They gathered up the largest bones and tied them together, to form a long device stable enough to direct down into the underground space. Manslayer and The Baron took charge of the bone prodder; Christoph shone the light rod; and Twerk issued them all instructions.
They fed the prodder down the stone steps, into the murky water, which only turned out to be a few inches deep. When they lifted it up, the ropes tied around it held the contraption together. They pushed it out a bit farther, before a metal bolt shot forth from one of the holes, so fast they had no time to avoid it. The sharpened end of the bolt struck a femur, before returning to position.
The light from the rod was strong enough to show a long crack in the bone where it had been hit. With their prodder knocked aside, Manslayer and The Baron lifted it to get the thing back under control. As they did, they triggered the same bolt. This time, the bone was fractured, and part of it fell to the ground.
‘Well, that’s that,’ The Baron said. ‘Each bolt is deadly, lightning fast, and is fired every time it detects movement. I had hoped they might be single shots, and that we could trigger each and thereby disarm them. But there is no way to get to that chest.’
‘Is there some kind of mechanical structure behind the walls?’ Christoph asked.
‘No. This is a spell. Only a sorcerer can undo this trap, and we don’t have one.’
‘But Jaelin?’
‘I’m sorry, Christoph. I just don’t see a way. And we’re hoping there is a healing potion inside that chest. The odds are too high. It’s not worth it.’
‘Maybe there’s some kind of solution we’re not seeing? What if I crawled under the holes?’
‘Some of those holes are very low. And what if there are others beneath the water level that we can’t see? No. Not an option.’
Christoph racked his brain. They couldn’t just give up on Jaelin. Maybe there was nothing in that chest that could save him. But maybe there was. He was holding a rod of light. Surely, there was something of at least equal value or power in the chest these people went to the trouble of hiding. If the figure in the main chamber was an ancient king of some kind, who had a sorcerer cast spells on his tomb; he would surely want his most treasured possessions buried in his barrow with him.
‘That’s it!’ he said. ‘The king in the main chamber. His armour looks special. I bet it’s magic. I could put that on, and go and grab the chest.’
Twerk shook his head. ‘Even if it is, magic armour doesn’t make you invincible. It just protects you a little more. You’d die in the armour, and then we’d struggle to get you and the armour back.’
‘What’s the alternative?’ Christoph asked. ‘Just leave him to die? How can we do that?’
Manslayer shared a look with the other two and sighed. ‘He’s not family, is he Christoph? Maybe if it was your aunt’s life at stake, it would make some kind of sense. But you only met him a few days ago. In this game, people die. All the time. You have to get used to it. Getting yourself killed on top of it doesn’t help anyone.’
‘It’s my decision, though, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose so. But he wouldn’t have done the same for you. He didn’t even like fighting.’
That was unfair. The Explorer didn’t like killing. But he had fought the skeleton today; and the brigands before. ‘I’m doing it. Help me put the armour on. And please don’t tell my aunt.’
‘You are kidding,’ Manslayer said. ‘There’s no way in Gehenna I’d keep that from your auntie. She would have my nuts if I let you kill yourself without warning her.’
‘Fine. I’ll tell her myself.’
Christoph stomped back into the central chamber, angry at the attitude of the others.
‘Did you find anything?’ Ashlyn asked, hopeful. She had been badly hurt too, but all she cared about was The Explorer. He knew she blamed herself.
‘There is a chest. Not easy to get to. How is he?’
‘No better,’ Aunt Fem said. ‘I think if we try to move him, he’ll die. I will stay with him, if everyone else needs to leave.’
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‘I think I can get to the chest, Auntie. But I’ll need to put on that armour.’
‘Why you?’
‘I need to do this.’
She searched his eyes and saw his determination. ‘Alright.’
Christoph’s palms were sweaty.
Manslayer, Twerk, and The Baron stood around the plinth with their weapons drawn.
Tentatively, he reached out and placed a hand on the armour of the old king. He held his breath, waiting for him to wake, or for more of his minions to appear.
But nothing happened.
Manslayer sheathed his sword. ‘Fine. Strip him.’
