Fleeing the wrath of a raging sandstorm, the party entered the darksome temple. Behind them, the storm seethed at having been denied. It lashed out at the temple’s face with battering winds and coarse sands, sending golden waves flooding through the massive, yawning doors in search of the retreating adventurers.
Great paws thundered through a long hallway, coming to a grinding halt within a lightless chamber at its end.
Autumn was the first to disembark when the Dreadnought came to a stop. Stepping out, she held a magical lantern high to banish the darkness. The creeping shadows skittered away from her sight to linger in the far-flung corners and crevices, awaiting the death of light.
Her steps echoed loudly as she curiously surveyed the chamber they’d sequestered themselves.
Thick pillars ran down either side of a wide hall, towering over Autumn as they stretched up to a grand ceiling looming high above in the darkness where lantern-light could not reach. Between these rows of columns sat a dried out pool that’d once held crystalline waters and flowering lilies.
Now, only sand decorated it.
Glancing around the vast room further, Autumn made a curious discovery. Weather scripts and once colorful murals decorated every surface besides the floor. Flaking blue and gold paint turned the drab sandstone into a riot of color, if somewhat faded.
Naturally, Autumn could read these strange hieroglyphics. Mostly. Time and the elements had degraded them till she could only pick out a few disjointed words.
The faded murals decorating the walls depicted bronze-skinned elves dressed in white linens and golden jewelry as they worshiped animal-headed gods.
“Curious and curiouser,” Autumn murmured as she shined her light upon the painted gods. Did something of this culture bleed over into her world? Or perhaps the opposite?
It was hardly the first strange occurrence. Many fables and fictions of her world she found to be true here. Ghouls, goblins, and gods. Who knows what else might’ve washed between worlds.
Just as Autumn was turning back to the group, her light glinted off a giant seated at the far end of the hall, staring at her unblinkingly. Autumn froze. Her heart pounded in her chest like a beaten drum. Sweat dripped down her spine. Instinctively, she wanted to bolt.
Autumn swallowed down the instinctive cry of alarm and raised her lantern high as she took a nervous step towards the giant.
The light of her lantern washed over the figure, unveiling a statue before the witch’s eyes.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Autumn lowered her lantern. She was glad she didn’t call out to her friends for help now — they’d likely never let her live it down.
Autumn stepped closer, curious despite her initial fright. Or perhaps because of it.
Standing before a massive gilded throne, she beheld a statue of a man with the head of a bird sitting imperiously upon it. A thin curved beak extended down to the middle of the statue’s masculine chest. Polished sapphires the size of her fist glinted in place of eyes, shining with far too much intelligence for a simple statue. A golden headdress and collar set with blue glass framed the statue’s avian head while a white-painted skirt adorned its waist and upper thighs. From the statue’s torso stretched a pair of lanky arms, coming to a rest upon the throne’s armrests. In one hand, it held a rod of purest gold, in the other nothing but an empty palm held heavenward.
Autumn shivered as the light played across the statue’s eyes, making them twinkle as if the figure before her was watching her intently.
At the base of the throne, one engraved word had survived the ravages of time.
Suthir.
“Think that’s real gold?”
Autumn yelped as Liddie spoke up beside her without warning.
Clutching at her thundering chest, she glared at the grinning pirate. “What was that?” she asked after a moment.
Liddie nodded towards the statue. “I asked if you thought that was actually gold. That headdress and collar, I mean. If it is, then that’s a lot of coin just sitting there — it’d be worth taking just for its weight in gold itself~” she sang, gold coins practically clinking in her eyes already.
From Autumn’s other side, Nelva spoke, causing the witch to jump again. “Perhaps you shouldn’t loot a temple, yes? Or at least wait to know which god you will annoy first?”
Autumn gave the knight and pirate half-hearted glares. “Could you two not sneak up on me?” she grumbled. Louder, she said, “well, this word here says Suthir. I’m guessing that’s the name of this god considering the word survived when others didn’t.”
As she spoke the name, both Liddie and Nelva gave the statue another look.
“Suthir?” Nelva asked. “Are you sure that’s what it said?”
“I’m sure. Why? Do you know the name?”
Nelva nodded. “Yes, I do — it’s the name of the god of time. Luckily, he is one of the noble pantheon. Funnily enough, his month is the first of the autumn season. It is curious to see him depicted like this. I’ve never seen him represented by a bird-headed man before.”
Autumn gave the statue another look, more cautious this time. The god of time seemed to look back. Although, that could’ve just been her overactive imagination.
