Jackal Among Snakes

Galamon grabbed the large mass of stone with both of his hands, using his legs to lift it from below. It shifted upwards easier than he thought it would, and he tossed it into the mineshaft behind him. A few fragments of rock fell when the rock was removed, but there was an entryway large enough for him to enter. He had taken off all his weapons except for his Ebonice axe, completely adhering to Argrave’s directions.

He crouched low, walking awkwardly forward. He did not need to do so for long. The small passage opened up into a vast room. Galamon stood. He could see everything clearly, and he acknowledged that Argrave had been right to send him; even with a torch or magic lamp, this place would be difficult to navigate. Galamon could not sense any blood nor sense any movements. Nothing in this place was alive.

The room was very open, barring the pillars holding the mountain above up. The central walkway was a neatly polished gray stone and had many branching paths. Beside the walkways, lined up in perfect rows, were rectangular stairways that descended to an altar. Each of these altars, of which there must have been a hundred, were filled with various objects: weapons, gold, gems, and other such earthly treasures.

Nothing was alive, to be sure, but the creatures that Argrave had described filled the place. The tomb guardians sat behind the altars, each in an identical cross-legged pose. They held a weapon across their laps, heads drooping over them as though bowing or sleeping. Their bodies were wholly metal and decidedly anthropomorphic but they lacked any distinguishing features beyond that.

Briefly bewildered, Galamon took out his flask and held it to his lips. He drained the entire thing, and then put it back in its place. He set off into a steady, certain walk, running Argrave’s directions through his head. He was careful to watch his step so that he did not kick anything. A rock might hit one of the altars if kicked, and the situation could quickly get out of hand. Above all, Galamon could not waste time dealing with one of the awakened guardians.

The path wound confusingly. Try as he might to remember where he came from, most of the place looked the same, and that only deepened his reliance on Argrave’s directions. They included an escape route and everything. If the man had been lying to him, Galamon would be in dire straits. He had come to trust Argrave, though he was at times annoying.

Before long, Galamon stood at a set of stairs that led upwards. Pillars stretched for dozens of feet above, holding the great mass of ceiling at bay. Galamon took the stairs two steps at a time, and he arrived at a great open portion of room. A royal red carpet that had degraded over the passage of years led to a single massive altar. There was a king’s ransom in gold, jewels, and magic artifacts. Behind it was a metal guardian larger than most of what Galamon had seen.

He gave the glistening pile of wealth a large berth, walking until he stood in front of the tomb guardian. Argrave had said this man was a dead king; true to his word, a crown hung from the brow. Galamon took a deep breath, running through Argrave’s directions one last time. They seemed ridiculous, like a child’s game. But Argrave had assured that this strategy worked ‘two hundred percent of the time,’ whatever that meant.

Galamon identified every aspect of the plan—scouted out everything Argrave had mentioned, and took mental note of the closest tomb guardians that had bows—and then he reached both of his hands out, hovering just beside the crown. He moved his hands quickly, touching his fingers to the circlet and yanking it off.

Bolsters your st—er, your physical abilities considerably. Leave your helmet outside, and just toss that baby on,” Argrave’s

and crashed into the pile of gold—the physical enhancements were considerable indeed. The tomb guardian

head for the left corner of the room. The pillars there are pretty close together, and the big guy won’t

altar, easily dodging a slow swing from the tomb’s

strong—they’ve been holding up a mountain for a thousand

as instructed, Galamon watched as the king slammed the greatsword against the pillars. He watched for cracks, fearing they were not as sturdy as Argrave estimated, but there was not a one. He poked his head out, watching for

that it took the shape of an arrow. It sunk in very deep—nearly a foot—and then fragmented into purple shards before dissipating entirely. Galamon took another deep breath

enough to swing at Galamon. He dodged, stepping back until his

tomb’s guardians get close enough, you’ll want to go to the opposite corner, keeping within the pillars. Just keep hugging the wall, and head for the stairs. It should be a tight pinch—you want

the opposite corner. Behind him, the archers shot the wall, leaving foot-deep stabs. Galamon drew his Ebonice, just in case; according to Argrave,

a sharp left when he came to the bottom. He kept behind the pillars as instructed. One projectile came close, but he swatted it aside with the axe,

If you stay in the leftmost corner, you’ll give the tomb guardians enough time to shamble away from the mineshaft’s entry point. In other words,

guardians blocked the wall ahead, but Galamon could see the room Argrave described just beyond it. He hastened his run, and then jumped as hard as he could, soaring above them. After clearing them considerably, he landed, his

hallway, in essence. It breaks off from the main room and has two entryways; the one you’ll enter from, and the one that connects back near the entrance. It was constructed to accommodate more bodies once the main room was filled, but their civilization died before they had the chance to use it.

his position. They moved about as fast as he walked, but they were devilishly strong and their bowmen caused problems. The king stood in the back, twice as large as the

king enters the room fully. That’s usually the proper