They took the pieces of armour and began to dress Christoph. Some parts were plates of pure steel, while others were made of chain—lighter, and therefore making the ensemble easier to move in. They had been made for a smaller man than Christoph—perhaps a woman—but they got them to fit alright. Twerk carried the helm, which would go on at the last moment.
‘I was looking at this shield, belonging to the skeleton that fought Jaelin,’ Ashlyn said when they were done. ‘It has markings on it, and I wondered if it was special.’
Manslayer studied it. ‘I believe you’re right, Ashlyn. Well done. Let’s check the others.’
It was the only shield with the markings.
‘Hold it in front of you,’ Manslayer told Christoph. ‘You need to protect your head, even with that helmet on.’
‘What about these other shields,’ Twerk said. ‘What if we somehow attach them to him?’
Back in the subchamber, Christoph stared down the stone steps at the chest. He had a shield attached to each limb. In one hand he held the shield that might, or might not, be magic. His other hand was free, ready to grab the chest.
Manslayer held the rod as close as was safe, at maximum light intensity. ‘Go on your hands and knees. I don’t see any low holes in the opposite wall. Go fast, and don’t stop for anything.’
Twerk and The Baron shoved the iron helm onto his head, tucking the coif into his vest. It was several sizes too small, and he could barely see out of it. He held the shield in front of him and crawled down the steps.
Of course, the temptation was to go slowly, inching his way to the chest. But Manslayer was right, that wouldn’t work. So he went at the fastest pace possible when using only one arm to crawl. He got off the stone steps, into the water of the tunnel.
The first bolt buffeted him, slamming into the shield on his shoulder. He nearly lost his balance, but the shield saved him from harm. The second took him in the arm that held the shield. It pierced his armour, dropping his hit points to eleven. He managed to keep his grip on the shield. Just as well, because the third bolt struck there, and the shield probably saved his life.
A fourth took him on the top of his neck, crunching into the coif of the helm. A loss of four hit points dropped him to seven, and he began to panic.
When he reached the chest, a bolt came out from the facing wall, clattering into his shield once more. He swung around on his knees, grabbed the handle of the chest with his free hand, and began to crawl back to safety. A bolt—probably the same as the last—took him in the right buttock, and he lost one more hit point. Should have put a shield there, he found the time to think.
He could make out the stone steps ahead of him. Another bolt slammed into his arm. He lost balance, collapsing to the tunnel floor. His energy was gone now, and dark spots swam before his eyes. Damn. So close.
Then Twerk was there, grabbing him with one hand and the chest with another. A bolt slammed into the gnome’s leg. Christoph saw it come through the other side.
‘Shit on it!’ Wilson roared.
And that was when Christoph passed out.
***
‘He’s awake!’ Ashlyn’s voice.
Jaelin forced his eyes open. He was still in the cursed barrow with the skeletons. His heart pounded, and he sat up.
‘It’s alright,’ Ashlyn said, grabbing him with strong hands. ‘You’re safe.’
‘What happened?’
‘We killed them all. But not before the one you fought with took you to death’s door.’
Auntie sat down next to him. She peered into his eyes first, then checked his wounds. ‘You were in trouble,’ the healer said. ‘I couldn’t save you. But my Christoph grabbed a chest. Three potions of healing inside. I had to use a full one on you, then a second on Christoph and Wilson.’
‘And for some reason I don’t get the third,’ Ashlyn complained.
‘You’ll live,’ Auntie said roughly. ‘I’m keeping the third for an emergency. Something tells me I’m gonna need it.’
‘Sorry,’ Jaelin said. ‘Thank you.’ He looked up as the other members of the party gathered around, pleased to see him up. ‘All of you.’
MISSION COMPLETE
SUCCESS: The barrow was fully explored
Some of your mercs improved their stats:
The Baron:
Grit +1
Hit Points +1
Skill with knives: proficient
Twerk:
Grit +1
Hit Points +1
Action Points +1
The Bowman:
Grit +1
Hit Points +1
The Explorer:
Might + 1
Hit Points + 1
No mercs levelled up