by Stuart Daly
The boys lay on the ground, catching their breath, marvelling at the fact that they were still alive. Roland climbed to his feet and dusted himself off. He gave his bagpipes a quick check and sighed in relief when he saw that they were undamaged.
He smiled cheerfully at his friends. ‘Now that wasn’t too difficult, was it?’
Lachlan inspected his grazed hands and knees. He rose and helped Caspan to his feet. ‘You okay?’
Caspan nodded. ‘Yeah. I’ve been in some hairy situations before, but that was too close for comfort.’ He took a steadying drink from his flask and passed it to his friends. ‘I didn’t think we were going to make it.’
‘Nah, I had everything under control,’ Roland said dismissively.
‘Is that before or after you almost died of fright?’ Lachlan asked, giving Caspan back his flask and peering down the passageway at the stone door ahead. ‘Hopefully we’ve reached the end and that’s the burial chamber.’
‘We won’t know until we open that door and find out,’ Caspan said. ‘Come on.’
He led his friends down the corridor, again taking care where he trod. Fortunately there were no pressure stones in this section and they gathered before the door. Lachlan tried pushing it open, but it was sealed shut. Caspan directed their attention to the inscription carved in the lintel and the three fist-sized blocks of stone protruding from the nearby wall.
Lachlan’s shoulders slumped. ‘Great – another trap.’
‘What were you expecting?’ Roland asked. ‘A carpet rolled out for us? This is a Dray tomb. They weren’t going to go to all this effort to bury one of their kings and not guard him from tomb robbers.’
Lachlan sighed. ‘I know. But I find this really frustrating. Give me a sword and an enemy I can face any day over these traps and riddles.’
‘I wouldn’t worry too much about that,’ Roland remarked. ‘If the Roon and highlanders keep defeating our armies, we might find ourselves on a battlefield sooner than you think.’
‘Don’t even joke about that,’ Caspan said, fearing that it was no longer a matter of if it would happen but when. ‘Now let’s focus on this inscription.’
Roland cracked his knuckles. ‘Translations it is then. Step back and give the master some room.’
Caspan grinned, glad to have Roland by his side. He had a gift of making people laugh in even the most perilous situations.
‘Ah, this one’s easy,’ Roland commented after a moment. ‘You see, this is how the Dray should write messages: in proper sentences and with none of these migraine-inducing jumbled words.’ He ran a hand over the Dray letters. ‘Only in the light of day is the truth finally revealed.’
Lachlan moaned. ‘Is that what it says?’
Roland’s expression was deadpan. ‘No. It’s just a passing observation I thought you’d like to hear.’
‘I’ll make a passing observation with your head through the wall if you’re not careful! We were almost killed by a hundred-ton boulder, and you decide it’s time to make jokes!’
‘What? I’m only trying to break the suspense.’
‘Yeah, well, kindly keep your comments to yourself. I’m finding this stressful enough as it is.’
Roland regarded Lachlan knowingly. ‘My point exactly.’ As Lachlan groaned, Roland raised his lantern up to the inscription. ‘It says, “Flanked by Two but not by One.” I should also point out that Two and One are capitalised.’
Lachlan exhaled. ‘So it’s another riddle.’ He glanced questioningly at his friends. ‘Any idea as to what it means?’
Roland thought for a moment before clicking his fingers. ‘It refers to the stone blocks. And I’m pretty sure it’s the middle one. It’s the only one that’s flanked by the others.’
‘But what about the last part of the riddle, “but not by One”?’ Caspan asked. ‘That rules the middle stone out.’
Roland scratched the side of his head. ‘Oh, yeah. I didn’t think about that.’
Caspan’s eyes narrowed in thought as he regarded the stones. ‘It refers to the stone on the right,’ he announced with absolute certainty.
Lachlan frowned. ‘How does that work?’
‘The numbers in the riddle refer to the location of the stones. That’s why they’re capitalised,’ Caspan explained. ‘It’s the only way the riddle makes sense. Think about it. The middle stone is number Two, and the one on the left, the first stone, is number One. The third stone, the one on the far right, is flanked by the second stone, but not by the first.’
