CHAPTER NINE
Johann and Ehrl were already halfway to the front gates and Alaric shook his head but followed them. Dietz was right behind him. He had wanted to pick up his new mace but the guards had gotten there first, gathering all their weapons together and holding them. Well, at least if something attacked them inside he’d know who to beg for a weapon.
Alaric and Ehrl were examining the two dead guards and Dietz took the opportunity to glance around. The room was small and square and did not have a far wall, stretching off into another space beyond. The other two walls held mosaics of some sort, as did the floor.
Then Dietz noticed the figures. They were large, powerful men, wearing the same armour as the skeletal warrior he had destroyed. Bronze hook-swords hung at their sides and the figures held torches aloft. They were positioned in the four corners of the room, facing the centre. He guessed they were statues, although the armour glinted like real metal. The one to the left of the door was missing its torch, which lay in the first dead guard’s hand.
“Compressed salt,” Alaric said, indicating the first man, “horribly corrosive.” He tried not to look at the man’s face, which had melted away to reveal the bone and muscle beneath. “It was triggered by moving the torch, no doubt.” One of the guards stopped mid-motion, his hand inches from another statue’s torch.
“What about him?” Dietz asked, nudging the other man with his foot. He still wasn’t happy about having to enter this place, but at least he could keep an eye on Alaric and try to keep him out of trouble, and he had to admit the tomb was fascinating. Glouste apparently did not agree, and tucked herself inside his jacket, occasionally hissing her disapproval.
One of the guards lit a torch and Dietz could see the details of his surroundings. They were incredible. The floor of this small chamber was covered in concentric rings, each one a pattern of symbols and characters that he was sure told a story. A large black scarab was set in the centre. The walls had similar designs, although not as tightly constricted, and the ceiling showed the night sky, golden stars winking from the deep blue surface. The far end of the chamber led to several steps, each as wide as the room itself, which led down in turn to a long corridor.
Alaric turned to study the second guard. Gunther knelt beside him, clearly concerned as to what had killed his man. Dietz found that comforting. At least Levrellian’s lieutenant worried about his troops. Hopefully he was also the type who kept his promises.
“Here,” Alaric said after a minute, indicating what Dietz had thought to be freckles or birthmarks, tiny dots on the man’s neck, “darts. They’re tiny darts, probably just needles, really.”
“Needles killed him?” Gunther asked.
Alaric nodded, “Poisoned ones, yes.” He glanced around. “Don’t anyone touch that scarab!” he ordered, which was a good thing since Johann had been eyeing it. “That was probably the trigger.”
“Aye, it were,” Thorgrek agreed. The dwarf crouched and inspected the carved black stone. “It’s set on a plate. Pressure moves it and sets off the trap.”
Dietz was examining the shiny thing along one wall. It was a large disc and one side glittered gold while the other had the dull grey look of iron. The gold side was carved into rings, each one patterned and filled with the Nehekharans’ pictographic writing. It did not look like it belonged here leaning against the wall, and the back of it still bore several short nails.
“What’s this?” he asked finally. Alaric came over to inspect it, as did Ehrl and Woldred.
Woldred answered first. “Door seal, I’d say.” He grinned when Alaric looked at him, one eyebrow raised in surprise. “I’ve seen my share of tombs too.”
Dietz’s friend nodded at that. “Yes, well, you’re right. That was fitted to the front doors to hold them closed, both physically and symbolically.” They all glanced at the door. Now that Gunther’s men had pushed both sides open they could make out a faint outline of a man across both. “That would have been Karitamen himself,” Alaric mused, “standing with arms crossed to proclaim this tomb as his and to bar passage. As a king he would have had a golden disc behind his head, indicating the sun that blessed his reign. This disc was attached across the tomb when the doors were closed after his burial.” He grimaced. “They were never meant to be opened.”
“Someone did, though,” Woldred pointed out. “It was like this when we got here.”
