Chapter 32

Another Falls

At the far end of the passage, there had been another set of stone doors that required the Nerubian artifact. They closed behind the group, properly sealing off the invading Scourge minions. Then again, they could also be sealing themselves in. Nonetheless they traveled in complete darkness once again, the path illuminated by the glow of Geraldros' globe and several handheld torches. Cobwebs littered the walls and sometimes hung in their path, and each time they passed through one, Fineus cursed giant spiders, waiting for one to spring out at the darkness from him. When none did, he cursed more.

To Stefan's dismay, his experience with tombs caught site of another hindrance. He held a hand out to halt the others.

"The tiles are different," he began, kneeling down and tapping one lightly with his mace. Unlike the one underneath his foot, it rang hollow. "Booby trapped. Watch your step."

Fineus groaned. "Not again."

They proceeded slowly, Stefan and Haydric at the front, testing the tiles. As sweat rolled down their brows, the only sound being the quiet tap of their weapons and the shallow, frightened breathing of everyone present, they began to move forward one tile at a time. It seemed like eternity, and many times, Fineus mentioned it. But soon, the tiles let up, and the passage opened up once more. The floor was smooth and polished, clicking to their hooves and boots. Ahead was another door, emblazoned with Nerubian runes, and topped off with another lock at its center. Stefan had a good feeling about this one.

"Judging by the looks, I think this might be it," he said excitedly. He slid the artifact into the slot, and twisted. He heard a loud series of clicks as the ancient mechanism unlocked, his heart racing with anticipation.

But the door didn't open. That was it.

"Um...is it going to open?" said Haydric.

Stefan opened his mouth to reply, but something froze him in place. A gentle waft of air brushed along his neck.

"DUCK!"

He threw his arm around Iyana, pulling her to the floor with him. A moment later, and a series of thuds echoed in the tiny chamber. For nearly a minute, Stefan listened to the blood rushing in his ears, and Iyana's shallow breathing. He stared at the floor until the adrenaline left his veins, and then he looked up at the door.

A row of jagged, metal spears were embedded several inches into the stone. But one was missing. Stefan turned to see Guro'jintal's other warrior laying in a pooling lake of his own blood, the missing spear lodged in his chest cavity.

"Damnit," said Stefan. Guro'jintal muttered a prayer in his native tongue and pulled the lids over the dead Troll's eyes. Lyra was at his shoulder, adding a prayer of her own.

Stefan heard the metallic groan of gears, and with renewed determination he turned back to the door. Picking up the artifact where he had dropped it, he stood up. He turned to look at the dead Troll then to Guro'jintal, who nodded firmly, squeezing the polearm in his grip. Stefan nodded back, returning his gaze to the open doorway.