A look of sudden understanding crossed Roland’s face. ‘Of course. That means it’s flanked by Two but not by One.’ He looked warily at the ceiling. ‘Now all that remains is for one of us to push it in and see what happens. Any volunteers?’
Lachlan stepped back. ‘Be my guest.’
Roland’s expression was dour. ‘Thanks. I’ll hold you personally responsible should anything particularly nasty happen to me.’ He reached up to place his hand on the block. ‘We’re sure about this?’ he asked, looking back at his friends.
Caspan nodded. ‘I think so.’
‘That wasn’t the answer I was hoping for.’ Roland winked at Lachlan. ‘Still, I’d rather be here than anywhere else.’ Taking a deep breath, he pushed the stone into the wall.
Caspan held his breath, fearing they might have falsely interpreted the riddle, and was relieved when he heard a click sound from within the wall. The door swung slowly open. They peered into the small chamber beyond. Caspan’s pulse raced when he saw the stone sarcophagus located in the centre of the room.
They’d found the burial chamber.
Roland was about to step inside, but Caspan pulled him back by his shawl and pointed at the tripwire he’d spotted. It stretched across the entrance at knee-height, connected to an axe that was poised above the inside lintel, ready to sweep down and behead an unsuspecting intruder.
‘Be careful,’ Caspan cautioned. ‘The last thing we want is to make a mistake now.’
Roland swallowed and, keeping a careful eye out for other traps, led his friends inside the tomb. They checked around the sarcophagus for more tripwires and pressure stones, then gathered around the stone coffin.
‘The weapon must be inside,’ Lachlan said, his voice an eerie echo that reverberated around the chamber.
He took hold of the lid and was about to slide it aside when Caspan placed a restraining hand on his arm. The former thief drew his stiletto and probed beneath the lid, checking for any final surprises. Finding none, he returned his blade to its sheath and helped the others open the coffin.
Caspan turned up his nose when he saw the mummified remains of the Dray ruler that lay inside. Its skin, like aged brown leather, was pulled tightly across its skull, accentuating its cheekbones and forming a grotesque, leering grin.
Roland glanced at Lachlan. ‘It’s like looking into a mirror, isn’t it?’
Lachlan laughed humourlessly. ‘Maybe for you it is.’
‘You should take a closer look.’
‘Why me?’
Roland shrugged. ‘Isn’t this your sort of thing?’
Lachlan stared at him incredulously. ‘Since when has inspecting centuries-old corpses been my sort of thing?’
‘I don’t know,’ Roland returned irritably, wiping his hands on his kilt, not pleased that he’d dirtied them opening the casket. ‘Just stop complaining and get on with it.’
‘Why don’t you do it?’
Roland stepped back. ‘No way! There are lots of things I’ll do, but touching mummified remains isn’t one of them.’ A look of nausea swept across his face. ‘I could catch a disease or something.’
‘But it’s perfectly fine for me to do it?’
Roland nodded. ‘You’ll be absolutely fine.’ He gestured towards the rotted body. ‘Now hurry up and get on with it. We haven’t got all day.’
‘Can you believe this?’ Lachlan asked Caspan. ‘I feel like picking him up, chucking him inside there and putting the lid back on. I�
�d like see what he has to say about diseases then.’
‘Don’t even joke about that, my over-sized friend. You’d see a side of me you’d wish you’d never roused.’
Caspan gave his friends a critical look. ‘A fine lot of treasure hunters you two are, too afraid to look inside a tomb. I’m sure the Masters would be really proud of you.’ He placed his lantern on the edge of the sarcophagus and rolled back the sleeves of his doublet.
‘Are you going to do it?’ Roland asked hopefully.
‘I don’t see who else is, ye wee Jimmy.’ Caspan’s lips curled distastefully as he reached down and tentatively pulled back the linen wrapping around the corpse’s neck, searching for a soul key. He glanced across at Roland, who crept back to the side of the casket and peered down at what he was doing. ‘I thought you didn’t want to see any of this?’ Caspan asked him curiously.
Roland was mesmerised. ‘Watching’s fine. It’s the touching part I’m not too keen on. But keep going. You’re doing a great job. Isn’t he, Lachlan?’
