by Jaxon Reed
“Last one through, close it.”
The other two grunted in assent. Vesp went in, then Thimral, who gently pulled the door shut.
When he turned around, he stared along with the other two. They were in a wide open room, with a high ceiling and burning torches along either distant wall.
“Hm. Enchanted, no doubt,” Vesp said, stepping out of Stealth.
“Well, we are in Thanos,” Phel said, becoming visible beside him. Thimral stepped out of Stealth too and looked around.
Row upon row of stone sarcophagi lined up before them. All of the lids were tipped over. Thimral walked past a couple and stared down at desiccated corpses.
He said, “Someone got here before us.”
Phel nodded, walking past a broken lid that read, “en eirini.”
“What’s that mean?” he asked as Vesp walked up.
Vesp said, “It means, ‘in peace.’ It’s the Old Tongue.”
“There’s nothing here,” Thimral said, walking by them. “Let’s go deeper.”
Phel said, “Right. So, according to the map . . .” he pulled out the piece of parchment showing a sketch of the crypts and studied it for a moment.
“According to the map, there is a passageway going straight down underneath the floor . . . here.”
He stepped on a wide paving stone, two foot by one. Thimral and Vesp squatted down and attacked the edges with their knives. Soon they were able to jimmy it up. Underneath, they found a metal ladder dropping down into inky darkness.
Thimral mounted the ladder. Phel put a hand on his shoulder.
He said, “I don’t need to tell you, the deeper we go, the more dangerous it gets.”
Thimral sneered at him and said, “I’m not some First Year. And I know the risks.”
He slipped into Stealth and continued down.
Phel and Vesp exchanged a glance. Vesp grinned, shrugged, and slipped into Stealth, too. Phel sighed, and followed them.
The ladder descended a long ways. Phel silently counted 100 rungs before his foot reached a floor again. Now they were in a cramped tunnel, quite unlike the large corridors above them. Carefully they crept forward, Thimral in the lead.
The tunnel twisted and turned. They saw a large rat, the size of a household cat. It sniffed the air curiously before darting away.
Finally, they came to a round ironwood door barring the way.
“Hm. Very old. Doesn’t look like it’s been opened in centuries,” Thimral said, stepping out of Stealth.
“Ironwood,” Vesp said. “Never rots. Never decays. You don’t see it too often. All the ironwood trees have long been chopped down.”
Phel said, “Right. Let me see the lock.”
The others stepped aside in the narrow tunnel, and Phel squatted, attacking the lock with his enchanted picks. Several minutes later, the ancient tumblers turned over with a painful metallic groan.
“Help me push it open,” Phel said.
The three of them pressed all their weight on the ironwood door. It slowly, reluctantly opened.
Inside they found a long and narrow room. Four stone statues of armored knights stood on either side, each one standing on a large rectangular pedestal. The marble floor looked dusty.
“Burial chamber,” Phel said.
“Looks like we’re the first ones here in . . . a long time,” Vesp said.
Thimral said, “It’s times like this the mage on your team earns their keep. We need somebody to cast See Magic.”
“That’s why we invested in the appropriate equipment for this venture,” Phel said. He reached into his bag and pulled out a set of round copper-rimmed spectacles. He placed them carefully over his nose.
He said, “Magic detection glasses. A very highly skilled engineer made these for me.”
Phel looked up and down and all around the room. Finally, he put the spectacles back in his bag.
He said, “If there are any traps in here, they’re not magical. But still, we should proceed with caution.”
Together, the trio entered the burial chamber and approached the first statue on the left. The stone looked grey, cold, and very old. Carved underneath were the words, “en eirini.”
“Where are the bodies?” Thimral said.
“I believe, in the Old Days, the bodies were placed underneath the statues.”
All three shifted their eyes down to the rectangular pedestal.
Thimral said, “Hm. True, it’s about the size of a sarcophagus.”
