by Stuart Daly
Lord Brok waited until Morgan, Whisper and Fang reached the safety of the monastery before ordering the remaining monks to fall back. The Roon shuffled their shield-wall forward, but they were stalled again by the archers. Caspan peered past the warrior-monks in front of him and saw more Roon materialise through the mist. Rather than join the shield-wall, they raced around its left flank, making a dash for the gateway, until they too were pinned down. But now the archers were stretched, their focus on two different groups that were moving slowly towards the monastery.
Lord Brok was almost back to the relative safety of the gateway when one of the shield-walls parted and a massive Roon warrior charged forward. He stood almost a foot taller than the other giants, and wielded dual, double-headed battleaxes. His muscle-corded torso and face had patchworks of scars and tattoos, and his eyes were ablaze with fury. The Roon warrior tore ahead, impervious to the arrows that thudded into his chest, and hoisted back one of his axes to cleave apart Lord Brok, who valiantly stood his ground, waiting for the last of his brethren to withdraw inside the monastery.
The monk met the axe with his broadsword, but the power of the blow forced him to drop to one knee. A savage uppercut by the giant’s second axe knocked the lord onto his back and sent his broadsword sailing through the air. Dazed, Lord Brok barely managed to roll aside from the next attack, the axe thumping into the earth only a few inches from his face. More arrows thudded into the battle-scarred Roon, but he still refused to fall, heaving one of his axes high above his head to deliver the final death-blow. Lord Brok scrambled desperately across the ground and stared up helplessly at the axe’s sharp edge. With a tremendous roar, the Roon swung downwards just as Morgan and Fang raced from the gateway. There was a flash of the Master’s blade as he rode past the giant. The Roon warrior dropped his axes and toppled forward like a felled colossus, barely missing Lord Brok.
Morgan dodged an axe hurled by an enraged giant from behind one of the shield-walls. The Master then wheeled Fang around and thundered back towards the lord, who clambered to his feet. Morgan swapped his sword to his left hand, leaned to the right and swept the monk up in the crook of his arm. His feet dragging across the ground, the leader of the Knights of Saint Justyn was carried through the gateway and into the small courtyard, where he was dropped safely onto the flagstone paving. The heavy, iron-ribbed door was slammed shut, and half a dozen monks, accompanied by Lachlan, Caspan and Roland, slid a massive wooden crossbeam through its iron brackets.
Lachlan rested his hands on his knees and took a deep breath. ‘That won’t hold them for long.’
Lord Brok dusted himself off, patted Morgan gratefully on the shoulder and was handed a sword by one of his brethren. ‘Hopefully it will buy you enough time to check what we discovered in the library.’ He looked around for Daniel and found him atop the wall, firing arrows at the Roon. Lord Brok instructed him to come down to escort the group into a nearby building.
With Talon, Whisper and Bandit standing guard outside the doorway, the recruits, the Master and Fang followed Daniel along a dimly lit corridor. They passed several closed doors before the monk ushered them into a musty library, which had aisles of towering bookcases containing dust-coated scrolls, parchments and ancient, leatherbound tomes. Daniel took a torch from a bracket near the door and directed the group to a corner of the room. The bookcases had been moved to the side, revealing a cavity that ran back for several yards and ended at a sealed stone door. There were strange markings carved on it.
‘We were conducting excavations down here when we came across this,’ the monk explained. He handed Morgan the torch and stepped aside, allowing the Master to peer through.
‘We’ve never seen writing like this before. We think it might be Dray.’
Curious, Caspan looked over Morgan’s shoulder. The markings on the door did indeed appear to be Dray letters, but they were unfamiliar to him.
Roland pressed up alongside him and nodded assuredly. ‘There’s no doubt about it, they’re –’
Morgan silenced him with a raised hand. He stepped inside the narrow recess and held the torch towards the door, illuminating it in orange light. He studied the symbols intently. ‘It’s an ancient Dray language, known to few outside the Brotherhood.’ He shifted his gaze to Daniel. ‘You were wise to contact us. You’ve stumbled across a royal Dray burial.’
