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.