“What is he usually represented as?”
“Usually?” Nelva asked, “Well, that depends on the culture. Most gods in our world don’t keep to a single form when they interact with mortals. If they do at all.” Gazing up at the statue of a god, she took on a lecturing tone. “Most local cultures see Suthir as a swirling constellation that blankets the night sky, or an elemental of dust taller than even the highest mountain. Others of the more magical persuasion see him as a masked mage — he is known as the master of magic as well as time. I’ve even seen him illustrated as a carp that devours the stars. Although, that was a rather esoteric book I found that illustration in.”
Behind the Lepus knight, Liddie mimed herself dying of boredom.
Autumn gave her a pointed look. “So what you’re saying is don’t desecrate the temple of a god that eats stars and controls time?”
“What? Not even a little looting?” Liddie pouted. “How about just a gemstone or two? I’m sure the god of time would like to see wealth like that re-enter circulation.”
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Sighing, Nelva turned her eyes heavenward, seeking guidance. Unluckily, or luckily depending on how you view it, the god of time didn’t answer her prayers for salvation from idiots. Or just one idiot in particular.
“Oui. Do not loot this place, is what I’m saying. I do not wish to be cursed alongside you. Do it in your own time if you must, but leave me out of it. Now come — Nethlia asked me to fetch you two to set up camp and clean out the wagon while we wait out the storm.”
As they followed Nelva back to the wagon, Autumn turned to Liddie. “Adding to what she said, if you steal something and Suthir doesn’t curse you, I will.”
“You hear that, o’ valiant knight of ours? I’ve been threatened with curses by a foul witch!” Liddie dramatically proclaimed. “Isn’t one of your vows to save damsels in distress, or something?”
“Damsel?” Nelva asked incredulously. “Where? When did you steal one of those?”
Autumn let out a snort at Nelva’s joke.
While Nelva’s joke wasn’t all that funny, Autumn couldn’t help but laugh. The burbling sound just seemed to escape her. Before long, the other two joined in and the tension that’d been plaguing them drained away.
It felt good to laugh, even over the silliest things.
Upon reaching camp, Autumn parted with Liddie and Nelva, heading over to Ursa Ossa. The undead bear let out a piteous whine upon seeing her.
“Yes, I know. You can stop crying, you big baby,” Autumn soothed the upset bear. “You got sand in your joints, didn’t you? Don’t worry, I’ll clean you.”
Ursa Ossa let out a ghostly, rumbling chuffing as Autumn used magic to clean out the blood and sand from between his joints. Once done, she took a wet cloth and wiped the bear down. When they were squeaky clean, she patched up the minor cuts and scrapes he’d collected during their fraught flight through the goblin fortress and beyond.
“Open,” Autumn commanded with a tap on the undead bear’s snout.
Obediently, Ursa Ossa opened his jaw. Autumn wrinkled her nose as she picked out the goblin bits stuck between his teeth. Soon his pearly whites gleamed in the lantern light.
“All done,” Autumn said with a satisfied sigh. She wiped the sweat from her brow as she patted the happier bear.
Unfortunately, Ursa Ossa wasn’t the only thing that needed cleaning. The Dreadnought too was in a disgraceful state. Outside, Goblin guts and blood clung to the fantastical carvings and arrowslits while inside they’d soaked into the leather. A few bodies needed to be taken out. And a myriad of broken arrows and bolts littered the floor.
Fortunately, magic and conscription made light work of the mess. A grumbling Edwyn saw to the disposal of the greenskin bodies. They dumped them in the nearby empty pool for her to deal with later. For the blood and guts, Autumn used her magical cleaning charm. It took a few castings to get all of the stubborn blood out, but she managed it in the end.
After the interior was clean, Autumn set about making a few heavy-duty seatbelts as she’d vowed to do. Using the last of the hides, she crafted seatbelts for the driver and passengers seats up front while in the back replaced the hanging leather straps with a set of folding seats and harnesses along the walls like she’d seen in military transport planes. They weren’t much, but it was better than nothing.
Unfortunately, at this point, she ran out of hide and bone so had nothing to work with to replace the cloth covering the arrowslits. So she left them in place for now.
With that done, Autumn cleaned out the broken arrows and collected the discarded bolts to make a tally of their remaining ammo. The count was grim. Of the 200ish bolts they’d started out with, only around 60 remained. Less even, as fumbled reloads and misfires had damaged some.
