by Stuart Daly
She sat cross-legged on the floor. ‘It’s not your fault,’ she said, glaring at Roland. ‘But I hope this great big buffoon gets dye all over his clothes!’
‘That’s a bit harsh,’ Roland remarked.
‘What? After what you did to me, I should use your head to test every block in the tomb for traps.’ Kilt started to rise, fists clenched, but Lachlan held her back.
‘Don’t worry about him,’ he said. ‘He’s not worth the effort.’ Roland drew breath to protest, but Lachlan silenced him with a stern look. ‘You might think it’s funny, but Kilt’s now out of the challenge. She might have made it all the way to the end if it wasn’t for your silly mistake. Now all she gets to do is sit here and twiddle her thumbs.’
Roland lowered his eyes. ‘Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, Kilt.’
‘Thanks, but all the apologies in the world aren’t going to get me any further,’ Kilt replied. ‘The opening passageway – that’s as far as I made it through. Which won’t impress the Masters.’
Roland unfastened his cloak, fashioning it into a makeshift cushion. ‘I’ll stay with you. It was my fault.’
‘No way! The last thing I want is to be stuck here for hours with you teasing me.’ Kilt’s expression softened. ‘Seriously, the others will need you, even if you are the greatest puddenhead to have ever lived.’
Roland smiled. ‘Thanks, Kilt.’
Caspan waited for Roland to put his cloak back on before motioning for Sara, Lachlan and Roland to come close. ‘We can’t make any more foolish mistakes. We’ve been doing fine until now, and we don’t want to lose anyone else. I’ll continue leading, but tread only on my footprints.’
He reached behind his back and untied the chalk-filled leather pouch he always carried. He normally used this to powder his hands before climbing, but today it would serve a different purpose. Untying the drawstring, he sprinkled some powder on the soles of his boots. When he trod on the ground, white footprints were left behind.
Sara nodded, impressed. ‘That’s a clever idea.’
Caspan glanced back at Kilt. ‘Hopefully Master Scott won’t be long.’
‘It’s not as if I’m going anywhere,’ Kilt said, setting her lantern in front of her and shuffling into a more comfortable position on the floor.
The recruits made their way down the remaining section of corridor, carefully following the path marked by Caspan. They paused when they reached a flight of stairs. Sara removed the lantern from her belt and held it before her, but the light could not reach the bottom.
‘This goes down for some way.’ She regarded Caspan. ‘Are you sure you want to lead?’
Roland pushed him gently aside and cracked his knuckles. ‘This doesn’t look too dangerous. I’ll go first. It’s the least I can do after what happened to Kilt.’
He was about to begin the descent, when Caspan grabbed him by the sleeve. ‘Wait. This is too easy. We’re missing something.’
‘What?’ Sara asked.
Caspan knelt before the first step, closed his eyes and breathed in the stale, centuries-old air. He tuned in on the silence, disturbed only by the occasional drip of moisture that seeped its way through the ceiling somewhere in an earlier section of the burial mound. He invited the tomb to reach out to him, to reveal its secrets.
Caspan opened his eyes and felt along the top step, gliding his palm over its worn surface. He blew away the dust that had collected in the corner. ‘Look,’ he said, pointing at a crack that revealed the stairs were not joined to the walls. He also directed his friends’ attention to where the side of the step had grazed against the wall. This was repeated down the length of the stairwell.
Sara leaned in closer. ‘It’s a false stairway! Well spotted, Cas.’
Caspan rose and stared into the darkness. ‘As soon as we step on them, they’ll give way beneath our feet, forming a shaft that will send us sliding all the way to whatever lies at the bottom.’
‘Which is usually a pit bristling with spikes,’ Lachlan remarked dryly, standing at the rear of the group. ‘Or in our case, a pit full of red dye.’ He rubbed his chin in thought. ‘Any ideas?’
Sara examined the walls and ceiling. ‘If we had some rope we could secure it off somewhere and climb down. The only problem is that we …’
‘Don’t have any.’ Roland sighed. ‘It’s no use thinking about how to solve problems with equipment we haven’t got.’
Sara shot him an irritated look. ‘So what do we do then?’