He opened his bag and pulled out a sledgehammer. He aimed at the corner of the pedestal and swung. The iron crashed into the stone with a loud Crunch!
“It’s hollow!”
Thimral swung a few more times until a sufficient opening formed. He set the hammer down and all three men crowded over the hole. Inside, they saw a skeleton grinning up at them. Covering its eyes were two platinum coins.
Thimral whistled softly. He said, “How much gold is old platinum worth, Phel?”
Phel said, “Last I heard, the money changers were giving out over three hundred gold coins for one platinum one. We might get more since these are very old. Some like to collect coins from the Ancient Empire and will pay a premium for them.”
“So, maybe five hundred?”
Phel nodded and said, “Maybe five hundred.”
Thimral said, “So, a thousand gold per sarcophagus, and there’s eight of them. We’re on our way to earning back the money we spent on equipment, boys!”
“Why do they have such expensive coins, Phel?” Vesp said. “Is it to pay their way through the afterlife or something?”
“No. It was a way to honor their dead. A sacrifice. Usually they included a weapon or jewelry or something important to the person while they lived, too. Let’s see if there’s something else in here. Thim, break it open more towards the middle.”
Thimral obliged, swinging the hammer again. Moments later they could see skeletal hands gripping an ornate dagger with an ivory hilt with a large ruby inlaid in the pommel. The red jewel sparkled in the dim light.
“Now we’re talking!” Thimral said.
Phel said, “Yes, this is going to be a very lucrative haul indeed. We’ll pay back the cost of all our equipment and come out ahead . . . far ahead . . . on this room alone.”
Thimral reached in to the sarcophagus and pulled the dagger from the bony hands still gripping it. Then he swiped the two platinum coins from the skull’s eye sockets. He gave the dagger to Phel so that he and Vesp could take a closer look at it, and pocketed the coins.
Chink!
“Did you hear something?”
All three froze.
Clunk!
They looked up at the stone knight on top of the broken sarcophagus. Its head no longer faced forward, but looked down at them instead.
It bent at the knees, making more sounds of stone grinding on stone, and jumped to the floor. It lifted its giant sword and swung it through the air. Vesp hopped back out of the way.
He yelled at Phel, “I thought you said there were no magic traps in here!”
“There weren’t when I looked!”
“Great!”
Vesp ducked as the stone knight’s greatsword swung over his head. He pulled out his enchanted daggers and used Swift Step to rush in and stab.
Clink! Clink!
“This thing is stone! Enchanted stone. I can’t penetrate it.”
“Would you relax, Vesp?” Phel said. “I think the three of us can handle one stone knight.”
Chink! Clink! Clunk! Clunk! Clink! Chink! Clunk!
They stared in horror as the other seven knights activated and turned toward them.
“Oh pox,” Thimral said. “I think we’re in trouble. Let’s get out of here!”
He ran for the door and shifted into Stealth, then made his way through the tunnel for the ladder as fast as he could.
Phel ran through the door, too, leaving Vesp facing all the stone knights alone.
Vesp backed up quickly towa
rd the door. He jumped through as the knights came clomping toward him.
“Help me pull this thing shut!”
Phel had already run a few steps, but he stopped and ran back to help Vesp tug on the door.
They dodged as a stone sword shot through just before they could pull it all the way closed. Phel stabbed the sword and screamed at it. The sword fell back and they pulled the door shut.
They collapsed on the floor, panting. They heard the stone knights pounding on the other side.
Phel said, “You go on and catch up with Thim. I’ll relock this thing with my picks. We’ll come back sometime when we can take them all on.”
“Right,” Vesp said. “Or maybe they’ll reset and we can loot another sarcophagus and run.”
He smiled while Phel rolled his eyes. Then Vesp hurried down the tunnel after Thimral.
Halfway to the ladder he heard Phel yelp. He stopped and started going back.
He called out, “You alright?”
He heard Phel’s voice shouting back, “I’m fine.”
“Meet us upstairs, then!”