Dietz glanced at the doors again. They opened inwards, and the exterior had no handles of any sort. How had they been opened if they were sealed shut?
The entrance chamber led into a long corridor, which ended in a set of double doors. Dietz didn’t see any other entrances.
“It looks like a trap,” he muttered to Alaric, who nodded.
“It is,” his friend agreed cheerfully. “No one was meant to walk these halls once the doors had been sealed. Every inch of that corridor is probably deadly.”
“You seem far too cheerful for someone about to walk it,” Gunther commented.
“That’s because I’m not going to,” Alaric replied. “We’re not going this way.”
Everyone turned to stare at him and Dietz could tell that his friend was enjoying himself immensely, and because Alaric enjoyed his dramatic moments, he paused for a moment before continuing.
“This is the front entrance,” he explained finally, “but it is not the only way in.”
With that he walked past the stunned Gunther and his guards and back out into the valley.
“There’s another way in?” Woldred was the first to react and caught up to Alaric in a few strides. He glanced back at Ehrl behind him, who simply shrugged.
“There is,” Alaric confirmed. Dietz was back beside his friend, his long strides covering the distance between them quickly. “It’s concealed within the temple.”
“What temple?” That was from Gunther, who was marching after them. “And when were you planning to mention this?” His scowl suggested he blamed Alaric for the death of his two guards.
“I wasn’t sure it existed,” Alaric explained apologetically, stopping on the spot where they had been tied up earlier. “I only found it while we were watching your men attempt the front gates.” He dropped to his knees and swept the sand aside, revealing a smooth grey surface beneath. At first Dietz thought it was simply the valley floor but then he spotted a clean break running across it. Those were flagstones!
“The Nehekharan pyramids have small mortuary temples attached,” Alaric said, standing and walking a few paces before checking the ground again. “The two structures were linked by a grand causeway. That’s what I found here.”
“Pyramid?” Woldred looked puzzled and Dietz didn’t blame him as the man glanced back at the doors behind him. “There’s no pyramid here!”
“I know, but there should be,” Alaric replied. “Every Nehekharan king had one.” He frowned, glancing back at the clear lack of a towering triangular structure. “Perhaps it was because of the mountains,” he mused aloud, “or the distances, or the materials available. I don’t know, but he did have a causeway, which means he had a temple.”
Alaric had already covered twenty paces, but Gunther, realising what he was doing, had set his guards ahead of him at regular intervals, each one shoving aside the sand. It was the second-to-last guard who called out, “Over here!”
The rest of them raced to his location. Dietz was one of the first there and saw not grey flagstone but a carved circular pattern similar to the mosaics on the entryway walls.
“Yes!” Alaric skidded to a stop beside them, and then paused to kneel and touch his head to the ground, muttering something. “A prayer to the Nehekharan gods,” he explained to Dietz as he straightened up, grinning, “just in case.”
“What is it?” Gunther demanded as his men scraped the rest of the sand away.
“It’s a door,” Alaric replied, admiring the pattern. He took out his journal and did a quick sketch of the design before speaking again. “This was the temple’s inner chamber
. They often put a hidden door here, allowing the dead king symbolic access to the temple and to the worship of his people.”
“Where does it go?” Hammlich asked. If he still doubted the wisdom of bringing them along he did not mention it.
“To the lower levels,” Alaric answered. He looked up at Gunther. “We can bypass more than half the tomb this way, and the treasure room will be in the lower portion.”
The lieutenant nodded. “Open it,” he said, but Dietz could tell the man was pleased.
Opening the hidden door took time, as Alaric had never encountered one before, but eventually he, Woldred, and Ehrl figured it out.
“Of course,” Alaric said as the door slid to the side, “the blue band represents the sacred river, the heart of every journey, and the second circle is for burial, the start of the spirit’s journey to the next stage.” Ehrl was nodding but everyone else was more interested in the narrow channel the door had revealed.
“Slick,” Johann commented, running a finger along the interior. “I think it’s glass.”
