At least Simon let the information soak in for a few moments before—
“It’s too dangerous! Are you crazy?! That’s where the fire comes out of! The fire!”
Garfunkel picked at his nails.
“I don’t know,” Lucy said. “But I trust your intuition …”
I looked at her. Great, my ex-partner was the only one who seriously believed in me. “You … do?”
She nodded. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from working with you … it’s that you always find a way. And you never let a friend down.”
That hurt, because … well, even though it wasn’t by choice, I’d abandoned Orion when I’d escaped Typhon’s Arena. But Lucy’s words also kinda warmed my soul and boosted my spirits.
“Thanks,” I said, nudging her shoulder in a friendly fashion reminiscent of the good ol’ days when we were partners. I smirked. “You sure you don’t want to give mountain climbing a shot?”
Lucy laughed. “Uh no. I weigh a little more than you. All muscle, of course,” she added quickly.
“Of course,” I said. “Those two extra bicep muscles are soo heavy.
She winked.
I rubbed my hands together to generate some friction. “Here we go …”
“Fear Factor”
There isn’t much to say about my trek along the wall. I’m a skilled rock climber—part of my special operations training back in the day—and I made the traversal look like child’s play.
Most of the iron spigots held solid, although several broke off when I grabbed or stepped on them. And before I knew it, I’d reached the narrow slot of the vent high up on the wall near the ceiling. And when I say narrow, what I mean is I didn’t know if I could get little ol’ me inside.
Luckily I hadn’t eaten in so long that my stomach felt like it was about to twist and die; hopefully Clio would be able to remedy that after we climbed out of this place.
I crawled carefully into the tight mouth of the vent, moving slowly so as not to scrape away any more skin than necessary against the jagged pieces of rock. Mild claustrophobia threatened to set in as it grew darker but I soldiered on, feeling my way forward by touch until I was wrapped in pitch black. It wasn’t like there was any free room to either side so I was basically just following the bends of the passageway, which concerned me because I had a bad feeling that it was routing me away from the treasure room.
The passage seemed to shrink against my body the farther I crawled and I eventually realized that yeah it was growing tighter against my hips, my shoulder blades regularly getting scraped, my hair full of dirt and mold and rock bits.
One thing I knew for certain. It would be nearly impossible to back out of this tunnel. I just had to trust that blind instinct had served me right …
And that’s when I felt my body get stuck inside the passageway.
“We’re stuck!” Simon wailed.
“Are not,” I lied.
“Dying of hunger in a dark passageway is the worst way to die!” he yelled.
I could think of worse ways to leave this world, but … yeah it was pretty shitty.
“Should have went with the tiled floor approach,” Garfunkel chided. “Fire is a quick way to die.” He swallowed. “Well, quicker than starving to death.”
“We’ll get through this,” I said.
Simon gasped. “Something just touched me …”
“It’s OK. Everything is going to be OK—”
“Ouch! I’m dying ahhhh help me! I’m dying Theo I’m dying!”
I tried to use my most calming voice. A soothing, motherly voice lest I be accused of being insensitive again. All the same, I had to be prepared in case Simon had just been impaled or something. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Oh Theo … It’s too horrible. It’s … too much … Just know that it’s not your fault. I don’t … blame you for …”
“For what?” I said, getting annoyed and starting to doubt the severity of his cries for help. “What happened to you?”
Simon’s voice was tearful and watery, compressed as if he was clutching his arms for dear life. “There’s a … SPIDER in my shoulder pad!”
“Oh the horror,” Garfunkel mocked. “I always keep a few of the little critters in my shoulder pad … Come to think of it, it’s probably one of mine …”
“Simon, just breathe. Most spiders aren’t poisonous. A lot of them can’t even bite—”
“I’m not a human, Theo! I’m a five-inch-tall being! I’m—”
“You’re not a five-inch-tall being,” I corrected sternly but gently (I hoped). “You and Garfunkel are a badass Amazonian chick. With a giant scale and a sword! You’re a constellation for crying out loud. And I happen to know that star people are tough ol’ beings.”
