The Vault of Kings

by Matt Taylor

  Sylas walked over and examined the beetle more closely. Its attempt at escaping Samara’s experiment didn’t seem to be going very well. He then turned his attention towards the book on the table. Its leather cover was faded and cracking in places and it looked like it had definitely seen better days. Sylas thumbed through several of the pages noticing that most of them had corners or edges that were torn or sections of words that were badly faded. Turning back to the page the Samara was on, he looked at the diagram of the hands making a symbol of a heart and a diamond.

  “Where did you get this, Samara?”

  “I got it from old man Uthren a long time ago.” She said, pulling her hand away from Torren. She walked over to Sylas and shut the book.

  “He gave it to me as a gift after we fixed his fence last summer. He really is a nice guy if you just talk to him.”

  “What’s the book about?” Torren asked.

  “It looks like it’s a book on Light Magick…” Sylas replied.

  “Specifically,” Samara said, swiping the book from his hands, “Light Magick and how to use it to heal.”

  “But why would old man Uthren have a book on Light Magick?” Torren asked, walking towards Samara. “I mean, he’s just a regular old guy, isn’t he?”

  Samara sent him a look of disgust. “You know, if you would actually just go and talk to him, you would find out that he’s more than just an old guy Torren. He used to be a great Light mage. He even tried to stand up to the Dark Mage Maelos before he gained power over Evendreil.”

  “What? Nah, no way.” Torren said, rolling his eyes.

  “It’s true!” Samara said back, “He was injured really bad during one of the battles, and by the time he fully healed, Maelos had already taken over mostly everything. I don’t think he has done much spell casting since then, but he has told me a lot of stories of when he used to be in the Council of Light. He’s done a lot of really cool things.”

  “That’s really cool.” Sylas said to Samara, “I could definitely see that. I’ve always thought there was more to old man Uthren than what meets the eye.”

  Torren looked at Sylas and gave him a wink and a little thumbs up next to his hip. Sylas shot him a scowl but tried not to make it visible enough for Samara to see.

  “Yeah he’s definitely more than just an old man.” Samara continued, “I’ve learned a lot from him since last summer, and I almost had my first successful spell just a minute ago before you two showed up.” She said, looking at Torren again. He just shrugged his shoulders and gave a ‘sorry but not really’ look at her.

  “Hey Samara,” Sylas continued, “I have an idea on how we could maybe make a little extra money for our families before winter. Did your family do well at the trade?”

  Samara looked at the ground. “No, we didn’t get much at all, actually. I don’t like thinking about it.” A doubtful expression crossed her face as she looked back up at Sylas. “So what is this plan? It better not be something stupid.”

  Torren gave a small chuckle as Sylas continued, “It’s not stupid, but we need to be sure that no one finds out about it. Let’s go to the Black House, and I can explain.”

  The Black House was code for an old blacksmith shop that had gone abandoned ever since Maelos had taken over. It was their little place where they could get away from everyone and everything. It was on the side of town that had been almost completely burned to the ground by Maelos. In fact, the blacksmith shop was one of the only buildings that were still standing on that side of town, so not many people went over there.

  They arrived at the blacksmith shop just as a cloud covered the sun, sending shadows dancing over the rubble that was spread across the ground. It really was a shame that none of them had seen this part of the town before Maelos had destroyed it. Remains of shops, places to eat, and other buildings that weren’t intact enough to recognize their purpose lay scattered amongst the now deserted streets. They carefully entered the blacksmith shop, trying to avoid stepping on any hidden upturned nails, then lit the lone standing lantern that they had placed there when they had first discovered the building and shut the door.

  “So let’s hear it” Torren started, “what’s this amazing plan of yours?”

  “Alright,” Sylas explained, “I was thinking we could go visit the Ancient Crypt again-”

  “You’re joking, right? We almost got caught last time! And I am NOT doing the distraction again!” Samara said, cutting him off.

