“He must have broken his neck when he fell,” Alaric said, nudging the body with his foot. Dietz started to nod, and then stopped and stepped closer. The older man flipped the body over with his boot.
“No fall caused that,” he said, pointing to the jagged wound across the man’s throat.
“Gunther!” Alaric called, looking up. As he straightened his gaze swept past the bodies that covered the floor, and he blinked as one of them moved.
“Watch the bodies!” he shouted, reaching for a sword that wasn’t there. “They’re still alive!” Or at least still fighting, he thought.
“What?” One of the guards with them turned, laughing. “Don’t be an idiot. Just because you’re scared—”
The man broke off as a body rose in front of him, a rusted axe gripped in one hand. The guard was too stunned to react as the blade chopped forwards and down, but he did scream as his hand and forearm fell to the ground. The axe bit into his neck and the guard toppled, blood spurting from both wounds.
“Myrmidia’s spear!” The other guard didn’t need any more convincing and leapt forwards, his sword taking the attacker through the chest. Unfortunately that did nothing to stop the figure, whose ragged clothing fell away, revealing its skeletal form.
“Weapons!” Alaric shouted up. “We need weapons!” Gunther must have agreed, because an instant later his belt and the strange hook-bladed sword fell into the pit, followed by Dietz’s knives and mace. “About time!” Alaric grabbed up the bronze blade and hacked at the skeleton, which had killed the second guard and was turning towards them. The heavy sword smashed its forearm, causing it to drop the axe. Then Dietz’s mace smashed its skull to pieces and the hones collapsed and did not move again.
“What is this place?” Hammlich demanded above them. He had his sword out and his face was pale beneath his dusky skin. “The dead still walk and attack?”
“Dark magic,” Therese replied, her eyes flashing. “This tomb reeks of it.”
Several other skeletons rose within the pits but the guards and seekers were forewarned. They made short work of the undead attackers, although a few people took minor wounds. Scorpions emerged from some of the bodies as well, but no one was stung. Gunther had returned Woldred and his crew their weapons, and after the skirmishes he nodded at Alaric.
“You were right,” the lieutenant admitted wearily. His cheeks were still pale. “Better armed.”
Alaric started to reply but Dietz stopped him. “Take a look at this,” his friend said. He indicated a spot on the back wall in their pit. Alaric felt it carefully and discovered a narrow depression that ran down to the floor and up to a matching line that cut across and then down again. A door!
“There must be a trigger here somewhere,” he told Dietz and the two of them began searching. Others quickly joined them. It was Ehrl, in fact, who stumbled upon it, as his foot tapped a small bump on the ground a few feet from the doorway. They all heard a faint click and froze, expecting another trap, but then Woldred pointed at the wall.
“Look!”
That section of the wall had shifted slightly in response, swivelling outwards along the left side. Dietz inserted his knives into the gap, one high and one low, and tugged gently. The stone slid aside without a sound, revealing a narrow staircase that rose as it led away.
“Up?” Alaric thought about that one for a minute. Normally the treasure room would be down, not up, but then this should be a pyramid and wasn’t, so obviously some allowances must be made.
“Where will this lead?” Gunther asked as he gathered his men into a single line, Alaric and Dietz and the others mixed in among them.
“To the treasure room, if we’re lucky,” Alaric replied. He didn’t bother to list the places it could go if their luck ran out. Why worry about that? It wasn’t as if they had anywhere else to go.
CHAPTER TEN
Dietz’s first thought, upon emerging from the stairway, was that the large room around him was made of beaten gold. Then he caught glimpses of white and corrected that impression. No, the walls were actually white, clean simple white. The floor was simple granite flagstone and the ceiling showed a starless night sky. The golden glow that dazzled him and everyone else came entirely from the heaps of coins, jewellery, and other precious objects filling the room from end to end, top to bottom. It was an astounding sight, literally too much wealth to comprehend.
