where they exited the steps, an opening appeared on their right. Entering, Riyan again looked upon the body of the King laid out in reverence.
The room was diamond shaped with a stone bier resting against each of the four walls. Laid upon one was the King, the other three held what they believed to be lords that held fealty to the King. Above each of the four biers were a sword and shield bearing their respective coats of arms. Those coats of arms had played a critical role in the recovering of the key segments. In the center of the room was the opening of the stairwell leading to the final level, and the Horde.
“The King,” breathed Lord Kueryn in awe. Moving toward the bier upon which the King lay, his eyes were fixated on the sword and shield hanging upon the wall.
One of his soldiers came to him and laid a hand on his arm. “No uncle,” the soldier said. When Lord Kueryn turned eyes of anger upon him, he removed his hand. “Do not disturb the King.”
“What do I care for a man long dead?” he asked. Turning his eyes back to the sword and shield, he said, “I must have them.” Unblemished by rust or the passage of time, they had to hold magic of great power.
“But this is not right!” urged his nephew.
Lord Kueryn again turned his attention to his nephew. “Do not try my patience Haran,” he said. Glaring, he held his gaze until Haran looked away. Then he moved toward the bier and pushed the King’s body aside in order to climb onto it. From there, he stood up and removed the scabbard from the wall.
“Magnificent,” he said as he drew the sword. He waved the sword about, testing its balance and grip before resheathing it. “Unparalleled craftsmanship.” Turning a grin toward the other two lords, he hopped down from the bier. He then unbuckled his old sword belt and tossed it aside before donning the new one.
“What about the shield?” asked Lord Hurrin.
“We’ll take it when we leave,” he replied.
His nephew Haran had a very disapproving expression and he turned it toward Captain Lyrun who was removing the sword and shield bearing the dragon-sword coat of arms.
“You are correct my lord,” Captain Lyrun said, turning back toward the others. “These are remarkable.”
Riyan and Bart stood near the steps leading down. Riyan had a fleeting thought of trying to escape while Lord Kueryn and the others were distracted. But then he thought, where would they go? They were in a hole in the ground. It wasn’t as if there were many places to hide down there.
“Should we make a run for it?” he finally asked Bart.
“No,” he replied. “I think I may have an idea. It’s a long shot.”
“What is it?” Turning toward his friend, Riyan hoped it would be a good one.
“No time to explain,” he replied. “Just make sure I’m the one to put the key in the wall down below.”
Riyan looked questioningly to his friend. It didn’t make any sense, but he had long since learned to trust Bart’s judgment in such things. “Okay,” he said.
The group spent the better part of ten minutes in that room before Lord Kueryn decided to move on. “How much further?” he asked them.
“It’s down below,” replied Riyan. “We’ll pass through three rooms of the dead before coming to the sigil inscribed wall.” Motioning for them to precede him, they began descending to the lowest level.
At the bottom, they emerged into a large room with thirty biers, each bearing a corpse of a warrior. Three pairs of two massive columns stretched from the floor to the ceiling.
As they crossed through the room to the door on the far side, they maintained a quiet awe at being in the presence of so many dead warriors. Riyan was sure some of those following behind him were more in awe with the monetary gain they would receive from the sale of the accouterments of the dead, than of the dead themselves.
Once they were through the door on the opposite side of the room, they entered another passage that after a short span, turned abruptly to the right. From there, it went on until they reached another room containing another thirty biers of dead warriors. Here too, six columns rose from floor to ceiling.
Riyan and Bart angled to the left a bit as they headed across the room toward the beginning of another passage. Entering the passage, they moved to where it turned sharply to the left. From there, the passage continued for quite a ways before coming to a room twice as large as the previous two. Sixty biers lined this room, and six columns that were three times the size of the earlier ones rose to the ceiling.
“Have you ever seen anything like this?” asked Lord Geop when he entered the room.
“Never,” replied Lord Hurrin.
A dark doorway gaped in the wall on the far side of the room. It was the beginning of the final passageway which would see them to the Horde.
“It isn’t far now,” Bart assured them.
“Then let us hurry,” Lord Kueryn replied. The anxiousness he felt in reaching the Horde was clear in his voice.
Even Riyan, who knew he may very well be killed the moment the Horde was opened, felt excitement. For a year now, he has thought of naught else but finding out what was beyond the sigil inscribed wall. What kind of treasure had the King taken with him to the afterlife? Anticipation almost overrode the fear he felt. Almost.
They passed from the large bier filled room and followed the passage. Like the two passages connecting the three rooms, this one too turned abruptly after a short distance. As Riyan turned left around the corner, he saw the long passage that led toward the final room. Somehow, he had always imagined things would be different at this moment. Never in his wild imaginings had he thought that he would be bound and leading someone else. His thoughts turned to his friends left behind on the surface. He hoped they would be alright.
The air was charged with expectation as the final room came into view. It was as Riyan had remembered it. Just within the room on either side of the entryway were large, empty urns. Across the room from the passageway opening was the wall covered in sigils. At the base of the wall was a dais, two steps lead up to it. Lying on the steps was the skeleton dressed in ragged clothes. Its upper body was upon the dais with one arm outstretched toward the pattern of sigils on the wall. It was in the skeleton’s hand that they had found the first segment of the key which started it all.
Lord Kueryn was amazed by the sigil inscribed wall, as was Geffen his magic user. “Incredible,” he breathed. His eyes were inextricably drawn toward the circular indentation wherein the key was to be placed.
“Was that a friend of yours?” questioned Lord Geop.
Riyan turned toward him and saw that he was asking about the skeletal remains on the steps. Shaking his head, he said, “No. We found him like that when we arrived.”
“Who was he I imagine?” asked Lord Hurrin.
“Probably just a thief who wasn’t careful enough,” replied Bart.
“What do you mean?” asked Lord Kueryn.
“The dais is trapped my lord,” he replied with a grin. “Good luck in trying to reach the wall.”
Lord Kueryn looked again to the thief, then the steps leading up to the dais. His face turned into a frown as he glanced at the circular key held in his hands. Then coming to a decision, he said, “Okay thief, you open it.”
“Me?” asked Bart. “But my hands are tied and I don’t have my tools.”
Lord Hurrin pulled the familiar rolled leather pack that held his picks. “Do you mean these?” he asked.
Bart didn’t answer.
“Untie him,” Lord Kueryn stated. “Let the thief open the Horde.”
One of Lord Kueryn’s men came and cut the bonds binding Bart’s hands. Then Lord Hurrin handed him his picks.
“I trust they are all still here?” he asked as he took the rolled leather. Bart grinned inwardly as he saw how his words had scored with the lord. Turning to the River Man, he reached out for the key.
“After this,” Lord Kueryn said, “you and your friends will be free.”
Bart didn’t reply, he just took the key and turned back toward the sigil inscribed wall.
“Good luck,” Riyan said.
“You better hope he is successful,” Lord Kueryn said to Riyan. “For if he fails, you will be next.”
Bart glanced to Riyan and gave him a grin. “It won’t come to that,” he assured him. He saw Riyan nod then turned to the wall. Taking a calming breath, he stepped forward.
Riyan and Bart had no sooner left with the River Man and his men, than Kevik felt someone tugging at his pack. Lying paralyzed on the ground as he was put him in little position to object. There were a couple more tugs as
