spin around, looking down each street, but he's nowhere in sight.
"Wow, he must have been in a hurry to move," you say.
Jake runs to the mailbox and returns with an old, iron key, red with rust.
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You take the key and look at the house. The front porch is dilapidated, with holes in the steps and spiderwebs in the corners. The door looks like it hasn't been opened in over a year. "Which way do you want to go inside?" you ask.
"What do you mean?" Jake says. "We've got the key, let's go in the front door."
"I don't know, it looks dangerous." You point to the side of the house, where there's a small path between the wall and the woods. "We could try around back. The map says there's a back door."
Emma says, "Or the cellar. My mom and I used to help Mrs. Goosen move boxes around in the winter."
Which way will you choose when you explore...
The House
on
Hollow Hill
About the Authors
Danny McAleese started writing fantasy fiction during the golden age of Dungeons & Dragons, way back in the heady, adventure-filled days of the 1980's. His short stories, The Exit, and Momentum, made him the Grand Prize winner of Blizzard Entertainment's 2011 Global Fiction Writing contest.
He currently lives in NY, along with his wife, four children, three dogs, and a whole lot of chaos. www.dannymcaleese.com
David Kristoph lives in Virginia with his wonderful wife and two not-quite German Shepherds. He's a fantastic reader, great videogamer, good chess player, average cyclist, and mediocre runner. He's also a member of the Planetary Society, patron of StarTalk Radio, amateur astronomer and general space enthusiast. He writes mostly Science Fiction and Fantasy. www.DavidKristoph.com
Notes
Notes