...Or Was It Defeat?
2006 Words
The basement (sub-basement?) was dingy, cramped, and dark. The walls were caked in thick spider webs or covered in layers of dust. What didn’t look like it came from the set of the Addams Family looked like it came from the set of a slasher film.
More bones were present, though these weren’t etched with alien writing that gave the reader a headache. No, they were scattered about as if they’d been left behind from whatever they originally belonged to had been killed. The walls were a scant four feet apart, meaning that any attempts at swinging a weapon were going to be significantly hampered.
Least there isn’t any water… Samuel thought bitterly, moving the torch about before him to burn away the sheer wall of cobwebs that blocked their path. Wheeze was right behind him, sword ready and held low in case Samuel saw a threat. They’d already worked out that he would duck and shout should Wheeze need to start swinging, and the burly warrior seemed to be taking the job of serving as Samuel’s bodyguard seriously, at least.
He looked around, straining his ears to try and hear anything beyond their labored breathes and the crackling of the fire on the makeshift torch. He’d noticed after they descended the twenty feet of winding staircase that the stone blocks that made up the dungeon around them had changed as soon as they’d reached bottom.
Instead of the massive blocks devoid of mortar, this sections seemed to be… older? The stones bricks were smaller and had crumbling mortar holding the crumbling rock together. They were gray, much darker than the ones above, with veins of green running through them that reflected the light whenever he looked at it.
Some kind of ore, I guess? He mused as he walked. Guess the quarry they were pulled from was near a mineral vein or something. Makes sense, seeing as there’s no way these bricks came from the same place that the ones upstairs were hauled from.
They turned a corner, Samuel making certain to peek around it before stepping out from behind possible cover and stopped. “That looks ominous…” Samuel muttered with a frown.
The passage widened considerably, until it had a small space set before a set of large double doors.
That were covered in the alien writing, pale green smoke rising off the symbols. The door handles were weathered skulls, small stakes hammered through their craniums so that they could actually be used as functional door handles. It was reinforced with iron bracing, and the entire thing screamed “Don’t touch!” in more ways than one.
“That thing’s clean.” Samuel said, staring at the door.
Wheeze leaned over his shoulder, whistling low. “First door tha’ don’t look half-rotted ta s**t… tha’ can’t be good, can it?”
“No,” Samuel agreed. “It can’t.”
“Let Needles up there to look, damn you!” Skelly snarled from behind them. “I don’t want to stand in these narrow halls while you two old women worry!”
Samuel moved aside for Needles, stepping back as the one-eyed warrior took his place. The man grumbled, pulling his tools from his side pouch before shoving them into the teen’s hands. “Hold these, no place to put them while I work…”
He fumbled about, hands still slick from the oil bath they’d had earlier. “Damn, calm down! I’ll hold them.”
Wheeze fumbled with his tools, checking over the door while they listened to Posnev whine behind them, Skelly grumbling beneath his breath. Samuel turned to look at the old man, his wrinkled features screwed up in worry. “What’s your issue?”
“I don’t like being in narrow spaces…” The Druid said after a moment’s hesitation. “Bad experience a few years ago, don’t worry. I’ll be fine as soon as we move on.”
“Stuck in a cave-in ‘er somethin’?” Wheeze asked.
Skelly’s frown deepened. “Or something.”
Seeing that he didn’t want to talk about it, Samuel cleared his throat and looked at Wheeze. “So,” he began, “tell me about Odin’s Throne.”
“The capital?” He asked, blinking. “Not much ta tell, great place ta visit. Seat o’ power fer the Dwarves, whole government is based outta there.”
“They have a king?” Samuel asked.
Needles snorted, still focused on his slim tools as he attempted to pick at the seam of the door between the skulls. “King? Nah, they have a council. Seat for every head of the noble clans, with one for the current High Priest of the Church of Two Hammers. Why ya asking?”
Samuel shrugged. “I think… I think I’m not actually dreaming.”
Needles spared a glance. “Really?” He drawled, rolling his eyes. “What finally woke yer ass up?”
“Got hurt earlier,” he replied. “Never had pain in a dream before.”
“Huh. Well, welcome to Terra, here’s hoping you don’t die.” Needles said, returning to his work. “Damn fingers, things are still numb from all the cold water.”
“Really?” Samuel asked, surprised. “We’ve been out of it for like ten minutes, I’m already starting to dry off…”
“Yer also holdin’ tha torch.” Wheeze smirked. “Wouldn’t mind some o’ tha’ meself, been a while since I felt me toes.”
Samuel frowned, falling silent. Needles chuckled. “Think I got it. Wasn’t locked, and I haven’t found any traps or anything. Don’t know what all the writing means, of course, but nothing mechanical on the door is gonna hurt us.”
He stood up and put his tools back into the long length of leather Samuel was holding before rolling it up and returning it to his side pouch. He patted it once closed and stood to face Samuel, who stood facing him for a few moments before he felt as if something was off. “What?” He asked Needles, who looked annoyed at the question.
“Move, would ya? Halls are too narrow for me to slip past ya!” He replied, as if it were obvious.
“I thought you would open the door?” Samuel said, moving so the warrior could squeeze past.
“You nuts?” Needles laughed. “Look at that thing, it screams trap! I made sure nothin’ would bite yer hand off when touching it, no guarantees there ain’t some weird spell that’ll hurt whoever opens it. That’s your job.”