‘Yes, I couldn’t do better myself.’
Caspan rolled his eyes then continued examining the corpse. He tugged at a cord wrapped around its neck, making the head roll to the right and glare up at him. Roland squealed and jumped back in fright.
‘I thought it was alive!’ he gasped.
‘You’re unbelievable,’ Lachlan said. ‘Why don’t you go over and stand by the doorway and let Caspan work in peace?’
‘I think that’s a good idea,’ Roland agreed, his hand over his heart. ‘Let me know if you need anything, though.’
Having failed to find a soul key, Caspan searched along the sides of the body, hoping to find a weapon that may have been buried with the mummified king. Lachlan picked up the lantern and held it above the corpse, allowing him to see more clearly.
‘What’s that?’ Lachlan asked, spotting a flash of metal amidst the rags around the king’s right wrist.
Caspan saw it too, and he slowly pulled back the clothing to reveal an armband. It was fashioned from the same black metal from which nearly all magical Dray items were created. It was quite long, extending halfway up the bony forearm, with splayed metal tentacles that extended from the ends. An inscription in Ancient Tongue was engraved on it. He turned excitedly to Lachlan. ‘I think we’ve found what we were looking for.’
Caspan carefully inspected of the rest of the casket and corpse but failed to find anything else. He slid the armband free and gathered with his friends near the doorway to examine the relic.
‘Is an armband a weapon?’ Roland asked. ‘I was expecting something like a sword or axe.’
Caspan shrugged. ‘I suppose so.’
‘Or is it more like armour?’ Roland queried. ‘Yeah, it’d come under the same classification as a chestplate or grieves.’
Lachlan drew a patient breath. ‘Does it really matter? Just be happy that we’ve found the thing.’
‘I just think it’s strange that they’d bury an armband, which is really only one step up from a bracelet, and refer to it in the map as a weapon. Think about it – how are you going to kill enemies with that? Slip it on and bedazzle them to death?’ Roland asked.
Lachlan ignored him. ‘I wonder what it does?’
‘Put it on and find out.’
‘I don’t think that’s a wise idea,’ Caspan cautioned. ‘We know nothing about it. I suggest we wait until we return to the House of Whispers and let the Masters have a good look.’
Roland nodded reluctantly. ‘Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Still, that doesn’t mean we can’t find out what it’s called. Surely there’s no harm in doing that?’ He inspected the engraving. ‘Hmm, in Ancient Tongue it’s called Dloron Minathril, which means Metal Skin.’ His eyes narrowed and he lowered his voice. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to see what it does? The Masters will never find out.’ He winked at Lachlan. ‘Go on. Put it on and say its name. I dare you. No, I double dare you.’
Lachlan bristled. ‘If you’re so keen to see what it does, why don’t you do it?’
‘We’re not going to start with this again,’ Caspan said, placing the artefact in a leather pouch attached to his belt. ‘Rather than argue about the item, we should work out how we plan on getting out of the fort.’
Roland shot Lachlan a reprimanding look. ‘Yeah, Lachlan. Caspan’s right. Now, what I suggest is that we summon our Wardens the instant we sneak out of the tomb. Then we fly out of here, pick up the girls and Shanty, and head straight back to the House of Whispers.’ He held up a finger, correcting himself. ‘Oh, I almost forgot. That’s only after Bandit and I pay a visit to a certain Glengarry clansman.’ His friends stared at him disapprovingly. ‘What? It would be impolite to leave without saying goodbye.’
‘With the exception of the last bit, I like your idea,’ Caspan commented. ‘But I don’t think we should try sneaking out of here until it’s dark, preferably when the highlanders are asleep. As powerful as our Wardens are, they’re not invincible. Remember what happened to Frostbite at Saint Justyn’s? All it takes is one carefully aimed arrow or spear and it could be the end of them.’
Lachlan nodded. ‘I agree. We can’t take the risk.’
‘Night it is then. Although, that leaves us with a lot of time to kill.’ Roland glanced mischievously at Caspan’s belt. ‘Meaning we could always have a closer look at the piece of jewellery – sorry, the weapon.’ His eyes lit up and he patted the bagpipes slung over his shoulder. ‘Or I could even pull these out and give them a go.’
