Chapter Seven“Hang on,” whispered Lang. “Let me see if there's a light or a lamp.” He lowered his weapon in the darkness, searching along the wall, groping to find something that would illuminate where they were and their position.
“Andy, don't go too far… stay near… keep your weapon up,” hissed Crane in warning.
There were several more seconds of muffled movement and then they heard Lang say “Gotcha.” From the corner where they'd ascended the staircase, a faint orange glow grew as an archaic oil lamp flickered into life. There was just enough time to register a black-covered figure wielding a deadly black sword coming at Lang from the corner of the room, and then Lang's head left his body, rolling across the matted flooring before finally coming to rest against a large vase in the corne