‘We’ll trigger the steps and go down the shaft, as intended,’ Caspan suggested. ‘The steps are caked in dust. That will allow us to remain on our feet and slide down.’
Lachlan peered into the darkness. ‘But we still don’t know what awaits us down there.’
‘We can find that out easily enough.’ Caspan tore off a sleeve from his tunic and wrapped it around a stone he found on the ground. He opened the glass door of his lantern and exposed a dangling tail of cloth to the flame. He waited until it caught fire, then tossed it down the stairs, illuminating a good thirty-yard distance that ended at a dark pit.
‘That’s no great surprise,’ Roland commented. ‘What now?’
‘The pit isn’t that wide. We’ll be able to jump over it.’ Caspan turned to his friends. ‘It’s absolutely crucial that you stay on your feet. You’ll need to be able to leap over the pit when you reach the bottom. Lose your footing and things could get nasty.’ He sniffed and rolled his shoulders. ‘I’ll go first. Do exactly as I do.’
‘Good luck,’ Sara said.
Caspan smiled confidently in return, then stepped forward, applying pressure to the top step with his right foot. The instant he withdrew his foot the entire subterranean complex seemed to vibrate. There was a deep grinding sound as the ancient mechanism hidden beneath the floor stirred to life. A cloud of dust fell from the ceiling, further obscuring their limited vision. The stairs dipped forward to create a steep, diagonal slope.
Caspan stepped into the shaft. Assuming a crouched position, his legs spread wide apart, his left foot leading, he slid down the slope. He gave an exultant cry as he sped down the decline, gathering momentum with each passing second. Sara called out, warning him to be careful, but he was so consumed by the rush of adrenaline that he barely heard her.
He crouched lower as he neared the end of the shaft, preparing for the jump over the pit. It yawned before him, full of darkness and unknown danger. Then, when he was about a yard from the end, he leapt. Caspan sailed through the air, propelled by the speed he’d gathered, his heart racing. He rolled to safety on the far side and climbed to his feet. Checking that his lantern had not been smashed, he gave another triumphant yell and thrust a clenched fist in the air.
Caspan peered into the pit, and discovered that it was ten feet deep and filled with sacks of feathers damp with red dye. Nobody would be hurt should they fall inside, but they’d be eliminated from the challenge.
‘Come on down,’ he shouted up at his friends. ‘It’s easy. Just make sure you time your jump at the end.’
After a few encouraging words from Lachlan and Roland, Sara made her descent. Not as confident as Caspan, she spread her arms wide, trying desperately to keep her balance. At one point she almost toppled over, but flung her arms wildly to the side and miraculously recovered. Reaching the end, she leapt over to Caspan, who grabbed her and pulled her away from the edge.
‘Thank goodness that’s over,’ she said. ‘You made it look so easy. How did you do that?’
Caspan’s mind flashed back to his kingdom of rooftops in Floran. Often when it rained, he passed the time by sliding along sections of moss-covered tiles. When he reached the edge he would leap across to a neighbouring building.
He shrugged. ‘I’ve had some experience with this sort of thing.’ He noticed she was shaking and gave her a reassuring smile. ‘It gets easier with practice.’
‘Let’s hope the others make it.’ Sara stared up the shaft and called out, ‘Boys, we’re ready when you are
. Just be careful. It’s more difficult than it looks.’
Lachlan used a cautious technique; turning sideways and crouching down low so that his backside almost touched the floor. He positioned his hands on either side, sliding across the dust-covered slope, using them to maintain his balance and slow his descent. When he was a few yards from the end, he raised his hands, gathered speed and sprang easily across the pit.
Sara commended him on his method, then peered up the shaft at Roland. ‘Do what Lachlan did. It’s the safest way.’
Roland’s snicker echoed down to them. The black-haired boy then slid down the shaft, standing upright. At the halfway point he started to show off, folding his arms across his chest and yawning. And that’s when disaster struck and he lost his balance. Roland fell face forward and slammed onto the ground. Lying on his chest, he sped head-first down the slope, towards the pit.