  Torren and Sylas both laughed, the remembrance of what they had to do the last time the visited the crypt to distract the guards joyfully entering their minds. Samara was a gorgeous young woman, especially to Sylas. Her emerald green eyes and dark brown hair packaged into her short, slim body hit all the right checkboxes for basically every boy in Shilvrst. Sylas felt like he still had yet to see someone more beautiful than she was.

  Because of her good looks, the first time they went to the Ancient Crypt, they had Samara get into one of her swimming gowns and complain to the guards about not being able to go to the lake just outside the town. While she complained to them that it was “so hot, she could barely even stand it,” they were able to sneak by. Funny enough, they actually let her through, and she was able to go to the crypt with the two of them.

  “We won’t make you do that again,” Sylas replied with a smile, “although it worked really well… No, this time, I have a different plan.”

  “Why do you even want to go in there again?” Torren asked, “and how is it going to help our families to get more money before winter comes?”

  “You saw all of the old stuff that was down there.” Sylas replied. “There has to be some stuff down there worth something to one of the merchants in town. We could see if we can trade it to one of them before they leave.”

  They all paused for a moment before Samara responded, “It does seem like a pretty good idea. There was a lot of really cool stuff down there last time we went, and some of it did look like it could be valuable.”

  Torren shrugged, “Meh, sounds fine to me, I guess. So what do you propose we do this time instead of having Miss Sunshine over here flirt with the guards?”

  Samara sent him a scowl but decided to say nothing.

  “I was thinking about it last night…” Sylas explained, “You know how the merchants are allowed to go in and out, basically as they please?”

  Torren and Samara exchanged glances. “Yeah, so what?”

  “So, what if we pretended to be merchants ourselves? Torren, you almost look like an adult you are so tall and broad, and Samara and I could hide in some barrels that we put in my dad’s wagon. You could pull us right through!”

  “Don’t they check the contents of whatever you are carrying through? I mean, it would be stupid if they didn’t…” Samara responded doubtfully.

  “I thought of that too.” Sylas explained. “We have a bunch of old potatoes that went bad because we didn’t have enough money to get fertilizer for all of the fields. We could get in the barrels, and then Torren could pour a bunch of the old rotten potatoes on top of us. They smell so bad that the guards wouldn’t check very closely at all. Torren could say that he’s taking them back to his hometown as pig slop or something.”

  “Eww gross!” Samara complained, “I am NOT going to dump a bunch of nasty potatoes on my head!”

  “You wouldn’t be doing the dumping, I would! I like it!” Torren said, smiling.

  “Yeah, of course, YOU would like it!” Samara shot back.

  “Listen, it really wouldn’t be that bad.” Sylas continued. “If you want, you could put a couple of our empty potato sacks over your head first as a cover, then you wouldn’t even get that dirty. It would just be a little hard to breathe… but just for a little bit is all.”

  Samara frowned, “I still don’t like it… but it would be nice to be able to help my family out… and there’s a lot of stuff down there that we could probably sell.” She pondered for a moment longer before responding, “alright, I’ll do it.
But Torren, I swear if you aren’t careful when dumping those potatoes over my head…” She ended the sentence with a nasty look portraying the message loud and clear, to which Torren just smiled a slightly devious smile.

  “It might be worth it…” he said quietly.

  “What was that?” Samara shot back.

  Torren chuckled, “Nothing, nothing. Come on guys, what are we waiting for? Let’s do this thing!”

  chapter 2

  The Ancient Crypt

  After gathering the cart, a couple of barrels, and other miscellaneous items, as well as the potato sacks and old rotten potatoes, Sylas, Torren, and Samara, got everything ready for their grand plan.

  “Remember Torren,” Sylas said, “after you get past the guards, don’t stop and let us out until you are far enough away that no one will see us.”

  “No, really? I was thinking I would just let you out after taking a couple of steps past the gate, whelp, looks like you can get out of those nasty barrels now fellas!” Torren said sarcastically while pretending to act out the scene.