He turned around again and ran until he came to the ladder. He climbed it quickly, and Thimral grabbed his hand when he reached the last rung.
“Where’s Phel?”
“He should be right behind me. He was locking that door.”
A moment later they heard the sound of heavy breathing and Phel’s head appeared above the ladder. He looked around the room in amazement.
“Alright,” Vesp said. “We can rest for a moment, we’re safe here. This room has been cleared. Then we’ll make our way back to the grate, relock it, and all we have to worry about are zombies and rats until we reach the surface.”
“I know we had to flee,” Thimral said, “But all in all, it was not a bad run. I mean, the coins . . . and that dagger has got to be worth a lot.”
“You mean this?” Phel said, pulling the ornate blade out.
“Yeah,” Thimral said, finally calming down from their hasty exit.
“Well, you made one mistake.”
Thimral and Vesp stared at him, their brows furrowing.
Vesp said, “You mean, ‘we’ made one mistake. I keep trying to explain to both of you, we’re a team. The things we do affect each other.”
“You made one mistake,” Phel said again.
He activated Sudden Strike and stabbed both of the men in a blurred motion. They fell backward, shocked expressions on their faces. As they bled out, looking at him, he changed into the creature that killed Phel a few moments earlier.
He shrunk into a yellow bony man with a large, elongated and skullish face. A rictus grin with sharp teeth smiled at the two dying men as he reached down to loot their bodies.
“Your mistake was . . . not watching out for Doppelgangers.”
Chapter 3
Dawn broke over the city of Phanos and the spells on street lamps went out one by one. Morning birds graced the air with song and early risers opened doors and shutters, greeting the start of another day with cheerful salutations as they went about their business.
Nestled in a horseshoe-shaped space between three decrepit buildings, Grimuald Cemetery seemed to wake in the increasing light as well. Ancient stone markers in the Old Tongue stood vigil, notifying the world of the final resting places for unknown souls long since passed.
At the back of the cemetery, a gaping hole led down into the ground at a gentle slope. To its side, an old man by the name of Gellnar snoozed, hunched over on a stool, a halberd leaning up against the wall nearby.
The sounds of birds chirping and the increasingly bright ambient light stirred Gellnar. He woke, wiping sleep from his eyes and smacking his lips.
Through the cemetery’s front gates, five people marched. Dungeon Lord Percel strode forward with determination, a grim expression on his scarred face and a broadsword at his side.
He was followed by four young people: a strikingly handsome blond lad, also armed with a sword; the biggest elf Gellnar had ever seen, wearing a stupid grin on his face; a beautiful elven maiden who looked related to the big fellow; and a slight lass wearing a cleric’s circlet.
“Mornin’ Gellnar!” Percel said as he marched up.
“Top of the morning to you all!”
“See anything last night?”
“Nay. But I rarely do. None dare go into the crypts at night. And, more important, nothing came out!”
He laughed, delighted at his own statement.
Percel eyed him oddly. He said, to the others, “Gellnar usually dozes off around midnight. Isn’t that right Gell? Too old to run the dungeons anymore. Got to catch shuteye when y’ can.”
Gellnar chortled at this. He said, “You know me, sirrah! Catch it while you can, I always say.”
Percel laughed with him. Erik noted Percel’s hand slide over to the hilt of his sword.
He drew it in one swift motion and held it up against Gellnar’s neck. All the laughter stopped, abruptly.
Percel said, “What’s my name?”
“What? Why . . . why . . . what is the meaning of this?”
Nessa stepped forward, alarmed at the suddenly menacing turn in events.
She said, “Lord P—”
“Stop! Do not say my name! I want to hear him say it.”
Percel stared at the man, his sword unwavering.
Gellnar’s lips trembled. He gave the others a pitiful glance before turning his eyes back to Percel.
Then he snarled and jumped for the halberd. Percel ran the sword through his neck in one swift motion.