Lachlan cried out in alarm. Sara gasped, buried her head in her hands and turned away. But Caspan reacted instinctively. He pushed aside his friends and lowered himself into the pit. Bracing his left forearm on the edge to prevent himself from falling in, he turned to face Roland and reached out his right hand. His friend had one last chance to stay in the challenge. It wasn’t going to be easy, but there was still hope.
‘Roland!’ he yelled. ‘Grab hold of me.’
Roland’s eyes locked on his. They were wide with fright, but he had the presence of mind to nod in understanding. Caspan braced himself for the impact. With any luck, he’d be able to use his body to prevent Roland from slamming head-first into the side wall of the pit. If he was really lucky, he’d be able to grab hold of him.
This was going to be close!
Roland shot out of the shaft, sailed through the air and slammed into Caspan. The breath exploded from Caspan’s chest and he was almost knocked from his perch, but he held on for dear life, further anchoring his left forearm on the ledge, and grabbing hold of Roland’s tunic with his free hand. He could barely support his friend’s weight, and he breathed a sigh of relief when Lachlan reached down and pulled them both to safety.
Roland looked up sheepishly from dusting his clothes. ‘That was a little stupid of me.’
Sara jabbed him in the chest with her finger. ‘Stop showing off! You’ll get yourself killed one day.’
‘Or one of us,’ Lachlan added, giving Roland a reprimanding look and patting Caspan commendably on the shoulder.
‘Yeah, sorry.’ Roland glanced at Caspan. ‘Thanks. I don’t know how my face would have fared against that wall.’
‘It might have knocked some sense into that thick head of yours,’ Lachlan muttered.
‘Just don’t do anything stupid again. Okay?’ Caspan said, concerned.
Roland raised a hand in apology. ‘Say no more. I’ll be on my best behaviour from here on.’
Caspan drew a deep breath, peered around the chamber and motioned for his friends to follow him over to the corridor at the far end. He applied more chalk to the soles of his shoes, then guided them cautiously along the passageway. It ran for a short distance before ending at a platform that led into a massive chamber.
Before them were eleven rows of stone columns, standing three abreast. They were set at the same height as the platform, rising to a height of twenty yards, and were separated by a distance of several feet. Each pillar had a name carved into its flat surface. They reminded Caspan of names he’d read in one of the texts they’d studied in the Brotherhood archives, but he couldn’t make any sense of them.
At the other side of the chamber, just at the end of their lantern-light, stood another platform. It gave access to the room’s sole exit – a large stone door. But it was what was on the stone podium on the distant platform that caught the recruits’ attention – a small leather bag.
‘We’ve made it to the end!’ Sara said excitedly. ‘But how do we get across?’
‘We can’t go down.’ Lachlan jerked his chin at the floor of the chamber, which was flooded with red-stained water.
There was no way of telling how deep it was, but Caspan hoped it would save them from harming themselves should they fall from the pillars. He regarded the chamber for a moment, carefully studying its walls and ceiling for ledges and handholds, but found none. He turned his attention to the columns and chewed his bottom lip in concentration.
‘The fact that these columns are level with the platforms suggests that we’re meant to use them to get across,’ he said. ‘But what do the inscriptions mean? They obviously serve some purpose.’
Roland lifted his lantern higher, casting the light over the tops of the stone pillars and the names carved on their surfaces. ‘Like what?’
‘Perhaps we need to step on them in a certain sequence, and the names indicate the correct order in which to follow,’ Sara suggested. ‘Step on the incorrect column, and a trap will be sprung.’
Caspan’s gaze darted to the sides of the chamber, searching for holes from which dye might be shot. But there were none, and he looked back at the columns. He studied the names carved on the three closest to the platform: Rhanas, Neol and Thapare. Again, he thought they sounded strangely familiar. They stirred some distant memory, and he whispered the names to himself, seeing if it would invoke some clarity. But they remained beyond his recollection, taunting at the edge of his thoughts. ‘I think they’re from one of the texts we’ve studied. But I can’t be certain.’
‘That’s exactly what they are,’ Sara announced. ‘Look!’ She drew their attention to the inscription she’d just discovered, carved at the edge of the stone platform beneath their feet. They had been so busy studying the columns that they’d failed to notice it.
