Lazybones
Adventurer
Thanks for the posts, guys. I had an awesome vacation, and took the day off from work today to "adjust". Tomorrow it's back to the trenches. 
But now it's time for Book 5.
* * * * *
The “Doomed Bastards” in the Dungeon of Graves
Book 5
Chapter 272
TOMB RAIDERS
A small noise shattered the stillness of the empty tomb. It started as a subtle tapping noise, faint but persistent. As the seconds passed into minutes the sounds increased, maturing into a rhythmic pounding that echoed through the interior of the dusty chamber. The noise continued until an entire wall of the tomb exploded, raining a hail of dust and debris and shards of ancient bricks across the floor of the outer chamber.
A tall form strode through the hole opened in the wall, widening the hole as he came with heavy blows from a small but menacing-looking pickaxe. Dust and dirt clung to his garments, the loose body covering that the desert people called a zurqa. The design of the garment failed to conceal the hard lines of the intruder, or the muscles that bulged as he wielded his tool with simple, powerful efficiency. This man was a warrior, with a falchion slung across his back, yet he moved with a certain grace that belied the ancestry of a hunter as well.
As the warrior moved beyond the new entry, another pair of individuals followed him into the tomb. The first was a stark contrast to the first, a lean, angular figure of a man, with the sly features and nimble bearing of a fox. He sniffed the air as he entered the tomb, caution blaring in every subtle aspect of his expression and movements. He possessed only one eye, the other covered in a simple patch of plain leather, but that orb missed nothing. He was clad in an unremarkable suit of dark garments that blended into the stone walls of the tomb, and his soft leather boots made no sound upon the floor as he moved.
The last man brought light with him, a torch blazing bright in his hands, pushing back the darkness of the tomb. He was clad in the heavy gray robes of a Razhuri mystic, and what little of his face could be seen under his cowl revealed the white marks of a Seeker. Yet there seemed to be more to him as well than was evident at first glance, and the way his robes bulged slightly when he moved hinted at the presence of armor, weapons, or both concealed under their folds.
The warrior started forward, but the fox-faced man forestalled him. “Hold a moment, Anku,” he said. “My nose does not like this place.”
“Your nose would not be happy unless it were buried along with the rest of you under a mound of whores in the depths of a Karashin brothel,” Anku replied. The man spoke Drusian with the thick accent of an Ashtur tribesman, but despite the light tone of his words his gaze did not shift from his intent search of the perimeter of the chamber.
The other man clucked in amusement, and tapped his nose. “True, true, my friend. A sublime state for a man to be in, and one which I hope to resume soon, very soon.” He turned back to face the mystic. “Well, Tammuz?”
Tammuz thrust the torch out and peered around the entry chamber, which appeared to be empty of anything save dust and some shard of pottery, their original function lost in the decay of time. “We must seek out the burial chamber,” he said. “When I hired you, you claimed the title of the greatest tomb-robber in the Empire, Esir; you may lead.”
“You honor me too greatly, noble sir,” the lean rogue said, with a small bow just slight of mocking. He led them across the room, toward an alcove that appeared to lead nowhere at first glance, but which concealed a narrow passage that led deeper into the mound. Esir vanished into the crack, which gave the other two some difficulty before they were able to follow him. After a short distance they came to stone steps weathered by time that took them further underground. They descended in silence, the flames of Tammuz’s torch flickering off the stone blocks of the low ceiling.
The stairs deposited them into a tunnel that led straight ahead into darkness. Esir waited for his companions there. He pointed toward a gap between two stones along the left wall. It was difficult to see even with the light playing full upon it; how the rogue had detected it in the darkness was a mystery.
“A trap?” Tammuz asked.
“It was,” the rogue said. “Triggered long ago, or perhaps the mechanism was merely claimed by time. But there may be others further ahead that still retain potency. Be wary; step where I step.”
He led the others down the tunnel. They came to an open pit; Tammuz shone the torch down into it. The light reflected faintly on the spikes below, and the bleached white bones of a previous tomb-robber.
“These traps are not very impressive,” Anku said. He looked at Tammuz, his expression doubtful.
“It appears that there is a larger room up ahead,” the mystic said. “Let us investigate.”
Esir led them to the indicated chamber. It was evident at once that this was the main burial chamber of the tomb. The remains of the sarcophagus dominated the center of the place, although one entire side of it had been stove in, perhaps by heavy sledges. Broken pottery, somewhat more intact than that in the outer chamber, was gathered in heaps along the walls. A few amorphae were still recognizable by their forms, but all bore serious damage, clearly long empty. The niches in the walls had likewise been quite thoroughly cleaned out. The wall to their left had been carved in what once had probably been an elaborate relief, but even a casual look indicated the marks where precious inlays had been roughly pried out of the stone. What was left was no longer distinguishable as anything in particular.
