Updates and Short Story:"The Tomb Robber"

I don’t actually have much to say about the writing today – it went really well yesterday and I finished chapter three and can finally move on to chapter four. Yesterday also marked the end of another week of writing (since I started measuring my stats) and I put in around nine hours or so and wrote approx. 13000 words. Very nice – this was the first week I was requiring a full hour of writing from me (technically minimum seventy minutes, since the main project requires a full hour and the warm-ups is ten minutes, at the very least.).

All in all, not bad. Hopefully, I can break my record. Now, I’m thinking I’m going to actually write a story as part of the warm-ups today, instead of my usual ramble about the issues I encounter writing the story out. So enjoy and, of course, thanks for reading.

Gareth dismounted from the horse, glancing around nervously. But he needn’t have worried – he was alone. The ancient structure stood low and foreboding before him, a crumbling stone temple, carved with fine writing over the top. He walked in, looking around with interest – thin beams of light spilled on the crumbling flagstones, broken statues stood in some of the niches along the wall. A thick layer of dust covered everything, cobwebs hung from the corners of the doors and windows. A mouse scurried by. 

He reached the far end of the building, beyond the central statue. A great statue of an old king stood, hands clasped over a sword, blank eyes staring out into eternity. He knelt down and examined the base carefully – it was tall, probably enough for a man to enter and carefully tapped it. As he thought. Hollow. 

“Got it,” he muttered and removed a pickaxe from his pack and began to carve away at the stone. It fell easily, revealing a stone passageway leading down into darkness. He lowered it, looking up at the king. In the growing shadows, the king’s expression looked increasingly sinister and angry. 

“No offense your majesty, but this has to be done.” He put away the pickaxe and pulled out a scroll, carefully reading the incantation. There was a sudden burst of pale light as the enchantment protecting the tomb fizzled out. 

“Good thing I did my homework,” he muttered. But all the same, he drew his sword as he stepped into the yawning darkness, reviewing the plan in his head. Get down to the main part of the tomb, find the world-ending artifact to destroy, maybe take other treasures if time permitted and then get back out again. Assuming, of course, there weren’t other defenses that he didn’t know about. But he reassured himself – he’d done his homework. Nothing could go wrong. He hoped.

He counted his steps out. “One, two, three…” all the way up to ten, and then stopped. He picked up a stray pebble he saw in the corridor and threw it as hard as he could. Immediately, arrows shot from the walls, firing every which way. He nodded, satisfied and kept going. A skeleton laid just ahead, skull at an odd angle. 

“Sorry, friend,” Gareth said. “You should have known this was risky.” 

Presently, he reached a fork in the road. From what he remembered, the left-hand left to a dead one and another curse which involved flesh-eating skeleton horses – beasts from the king’s own stables when he had been alive. He turned to the right and kept walking, stopping ever so often, to allow for the traps. A ceiling full of spikes nearly fell on him one time, another, a pit sprang open, leaving him trapped down a deep hole filled with dark water. 

But he avoided all the traps, carefully navigating, activating them while he stood a good distance behind. He finally reached a new point. Faint glimmers of light glittered on the walls like stars. He pulled out the scroll of enchantment again, and began reciting the words – they burned his throat, making him feel like he’d eaten half a dozen hot peppers in rapid succession. The stars glowed, and white fire suddenly filled the corridor, a wave of heat washed over him. His eyes watered, but the flames were sucked into the scroll and everything was quiet. He was unharmed, but as before he could gloat, he heard something else, dry scrapings, weapons being drawn. He spun around and saw a dozen skeletons, dressed in the tattered remains of the royal uniforms advance on him, their empty eye sockets somehow seeing.

He cursed. “I’m guessing…two layers of spell,” he said. “If someone deactivates the fire trap, then you guys all wake up to take on the guy that did it. Your king was a paranoid chap.”

They didn’t seem to like him insulting the king, advancing on him. He swung his blade wildly, beheading one of the skeletons and sending it flying into the others. More dry chattering of teeth, he turned and sprinted down the corridor, forced to stop whenever he came to another trap – the acid wash, if he remembered correctly. The skeletons advanced on his position rapidly, still led by their now headless commander. He hastily climbed up, getting a grip on the ceiling, pebble in hand. 

The skeletons halted, unsure what to do. He threw a rock, it landed dead on in the center. Immediately, the hallway sealed on both ends. A hole opened, and green, sizzling acid washed into the corridor. Bones and weapons dissolved, skeletons collapsed into a pile of goo. The doors opened again after a moment, and the acid drained away. 

He let out a long sigh of relief, before continuing down the corridor and reaching the tall metal doors, with an inscription over the entrance.

“Long may the King slumber,” he read, and then pulled out the scroll again and began to recite another enchantment, an opening command. The doors swung open silently and he walked into the enormous burial chamber. It was largely gray stone, with a single sarcophagus in the center, the lid painstakingly carved to look as the king had in real life – long hair and beard, in regal finery, the crown resting on the top. 