“Well, but—” Simon started to say.
“No buts—”
“Theo said ‘butt,’” Garfunkel snickered.
“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. We all are. Life wants to live. It’s embedded in our genes, even if your genes are Otherly and … magic or whatever. In fact, you’re probably pre-conditioned to want to live even more so than humans! You’ve got to be strong. You can do it!”
“But I’m scared,” Simon whined.
“You’re scared of heights and yet you climbed that rope and leaped across the spike pit to the second lever. You can overcome your fears. I believe in you.”
“But you’re stuck!”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll figure something out. You wanna know a secret? I’m a little bit scared myself, but if I let that get the best of me, then yeah we’re doomed. We can do this though, together.”
“But how?”
“It all starts with taking one deep breath.”
Simon drew in a deep breath.
“Is the spider still in there?” I asked.
“I … don’t know. I think so.”
“It hasn’t bitten you yet?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I bet that spider is just as scared as you are. Maybe more so. You may only be five-inches-tall, but the spider is probably only a millimeter tall. Still large in comparison to you, but to the spider, you must look like a giant.”
There was a pause. “Gee … I never thought about it like that.”
I grinned. “Always more than one way to look at things. Being a constellation of ‘balance,’ you guys ought to know that. Of course, it’s easy to forget the most basic of concepts.”
“Theo?” Simon said.
“Yeah.”
“This world is so hard.” He took another deep breath. “But you know, you’re right. It’s easier when we have others to lean on. And talk to! Thank you, Theo!”
I didn’t say anything—not at first. Having relied primarily on myself for most of my adult life until I’d met Orion, I realized I was kinda eating my words … Gotta love irony (that’s irony, right? I’m not pulling an Alanis Morissette here?)
“You’re welcome,” I said, my fingers finding a groove in the tight rock tunnel off to the side. Hope began to rise inside me. Had I found a way out? This new passage probably doubled back toward the treasure vault at the end of the trap room.
It took some effort and expelling all the breath in my lungs, but I managed to twist and shimmy into an auxiliary tunnel that widened, and then I could breathe again. And up ahead, a faint glow emanated from a bend in the passageway.
With rekindled spirits, I pushed on and before I knew it, the ceiling rose high enough for me to crawl on hands and knees into the growing light at the end of the tunnel. When I came to a circular opening beneath me, the source of the light, I had to shield my eyes. Blinking, I saw a torch and the glittering of jewels and gold coins on the floor—the treasure room behind the third section of traps.
Bingo!
“Yippee!” Simon shouted.
“You didn’t murder us after all,” Garfunkel said offhandedly.
I continued blinking until my eyes acclimated to the
brightness. Then I turned around and lowered my shoes and legs slowly through the opening. Since I could see the floor about five feet down, I wasn’t worried about breaking any bones as I let myself fall.
When I landed, the first thing I saw in the torch-filled room was an iron lever labeled with “Disable All Traps” in block letters on the floor. An iron door a few feet away from me led to the trap room door, judging by the sound of roaring flames on the other side. With mounds of treasure glittering in my peripheral, I padded over to the lever and pulled it. There was a satisfying click and the dragon fire died off from the other side of the door.
“Whoa, look at all the treasure,” Simon said.
Garfunkel whistled.
I reached for the door to let Lucy and the gang in but stopped in my tracks as a strong heavy hand gripped my shoulder from behind. I guess it’s too much to expect my familiars to spot the lurker in the corner every time …
“Hoarders”
I turned slowly around.
“Con-grat-u-lations,” said a dwarf wearing a gleaming chest plate, visored helmet and … jorts. At first I thought it was Daryl (not to profile, but dwarves do look alike), but this guy was considerably more stout than Lucy’s companion. An annoyed sniffle echoed out through the closed visor. “You must think yer pretty smart, dontcha, lass?”
I stared at my adversary, unsure what to think. He held a spiked mace in one hand and his fingers were stained orange as if he’d just been eating Cheetos. And on second glance, the chest plate looked a little too tight on him. Eww. Also, did I mention he was wearing jorts?