Woldred and his people began giggling like small children as they danced among the treasure, lifting this and that piece, tossing coins and gems at each other as if they were snowballs. Gunther and his guards were less exuberant but even they were grinning as they shovelled coins and gems into sacks at their belts. Alaric wandered here and there, examining various items, apparently less interested in wealth than artistry. Dietz wasn’t sure how to react. A single handful from this hoard would be enough to set him and his entire family up for life, anywhere he wanted to live. Gunther had claimed it all for Levrellian, of course, but short of searching them afterwards the lieutenant couldn’t prevent the others from taking something away with them, and Dietz knew ways to hide things that he doubted the guards would want to discover.
He pocketed a few small gems, knowing they would be difficult to dig out of his pouch and pockets, and swallowed a few more as a precaution. Then he simply looked around, admiring the workmanship. He saw a suit of golden links, so bright he could barely look at it the metal strong and sturdy but the weave as light as doth and soft as silk. A helmet and large shield stood with it also of gold, intricately wrought. Nearby he saw a miniature building, clearly a palace or castle, carved from rubies fitted together like bricks and cemented with gold. Tiny people stood within it each one also carved from gold.
A massive creature dominated the room, ten times the size of a horse with a strange snout like a pig’s at the end of a thick snake-like body, flap-like ears on either side of a round head and beady eyes. The creature was carved of solid gold, its eyes sapphires, and wicked tusks curved up beside the snout, gleaming like polished bone. Elsewhere he saw Therese admiring a pair of drinking goblets, carved from some dark blue stone with gold stems shaped like elegant birds, their necks intertwined. Thorgrek was hefting a massive axe, lust in his eyes as his gnarled hands wrapped around the gold-wrapped handle. Woldred and Johann were studying a small throne, its golden surface covered by thousands of rubies, all exactly the same size, shape, and colour.
“This is amazing!” One of the guards was saying as Dietz walked past. The man dug his hands into a nearby casket and let coins cascade through his fingers. “Levrellian will be the richest prince in history!”
Another guard was looking at a row of warriors stationed across one wall. They were encased in golden armour of the same style Dietz had seen on the skeletal warrior he’d fought, and armed with similar hook-swords and tall rectangular shields.
“Keep your distance,” Therese warned, gliding forwards and resting a hand on the guard’s arm. “They will strike at you if you approach them.”
The guard hesitated, clearly not sure whether to believe her or not, and looked at Dietz for advice. He shrugged.
“Best to listen,” Dietz suggested. “There’s plenty else to see and touch.” The guard nodded and moved away. Therese also urged everyone to steer clear of the quartet of sculpted lions grouped near one corner. They were life-sized and made of gold, with emerald eyes and diamond claws, but the mage claimed they contained cats whose spirits were hound within their decayed bodies. Several of the guards scoffed until Woldred reminded them of the skeletons they’d faced in the pits. That shut them up, and they gave the four golden cats a wide berth.
Hammlich had been studying the walls and Dietz saw him tap a spot, listen, and then tap another spot a foot to the side. “I’ve got something!” the scout called out. “I think it’s a hidden door!”
“To where?” one of the guards asked.
“The burial chamber,” Ehrl replied. “It would lie beyond this treasure trove, and would cont
ain Karitamen’s body, and his personal treasures.”
That drew everyone’s attention. They all gathered around as Hammlich tapped his way around the door he’d found, feeling for anything that might open it. He didn’t find anything, however, and stepped back, frustrated, but one hand brushed a golden urn next to the wall and it shifted slightly. They heard a click as the urn moved and suddenly the portion of the wall Hammlich had found swung open, revealing a room beyond.
“You,” Gunther said, gesturing towards Johann, “and you two,” indicating two of his guards, “check it out.” All three nodded and stepped cautiously through the doorway. Alaric and Dietz followed them and peered through the portal, Dietz noticing as he did the relief carved into the door itself. It was a man, tall and powerfully built, bearing two swords at his side and a strange cloth hood atop his head. His collar was ornate and carved at its centre was a large scarab, painted black. Remembering what Alaric had said, Dietz realised this might well be Karitamen himself.