Another tall statue stood in the center of the room, a woman this time in the glittering armor of a knight. Curiously, a stained glass window stood behind her. Multicolored light poured through, though it shouldn’t have. They were, after all, underground. He could vague shapes moving around, but couldn’t really make anything out beyond that.

“So, world-ending artifact. Where are you hiding?”

He began a search of the room, but it was empty. He turned towards the sarcophagus but winced – he’d rather not have to rummage around in there. Plus, there were likely a million more curses and traps on the sarcophagus, more than he would be able to disarm. He frowned, had he come all this way for nothing?

He turned to the statue of the woman – the Captain of the Guard, from what he remembered and also the Queen. She had a separate burial chamber, but he’d never found it before. A gleaming ruby sat the top of her sword, as he got close he could hear dark mutterings, impatient whispers. Shadowy figures lurked around her feet. 

“Ah. That’s where it is,” he said, slowly pulling out the scroll. He began to recite another enchantment, but as he started, her eyes glowed with white light. 

“Stop, intruder, you shall not steal from the tomb of the ancient king!” she drew her sword. “I know not how you passed through the defenses to this place, but he shall rest undisturbed.” She swung her blade, barely missing Gareth.

“Well, this is just a tragic misunderstanding,” he said, giving her his most winning smile, while raising his own blade. “You see, there’s some problems up above and we think it’s tied to the gemstone on your sword. It’s going to end the world.” 

“It matters not why you’ve come!” 

She swung; he parried the blow, but only barely. His mind began to work furiously, trying to think of a way out of this mess. He was a halfway decent swordsman; she was a master probably only enhanced by whatever powers death had given her. He couldn’t fight her one on one – he had his reflexes, and his cunning. 

“I rather think it does,” he said, ducking under another blow. “So, uh, the afterlife have a good training program? You’re very good with your blade.” 

“My husband will not be disturbed!”

“I wasn’t planning on opening the sarcophagus, if that makes you feel any better. So – you don’t look dead. So what’s the deal?”

“My body is interred elsewhere,” the Queen said coldly. “This is merely a construct to house my spirit. I love my husband and I will guard him, even in death, his final defense.”

“You’re aware of the prophecies about the upcoming apocalypse? You’re aware that trinket will end the world?” Gareth asked, mind now running into overdrive. If she was a construct – automation, alchemical golem, whatever – then there should be a power source somewhere. 

His attention turned to the stained glass window behind him, looking at the dim shapes moving in the glass. Hmm. Maybe something to use. 

“He will remake the world,” the woman said, and she attacked again, this time too fast for him to dodge entirely, blood spilled from his shoulder and he winced.

“Well, that – uh, that stung,” he said, trying to keep bantering. He glanced at the tomb, and got in front of it, having a sudden idea. He’d used the traps against the skeletons before…

She swung, he rolled aside and her blade smashed into the coffin. Immediately, the ground rumbled and arcs of electricity began to spider across the king’s body, up the construct’s arm. She wailed and then, the electricity died, she turned on him.

“You think my husband would harm me?” she asked acidly.

“He’s still alive in there?” he asked, surprised.

“No, he’s dead. Resting, but he knows who touches his tomb.” 

“Fascinating,” Gareth said. “See, when I was doing my research to get in here, nothing suggested the king’s mind was actually still here.” As far as he could tell, there was really only one option left at this stage. He was going to die otherwise, without the gem, without anything. The world would end, he’d still have countless debts hanging over his head and it would all be for nothing. 

That didn’t mean he actually liked the option, though. He took a deep breath, found yet another handy rock and threw it at the stained glass window. Another bulls-eye. 

“What? NO!” the queen shrieked. She collapsed and for the first time, Gareth saw thin lines of power connecting her to the window, vague shadowy figures spilled into the room, covering the king’s sarcophagus, until he stood alone with the gemstone. A dark clad figure rose from the shadows, transforming itself into an angel, with wings of flame, hair like melted gold and bright piercing eyes. Not sure what else to do, Gareth knelt.

“Fear not, Gareth of Eveloss. You have done the world a great service.” 

The angel picked up the gemstone and it shattered into dust. 

“So…the world is not going to end?”

“No. You have seen to that. But by breaking the window, you can no longer live in the mortal world. You must now come with us.”

“Am I dead?” he asked. Darkness covered his shoulder, and then left again, wiping away his wounds.

“No. You have joined our ranks. This was the King’s great secret, his imprisonment of us in the tomb. We suffered a great deal, but no more. No more.” 

Gareth rose. “I think I can live with that,” he said. “Just so long as I don’t have to wear the robe. Not really my style.” 

The angel laughed, and clapped Gareth on the shoulder. “Let us leave this place.” 

A portal of white light opened and they walked into it together, along with the others. Back on the surface, the tomb rumbled and imploded on itself, as a bright pillar of light burst into the sky.