I glanced past his shoulders and got my first look at the untold riches spilling forth from wall to wall, nearly brushing the ceiling in parts. The treasure … Well, there appeared to be two different kinds. One half of the room contained the usual: casks, coffers, chests. Also, stacks upon stacks of uncut gemstones and coins of all shapes and sizes. The other half of the room …
“Is that an original 8-bit Nintendo Game Boy?” Simon asked.
Garfunkel squinted his eyes. “Hey, you’re right. Next to the Atari and SEGA Genesis. Whoa, and they’re still in the boxes … Theo, this stuff must be worth a small fortune.”
I felt like I’d just stepped into an episode of Pawn Stars. There was old crap everywhere, most of it in pristine condition.
“All this time,” the dwarf said, “no one could even get past the entrance. And then one day, a girl—a girl!—strides up and damned if she doesn’t make it all the way to the vault! And through a ventilation shaft …” He smacked the side of his helmet with his greasy hand. “Hah! Outwitted by a human girl. Shut down all my traps and magical parameters and now it’ll take hours to reactivate them. Meanwhile, any Tom, Dick or Harry can waltz right on in. Clean me out. I just can’t believe it …” The dwarf all but snarled at me as he spat, “Thanks a lot!”
“If you’re looking for an apology, you’re not going to get one,” I said. “I nearly died getting through those traps. I’m not even sure that third section was even solvable, what with the fire and all.”
The dwarf threw up his hands. “It wasn’t supposed to be solvable! This is my treasure trove. Mine. All mine!” He gestured around at all the wealth. “It’s my … precious …” he said as if there was just no way I could ever understand, and I guess probably he was right. I was far from rich; I could barely scrape together rent each month. If I had this much treasure … I’d probably go loony, just like the resident dwarf down here.
“Where did I go wrong?” he asked himself, spinning on his boots and placing both hands on his helmet. “I go to bed early. I take my vitamin D. How. Could. This. Happen?”
I raised a hand. “Look, I’m not here to clean you out. I just want one thing and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Oh, she just wants one thing, she says. One thing!” He began to pace, his eyes to the floor, absentmindedly smacking the mace’s throat against his free hand like a nightstick. “One thing! Oh, just one thing! I’ll show her one thing. I’ll show her …”
“I can hear you,” I said.
“But I don’t think he hears you,” Garfunkel said with a smirk.
Simon tugged on my hair. “Theo, can we go now? That dwarf is making me anxious.”
“Excuse me,” I said.
The dwarf kept ranting on and on to himself. There was no chance he heard me. Once, he turned and flashed me a startled glare. “He sent you! He sent you, didn’t he!”
“Who?” I said.
“Who? She asks, ‘Who?’ ” The dwarf tapped his mace against his visor with a clang. “The Jersey Devil! He’s after me treasure! And he picked a girl to steal it. A girl!” He started pacing again.
“So bizarre,” Garfunkel said. “Kinda reminds me of Jack Nicholson in The Shining.”
“Scary movie!” Simon said, throwing his tiny hands over his ears and making wah-wah sounds to block out Garfunkel who was now saying, “… I wouldn’t be surprised if he starts screaming REDRUM, REDRUM! any minute now …”
In that moment, I didn’t know who was more annoying, my familiars or Crazy Dwarf Guy. When the craziness became too much, I shouted, “Shut up!” Then I stepped over to the wall, tore a torch free from its sconce and shoved it at the dwarf’s chest.
“I don’t want your stupid treasure. I just need this.” I showed him the folded-up photo of the mortar and pestle. The dwarf stopped and stared at me, lifted his visor for a better look.
“Well, why didn’t you say so?” he said reasonably. “I was thinking of selling it on the eBay or the Etsy or even the Amazon. You caught me just in time.” He lowered his visor and trundled off to dig in his piles of treasure.
Garfunkel whistled. “That dwarf is a few stones short of a cairn.”