Everyone yelped in surprise at the flash of light. Toby raised his hands over his face. The others jumped back.
When they could see again, an ugly humanoid shape lay crumpled on the grass. Percel’s sword still stuck through its neck, stuck between an elongated skull and a yellowish, bony torso.
“What is that thing?” Tawny asked, edging closer now that it was dead.
“That,” Percel said, pulling out the sword, “is a doppelganger. I had a sneaky suspicion this was not the real Gellnar. He and I ran some dungeons together back in the day. But one thing is for certain. In all the years I’ve known him, he’s never fallen asleep while on guard duty.”
Percel wiped the blood on his sword off.
He said, “What usually happens is one of your team gets separated and taken out. Then it comes back and kills everyone else while their guard is down. A doppelganger gains the looks, voice, even the body odor of its victims. It don’t gain their memories, though. That’s their key weakness. In a dungeon with a lot of them, if you know they’re there, you can create a password or phrase before going in. Then you can ask your team members to recite the password if they go out of sight for a while. Sometimes that doesn’t work if the doppelganger hears the password ahead of time, but for the most part it can be a useful ploy.”
Percel sheathed his freshly cleaned sword.
Nessa said, “Uh . . . Lord Percel? What happens to their victims? Where’s the real Mr. Gellnar?”
“They eat ’em. See those teeth? Made for ripping flesh. This one looks particularly well-fed. Let’s see what he has on him.”
Percel reached down and pulled off a small leather bag from the creature’s belt.
“Hm. Magical Purse.”
He opened it and started pulling things out.
“Oho! Look at this. Engineered spectacles. Probably for magic detection.”
He put them on and said, “Do something magical, Tawny.”
“Um . . .”
The elf held out her hand and a flower sprouted from her palm.
“Aye. Glasses of Magic Detection. Handy for non-magical users. What else do we have here?”
He pulled out three sets of boots and said, “These are magical, too.”
“What do they do?” Erik said, curiously.
“Try a pair on.”
Erik dutifully took off his own boots and replaced them with a magical pair.
“Hey! The
y formed to my foot.”
“Aye, enchanted items are ‘one size fits all.’”
Erik jogged to the entrance of the cemetery and back.
“They don’t give Fleet Foot,” he said, sounding disappointed. “If they do, I don’t know how to activate it.”
Percel said, “Typically magical boots will offer either Fleet Foot, Water Walking, or Wall Walking. Try walking up that gravestone there.”
Erik went over to the tall marker Percel pointed to and cautiously placed the sole of his boot on it.
“Hey!”
He put the other boot farther up the stone and suddenly found himself standing sideways.
“This is . . . different.”
Percel nodded and said, “They’re handy for avoiding pressure traps. I’ll take a pair and we’ll give the other pair to the big lad. Oho! Enchanted lock picks. And a map. Methinks our doppelganger happened upon a group of grave robbers.”
“Really?” Tawny said, intrigued. “You think this is equipment grave robbers would use?”
“Aye, lass. What else do we have here? A jeweled dagger. This was likely looted from a grave. Also, look at this: two platinum coins from the Ancient Empire. These were placed on the eyes of the deceased. A final sacrifice to send them off.
“Here is what I speculate happened. A group of grave robbers made it down to the lower levels, robbed a grave, and this doppelganger got them. Then he made his way to the surface where he jumped poor old Gell.
“Now well-fed, our doppelganger fell asleep until we showed up. Fortunately we prevented more carnage. A doppelganger is dangerous, and should have been nowhere near the upper levels. This tells me the grave robbers that he ate opened one of the barriers to the lower crypts. It’s almost certainly still open. We’ll have to go down there, find it and close it.”
He looked at the others, smiling. They all stared back at him with horrified looks, except Toby who grinned.
Percel said. “Alright, people. This won’t be a cakewalk, but it will give you a taste for deeper dungeons. Let’s distribute some more of this equipment. Erik, take the lock picks.”