Unless they found more, they’d all have to be more conservative with their shots. Not something she could guarantee, given what they faced.
Autumn stepped back out of the war-wagon, satisfied with her work. Looking around, she searched for where the others had disappeared to.
It didn’t take long to find them.
Eme had taken a leaf out of Autumn’s book and conscripted the others to help her prepare their early lunch/dinner. They were all gathered around the cooking area, slaving away as they plucked and gutted the piles of crows with varying levels of enthusiasm. Pyre in particular looked mildly put out at being turned into a scullery maid.
Autumn would’ve thought the apprentice alchemist was used to preparing ingredients for someone else, albeit for potions rather than a pie. Perhaps that was the reason she looked so surly.
Either way, it wasn’t her problem.
As she didn’t want to be conscripted herself, Autumn slunk away, even if the idea of heading over to taunt them with her freedom was compelling. With a magical lantern in hand, the witch set out in search of intact hieroglyphics to read. Her hope was to find something that’d explain just what this temple was doing way out here, lost in the desert.
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For almost an hour, Autumn wandered. She moved between faded scripts and weathered murals, slowly piecing together the dark tale they weaved. What the ancient elves had to tell her was both a fascinating and disturbing read.
For one, this place they’d found themselves wasn’t a temple but a tomb. A prison. One for a pharaoh nonetheless.
The Tomb of Suthirmesses III.
Once a mighty ruler, Suthirmesses III — a name that meant born of Suthir — inherited a sprawling desert kingdom. Under his reign, the dynasty flourished. Wars were won without compare. Fields of grain overflowed their storehouses. Mines disgorged wealth with abundance. And gold ran through the streets and markets like water. From every far-flung corner of the kingdom, exotic slaves were sold within its capital.
Seemingly, nothing was beyond the pharaoh’s reach.
Except for one thing.
One day, an old woman of pacts and deals came to the great and powerful pharaoh and offered him that which he could not obtain — immortality.
And thus, an empire of sand was ruined.
Autumn’s eyes bore into the faded mural of the prostrated wise woman. Into the hag. No matter the false trappings she adorned herself in, Autumn could recognize Mildred’s hateful visage. The artist had captured the cruel gleam in her eyes perfectly.
Reading on, she learned that the ruler’s gift wasn’t for free, but whatever he’d paid was lost to time — the markings worn too much to read.
Under the now immortal pharaoh’s extended lifespan, the kingdom grew for centuries. It glutted itself on his neighbors and once allied nations until the kingdom’s borders stretched to the edges of the known world. Neverending was the dynasty’s greed and once there was nothing left to devour without, it turned within.
And as they say, with great wealth came great problems.
Noble parties and orgies grew in scope and scale within the capital, their gluttony and greed beggaring the kingdom. Grain stores ran dry beneath the yolk of a failing bureaucracy and callous dictator. Millions starved or fell to rampant disease and infighting. Soon, blood ran through the streets as freely as gold had once done.
Rebellions raged across the kingdom, sparked by tyranny. The people’d had enough. They stormed the pharaoh’s golden palace, and after great horror and bloodshed, entombed Suthirmesses III alongside his surviving loyal guards, servants, and advisors here to be watched over for all eternity by the wise Suthir himself.
A riddle written shedded light on where and how to access this hidden tomb.
“By three keys did they lock the ruler away, then hid within. By two weights, did they shut the way. And by one gift, did they seal it from sin. None of blackest heart could find the entrance forevermore.”
Autumn scratched her head as she re-read the riddle out loud.
One line of text caught her eye. “By sin the unkind ruler gained his gifts. By sin he forged a weapon/a way to harm the gift-giver. By sin it rests within his arms.”
The word “weapon” didn’t translate properly, coming across to her as “a way to harm.”
While there was no guarantee this “weapon” was a physical item, if the gift-giver was indeed Mildred then perhaps it was designed to harm her?
Autumn bit her lip as she contemplated. Would it not be in their interest to find such a weapon or item?
Sure, there were bound to be untold traps and dangers within the tomb meant to keep both looters away and the immortal pharaoh locked within, but they were an experienced team. Would the risks not be worth increasing their chances of killing the hag?
Autumn sure thought so. She was willing to confront whatever sin lay within. But, it wasn’t just her decision to make.
Squaring her shoulders, the dark-eyed witch turned away and headed back to camp where the smell of freshly baked pies greeted her.
Unbeknown to her, sapphire eyes glinted behind her in the fading light as they watched her go.