Turning away from the door, Dietz studied the room beyond. It was a single large room, easily fifteen feet deep and with a ceiling almost as high. The floor was a mosaic but he couldn’t make out the pattern from this angle. The walls displayed scenes that looked like battles, and guard statues like the ones they’d seen by the entrance were arrayed around the room, although these held swords instead of torches. A massive coffin sat in the centre of the room, carved of some pink stone that Dietz couldn’t recognise. Something else gleamed in the far corners.
“What are those images on the wall?” Alaric asked, trying to make out details from where he stood.
“Battles,” Johann answered after glancing behind him, “bloody ones.”
“And the floor?”
“A scarab,” the scout replied, “with smaller ones set throughout.”
Gunther had a question of his own. “What is that in the far corners?”
“A suit of armour and a sword and shield,” one of his guards shouted back. “They look to be gold!” The guard started walking towards the items he had just mentioned but Alaric stopped him.
“Do not move!” Alaric commanded.
Gunther was furious. “What? What is wrong? Tell me!” he demanded.
“It’s not the right room,” Alaric replied, shaking his head. “Everything is wrong about it. It’s a trap, one big trap.”
“What? It is the right room,” the lieutenant insisted. “His body is in that coffin, this king of yours, and his armour and weapon are beside him! He was a general, you said, and the walls show his greatest victories! His soldiers stand around him to protect him! This is it!”
“No,” Alaric insisted. “Listen: the Nehekharans didn’t display battles on the walls of a burial chamber. That room should show his spiritual journey, not bloodshed. The floor is too representational; all the others have been abstract patterns, not a specific image. The guards shouldn’t have their weapons out, it’s disrespectful. They shouldn’t be there at all—no one but Karitamen himself should be in that chamber. If he was such a great warrior and general why isn’t he buried in his armour? Why is it hanging on a stand beyond his sarcophagus?”
“You don’t know everything,” Hammlich sneered at him, looking as if he would strike Alaric. Dietz stepped closer to his friend and raised his mace slightly but Hammlich laughed and turned away. “The room does not match what you think it should, and so you say it is false, but this is the end of the tomb! There is nowhere else!” He turned to his lieutenant, who nodded but glanced at Alaric again before speaking.
“Check the perimeter, and bring me the armour and the sword,” Gunther finally commanded the two guards already over there. “Make sure nothing lurks in the shadows. Then I’ll send others in to help carry everything back.”
“It’s wrong,” Alaric whispered, though only Dietz heard him. “It’s a trap. The whole thing is a trap.”
Dietz watched with him as the two guards stepped further into the room, their torches aloft. Johann glanced at Woldred, shrugged, and followed them.
The scout had only taken a single step from the door when it slammed shut. They all heard the lock click.
“What happened?” Gunther demanded, first of the door and the guards behind it and then of Alaric. “Who closed the door?”
“The tomb’s builders,” Alaric replied sadly. “They set the trap and your men just triggered it.”
“Johann!” Woldred shouted. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” the scout shouted back. “The door just shut by itself!”
“Get down!” Alaric called out. “Drop to the floor! Now!”
They heard someone drop and then there was a rush of air, like the sound Dietz had heard before when the one guard had died, only louder. Someone screamed, and another body struck the ground. Someone, maybe the same someone, gurgled, and they heard another heavy thud.
“What was that?” Gunther asked.
“Darts,” someone called back, and Woldred visibly relaxed. It was Johann. “They were everywhere, several missed me by inches. The guards weren’t so lucky.”
“Careful,” Alaric warned. “That may not be all of it.”
“I know,” Johann replied. Judging from the sounds, he was climbing back to his feet. “I’m going to—” He was interrupted by the sound of stone grinding against stone. It came again, and again, and then he screamed.
“The statues!” the scout cried out. “They’re alive! They’re all turning towards me! I—” Dietz clearly heard the swish of a heavy blade and the chunk of metal cleaving flesh and bone. Johann’s words died in a shriek that turned to a burble and faded to silence. They all heard the sound of a body striking the floor, and then the shifting of stone. Then all was silent.
