Talani was still laid out, but it was decided he could rest and recover for now. Hopefully he had fulfilled his purpose for the time being. There were 2 doors left, each one presumably containing the puzzles of Freya and Odin, and each one identical to all the others.
“Any preferences?” asked Teclis.
“Whichever one isn’t going to get us killed?” said Alf.
“I think that was taken as read” Teclis responded, “but assuming they have an equal chance of that, should we just pick one at random?”
“In the absence of any other information I suppose so” Gialli chimed in. “Soooo… right side?” he looked around at the others who gave accepting shrugs. He got up and walked over to the door. There was an almost unconscious flinching from the others, and he placed the back of his hand on the handle first, making sure his whole hand wouldn’t get stuck. Satisfied, he held it gingerly, and pulled the door slowly, carefully open. Mercifully there was just an unlit room behind.
That wasn’t to say that it wasn’t an interesting room though. Wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling, the room was stacked with gold. Bullion, coins, jewellery, and more besides, it was nothing short of a hoard.
Alf’s eyes lit up at the site of it.
“By the gods” he whispered. The rest of them weren’t far behind in excitement. It was enough to have them in the lap of luxury until they died of old age, and then their grandchildren as well. And that was with the fact that some of them had a lifespan of centuries.
“So we’re taking anything that’s not nailed down, right?” he continued. “I assume this is our reward for all of this atrocious fuckery we’ve been put through so far”.
“I feel like we maybe shouldn’t be stealing from the ancient tomb?” said Gialli “unless you want Odin to hate us”.
“Odin said he be rewarding us didn’t he?” asked Alf. “Should this not be our reward?”
“Maybe, Father, we should figure out what the aim of this room is before we consider plundering it” Gialli insisted.
“Fine” Alf relented. “But as soon as we’re done here I’m coming back for it”.
The others paused for now, not seeing a point to continue the argument. They could talk it over later.
“Not that this isn’t fascinating chaps, but shall we get in there?” asked Reg. Putting action to words, he strode in, lighting up his hand as we went. The light caught a million different surfaces, and gold reflections cascaded off the wall like the scales of a gilded fish. None of them could resist taking a breath at the site of it all. It was a dizzying amount of money, and their lifestyle offered a certain risk and promised a certain reward. None amongst them would leave this if they felt they could get away with taking some. But first, there was another test to face.
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The rear wall of the room was the only one not stacked entirely with gold. Instead there was a statue of Freya in all her regalia, and a narrow passage led from door to statue. Passing between the mounds of gold, Reg walked to the statue. He read aloud: “To honour me and light my flame, hold aloft gold that bears my name”. He turned back to the rest, shrugging. “I suppose we have to find a piece of gold with her name on it”. Alf, who had been staring unashamedly at the gold since they came in, quickly spoke up. “That’ll be easy” he said “since they all say ‘Freya’ on them”. As if to demonstrate, he quickly picked up an exquisite golden goblet, and pointed to the rim. “Right here, see?” At this, he held the goblet up, as if to show the others, and as he did, it began to light up.
“That seems promising” he said, with some cheeriness. Even as he got to the end of that sentence though, the light reached a new, blinding height. All of them shielded their eyes, but the light was bright enough to see the traces of the veins through their eyelids. As quickly as it came, it was gone again, and all of them were blinking the spots out of their vision, as if they had just stared directly into the sun. The dwarves, normally the most light-sensitive, had the toughest time of it, and so as Teclis got his vision back, he asked the question which quickly appeared on all their minds. “Where’s Alf?”
--
Alf was asking himself practically the same question: where am I? As the dark spots in his vision finally faded, he took stock of his surroundings. Gone was the gold, the statue, and most disconcertingly, his friends. The room he was now in was well-lit, but he couldn’t see any source of light. Probably magic then. It was bare, some kind of light stone, with words carved into it, which he couldn’t yet read, eyes still blurry. Small scraps of fabric littered the floor, pushed into piles against the walls and in the corners. Here and there, poking out of the piles, were solid white shapes, smoothed by time, with the odd hint of yellow discolouration. And perched almost proudly on top of one pile was a solid, bare skull.
Steadying himself from the shock of that revelation, he looked around again, almost desperately. There was no door to be seen. Close to panic, he examined the scratchings on the wall, fingers tracing the grooves as if to give him some hidden perspective. There were the same markings all over the room, and they were words. Words repeated dozens of times, in different shapes, sizes, and places, chiselled in with blade, bone, and fingernail, and all of them sharing the same message.
THE GOLD IS A LIE.