BEN pointed. “THERE HE IS,”
The old man with the wispy white hair. The one who spoke out of turn was slipping quietly away from the side of the gathering. Hunched over and shuffling in his gray robes, the thin old man was surprisingly quick.
Ben first, then Carter, Joel and Molson slipped along to follow him though the village. Ducking through the crowd, keeping close to the walls, darting from doorway to doorway, they stayed low and kept quiet.
Often the old man stopped abruptly, turned to peer suspiciously behind him, before he scurried along again. He wove his way down steaming back alleys, through darker passageways. To keep out of sight, the four contestants were having to stay farther behind.
Then they were in a silent, empty inner courtyard with a bleak and simple shrine in the center. There was no sign of him. Three doorways led out of the square, plus the entrance they came in by.
Ben commed, Three of us can take a doorway each. Com when one of us finds something. They looked at each other. Carter’s face was set firm, We stay together.
They all looked at Joel. He commed, It’s the shrine.
He walked around it. A dusty and untended Buddha sat grinning. Some dry twigs and stalks were littered around him. Joel watched the magic scrolls in his inventory as he paced around the shrine. Nothing happened, they didn’t illuminate or pulse. He couldn’t see a feature on the shrine.
He stood in front of the Buddha, looked down at where the statue seemed to be looking. In the dust, a symbol was marked on the floor. Two lines, swashes that looked like a dragon. Joel stood on the mark.
At the base of the shrine was a sprinkling of salt. The scattered white crystals were only on the ground, none were on the shrine. Not even on the side or the step. And the spread seemed to go under the base.
“It’s here,” Joel said. He stood on the mark in the dust. He looked for something to push. He didn’t know if he needed a magic spell, or to say a magic word. He looked down at his feet to see that they were either side of the dragon mark in the dust.
As his head bowed, with a creaking of stone, the statue of the Buddha tipped backward. A dim shaft of light made the Buddha’s grin seem to widen as he tilted back. Beneath him, the entrance to a dark staircase yawned open.
A chill blew out of the stairway. As Joel started down the narrow stone steps into the gloom. Ben commed, Man, are you sure? Joel nodded, but he didn’t look back. At the bottom there was almost no light. As an afterthought, while he waited for his eyes to adjust, he commed to all the others, You don’t have to follow.
He judged that this was a ‘quest’ phase of the game, with the main prize at the end. If cobwebs and a chill made them want to hang back, that would be okay with him.
Ahead of him was a narrow tunnel. It was hardly high enough to stand up. The walls and roof looked like a knotted weave of gnarled and knotted branches. Tree roots, he realized, the tunnel was formed of tree roots.
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He kept low and moved as quickly as he could through the tunnel. the others had followed him down. The light grew even dimmer as he heard the statue swing back to shut off the top of the staircase.
Spiders dropped from the tree roots above them. Each writhing spider had dozens of beady black eyes, bodies twice as big as a fist, abdomens twice as big again, and long, long, furry legs. They jumped around to wrap Joel and the others in their web silk. the sticky strands were too strong to break.
While they all struggled to free themselves from the webs, Carter took his long sword and cut one of the spiders in half. As it split wide, writhing and kicking, its abdomen spilled out another dozen spiders.
Bad move! Ben commed.
Thanks for the tip, Carter commed back. Molson sliced with a smaller blade, cutting all the legs off a spider. Cutting as close to the body as he could, he cut first one side, then the other. She won’t give us much more trouble, he commed to everyone.
Joel struggled on through the webs. It was slow going. Every spider he encountered he chopped off the legs. Ben and Carter did the same. Soon the floor was covered in the writhing bodies of the beasts.
Don’t step on them, Molson commed.
Clambering close to the walls, Joel held on to the tree roots. The limbs were disturbingly cold and clammy. They were so slimy Joel was sure that some of them moved as he grabbed them.
Then, as he clung to a root to swing over a pulsating pile of spiders’ bodies, the root he was holding wrapped itself around him. He pulled himself free just in time. Looking back he saw that the roots were coming alive and going after the others, too.
Carter, naturally, was about to chop his way through. Not even comming, Joel shouted, “DON’T!”
Carter had cut into a thick, gnarled root. Where his blade had split it, it divided. Now two roots entwined around him instead of one.
Skipping and jumping with ninja skill to avoid the spider bodies, Joel dashed back. He used all his strength to pull the roots back and give Carter just enough space to pull free.
“Why did you do that? You could have just gone on.”
“I think we’re best off with as big a team as we can have right now.” It wasn’t completely true. Joel’s hunch was that if the roots were able to consume one of them, they would get a taste. And they could easily swallow them all, for sure.
Carter was winded and Joel helped steady him while he stepped around the wriggling spider torsos and they ducked the swinging roots.
Ben and Molson kept close behind. At the end of the tunnel was an arched door. Joel reached for the huge, black, iron handle. A shrouded figure, a faceless human form rose in front of him.
The figure had no face, only darkness where a mouth would open. It held its hands toward him. Eyeballs rolled in the palms. When it began to moan, Joel’s stomach quivered. He was sure that cutting it would be disastrous. The figure leaned closer. He tried a magic spell from his inventory.
He used up a spell. It did nothing. All he could think of was to treat the thing as a ghost.
Covering his eyes in the crook of his elbow, he leaned straight through the apparition to grab the door handle. The shuddering, damp chill that ran from his hand, down his arm and through his whole body was like a desperate cry of depression in ice-cold liquid form.
He leaned through the spectral figure and its hollow, hopeless moan spread deep inside him. Almost in tears he pressed on to reach the handle. He found it and his strength ebbed. The mournful wail inside him dragged and pulled at him like quicksand. The effort to turn the door handle drained him. He had only his weight to shoulder the door open. It didn’t feel like it was going to be enough.
He rolled, hoping for more leverage. The crack in the doorway widened just enough for him to fall through.
MAGIC SKILLS INTERMEDIATE + 5
MAGIC GOLDEN ROPE
HEALTH BONUS ++
A SECRET