“Ulric’s beard,” Goran whispered. His face was pale. “The statues are alive?”
Alaric didn’t answer, but Ehrl shrugged. The scholar looked as if he was about to retch but his voice was steady, if weak. “I’ve heard legends of walking statues,” he admitted, “that guard royal tombs, nothing more.”
They all stood in silence for a moment, staring at the door. Then a click resounded in the shaft, followed by a strange shifting sound. Dietz heard the distinctive sound of something heavy sliding across a floor, and then it was gone. The other sounds repeated, first the shifting and then the click.
“What was that?” Someone whispered.
“At a guess, I’d say the floor opened,” Alaric replied, “just in case the darts and the guards missed anyone.”
“Is this entire tomb a trick then?” Gunther asked finally. He sounded tired, even defeated, and Dietz knew he was afraid that his men had died for nothing.
Alaric shook his head. “No, the tomb is real,” the young nobleman replied, glancing around. Dietz saw the look on his friend’s face with some relief. Alaric was still too sensitive to death, particularly when it was someone he knew, but the best way to get him moving again was to give him something to puzzle out. “There must be another door,” he decided after a moment’s thought. “That room was a trap to trick us and keep us from finding the real door and the real burial chamber.”
“Back the way we came?” Dietz asked him, but Alaric shook his head.
“No, it’s bad luck to go back,” he explained. “The journey must go forwards, not back.” Alaric glanced at the doorway. “It also has to continue westwards, which means it’s on that wall,” he said. “Either there’s another door or—”
“Or what?” Gunther demanded. Dietz, watching his friend’s face, recognised the expression there. Alaric had just thought of something.
“Strange,” Alaric said to himself, “why would that be?”
“What?” Dietz knew the right tone to use, and motioned Gunther back. “What is it, Alaric?”
“The carving,” Alaric answered, his natural desire to explain kicking in. “It’s of Karitamen.”
Dietz nodded, pleased to find that his earlier guess had been correct, but he knew better than to interrupt.<
br />
“The collar, though,” Alaric continued. “It’s in sunken relief, not bas-relief.”
“Sunken? Bas? What does that mean?” Gunther demanded. Fortunately Alaric was intent enough upon his explanation not to object to the lieutenant’s tone or his interruption.
“Sunken relief is when the image is carved out,” he replied. “Bas-reliefs are the opposite, the stone around the image carved away so the image protrudes.” He indicated the figure, and the collar. “The Nehekharans were masters of bas-relief and used it everywhere. So why is one portion of this figure done in sunken relief instead?” He stepped up and examined the carved collar more closely, and then glanced around. “I need a scarab, one of the onyx ones,” he demanded, “now!”
Moved by the urgency and command in his voice, everyone leapt to obey. They began handing him scarabs from all over the room, some of them pried from various objects, others found loose and laying about. Alaric tried each one in the collar in turn but none of them fit. Then Dietz noticed the gem-encrusted war banner hanging along the wall and tore one of the scarabs from it.
“Yes!” Alaric laughed as the scarab slid into place in the collar. Standing right behind him, Dietz heard a faint click. Then Alaric pointed at the scarab and laughed again. “It’s upside down,” he said, and with a quick twist he turned it around.
The click was louder this time, and Alaric stepped back as the door slid to the side, taking the wall behind it with it.
“Clever,” Alaric whispered, “one door, two entrances.” Everyone gathered behind him and peered at the opening, and the long staircase beyond.
“That’s it,” Alaric said, the relief clear in his voice. “That is the way to the real burial chamber.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
They found a single wide stone door at the bottom of the staircase. The door bore a carving of Djaf, the jackal-headed death god, his arms crossed and a fierce scowl baring his fangs. Unlike the doors from the shaft this one had a normal handle made of gem-inlaid silver.
02 - Night of the Daemon Page 11