  “I’m serious, Torren, we don’t want to get caught. We would just be making things worse instead of helping if there are any fines or anything that our families would have to pay if we got caught.”

  “I know that Sylas, I’m not an idiot.”

  Samara gave a slight snort, just audible enough for Torren to hear.

  Torren looked at her with a grin, “Hey now, remember I’m the one about to dump these potatoes on your head… you’d better show me some respect, or I might… slip a little.” He said, gesturing a motion of dumping clumsily.

  “Alright, are we ready then?” Sylas asked.

  Samara sighed, “I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Torren smiled and quite gleefully stated, “ohh yeah, I’m ready!”

  “Good, I’ll get in the barrel first so Samara can see.”

  Sylas climbed into one of the empty barrels on the cart, he then took one of the empty potato sacks that he had been holding and placed it over his head and upper body. He made sure to extend his arms as much as he could against the sides of the barrel to help prevent potatoes from falling past the protection of the sack and onto his pants or shoes.

  “Alright, I think I’m ready, Torren.”

  “Alright, here they come!” Torren said as he grabbed one of the buckets of small rotten potatoes and began slowly dumping them inside of Sylas’s barrel. Looking at Samara, he gave a devilish smile and raised his eyebrows several times. She raised a fist in his direction, which he just ignored.

  After he had emptied most of the bucket’s contents into the barrel, he said to Sylas, “Alright, your barrel is full. Want me to put the lid on?”

  “Yeah go ahead. Man, it smells bad in here!” Sylas replied.

  Torren placed the lid on the barrel and made sure that it was securely on. He then looked over at Samara and said, “This way, my lady” and pointed to her barrel.

  Reluctantly Samara climbed into her barrel and followed Sylas’s suit by placing the empty sack on her head and extending her arms as much as she could to try and prevent anything nasty from going where it shouldn’t.

  “Alright here it comes!” Torren said ecstatically and started dumping the potatoes on Samara.

  Filling her barrel to the brim, Torren let her know that hers was full, and he was about to put the lid on.

  “Okay, try and hurry past the guards, please!” she responded.

  Torren placed the lid on top of Samara’s barrel and made sure it was secure. He then put the empty buckets inside the cart and made sure everything looked convincing. Taking in a deep breath, he started pulling the cart towards the gate where the guards stood.

  Stay focused… you need this to be convincing, he thought, then calmed himself down and started whistling to try to make it look as natural as possible.

  “Halt.” One of the guards said as Torren reached the gate. “What’s your business?”

  “Whelp, I’m just a headin’ on home after getting all this garbage from the locals. Goin’ to take some home to my pigs and probably burn the rest, ya hear?” He said in just about the worst imitation of a twangy farmer voice Sylas had ever heard.

  Sylas would have slapped his face with his palm if he weren’t still holding the sacks to the edge of the barrel.

  “Hmm…” one of the guards said, poking his sword at one of the barrels. “What’s in here? It reeks!”

  “Those be some old rotten potatoes right there,” Torren said, patting the top of one of the barrels. “Pigs love em, don’t know why though… but hey, if they’ll eat em’ all the better for me because then I don’t have to pay! Got these from a poor guy who lost a bunch of crops this year. You ever eaten a rotten potato? I can give you one to try if you want.” Torren said, opening the barrel that Samara was in.

  No Torren you idiot, what are you doing? Samara thought.

  “No, no,” one of the guards said, interrupting him. “I don’t want to have to smell you or those nasty potatoes any longer, just take them and get out of here.

  “Alrighty then. If you insist, I’ll just be on my way then.”

  The guards moved aside, a bit further aside than they normally do when letting people through. Torren started whistling again and pulled the cart down the dirt road and away from the town. After pulling for some time, he looked back and realized he was far enough away that the guards wouldn’t see them and pulled the cart off the side of the road and into a grove of trees, then knocked on the tops of the barrels.

  “Alright piggy piggy’s, you can come out now.”