The monk exhaled in relief. ‘We were worried your journey here might have been for nothing. Occasionally we discover pieces of pottery in the fields and vegetable gardens, and have suspected that the monastery was built upon the site of a Dray building. But we’ve never found anything quite like this. At least now –’
A series of heavy thuds resounded from the entrance courtyard.
Sara swallowed, and shuddered. ‘The Roon are at the gate!’
Daniel gripped the hilt of the broadsword strapped by his side and strode towards the library door. ‘You’d better hurry,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘Find what’s inside the tomb and get out while you still can.’ He paused in the doorway and looked back at them. ‘Good luck.’
Morgan emerged from the cavity. ‘And what of you?’
‘We’ve always known that the day would come when the Roon would attack these walls.’ Daniel gritted his teeth. ‘We’ll make them pay dearly for invading these lands.’
Morgan stared grimly at the monk. ‘You won’t win. You know that?’
Daniel’s lips tightened. ‘The Knights of Saint Justyn never retreat in battle. We’ll hold the monastery till the last man.’ He drew his blade and hurried down the corridor.
‘We’d better get a move on,’ Morgan said, and directed Sara and Lachlan to collect a torch each from the library wall. He beckoned them to come close. ‘Sara, I want Cloud Dancer posted here, just in case the Roon force their way into the library.’
‘What of Fang?’ Caspan asked as Sara summoned her Warden and instructed her to keep guard.
Morgan patted the wolf on the neck. ‘He’s an old hand at exploring tombs and will be coming with us. Fang has saved my life on more than one occasion, alerting me to traps he’s detected.’ He flicked his gaze to the recruits. ‘We don’t know what we’ll find inside the tomb, so stay close to me and don’t touch anything. Fang and I’ll lead, followed by Caspan, Sara, Lachlan, Kilt and Roland.’
‘Trust him to put me at the back,’ Caspan heard Roland mumble under his breath as the Master stepped through the opening in the wall, Fang padding silently behind him. ‘Then again, he might want a skilled fighter at the rear; someone who can hold off fifty Roon single-handedly.’
‘I’m sure that’s the reason,’ Kilt whispered sarcastically. ‘Now be quiet. The last thing I want is to be distracted by you and to walk into a trap.’
Wondering if Roland had a serious bone in his body, Caspan followed the Master and his wolf companion up to the door. He could sense everyone’s nervous energy. Morgan brushed a hand over the Dray inscription and whispered to himself as he translated the strange letters. The Roon continued to pound against the front gate, causing dirt to sprinkle from the heavy stone blocks forming the ceiling of the passage. Caspan also felt the ground vibrate beneath his feet, and cast an anxious glance back at Sara. To his surprise, she wasn’t alarmed but was studying the Master’s actions.
Morgan traced his hand across the door, pausing at a small stone block just off to the side. He hesitated for a moment, then pushed it, forcing it to recede into the wall. There was a hollow click, followed by a raw grinding sound as the door slowly opened.
Then silence. Darkness lay beyond.
Stale air escaped from the tomb, prompting the companions to breathe through their sleeves. With Fang and Morgan leading, they stepped warily inside. They brushed through cobwebs and descended a short flight of stairs that led to a large chamber. Hundreds of small holes had been drilled in its ceiling, and a stone door, similar to the tomb’s entrance, was located on the far wall.
Morgan paused at the base of the stairs. He
carefully inspected the room before giving the command for Fang to move inside. The wolf did a complete circuit of the chamber, sniffing around the walls and floor, then waited in front of the far door and looked back at his master.
‘It’s safe.’ Morgan motioned for the others to follow him.
‘At least for the moment,’ Sara muttered, looking cautiously at the ceiling.
Lachlan raised his torch to inspect the holes. ‘What do you think they’re for?’
Roland, who remained at the base of the stairs, shrugged. ‘Maybe snakes will come out of them, or hundreds of spiders. Maybe even poison darts.’
Sara shuddered. ‘Would you mind keeping such thoughts to yourself? This is scary enough as it is.’
Roland raised an apologetic hand and leaned against the wall. ‘Just trying to help. I suppose I’ll wait here and save the day when hundreds of tattooed giants come swarming down these stairs.’
Sara closed her eyes and drew a steadying breath. ‘Roland!’