“No stopping once you start,” Alaric agreed, “but it does lead straight into the tomb.” He glanced over at Gunther, who nodded.
“You,” he said, tapping one of the guards on the shoulder, “go first.”
The guard swallowed nervously, sweat standing out on his forehead, but he nodded. Sheathing his sword and handing his crossbow to another guard, he sat down on the lip of the tunnel, his legs dangling over the empty space. Then, after taking a quick breath and muttering a prayer, he pushed himself off and disappeared down the chute.
Dietz winced as he heard the distinctive thwack of metal striking bone, and a stifled scream echoed up the narrow passage.
“It’s probably safe now,” Alaric said, “but still…” Before anyone could react he grabbed the dead guard’s crossbow and tossed it down the chute as well. Any protest Gunther might have made died on his lips as they all heard a second impact, this time of metal slicing into sturdy wood.
“Why didn’t you suggest that first?” Gunther demanded.
“Because you wouldn’t have believed me,” Alaric replied, shrugging, “and there was a chance the traps had broken down over time.”
“Fine,” Gunther snapped, “you go next.” He shoved Alaric forwards. Dietz saw the surprised look on his friend’s face as his feet were propelled over the tunnel entrance and then the young nobleman had dropped from view.
“Morr’s teeth!” Dietz shoved a guard aside and leapt into the tunnel, feet first. If he was going to die, at least he’d do so by his friend’s side.
He didn’t die, however. The trip down the tunnel was fast, the glass-coated sides sliding him along without resistance, and it seemed like only moments later that the tunnel fell away behind him and he dropped to the ground in a small room. Alaric was right beside him, having just twisted to avoid being landed upon. The dead guard was there as well, his head a few feet from his body. The crossbow lay beside the corpse, chopped neatly in half.
“Cheery place,” Alaric remarked. He pulled himself up and was looking around. Dietz saw at once what he meant. The room they were in was not large, although it had a high ceiling. The wall was covered with murals and friezes, every inch decorated and none of it pleasant. Dietz saw men and women being hacked apart, being strangled, being drowned, dying of terrible diseases, and more.
“What is all this?” he asked.
“A warning,” Alaric replied. He gestured towards one of the images, that of a man and a woman being torn apart by wild beasts. “Look what they’re carrying.” Dietz studied the image and saw gold and gems in the ill-fated couple’s hands. “It’s telling us what happens to those who try stealing from this tomb.”
“That might scare away simple grave-robbers,” Gunther commented, “but it will not dissuade us.” He and his men were all there now, as were Woldred and his group, and the room was decidedly crowded. Alaric shifted slightly to get a guard’s elbow out of his side and it felt for a second as if the floor was moving beneath him.
Apparently he had not been the only one to notice it. “Don’t move!” Thorgrek announced, dropping to his knees. The dwarf spread both large, gnarled hands upon the floor. He tilted his head and closed his eyes as if listening.
“We must leave here at once,” he announced finally, rising to his feet.
“Why?” Gunther demanded.
“Because the floor is trapped,” Thorgrek snapped. “I can feel our weight shifting it. When it stops, it’ll set something off. Best we aren’t here for that.”
That made sense and everyone turned towards the only door. It had been carved with a single image, that of a large man with the head of a jackal, his arms crossed and his fangs bared in a snarl.
“Djaf, god of the dead,” Alaric said softly. “He’s warning us that no one living may pass this point.”
“Then why is there a handle?” one of the guards asked, pointing at the plain knob protruding right below the deity’s elbow. Before anyone could stop him the man turned the knob and pushed the door open.
“Idiot!” Gunther snapped, shoving the guard to one side. He spat in disgust as the man stiffened, not from fear but from the first effects of whatever poison had coated the handle. The lieutenant drew his dagger almost casually and cut the guard’s throat, ending the man’s suffering. Then Gunther wiped and sheathed his blade, neatly sidestepping the falling body, and gestured for Alaric and Dietz to lead the way through the door.
