by Aaron Bunce
“What is it, Thorben? What do you see?” Iona asked, his voice so low he could barely make it out against the buzz.
Thorben couldn’t respond, and for a moment he struggled to draw air. Another gem caught some light, glowing in a sudden burst of green. His mind raced, and for several terrifying moments, Thorben searched the keys before him. He choked down a breath, and then another, his gaze moving up to the walls. A tortured heartbeat passed, the pain throbbing into his feet gaining in strength. The weight on his shoulders grew more intense, and his back bowed in response.
I need to figure it out, the answer is right there, he thought, bracing his body against the podium. He only had three chances to get the combination right, but he was also running out of time.
A gust of wind blew in from the broken slab, the burning braziers rippling and surging in response. The shadows danced and leapt, the colorful reflections growing brighter and then dimming in response.
Thorben tried to toss out everything he knew, to start over again at the beginning – that was what he did, figure things out. The answer was there, he could feel it, the crystals were the key, he just had to…
“It’s the light…the braziers. There is too much light,” he blurted out suddenly, the words leaving his mouth far easier than the breath in that followed.
“What? Light?” Hun asked, stupidly, his eyes wide and unblinking.
“I can’t believe I didn’t see…it,” Thorben yelled, painfully, counting the number of light spots on the walls. There were fifteen glowing spots of light, and five braziers burning. He needed to get it down to three.
“Douse the braziers,” he cried, and pushed his weight off the podium. His knees creaked and bent, a sharp pain flaring up his hips and into his back. Hells, his body felt like a boulder. The pressure was crushing him, and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold it off.
“But…then it’ll be dark in here–” Gor argued, but Thorben cut him off.
“It was never a combination…don’t you see,” he said, pointing to the mobile hanging over their heads. “The carvings on the walls contain hidden images…the same images depicted on these keys. We have to…turn…them. The mobile…turns, moving like the…sun,” Thorben said, but his breath failed him, the words dying in his throat. He remembered the simple pillar of stone just inside the door, a solitary hole bored into its surface.
Iona appeared at his side, his hands hovering as if preparing to prop him up, but he followed his extended torch to the mobile, and then the spots of light reflected on the wall.
“Yes…yes, I see it now, Owl. Quick, douse the braziers,” Iona yelled, and moved towards the nearest fire. Thorben managed to hook a hand inside the smaller man’s collar and held on, staggering him back.
Iona managed a single step away but jerked back into the podium. He moved to argue, but Thorben pulled him in closer and silenced him with a strangled grunt.
“Torch…pillar…by the door. Small hole,” he croaked, leaning against the podium, just managing to hold the torch out. Iona rubbed his neck, but took the torch and looked over his shoulder to the entrance of the chamber.
Thorben took a breath, the air rattling noisily in his chest. He tried to speak, but his body couldn’t form the words. He had to hope Iona understood, and quickly.
“I think I understand, Owl.” The short man dashed away from the podium, just as Hun dropped a heavy cloak over the nearest brazier. The chamber grew darker, the shadows drawing, and then fell into almost complete darkness as the last fire went dark.
Thorben pushed his body off the podium, a staggering weight pressing his head down. The platform sang beneath his feet, its violent and dark promise pounding into his body. It was the song of his death, and it was growing louder. He managed to turn his head and caught sight of Iona, the man hovering near the doorway. The torch glowed as if suspended in air, and then dropped into the podium’s waiting space.
“By the stars, look!” Renlo gasped, pointing overhead. The mobile caught the torch’s paltry glow, and the crystals shined to life.
A red gem caught the light, an impossibly bright spot appearing suddenly on the far wall. It moved a hand’s width, before sliding right over the carving of the withered, lifeless tree.
Thorben threw his weight forward, and clutched the middle key. He wrenched the barrel around, just managing to match the picture to the ruby. The red gem abruptly shifted out of the light, and for an excruciating moment, the chamber’s walls hung in darkness.
Hurry, you cursed thing! he thought, frantically.