“Now, now,” Simon chided. “We all have our burdens.”
“Yes we do,” I said, glancing at both of my shoulders. “Yes we do.”
Just then, the door leading to the trap room opened and Lucy stepped in. “Whoa. Look at all the … junk.” Clio sat atop Lucy’s shoulder, scanning the room like an automated turret gun.
“I know it’s in here somewhere,” the dwarf said from around one of the piles in the back.
Lucy raised her eyes and angled them at the direction of his voice.
“The dwarf who almost killed me with his traps,” I said. “He’s getting the mortar and pestle now.”
Lucy showed her teeth. “Well that was easy.”
Clio tapped Lucy’s shoulder and pointed toward some shelving off to the side containing rolled-up maps and scrolls. “It’s over there!”
“Good job, my little pixie friend.” Lucy glanced back at me as she made her way toward the shelving. “Keep him busy for me, will ya?”
“What are you doing—” I started to say when Daryl’s voice boomed from the doorway.
“Well, I’ll be a lump of pyrite—nice digs, Cletus.”
A few moments later, Crazy Dwarf Guy padded out from around the piles of treasure. “Daryl! What’s it been? Since the gods left? Come here, you!”
“Theo, get out of the way!” Simon yelled and I backstepped before the two dwarfs collided in a bear hug.
“You know each other?” I said.
“Cousins,” Daryl said. He turned back to his relative. “Cletus, ya done real good with yourself.”
“Well, you know …”
“Wait,” I said. “Daryl. Cletus. What kind of dwarf names are those?”
Daryl chortled. “They aren’t our real dwarf names, lass. They’re the human names we chose to use after the gods left. To fit in with you humans.”
“You chose them?” I asked.
Cletus nodded and held out his hand. “Here’s that mortar and pestle. Sorry for my, ahem, little outburst earlier. Why didn’t you just say you knew Daryl? I owe him a favor.”
Before I could respond, Lucy rejoined us, a Cheshire cat grin on her face. “Everyone ready to go?” she said.
“You guys go on ahead,” Daryl sai
d, waving us on. “I’m going to catch up with my kin.”
“Pleasure meeting you,” Cletus said. “And watch out for that Jersey Devil.”
“Dude, Where’s My Car?”
The skeleton versions of ourselves were much more accommodating on our way to the surface. They escorted us all the way back to the mine’s entrance but gestured that they couldn’t cross the threshold, which meant I didn’t have to worry about riding back to NYC with Lucy II staring at the back of my head. At least the Jersey Devil hadn’t started his unearthly howling again.
“That was really weird,” I said when we’d backtracked to the campsite.
“And really scary!” Simon said. “You should probably get that Tetanus shot now.”
“I’ve got other priorities right now,” I said, turning back to Lucy and Clio. “What kind of scroll did you two steal back there?”
Clio turned to face me, beaming from atop Lucy’s shoulder. “A scroll transcribed by the goddess Nyx!”
“What?” I said.
Lucy’s eyes flitted to the sides as she picked her way through the foliage.
“What does Typhon want with that?” I asked.
Lucy stopped and examined the ground. “Don’t know. Don’t care.”
I grabbed her arm and turned her around. “Come on, tell me! First my familiars are keeping secrets from me. And you too? Why does Typhon need this scroll?” I straightened up. “Oh, I get it, this whole setup was a ruse for me to get you to the treasure room so you could steal the real prize.”
At first, Lucy didn’t say anything. Then she said, “Typhon will appreciate the mortar and pestle. He’ll give you Orion back. Probably.”
“What’s so special about the scroll?” I demanded.
“It’s better if you don’t know,” Lucy said and started forward again as Clio turned back around and settled herself into a homemade shoulder holster suspended beneath Lucy’s armpit.
I headed after Lucy, my eyes tracking the duffel bag slapping against her lower back with each stride. It contained the mortar and pestle, and also the scroll.
Axes and Angels: A Snarky Urban Fantasy Novel (Better Demons Series Book 1) Page 28