The room beyond was considerably larger and extremely long, a narrow walkway running its length. Alaric noticed that the ground to either side seemed pockmarked, and realised after a moment’s study that it was actually an intricate latticework. Beneath that he saw only shadows but they seemed too uneven to be flat spaces.
Glancing behind him Alaric saw Thorgrek by the still-open door, watching the previous room. They heard a faint click and then a blade swept across the room only a foot above the floor. Thorgrek grinned.
“I said we’d best be gone,” he pointed out. A second click made him turn back and Alaric saw a second blade cut across the chamber, this one roughly five feet high.
“Nasty,” he said as the dwarf caught up.
“But effective,” Thorgrek replied.
The others had passed them by already, and Alaric turned to catch up to Dietz, who was crouching roughly halfway across the room where another walkway intersected the first, dividing the long room into quarters.
“Lovely design,” the older man muttered as Alaric reached him. He was indicating the latticework and it took Alaric a moment to see what he meant. At first the pattern seemed abstract but then elements came into focus and he realised what he was seeing. They were people! The entire latticework had been carved to show people writhing as if in pain. Glancing around he saw a matching theme on the walls, which had been carved into an array of agonised faces. The room reeked as well, smelling much like a charnel house.
“How do we get out of this place?” Gunther demanded from in front, and that made Alaric notice something else. The room had no other exits.
“There’s nothing over here,” one of the guards reported from the far wall. He walked back towards them, paying more attention to the carvings than to his path, and strayed from the walkway onto one of the latticeworks.
“Get off that!” Gunther shouted but it was too late. With a snap the latticework split in half, dropping the guard into the pit they all saw below. Alaric thought the man’s weight might have broken the screen but then the two halves swivelled back up and snapped back into place, leaving the guard groaning below.
“No one steps foot off the paths!” Gunther ordered. No one argued. They had all seen what would happen if they strayed.
“Careful on it as well,” Thorgrek said. He had made his way across the room and was starting back, weaving from side to side as if drunk. “This floor be trapped in many places, though I think I’ve found them all.” He paused, studied a spot before him, crouched down to sn
iff it, glanced to either side and then up, and then stood again, nodded, and stepped carefully around it. “Yes, that’s the last of them.”
“So we can get from one side to the other safely,” Hammlich commented, “but that still doesn’t get us past this room!”
“There must be a hidden entrance somewhere,” Woldred pointed out, “and if it’s not along one of these walkways there’s only one other place it can be.” He glanced down at the latticework beside him, and the pit below.
Johann nodded. The scout took a coil of rope Gunther’s guards had left at his belt and tied one end firmly around his waist. He handed the other end to Goran, who wrapped it around his own waist and then firmly around one hand. Once the big man nodded Johann stepped deliberately off the path and crouched atop the latticework. It opened almost immediately but he was ready for it and dropped lithely into the pit, the rope slowing his descent.
“It’s close to twenty feet down,” Johann called up, “and there are bodies down here.”
They all peered over the edge. The pit was large, filling all the space under the latticework, and the walls glittered like glass in the torchlight. Alaric could see the bodies Johann had mentioned. Most of them were little more than bones and scraps of cloth. A few were more recent, however.
“Would-be grave robbers,” Ehrl commented, stepping up beside him. “They must have fallen prey to traps somewhere within the tomb, but how did they wind up in here?” Alaric had an idea but wasn’t sure he should mention it. Was the tomb infested with the same skeletal undead they had fought in the mountains beyond? He hoped not. Still, he would feel better armed.
“Will you give us back our weapons?” he asked Gunther. “Something killed all these people. If we’re attacked we’d be more useful armed.”
“And you’d be able to strike at us in turn,” the lieutenant replied. He turned away, ending the conversation, and continued to supervise the guards who were repeating Johann’s trick on the other three latticeworks.
[Daemon Gates 02] - Night of the Daemon Page 10