Thorben winced and managed a small, gasping breath, the green gem suddenly striking the light. A perfectly round, green orb of light appeared on the wall to his right, and hovered just over a carving of the sun, before revealing the budding plant. It happened so quickly, he almost missed it.
Thorben’s fingers curled into his palms as he shifted his weight to the first key. He pried his hand open and wrapped them around the barrel. It clicked once, and then twice, the emerald marker pointing at the correct carving just as the green light disappeared from the wall. He tried to exhale, but only managed to wheeze. The pressure wasn’t just crushing him, but strangling the life right out of his body, like massive hands were closing in around him.
Faster, you have to be faster, he thought, desperate to not find out what would happened if he couldn’t get the key turned in time. Judging from the amount of blood, it wasn’t going to be pleasant. The chamber fell dark, the buzzing noise filling his head. The pressure intensified, his head sagging in response. He lifted his eyes, scanning the darkness.
“Need…just one…more,” he croaked as his chin dropped. A white light filled the air. He knew it was the clear gem catching the light, and fumbled for the final key. His balled up fists struck the barrel, arms hooking around the key, but he couldn’t seem to control his hands.
I just…need…to see it, he thought, but was already sinking, falling into the pressure. Thorben knew he had to turn the key, that everything depended on it, and yet his body refused. He was out of time.
The stabbing, pulsing energy radiating into his legs shot upwards, through his chest and arms, crumbling him down. He tried to hold onto the key, but it turned and clicked as his arms gave out.
Voices shouted nearby, but they were too late. The death song grew in intensity, coursing throughout him with every raging beat of his heart. He fell into it just as something snaked around his hand.
Denying the pain, Thorben forced his head up. His hand was on the key. Somehow, his fingers were wrapped around it. Iona stood next to him, his hand resting atop Thorben’s.
“Together,” the small man said, and wrenched on his hand. The key moved, sluggishly, the wood catching and slipping against his palm. Something clicked. Thorben couldn’t tell if it was his body breaking…his legs or maybe his back, or the key. His entire world was pain.
Would he feel himself die, or would there just be a flash of light and then…nothing? Thorben hoped that Dennica wouldn’t mourn for him long…that she would continue on and try to find happiness. That his children could avoid the pitfalls he’d stumbled into. A tear broke loose from his eye. He hoped that he’d been a good enough father.
Iona’s face scrunched up, his palm slick against the smooth wood. Thorben tumbled fully into the pain. He felt heavy, but there was no relief as he’d hoped…no falling away into a dark nothingness. His arm pulled tight as he sunk towards the platform, only Iona’s grip on his hand keeping him from falling outright. The platform was death. He could feel it, like a stone mouth waiting to chew him up.
Voices shouted nearby. Something clicked above him, his hand shifting. Another click sounded and Thorben tumbled fully. He felt loose, like flowing water. His elbow struck something hard, his back and head following in jarring fashion.
Thorben’s head swam for a minute as he tried to rationalize everything around him. He rolled over, gasping against the pain. But then he sucked down another breath, his mind catching
on that strange fact. I can breathe. He shifted and moved his legs, a distant grinding noise filling the air. The horrible crawling sensation was gone, a dull ache in his legs, back, and neck taking its place.
A hulking figure ran by in the gloom, a torch burning in their hand. Thorben pushed off the ground and managed to sit. He reached up and touched his face. Was he alive? His head, so blissfully light now, lifted towards the podium. Iona knelt before him, his face scrunched up in fear. The small man leaned forward, his small hands trembling as he helped Thorben to sit.
“You…saved me,” Thorben managed.
“That is what friends do,” Iona said, refusing to let go. “But it was you, Owl. You figured it out. You saw what the rest of us could not. You saved Jez. I can’t…I can’t thank you–”
Jez hovered behind her father just as the big men loomed above them.
Thorben turned, running his hands over his legs, and watched as the shiny, seemingly immovable gate started to rise. A haunting glow appeared in the stone all around them, the carvings coming to life. The gate disappeared into the stone archway, the eerie light bursting from the rock, dissipating into the air like a swarm of tiny, orange bugs.
