No, wherever he was going, it wouldn’t be that bad, and he’d face it with a normal sword in hand, if he even needed that.
Through the trunks of the trees a cave mouth appeared, leading into a hillside. From here it didn’t seem like much, but appearances could be deceiving, and the Guardian loved putting that to the test.
A few moments more of walking and Solomon stepped into the coolness of the cave, expecting to continue, facing whatever obstacles the Guardian put in his way. They wouldn’t be severe. He wouldn’t have to battle the giant being like the last time. Not to give something into his keeping.
Still, the Guardian never made anything easy for anybody. Not even if you weren’t trying to take something away.
In this case, he was being tricky. The cave ended a few steps inside the entrance. Solomon didn’t even need to make a torch; the light from outside was plenty.
Illusion? Last time it was a fiery chasm. This time, maybe it was a solid rock wall.
Unfortunately, with the Guardian’s illusions there was only one way to tell. And any cheating would make it seem every bit as real.
He sighed, put his hands by his sides, and keeping his eyes open, walked forward purposely. Only to run smack into a solid wall.
“Ouch, dammit!” Solomon didn’t curse very often, but a bruised nose would do the trick.
He wiped the tears that sprang unbidden to his eyes away and regarded the cave. Okay, not illusion, although he guessed that the other walls could be. But he didn’t feel like risking another collision just to prove it.
No, there was another answer, he was sure.
He looked around. The cave was totally empty, without even a single stone sitting on the sandy floor.
Wait. Why was the floor sandy? Most caves, unless they were near the sea he would assume, had rocky or dirt floors, not sand.
Which meant that the answer was under the sand. Somewhere.
He sighed.
The cave wasn’t large, unless you were searching for something; with no idea what it was, under a floor of sand that was who knew how deep.
And he didn’t have a shovel. Why would he?
Solomon dropped to his knees and bent forward. He started pushing the sand aside, going down a good six inches before his fingers found solid rock. And like sand did, more of it spilled into the hole he dug than stayed out.
If this was going to work, he needed to find a way to actually remove the sand. It wouldn’t surprise him in the least if he needed to uncover the whole floor to find the answer.
♦ ♦ ♦
Hours later, Solomon was filthy. He was caked in sweat and sand clung to his bare torso. After the first several trips outside with sand leaking between his cupped hands, he found a better way. Not perfect, but better.
He stripped his shirt off and used it to fashion a makeshift sandbag. It wasn’t ideal, and still leaked sand as he carried it away, but it worked well enough.
“You owe me a shirt!” he said aloud, sure that the Guardian, wherever he was, was watching and enjoying his labors immensely.
Now, he stood panting, pack slung over one shoulder, and surveyed the floor, swept clean of all but a few wisps of fine sand. He was right; a message was carved into the rock that ran around the edge near the walls of the cave, and curled in on itself, meandering across the floor.
It was nonsense, most of it, but Solomon began to pick out words hidden in the strings of random letters.
To advance further, you must go back. Or maybe forward. Perhaps even sideways. The wise man knows which. The fool knows nothing. Or is that the other way around? Hello, Solomon.
“You’re a pain in the behind, you know that?” Solomon called out.
There was laughter and then a section of the cave wall, the very one he walked into earlier, slid aside, revealing a passage leading under the hill, and a large, shaggy form filling it.
“Serves you right for stabbing my foot last time,” the Guardian said.
He was huge, nearly ten feet tall, and covered in shaggy brown hair. His eyes were bright and sparkled above a large nose and mouth, out of which two dull fangs jutted upward. His arms were almost long enough to reach the floor, a fact helped by his short, bandy legs.
“I didn’t stab you,” Solomon said. “You did that to yourself, if I recall.”
“Hmmf.” The Guardian moved to the side to let Solomon enter the passage. “We’ll agree to disagree on that one. Why are you here?”
The Guardian began walking down the passage, torches lighting the way every few feet.
“To fulfill the promise I made last time,” Solomon said.
The Guardian stopped and turned back to him. He started to speak, then looked past Solomon and pressed a spot in the wall next to him. The entrance slid closed.
“Really?” the Guardian said. “You would give it up? Again?”
“Yes. I have no need of it where I’m going. And you were right, it’s too dangerous to be in the world.”
“Will I need to take it from you? Or can you give it over freely?”
“Here,” Solomon said, beginning to unbuckle Justice from his belt. “I don’t need it.”
He spoke casually, but in truth, this was harder than he expected it to be. The sword called to him, telling him that together they could rule it all, no one could stand against him, that if the Guardian tried to take it, Solomon should cut