‘No!’ Caspan and Lachlan said in unison.
Roland gave them a wounded look. ‘All right – there’s no need to shout, you puddenheads. I was only asking.’
Lachlan sighed and rolled his eyes. ‘Please, give me patience.’
CHAPTER 19
AN UNEXPECTED ENEMY
The friends made it safely back through the subterranean complex and reached the door barred with the poleaxes. Taking care not to knock them over, they opened the door slightly and peered past the weapons racks to the camp outside. They were surprised to find that it was already night. Caspan had feared that the guard who’d let them into the restricted area might have raised the alarm when they didn’t return from the smithy, but everything seemed to be carrying on as normal.
The boys took shifts keeping watch. Occasionally clansmen entered the tunnel and stacked swords and spears on the racks lining the walls. The friends would dim their lanterns, ease the door closed and retreat into the tomb, their weapons drawn. Fortunately, none of the highlanders passed through the doorway, and the boys waited in silent vigil for the fort to settle down for the night.
It was in the early hours of the morning when they crept through to the burial mound entrance. They extinguished their lanterns, but didn’t touch the ones along the walls, believing that if they did so it might prompt a sentry to come investigate. Caspan felt exposed and vulnerable in the light but the door was half-closed, allowing the boys to follow the left wall with little fear of being spotted by somebody outside. They then huddled in the doorway and peered into the fort.
Tor O’Shawn was silent and still. A few guards watched over the sleeping camp, gathered around fires in iron braziers atop the parapets, where they warmed themselves and talked in hushed voices. None of them seemed particularly enthused about doing sentry duty. Even those who made a half-hearted effort to patrol the wall only monitored the area beyond the palisade.
The boys waited a few minutes, checking if there were any guards they’d failed to see, before sneaking out of the tomb. The cold night air bit at the exposed flesh of Caspan’s face, hands and thighs, but unlike the previous night, during which he’d wished he was back in his bed at the House of Whispers, he didn’t mind at all. He was glad to be finally out of the confined passageway, free to make the return journey home.
Reaching beneath his shawl, he found his soul key and raised it to his lips, eager to summon Frostbite. But then he froze. In his peripheral vision he saw three men,
silhouetted against a distant campfire, approaching from the side of the burial mound.
He grabbed his friends and pulled them back inside the tomb. The he spied around the door, hoping they hadn’t been spotted. Caspan’s fingers locked around the leather-bound haft of his sword. He barely dared breathe.
Please, we can’t get caught now. Not after all we’ve been through, he whispered to himself.
The highlanders drew closer, but they gave no indication that they’d seen the boys. No cry of alarm was raised, nor did the clansmen reach for their blades, but they were heading straight towards the tomb’s entrance, perhaps to inspect the weapons stored inside. And if that were the case, Caspan and his friends were about to get caught.
Caspan looked over his shoulder, searching desperately for somewhere to hide. Dozens of weapons racks lined the walls, but only the ones down the end of the tunnel were large enough to hide behind, and they were over forty yards away.
They’d never make it in time.
He drew his sword, looked grimly at his friends and whispered, ‘They haven’t seen us yet, but if they come in here we’ve had it. Our only hope is if we can knock them out before they alert the fort.’
Lachlan nodded grimly as he gripped his claymore by the blade, allowing him to use the handle as a club. ‘We need to do this quickly and silently.’
Roland stepped back from his friends, giving himself freedom to swing his inverted sword, and glanced at Lachlan. ‘You can take care of the large one on the left.’
‘How did I know you were going to say that?’ Lachlan muttered as he raised his weapon over his shoulder, ready to crown his assigned highlander.
Caspan tensed, his heart racing as he listened to the approaching footsteps. They sounded very close now, but then they seemed to change direction and fade away. Curious, and hoping that they wouldn’t have to face the clansmen after all, he raised his palm to indicate his friends to stay put, and peered around the door. At first he couldn’t see the highlanders and he cast his eyes about worriedly, fearing they might have seen him and were preparing their own ambush. But then he spotted the three black silhouettes climbing the nearby stairs that led up the mound towards the central longhouse.
