The preparations for my trap took several hours. About half that time was me inanely attempting to lift, prod, or push the cumbersome stone lid toward the vertical shaft. Not feeling pain or exhaustion pushed me into believing that my method had a chance of working. Especially after my earlier success of tilting the lid on its side and sliding it across the room. I had the illusion that angling a giant stone upward in a tight space was simply a matter of willpower. Lamentably, I didn’t have the strength to pull it off, and I risked losing the stone missile down the hole before it was ready. When I finally realized the futility, I came up with an alternative.

First, I pulled the ponderous top back out of the corridor. That sucked. Using my ghoul hand to hold a spare dagger, I nailed the weapon into the stone with my mace. The point of the blade broke off almost immediately, but the blade’s integrity held together well enough to continue my plan. After what felt like countless blows, a crack formed in the center of the rock. Spurred on by success, and the fear of my hunter finding me, I redoubled my efforts to break the stone slab.

When I’d finished, I had most of two halves of several hundred pounds of solid weight. The last step was much easier, requiring me to guide the much more manageable pieces into the drop off. Then, I just had to stack the halves on top of one another and wait.

And wait I did.

I got so bored I started reading the books I swiped from Pollina. The first was an anthropology book about the Zu-Rakan people. Most of the presented facts were wild speculation, as the author seemed to have a fixation on obelisks looking like a phallus. In their pretentious opinion, the state of undeath was driven by that all important desire to reclaim propagation, and that the obelisk was a symbolic representation of the earth penetrating the sky goddess Amarnu. It was exactly the type of loony smut I could see Pollina enjoying.

The “Phallic Lessons of the Zu-Rakan Death Cults” joined the trap stack.

Pollina’s other research materials weren’t as doltish and I found them much more interesting. There was a treatise on the six gods of undeath and their reach outside of the geographical areas they’d originated. From that book, I learned that there were still undiscovered places on the planet, and that undeath was ubiquitous. Further, the gods and their Death Cults often went by different names in other regions of the world. Thalzaxor, for instance, was called Romath, the god of feasts, to the Urik nomads. His origin story among them was quite different, but the stylized skull mask with fangs, like the one I currently wore, remained his principal symbol. I kept it for reference.

Another manual was an archaic rune dictionary that she’d probably brought along to study the arcane circuitry in the Ossuary. I couldn’t make heads or tails of the information; I just lacked too much foundational knowledge to understand anything. Without a class, I probably never would, either. Not that I really wanted to; I could see no good coming from experimenting with the magic of a long dead evil empire. Naturally, I added it to the flingin’ pile.

The last work was an ancient book of poetry from an Arch-Lich. None of it was romantic, which I found surprising. Instead, the author skillfully insulted vampires about their inadequacies. I couldn’t in good conscience add an antique diss track to the trap. Besides, a few of the poems made me chuckle. I wondered why Pollina had bothered to take it with her. Was it to study the weaknesses of vampires or was there still a person who enjoyed humor behind all that insanity?

Many hours later, I’d nearly given up hope the knight would continue its pursuit. I’d checked over my equipment several times. Looked at the anthropology porno again, for science, of course. Chipped my name into the corridor with my broken knife. And tried and failed to build up saliva so I could spit. I’d just about convinced myself to go heave open those big double doors in the hexagonal room when I heard the fully armored idiot crawling.

Finally!

Even echoing from a distance, you could hear exactly when the skeleton pulled itself forward by its rhythmic cadence. Amidst the reverberating metallic racket and the slam poetry in my mind, I felt like I was in a Nine Inch Nails video. I’d just had the drum beat down with my mace on stone for the first song, “Parasite of the Night”, when I spotted the creature with my sense undead spell.

Not too long afterward, those baleful green eyes gazed up at me from across the drop zone, and I was ecstatic. Funny how a little control over a situation could turn things from terrifying to entertaining. I think when you get down to it, that was the lesson Bugs Bunny was trying to teach us all along.

Welcome to a world of pain.

Once the knight made that transition into the shaft, I pushed rock and rejected literature all in one shove. I moaned in delight as the improvised falling devices, or IFDs, slammed into the back and head of the trapped skeleton. The impact created a sweet bell ringing sound in the passageway, and I couldn’t keep a dopey grin off my face.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The smile didn’t last.

Besides a few dents in its armor, the knight was practically unharmed.

You gotta be shitting me!

It hadn’t been enough. My life was back to terrifying, and that pissed me off all over again.