‘That’s enough,’ Morgan said sternly. ‘And get off the wall. You might trigger a trap.’ He asked Lachlan and Kilt to keep an eye out around the chamber, particularly on the ceiling, and beckoned Caspan and Sara to join him and Fang by the door. ‘What do you make of this?’ He gestured with a tilt of his head at the letters engraved on the surface.
‘They look similar to the ones at the tomb entrance,’ Caspan observed.
Sara nodded. ‘They’re the same language.’ Her eyes narrowed as she focused on the markings. ‘Here lies the fourth king of the …’ She paused in her translation and pointed at the last few words. ‘I can’t make them out.’
Morgan looked at her in surprise. ‘I didn’t know you could read this language.’
She smiled modestly. ‘I found a book on ancient Dray languages in the archives during our first Language lesson with Master Scott. He said it wouldn’t be a problem if I borrowed it for a while.’
‘I’m glad he did. I might have to rely on you if I have problems working out some of this.’ Morgan pointed at the inscription. ‘This line here says, Within lies the fourth ruler of the Flor Thendoln Dynasty, Ro Dool.’
Sara’s eyes flashed excitedly. ‘We might find some magical weapons, or maybe even a Warden inside.’
‘Or a belly-full of spears!’ Caspan said sourly.
Morgan murmured in agreement. ‘That’s the problem. This line here –’ he pointed at a sentence at the very top of the door ‘– is a warning not to disturb the burial chamber.’
Sara studied the words for a moment before reading them aloud. ‘He who … disturbs the King’s … eternal –’ she glanced at Morgan ‘– is the next word “rest”?’
He shook his head. ‘Sleep.’
‘Sleep will be hidden – no, wait, buried alive in the sands of Salahara.’ Sara trembled and stepped away from the door. ‘It sounds more like a curse! Please remind me never to go anywhere near the desert kingdom.’
Morgan repeated the Dray ruler’s name silently to himself, as if trying to trigger a distant memory. ‘I’ve never heard of Ro Dool before, and he hasn’t appeared in any of the genealogies I’ve studied. He may have been a lesser king. But we won’t take any chances.’ The Master patted Fang on the head. ‘Sorry, my friend, but your part in this adventure ends now.’ The wolf made a pleading, whimpering sound and nuzzled against Morgan’s thigh. ‘You’ve led us down here, and for that I thank you, but I can’t risk you getting injured by the final trap.’ He raised his soul key and dismissed his Warden, then turned to address the recruits. ‘With the exception of Caspan, everybody move back to the stairs.’
Sara was the first to join Roland. ‘You think the door will be trapped?’ she asked, looking back at the Master.
Morgan nodded and licked his lips as he waited for Kilt and Lachlan to withdraw from the chamber. He glanced at Caspan. ‘I’ve asked you to stay because you’re fast. You’ve also got far more experience at this sort of thing than the others. There’s no telling what’s going to happen when I open this door. If it’s a trap, I doubt we’ll have the chance to circumvent it. Stay to the side, and keep away from the holes in the ceiling. Then, once the door’s open, and if you get the chance, I want you to race with me inside the tomb. Search the room and grab whatever you can. Hopefully we’ll both make it out in one piece. Normally we wouldn’t rush this, but we don’t have any other choice. If we stay here much longer, we may well be counting on Roland to protect our rear. I’m not sure about you, but I don’t like the sound of that one bit. Are you ready?’
Caspan stepped to the side, drew a steadying breath and nodded. The Master rolled his shoulders and flexed his fingers. He pressed three small stone blocks in the lintel above the door before darting to the side to join Caspan.
Slowly, the door groaned open …
Only to activate a trap that caused sand to gush through the holes in the ceiling. Even more alarming was the stone slab that started to descend from the roof at the base of the stairs.
If they weren’t quick, they’d be buried alive.
‘Let’s go!’ Morgan barked, racing into the chamber beyond, Caspan only a foot behind him.
Apart from a stone sarcophagus in the centre of the room, the chamber was empty. They pushed aside the lid. Caspan shuddered when he saw the rotting remains of the body within, its mummified features frozen into a leering grin. He pried from the skeletal fingers a rolled piece of parchment, then he was off after Morgan.