Anku kicked a piece of pot across the room; it clattered loudly. “Looted. Empty.” He spat. “You promised gold, jewels, holy man.”
Esir looked back at the mystic. “My companion speaks truly. When you led us here, I had my doubts; all know that the tombs in this region were picked clean centuries ago. There is nothing here.”
“That is what you were meant to believe,” Tammuz said. He walked over to the carved wall, and ran his fingers across the bare stone. Behind his back, Esir and Anku shared a dubious look.
The mystic shook his arms out of his robe, and leaned in close against the wall. He muttered soft syllables, words of ancient power. His hands glowed faintly, and then, where he touched, the stone began to melt away.
As the stone retreated, it revealed a space beyond, sheltered by a full three feet of thickness of solid rock. The portal that Tammuz created through the rock was not large, but it was enough for him to step through, followed by the others.
They found themselves in a small chamber that had the look of a natural cave. Before them stood a sheer wall of black rock, and in that rock was embedded a door.
The door was remarkable. Crafted of stone, it looked like a single massive slab recessed deep in the surrounding wall. There were no handles or hinges that they could see. Set into the center of the door was a three-dimensional figure; a carving of a large, gaping mouth, full of stone teeth.
“That doesn’t look promising,” Esir said.
Tammuz stepped forward. He drew something out of a hidden pocket in his robes. It flashed in the light, but before his companions could get a good look at it, he thrust it into the stone mouth, working his hand, and then much of his arm, through the maze of teeth. If the stone mouth was in truth a trap, it could easily take off his arm.
“Bold,” Anku said.
There was a click, and the mystic drew back unhindered as the stone block began to sink slowly into the floor. It revealed a dark passage beyond, formed of massive blocks so expertly fashioned that they could barely seen the joints where the stones met. Tammuz turned to face his companions.
“Gentlemen. I give you the tomb of Amar-Sina, emperor of the Third Dynasty, and the repository of what is perhaps one of the greatest undiscovered treasure hoards left in Drusia.”
Esir and Anku shared another look; wary, but overlaid now with a greed so tangible that it seemed to hang in the air between them like a living thing.
But now it's time for Book 5.
* * * * *
The “Doomed Bastards” in the Dungeon of Graves
Book 5
Chapter 272
TOMB RAIDERS
A small noise shattered the stillness of the empty tomb. It started as a subtle tapping noise, faint but persistent. As the seconds passed into minutes the sounds increased, maturing into a rhythmic pounding that echoed through the interior of the dusty chamber. The noise continued until an entire wall of the tomb exploded, raining a hail of dust and debris and shards of ancient bricks across the floor of the outer chamber.
A tall form strode through the hole opened in the wall, widening the hole as he came with heavy blows from a small but menacing-looking pickaxe. Dust and dirt clung to his garments, the loose body covering that the desert people called a zurqa. The design of the garment failed to conceal the hard lines of the intruder, or the muscles that bulged as he wielded his tool with simple, powerful efficiency. This man was a warrior, with a falchion slung across his back, yet he moved with a certain grace that belied the ancestry of a hunter as well.
As the warrior moved beyond the new entry, another pair of individuals followed him into the tomb. The first was a stark contrast to the first, a lean, angular figure of a man, with the sly features and nimble bearing of a fox. He sniffed the air as he entered the tomb, caution blaring in every subtle aspect of his expression and movements. He possessed only one eye, the other covered in a simple patch of plain leather, but that orb missed nothing. He was clad in an unremarkable suit of dark garments that blended into the stone walls of the tomb, and his soft leather boots made no sound upon the floor as he moved.
The last man brought light with him, a torch blazing bright in his hands, pushing back the darkness of the tomb. He was clad in the heavy gray robes of a Razhuri mystic, and what little of his face could be seen under his cowl revealed the white marks of a Seeker. Yet there seemed to be more to him as well than was evident at first glance, and the way his robes bulged slightly when he moved hinted at the presence of armor, weapons, or both concealed under their folds.
The warrior started forward, but the fox-faced man forestalled him. “Hold a moment, Anku,” he said. “My nose does not like this place.”
“Your nose would not be happy unless it were buried along with the rest of you under a mound of whores in the depths of a Karashin brothel,” Anku replied. The man spoke Drusian with the thick accent of an Ashtur tribesman, but despite the light tone of his words his gaze did not shift from his intent search of the perimeter of the chamber.