“Fuuuunnngg yyyoouuu,” I moaned, catching the eyes of the guardian.

Then, the weirdest thing happened.

Its skull lit eyes had an almost smug quality until it spotted the fanged mask on my face. A tingling sensation entered my head, and I felt a snap connecting the will of the knight to my own.

Both of us stopped. Me in astonishment, and it, waiting for my direction.

My grin came back almost savage this time.

Mom said I’m in charge, bitch!

I fell on to my stomach laughing down the chute at the knight’s stupid face. I’d not only eliminated a grave threat, but had also turned it into a servant. My first very own minion! One that could apparently shrug off several hundred pounds of rock falling at fifty feet. What a roller coaster.

Reaching out with my thoughts, I commanded it to finish the climb and meet me up top.

I was still somewhere between disbelief and triumph when the lackey stood before me. Like a drill sergeant looking for infractions, I circled the stolid knight and got my first up close examination of the lethal being. Black plated steel fitted tightly over the bones, giving an armored scarecrow vibe. However, because the knight was almost eight feet tall, it didn’t feel like a skeleton.

From the outside, I couldn’t see any runes on the full plate, but I suspected there was still an enchantment. There was no way I could fathom for the metal to go through so much dragging and still look shiny. Aside from a few dents my trap had made, the artifact was flawless. I’d have worn the armor myself if I thought it had a chance of fitting.

It kept a long sword with a sickled blade on its back. The weapon, called a Khopesh if my dungeons and dragons days are to go by, was a dull brown color. At first I considered the weapon was rusty, but after a more thorough examination I suspected the material was just unfamiliar. Sequences of golden runes ran down both sides of the blade, shimmering in the air like my enchanted dagger.

I swung the blade around, like the untrained moron I was, to get a feel for what the magic did. My best guess was that there was at least one for sharpness and another for durability. Also, I had a blast pretending it was a lightsaber. It might have been my imagination, but I suspect the skeleton wasn’t as enthused about having to play the role of Darth Vader as I would have been.

When I returned the weapon to its hands, I felt another unexpected tingling sensation.

My finger just barely brushed the gauntlet when I got a flood of knowledge from the knight. Somehow, I just knew that in life, the skeleton used to be a master of the khopesh, horse riding, and the chariot. The soul was long gone, but there was a memory of the skills it possessed deep within its bones. If I’d wanted to, I could make that lurking prowess my own. All I’d have to do was remain in contact with the bones and I could use it.

Necrometry!

I’d nearly forgotten about the greater blessing after all the drama that followed. Now reminded, I immediately went to my backpack to pull out the bone cane I'd kept stowed away. My excitement over learning a few kickass dance moves was tangible.

When I pulled it out, there wasn’t a feeling. Whoever or whatever the remains had belonged to hadn’t been skilled enough at anything to leave a residue behind.

I called my ghoul claw over next and had the same result. Which I realized I should have expected in hindsight, considering that it had been sitting right on my head or shoulder for most of the last few hours. If there had been anything to learn, I’d have already known about it.

Searching around for another opportunity to use necrometry, my gaze fell on the sarcophagus. The ghoul priest, who had already given me so much, was about to give me more.

I rushed over and plucked up a finger bone. As soon as I picked the digit up, I got the impression of a deep ability for painting locked within.

Score!

I looked up at the murals of Thalzaxor again, taking my time to appreciate the skill used in their creation. With the pinky in my hand, I understood he had been the one to create the artwork. My new insight made the art feel like my own, which meant that it had to have been his.

So, that’s why they laid you to rest here.

Using my finger, I sketched out a quick painting of myself in the dust on the floor. Corrective instinct controlled my hand, supporting the mental imagery I’d had in mind. But, since the artist whose bone I stole lacked training in doing portraits, the outcome was only middling.

My next art venture was a mural of Thalzaxor eating a baked potato. That one came out like a masterpiece.

What I learned was that the skill I could draw from was highly specific and only worked as long as I held the bone. As soon as I put the vessel of knowledge down, all ability fled me. I decided that what I’d need to do was create a necklace out of the bone. As long as it touched my skin, I figured I’d be able to use the power.

Overall, I felt happy as shit to have come across necrometry. I couldn’t wait to find more repositories of knowledge in the Ossuary.

To that end, I gathered up my things and ordered my new bodyguard to toss open the double doors.

And I came face to face with a team of adventurers.