The friends stepped back, revealing the message chiselled in Ancient Tongue, the language of the Dray: Follow in the path of the Descendants of Thort.
Caspan read the inscription aloud and scratched his head. ‘Thort … that name rings a bell.’
‘It should,’ Sara said. ‘We learnt about Thort during one of our first lessons in the archive. Don’t you remember?’ When the others gave her vague looks, she shook her head. ‘It’d help if you paid more attention during Ancient Studies. There’s so much more to being a successful tomb-robber than learning how to pick locks and climb walls. Now, let me think for a moment.’ Her eyes went deep with focus and she paced the platform. It wasn’t long before she clicked her fingers. ‘Thort appears in the Book of Scions. He was one of Japtet’s sons. Book 1, Chapter 2, verses 10 to 26, lists the descendants of Thort.’
‘You’ve got to be kidding me!’ Roland remarked.
‘I thought one day we might be tested on the genealogies listed in the Book of Scions. Master Scott seemed to place a lot of emphasis on it.’ Sara glanced at the names on the stone columns, her eyes glistening. ‘And it’s just as well one of us was paying attention. The columns are a genealogy tree. The names on the pillars are of Thort’s scions. We must tread on them in the correct order, following the path of Thort’s descendants. If we get it right we’ll be able to jump across the pillars all the way to the other side.’
‘And what happens if we get it wrong?’ Lachlan asked.
Sara licked her lips. ‘Hopefully we’ll never find out.’ She tapped the side of her head. ‘I have it all up here. I memorised the lists of genealogies.’
Roland rolled his eyes, nudged Caspan and whispered, ‘It’s easy to see what she does with her spare time. If she’s not careful, she’ll turn into a musty old book.’
Caspan grinned. He could imagine Sara perfectly at home in the library in Briston, which housed thousands of ancient texts, parchments and stone tablets. He pictured her sitting at a table in a dark recess, as she read texts by candle light, losing track of time, caught in her private reverie.
‘So who’s first in Thort’s family line?’ Caspan asked.
‘Give me a moment,’ Sara replied. ‘It’s best if I don’t look at the pillars. They may lead me astray.’ She paced the small platform, staring down at the floor, whisperin
g names and counting them off on her fingers. Finally she looked up and smiled victoriously. ‘I’ve got it.’
Lachlan considered the names on the first three stone pylons. ‘So who was the first descendant: Rhanas, Neol or Thapare?’
Sara’s forehead creased in confusion. ‘It wasn’t any of those.’ She looked questioningly at her friends. ‘It was Shanra.’
‘That can’t be right,’ Roland said. ‘That name isn’t on any of the pillars.’ He looked doubtfully at Sara. ‘Perhaps we’ve misinterpreted the message. Or maybe you’ve got the names wrong.’
Sara glared at him. ‘I have not, thank you very much. Shanra was the first son of Thort. I remember it clearly.’
Roland pointed at the columns. ‘Why isn’t it here then?’
‘It is here.’ Caspan’s skin tingled with the revelation he’d just made. ‘We’re staring straight at it. Rhanas is an anagram of Shanra.’
Sara’s eyes narrowed as she studied the words on the columns, reassembling the letters in her mind. ‘You’re right. These first three are Shanra, Elon and Heptara. They’re all descendants of Thort.’ She looked excitedly at the boys. ‘We’re going to make this.’
‘Let’s not start celebrating just yet,’ Caspan warned. ‘We have to get across the chamber first.’
Roland moved to the edge of the platform. ‘Then let’s do this. So it’s Rhanas first?’ When Sara nodded, he leapt across to the corresponding column. His feet slid on the dust-covered surface, but he quickly corrected his balance. ‘Be careful. They’re as slippery as ice.’
When no trap was triggered, Caspan gave a sigh of relief and patted Sara on the shoulder. ‘Well done.’
‘You see, it’s worth listening to the Master during Ancient Studies,’ she said proudly.
Caspan grinned. ‘Let’s not get too carried away.’ He followed after Roland, landing lightly on the column. He extended a hand back for Sara and Lachlan. ‘Come on, there’s ample room.’