The other man clucked in amusement, and tapped his nose. “True, true, my friend. A sublime state for a man to be in, and one which I hope to resume soon, very soon.” He turned back to face the mystic. “Well, Tammuz?”
Tammuz thrust the torch out and peered around the entry chamber, which appeared to be empty of anything save dust and some shard of pottery, their original function lost in the decay of time. “We must seek out the burial chamber,” he said. “When I hired you, you claimed the title of the greatest tomb-robber in the Empire, Esir; you may lead.”
“You honor me too greatly, noble sir,” the lean rogue said, with a small bow just slight of mocking. He led them across the room, toward an alcove that appeared to lead nowhere at first glance, but which concealed a narrow passage that led deeper into the mound. Esir vanished into the crack, which gave the other two some difficulty before they were able to follow him. After a short distance they came to stone steps weathered by time that took them further underground. They descended in silence, the flames of Tammuz’s torch flickering off the stone blocks of the low ceiling.
The stairs deposited them into a tunnel that led straight ahead into darkness. Esir waited for his companions there. He pointed toward a gap between two stones along the left wall. It was difficult to see even with the light playing full upon it; how the rogue had detected it in the darkness was a mystery.
“A trap?” Tammuz asked.
“It was,” the rogue said. “Triggered long ago, or perhaps the mechanism was merely claimed by time. But there may be others further ahead that still retain potency. Be wary; step where I step.”
He led the others down the tunnel. They came to an open pit; Tammuz shone the torch down into it. The light reflected faintly on the spikes below, and the bleached white bones of a previous tomb-robber.
“These traps are not very impressive,” Anku said. He looked at Tammuz, his expression doubtful.
“It appears that there is a larger room up ahead,” the mystic said. “Let us investigate.”
Esir led them to the indicated chamber. It was evident at once that this was the main burial chamber of the tomb. The remains of the sarcophagus dominated the center of the place, although one entire side of it had been stove in, perhaps by heavy sledges. Broken pottery, somewhat more intact than that in the outer chamber, was gathered in heaps along the walls. A few amorphae were still recognizable by their forms, but all bore serious damage, clearly long empty. The niches in the walls had likewise been quite thoroughly cleaned out. The wall to their left had been carved in what once had probably been an elaborate relief, but even a casual look indicated the marks where precious inlays had been roughly pried out of the stone. What was left was no longer distinguishable as anything in particular.
Anku kicked a piece of pot across the room; it clattered loudly. “Looted. Empty.” He spat. “You promised gold, jewels, holy man.”
Esir looked back at the mystic. “My companion speaks truly. When you led us here, I had my doubts; all know that the tombs in this region were picked clean centuries ago. There is nothing here.”
“That is what you were meant to believe,” Tammuz said. He walked over to the carved wall, and ran his fingers across the bare stone. Behind his back, Esir and Anku shared a dubious look.
The mystic shook his arms out of his robe, and leaned in close against the wall. He muttered soft syllables, words of ancient power. His hands glowed faintly, and then, where he touched, the stone began to melt away.
As the stone retreated, it revealed a space beyond, sheltered by a full three feet of thickness of solid rock. The portal that Tammuz created through the rock was not large, but it was enough for him to step through, followed by the others.
They found themselves in a small chamber that had the look of a natural cave. Before them stood a sheer wall of black rock, and in that rock was embedded a door.
The door was remarkable. Crafted of stone, it looked like a single massive slab recessed deep in the surrounding wall. There were no handles or hinges that they could see. Set into the center of the door was a three-dimensional figure; a carving of a large, gaping mouth, full of stone teeth.
“That doesn’t look promising,” Esir said.
Tammuz stepped forward. He drew something out of a hidden pocket in his robes. It flashed in the light, but before his companions could get a good look at it, he thrust it into the stone mouth, working his hand, and then much of his arm, through the maze of teeth. If the stone mouth was in truth a trap, it could easily take off his arm.
“Bold,” Anku said.
There was a click, and the mystic drew back unhindered as the stone block began to sink slowly into the floor. It revealed a dark passage beyond, formed of massive blocks so expertly fashioned that they could barely seen the joints where the stones met. Tammuz turned to face his companions.
“Gentlemen. I give you the tomb of Amar-Sina, emperor of the Third Dynasty, and the repository of what is perhaps one of the greatest undiscovered treasure hoards left in Drusia.”
Esir and Anku shared another look; wary, but overlaid now with a greed so tangible that it seemed to hang in the air between them like a living thing.