They bolted from the room, but stumbled in the sand. It poured down on top of them like a tremendous waterfall, almost knocking them to their knees and stinging their eyes. His only sense of bearing provided by the frantic cries of his friends and the ominous groan of the descending stone slab, Caspan pulled his hood over his head and forced his way through the death trap. He lost track of Morgan’s location; he thought he could hear him coughing and cursing somewhere off to the left, but he couldn’t be certain. The air was so full of sand it was nearly impossible to breathe and it felt as if his lungs were about to burst, when somehow, miraculously, he staggered into the stairwell. It too was filling with sand, and Lachlan, Kilt and Sara were trying their hardest to stop the slab from falling. The veins in Lachlan’s neck were bulging, but not even he was strong enough to stall the massive stone block. It was now only three feet above the thigh-deep sand.
Caspan collapsed on the stairs. ‘Where’s Roland?’ he rasped, sucking in air.
‘In there!’ Sara cried, trying to peer through the screen of sand. ‘We couldn’t stop him. He went in to find you and Morgan.’
‘He did what?’ Caspan clambered to his feet and headed back inside.
Sara grabbed him. ‘Are you crazy? You’ll be killed!’
‘I’m not leaving the others behind!’ Caspan tried to break free of her grasp, but she held on tightly and, much to his surprise, pushed him up the stairs.
‘You can’t go back in there! There’s nothing we can do for them.’
Caspan stared at the lowering slab, wanting desperately to do something. But Sara was right. Within a few seconds the chamber would be closed, and Roland and Morgan would be sealed inside for eternity.
Lachlan gave a tremendous roar, the muscles in his forearms bulging as he made one last valiant effort to prevent the slab from closing. But it slipped out of his and Kilt’s grasp and lowered until it was level with the sand. He cried out in frustration, hammering his clenched fists on the stone barrier, then stood there, his chest heaving.
The stairwell became still and silent.
Kilt climbed out of the sand and gave Caspan and Sara a look of dumbfounded defeat. ‘I can’t believe they’re gone.’
Caspan stared blankly at her and swallowed. He knew that entering Dray tombs was going to be dangerous, but he didn’t expect to lose one of his closest friends and Morgan on their first expedition. Sara started to sob. Putting his arm around her shoulder, Caspan drew her into his chest. He wanted to say something comforting, but couldn’t find the words.
‘What are we going to …?’
The words were caught in Kilt’s throat as a hand pushed its way through the sand beneath the stone barrier. Fingers stretched out, searching desperately for something to grab onto. Lachlan grasped at the hand and pulled for all his life. Kilt, Sara and Caspan scrambled forward to help him, and it wasn’t long before a head popped out of the sand.
Roland coughed and spluttered, then gave one of his charismatic grins. ‘You weren’t planning on leaving me behind, were you?’
They pulled him free, and got the surprise of their lives when they found that he, in turn, was gripping Morgan’s hand. They dragged and dug the Master out, and sat him and Roland down on the steps before handing them water-skins.
Roland took a long swig and poured water over his eyes. ‘Please don’t ever let me do that again. It was almost more than I could sand.’
Lachlan looked at him in wonder. ‘You’re incredible.’
Roland grinned. ‘I know.’ He shook his head and a cloud of sand fell over his shoulders. ‘Look at the state of my hair!’ he moaned.
‘I don’t know if I should hug or punch you,’ Sara said, sombrely regarding Roland and the Master. ‘I thought we’d lost you both.’
Morgan took a long draught of water and exhaled deeply. ‘So did I, for a moment. I got disoriented and couldn’t find the exit. Then someone grabbed hold of me and started to lead me out.’ He glanced at Caspan. ‘I thought it was you.’ Flicking his gaze to Roland, he extended a hand in gratitude. ‘But it was you. I don’t know how I can ever thank you. I owe you my life.’
Roland brushed his thanks aside with feigned modesty. ‘I do that sort of stuff all the time.’
Morgan cocked an eyebrow and laughed. ‘Oh really?’ His expression became solemn. ‘It was very brave of you. I’ll never forget what you did.’ Roland smiled proudly and Lachlan patted him commendably on the shoulder. The Master looked at Caspan. ‘You’ve still got the parchment?’