“Ha, you’re a funny man…” Samuel said, rolling his eyes before jerking his head at Wheeze. “I just realized this isn’t a dream, I’m not testing my luck. Wheeze, you open the door.”
“Right-o!” Wheeze said, switching places with Samuel to get back in the front. “Would rather be up front ta take whatever hit gets thrown than risk tha party Wizard by havin’ ‘im open up doors.”
“Just get us out of this hall, please…” Skelly said, exasperated. “I feel like it’s going to collapse on us any second.”
Wheeze gave a grunt and sheathed his sword, grabbing both iron spikes serving as handles and pushing on the door. “Then let’s get goin’!”
The doors swung open on well-oiled hinges, nary a sound escaping them as the doors slid open into a large chamber. Wheeze stepped in, Samuel hurrying after with the torch, looking about with wide eyes.
They were in a crypt.
The chamber was thirty feet long, twenty feet wide, with a tapered ceiling where old iron chandeliers hung, decorated with old cobwebs, and forgotten tallow candles. The walls had open slots in them, hip high and perhaps two feet deep and two feet tall. Each of these was occupied by an old body, wrapped in funerary bindings, and covered in a thick layer of dust. The torchlight revealed the glinting of golden jewelry on the bodies, as well as a few scattered pieces of equipment.
But they weren’t looking at that.
They were looking at the center of room, at the three-sided stone column covered in grisly murals.
“That’s freaky…” Samuel muttered, walking across the chamber to get closer to the column. “Huh, still legible…”
“So?” Wheeze asked, looking back as the others entered, Skelly looking pleased that he was out of the tunnels.
“The rest of this place has been a dump, some of the treasure positively ancient,” Samuel explained, looking at the broad mural. “Yet this looks like it was painted recently, doesn’t it?”
Needles and Wheeze approached it, frowning. The side facing the door was decorated with a series of crude images going from the top to the bottom. At the top there were three men, one with a sword and shield, the other a bow, the last a staff. The were standing in front of a door, weapons at the ready.
The image below that showed the archer standing around a mound of gold, with the warrior and wizard raising him.
Below that was a grisly re-imagining of the mass of skulls arranged into the horned symbol, with the three shadowed figures of the adventurers standing before it.
The next image was the three standing before a narrow tunnel built into a wall, one of them stooping to enter.
The final was the three standing before a column covered in murals, blood leaking from their eyes.
“It’s the dungeon…” Samuel muttered before turning. “Skelly, come… where’s the Druid?”
Wheeze and Needles turned, their attention having been on the column as well. Looking around there was no sign of Skelly or Posnev anywhere to be found.
They’d vanished.
And so had the door out of the chamber.
“That… can’t be good, can it?” Needles asked, wincing even as he spoke.
“No,” Samuel said, shaking his head. “it isn’t.”
“s**t, wha’ happened to ‘em?” Wheeze asked, drawing his sword in a flash.
Samuel waved him down, attempting to calm him. “Stop.” He ordered, surprised when Wheeze did as he was told. “No splitting up now, got it? Just us now, and no obvious way out.”
“What do we do then?” Needles asked, looking around the room. “I don’t see an exit, do you?”
What sounded like the wet squelching of a slab of bloody beef hitting the stone floor made the three jump in surprise, all spinning to look to the other side of the chamber at what it was.
The far wall was splitting, the very stone bricks peeling back and rearranging back into the structure as a new passage opened. A blast of fetid air, tinged with rot, wafted into the crypt, making the three gag.
“Well…” Samuel said, spitting up what remained of his last meal. “That seems to be the path to take, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t like this.” Needles said, hand drifting to his own sheathed weapon.
“Neither do I, but we only have one path to take.” Samuel said, heaving a sigh. “I suggest we take it. But first… let’s see if any of the stuff on these bodies would be of use.”
“Lootin’ first ‘fore we go deeper?” Wheeze rasped, chuckling. “Never a bad thought.”
They split up, all chatting to keep aware of where the other was and began picking through the various corpses and their stored loot. There was no talk or rush towards the jewelry by any of them.
No, they all seemed to focus on the weapons.
“Shield here!” Samuel called out, hefting out a round wooden shield, studying the iron reinforced rim. “Seems sturdy.”
“Got an axe!” Needles called out, grunting. “Heavy as s**t, Wheeze, might be good for you!”
“Good!” He chirped, yanking a withered hand off the hilt of a morningstar, the heavy end of the metal bludgeon tipped with dozens of narrow iron spikes. “This’ll be somethin’ I can trade ya fer it, I think.”
They traded the weapons between them, swinging them about to get a feel for their balance. Samuel passed the shield to Needles, who seemed pleased. “Nice! Barrel-tops are my favorite!”
“That what this type is called?” Samuel asked, bemused at the excitement Needles was showing.
He shrugged. “No clue, what I call them though. Find anything fer yourself?”
Samuel shook his head. “Not really. Still have Skelly’s cudgel though, will do in a pinch.”
“Hope so…” Needles said, humor leaking from his voice like a busted sieve. “This is gonna get bad, ain’t it.”
“Feel like it.” Samuel said, not seeing the point in sugarcoating anything. “Seems like I was right about something kidnapping Elena though, seeing as we lost Skelly too.”
“They got the dogs,” Wheeze said, annoyed. “I liked ‘em. No way I can let tha’ pass.”
Samuel smiled. “Alright then.” He stepped towards the passage, doing his best to calm his racing heart. “Let’s get going then, shall we?”
- Writer