“It’s done! We’re to be rich!” Gor hooted, smacking his spear haft excitedly against the ground. Hun and Renlo followed suit, jabbing their weapons into the air.
A low noise rumbled abruptly out of the darkness beyond the now open gate, a gust of stale air rippling into the chamber.
Thorben met Iona’s gaze, just as the flowing particles of light died away, casting them into near total darkness. Somehow, whether by sheer luck, or his goddess’s aid, he’d succeeded, and he wasn’t entirely sure that was a good thing.
Chapter Twelve
Tipping Scales
The path forward was open, and it smelled of darkness and things long dead.
Hun circled Thorben and Iona, his crooked nose squeaking with every, stunted breath. He abruptly stopped, eyed the open gateway, smiled a horrible smile, and said, “You two, on your feet! We have a treasure to claim, and you’re to lead the way.”
Iona jumped to his feet and moved towards Jez, but Hun stepped between them, his anger showing. The girl ducked away from Hun’s grasping arms and tripped over Thorben’s legs.
“I’m claiming my right to change the deal, as is the guild’s way. I think I get to keep the girl by me, from now on,” Hun said, and from his tone Thorben thought he just might mean the foreseeable future.
“No! Leave her be, you don’t get to touch her. She wasn’t part of our deal…stay away!” Iona yelled and shoved Hun back, evidently drawing a similar conclusion. The girl’s father jumped forward and punched hard, the unexpected strike catching the mule squarely in the already crooked nose. Hun stumbled a few steps, grunting and spitting. The big man recovered and his hand snapped out in a flash, Iona’s head rocking to the side from the blow. Thorben cringed from the smack of skin against skin.
“Father!” Jez cried and lurched forward, trying to reach him, but Thorben managed to hook an arm around her shoulder and hold her back.
“You dare strike a guildsman…you, swine! We own you…you…fool. I’ll…” Hun roared and came forward, his face a half-shadowed mask of rage. The mule swung, Iona ducking and staggering back. Hun screamed and lunged forward. The mule swatted again, his fist moving in wide haymakers, before moving to swing with his other hand. He cursed as Gor stepped in, jabbing the air angrily with the spear. Gor held out the shiny, copper coin.
Hun looked from Gor, to Iona, and Jez, before lifting his yellowed eyes back to the shiny coin. He licked his lips and nodded his head vigorously in response.
What does the coin mean?
“Wait…no!” Thorben yelled as realization dawned. His words felt sluggish as the coin flipped into the air, turning end over end in slow motion. He didn’t hear the coin land, he only heard Hun whoop, and a heartbeat later the mule snapped the spear forward. Iona tried to lurch out of the way, but the spear struck home, plunging into the meat of his thigh.
“You animal!” Jez screamed and redoubled her efforts, but Thorben held on with all of his strength. He knew what would happen to the young woman if she interfered.
“His fate’s been decided,” Gor growled, smashing the coin against his lips before stowing it in a pocket.
Iona cried out, took a graceless step back, and crumpled to the ground, clutching his bleeding leg. Jez wrenched around, a bony elbow driving into Thorben’s tender side, and rolled free. The girl scampered on all fours, collapsing onto her father.
Thorben pushed tenderly up to his knees, testing the strength in his legs, before trying to stand. His heart hammered with every movement, coursing blood pounding in his ears. He didn’t feel lively, but at least he was alive…for the moment.
He turned to find Renlo hovering behind him, his dark eyes flitting from Gor, to Hun, and back down to Iona. The mule finally looked down and met his eyes. There was pity in his gaze, but also fear, and indecision. Thorben wasn’t sure Renlo would hurt them if commanded, but he wasn’t entirely sure he would come to their defense either.
“Did you see? He hit me…the swine had the nerve to actually attack me,” Hun laughed, as Jez pressed her hands onto the bleeding wound in her father’s leg. Iona writhed, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly.
“Aye…and now his blood is tricklin’ all over this dusty ground. Too bad he won’t live long enough to have learned from his mistake, or reap the treasures that he promised us,” Gor said, pulling the coin free and flicking it into the air once again.