  Both Sylas and Samara shot out of the barrels and gasped for air, ripping the sacks off their heads and spilling rotten potatoes on the cart and ground.

  “I’m NOT doing that again!” Samara exclaimed, “I could hardly breathe! And what I could breathe was disgusting!” She clambered out of the barrel and took several deep breaths of fresh air.

  Although he could still taste rotten potatoes in his mouth, Sylas was pleased that his plan worked. “You really outdid yourself there, Torren.”

  Torren gave him a thumbs up, “Yeah… I was pretty good, wasn’t I?”

  Sylas smiled and shook his head, “Alright, let’s head to the crypt then, I think I still remember the way.”

  They pushed their cart and other miscellaneous items deeper into the grove of trees in hopes that no one would see them from the road, then grabbed several lanterns and their flintstones and headed towards the crypt.

  The Ancient Crypt was about an hour walking distance from the city of Shilvrst. They had heard several stories about the crypt growing up from parents, friends, and adults, but no one really knew what it was used for. No doubt, several of the stories that they had heard were a bit exaggerated, but one thing was for sure, it was not the safest place to be.

  From stories, they had heard that the crypt had been built by an evil dark mage named Aracorn that had focused almost all his time and energy in learning the art of Darkness Magick. Stories told that he was working with Maelos, and one of his right-hand men. Rumor spread that he might be up to something nearby, and the Council of Light eventually found the crypt and were able to kill him before any of his plans came through. The details of what he was up to in the crypt always varied wildly.

  Some said he was trying to figure out how to use Darkness Magick to have eternal life, others that he was working on things for Maelos so that together they could shroud all of Evendreil in darkness. Members of the Council of Light that had come to Shilvrst to stop him might have known his true intentions, but Sylas was pretty sure that they had all returned to Sindmyr afterwords.

  “I see it!” Samara shouted, “the opening is over here.”

  They had been in the general vicinity of the crypt for some time now but were having difficulty finding it. It was pretty well hidden, although not nearly as hidden as it used to be when Aracorn was using it. The entrance was between several large rocks in a small ravine. A small
opening in the ground connected the entrance to an old cave that led downward into the earth.

  “Great job Samara,” Sylas replied, lighting his torch. “Remember, let’s stick together. We don’t want anyone getting lost or hurt.

  “Or scared,” Torren said, gesturing at Samara.

  Samara just rolled her eyes “Why don’t you lead the way then, Torren?” She said, putting her hand out in front of her.

  “Fine by me.” He said, holding his torch out in front of him. He climbed over and around the large rocks that hid the entrance and squeezed himself into the small hole. After helping Sylas and Samara down into the hole, they turned towards the long tunnel that led downward into the earth.

  The tunnel started out small but gradually opened up to where they could all stand and walk. The air was musty and heavy, making it slightly hard to breathe. An audible drip…drip…drip could be heard from surrounding stalactites dripping water into the pools beneath them. The cold air from the cave made Sylas shiver as he waved his torch in front of him. He thought he saw something move, but figured it must have been a bat or something.

  “It’s colder than I remember,” Samara said out loud, her voice echoing slightly off the cavern walls.

  The smooth stone floor was somewhat damp and made the air around them feel more humid than outside. The humidity seemed to amplify the cold that the lack of sunlight brought to the cave.

  Holding the torches above their heads, the three continued their way down the cave. Eventually, they came to a crossroads. They remembered that the cave continued to the right, but the actual crypt itself that was built by Aracorn was located to the left, and they headed that direction.

  “This really is kind of a cool place.” Torren said to the others, “I wish it weren’t so far outside the town, we could come here more often.”

  “Yeah, and if the guards would actually let you through without having to go through so much trouble,” Sylas added.

  They continued down the cave until they arrived at the opening to the crypt. A large wooden door that was broken and hanging on only one hinge stood before them. A giant black skull was painted on the outside of the door. Strange runic markings that were carved into the wood at the top of the door dripped with condensed water. A white bone handle curved out towards them, offering its help for passage.