“He’s served his purpose. He showed us this place, and eventually found the man who could get us in. But now we got the owl,” Hun said, and pointed right at Thorben. “We don’t need this stuffy little fluffcake anymore…his words drip with snobbery, like his tongue’s made o’ lace. I’ll be damned if I let frilly here lord o’re me any longer…‘specially since we lined his pockets with so much of our coin. Besides, the pot gets bigger with him gone.” The mule accentuated the point by jabbing the air in front of Iona with the bloody spear.
Thorben watched, listening to the mule talk and held his breath, waiting for Reno to step forward and argue the point, willing him to show some understanding or speak reason on their behalf…maybe even some compassion. The smallest of the three mules flexed his arms and then his hands, as if wrestling with a difficult decision. He looked down to Iona and Jez, then, for the first time in a long while, looked to Thorben. He met the big man’s gaze, pleas bubbling up from inside, but dying before they reached his lips. Renlo flexed his arms again, and then turned away.
“It’s true. Without you here, we got one less person to watch, one less sneak to risk running off with our treasure, and one less percentage to share,” Gor said, standing over Iona his eyes frighteningly cold.
Thorben’s insides dropped, and he immediately cursed his cowardice.
“We…we had a…deal,” Iona stammered, his bloody leg trembling as he tried to sit up.
“Aye, we did. You promised to guide us to a dalan treasure like no other, and in return, we agreed to forgive your debt. You took our coin, knowing fully that it would have to be repaid. An’ like I told you before, repayment is in gold or blood.”
“You promised to protect me! You told me that I was important to the guild…that…” Iona yelled, but his voice failed, and he slumped over, clutching his leg.
“And you were,” Gor said, and knelt down, holding the coin right up to Iona’s face. “But you struck a guildsman, interfered with his path. Fate judged you to bleed.”
Renlo moved in and pulled Thorben bodily off the ground. He tried to fight back but hadn’t regained the strength in his arms and legs yet. Thorben felt like a doll in the man’s hands.
“Look on the sunny side of the rock, Iona. Know that your debt will die with you, and you lived by fate’s decree…‘tis more than life will grace most folk with. The guild will remember you, every time we gaze upon our treasure,” Gor
said. Hun laughed loudly, a trickle of blood flowing from his crooked nose.
Thorben heaved down a heavy breath, his angry words damming up behind the lump in his throat. He hated himself for it, but he’d never been one for confrontation, especially with men larger and more comfortable with violence. He tried to take solace in the fact that Iona had bloodied him, but it wasn’t enough.
“And…and…my daughter?” Iona asked, tears streaming down his cheeks. He tried desperately to grasp Gor’s foot, but the big man pulled away.
Renlo forced Thorben forward, toward the open gate. His boots skidded against the stone, but after a few lumbering steps, he managed to move his feet. Iona’s voice echoed through the chamber behind him, the man’s desperate pleas jabbing into Thorben’s guts again and again. Feeling crept back into his legs, and within a few paces, he managed to force his right leg straight and jammed a foot into the ground. Renlo staggered, and for a moment they teetered together.
“We can’t leave him here to bleed out. It is not right,” Thorben argued, finally managing to squeeze the words out. He tried to wrench around in Renlo’s arms, but the man fought him.
“We can, and you should. If you know what is good for you, you’ll keep quiet,” the guildsman said, his dark eyes cast down.
Thorben hooked his arms free and squirmed with his legs. He didn’t have his full strength yet, but it was returning and he managed to get his body turned around. Hun wrestled Jez along behind them – the girl’s body thrown over his shoulder like he was grappling a sack of grain. She cried and sobbed, her words devolving into something more animal than human. She banged her fists ineffectually off the brute’s back and head, her uneven curtain of dark hair obscuring her face.
What just happened? he thought. This is wrong, he just saved my life. I can’t just let him bleed to death alone and in the dark. Thorben tried to slide out of Renlo’s grip again, managing to free one arm, only to have the mule jerk him back with the other.
