I didn't want to go near the body, but I had to. I needed to find out what happened. Cautiously, I approached the body, stopping about a meter away to examine it. The body belonged to a female with a slim build, standing about five and a half feet tall. Her long brown hair fell forward, obscuring her face. She was naked except for a pair of simple wooden sandals on her feet. The spike appeared to have pierced her as she was in the act of bending over, entering just below her ribcage and emerging out of her back. She would have lived for a time, but it must have been a slow and agonizing death.

  I touched her skin. There was still a hint of warmth, and rigor mortis had not yet set in. I wasn’t a coroner, but I was willing to bet she had died recently. My gut told me she was the one I had been searching for. This day had brought a roller coaster of emotions, with anger and fear at the forefront. Now it was time to add sadness to that list. I did not know this woman, but I felt her loss as acutely as the loss of my own mother a few years ago. I shook away the tears that threatened to spill. I was not ashamed of my emotions, but needed to focus on survival.

  The woman's reason for venturing down this dead-end passage was clear. Before her lay a wooden box on the ground, its lid flipped open. Her opening the box had likely triggered the trap. I noticed a cord running from the bottom of the lid through a hole at the bottom of the chest. Inside the box were three items: a glass bottle with a cork, a leather bandolier containing three darts and sheaths for five more, and a scroll. These were the treasures for which a human being had died.

  I scratched my chin and contemplated my next move. Did I dare try to grab the items for myself? It seemed safe since the chest’s trap had already been triggered, but what if there was another trap waiting for me? I spent a long time examining the chest and the area surrounding it, searching for any signs of hidden traps. Although I didn’t see anything, that didn’t guarantee that there wasn’t another danger lurking. It’s not like I had ever taken a Viet Cong survival course or anything. In the end, I concluded that I had no choice but to retrieve the items. While I didn’t think the darts were better weapons than my club, the bottle and scroll could prove critical for my survival.

  I pressed myself against the wall and carefully moved around the dead woman until I was standing next to the chest. I tapped the inside with my club a few times to see if it would trigger anything. It didn’t, but I wasn’t ready to breathe a sigh of relief just yet.

  With caution, I reached in and grabbed the bottle. Once I had a firm grip on it, I quickly sprang back and pressed myself against the wall again. Nothing happened. I wasn't sure if flattening myself against the wall was an effective strategy for avoiding traps, but it was the best idea I had at that moment.

  I placed the bottle in my bag and repeated the same process with the other two items. Nothing happened with them either. Finally, I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding and edged away from the chest.

  I was afraid that removing the items might activate a pressure plate trap. Fortunately, my fear was unfounded. Once back on what I considered safe ground, I removed the items from my bag and examined them individually. I began with the bottle.

  This is a corked bottle made out of blue glass.

  You have 16 out of 20 mana remaining.

  I scoffed. The information only confirmed what I already knew. How was I supposed to figure out what the bottle contained if it had no label? An idea struck me. I pulled out the cork, sniffed the bottle’s contents, and then cast Inspect again.

  This bottle contains mana water. Drinking it will restore some lost mana and quench your thirst. These bottles are typically colored blue for easy identification.

  You have 15 out of 20 mana remaining.

  That was much more helpful information. I took a small sip and felt a tingling sensation spread through my body. Then, I corked the bottle and put it back in my bag.

  Next, I inspected the scroll.

  This is a learning scroll for the spell Feather Fall. Casting this spell will greatly reduce your rate of descent and is a prerequisite for later flying spells. Only Rank 1 spellcasters and above can learn this spell, and it will cost 5 mana to cast.

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  You have 15 out of 20 mana remaining.

  I was initially very excited when I began reading the spell's description. I would love to be able to fly. However, my excitement quickly faded when I discovered that it could only be used by spellcasters. Oh well, I thought, as I returned the scroll to my bag. Perhaps I could trade it for something more useful to me later on. Of course, this was assuming that I would meet someone with whom I could trade.

  I noticed that my mana had not decreased, which meant that the mana water I drank had restored one point of mana. Although I was disappointed by the small amount, I had only taken a sip. I expected that drinking more would restore more mana.

  Finally, I examined the bandolier and the darts, and I was pleasantly surprised.

  This is a Bandolier of Minor Dexterity. It holds eight darts and is enchanted to increase your dexterity by +1 when worn.

  You have 14 out of 20 mana remaining.

  I finally found a magic item. I wondered if the enchantment of the bandolier would still be beneficial for me as a warrior. I slipped it on to test it out and noticed that I felt a little more limber. While it wasn’t a drastic improvement, every little bit helped.

  Unfortunately, my inspection of the darts revealed them to be ordinary. No homing function like I was hoping for. The darts could be used by any class, of course, but hunters would benefit the most from them.

  I was now down to 13 mana. This was too low for my comfort, so I took a couple more sips from the mana water bottle. I would rely on my natural regeneration to replenish more of my mana.

  Now came the part I dreaded. As carefully and as respectfully as I could, I removed the sandals from the dead woman and put them on my own feet. It felt like stealing, but I could not afford to pass up the only articles of clothing I had come across so far. The sandals had been oversized for her feet, but they fit me perfectly. I also took the contents of her burlap bag and placed them into mine. She did not have much—only six biscuits and a half-full waterskin. Her club lay at her feet, but I did not touch it. Wielding two clubs would be awkward, and I wanted to keep one of my hands free.

  It was time to move on, yet I found myself still standing there. It felt wrong leaving her impaled like that, but what else could I do? I couldn’t bury her, and removing her from the spike seemed impossible since it was taller than I was. Still, I hesitated to move. Should I offer a prayer? Before I did that, I needed to see her face, so I reached out and gently brushed back her hair. My heart stopped when I saw her face. She was even younger than I was, perhaps just a year or two out of high school. Tears stung my eyes as I contemplated her loss. This time, I let them come.

  “May the Lord bless you and keep you,” I began, but then I stopped. I wasn’t sure what came next. I had only seen funerals on television and hadn’t paid close attention to the officiant’s words. So, I chose to set aside the prayer and simply talk to the woman. “I’m sorry you’re gone. I feel a sense of responsibility for what happened. If I hadn’t fallen asleep, or if we had met sooner, perhaps I could have prevented this. I don’t really know. I wish I knew your name. I will strive to carry your memory with me for the rest of my life.”

  And I’ll get revenge for you, I vowed to myself in silence. No, not revenge. Justice. Yes, that’s a better word. I’ll get the justice you deserve.

  I let her hair fall and wiped away my tears, determined to live up to my words.

  I turned around and walked away, retracing my steps back to the intersection. Once there, I paused to consider which passage I should take next. Before I could make a decision, I heard the scrape of footsteps coming from the passage to my right—the direction I had initially come from while following the woman's tracks. With only a moment to decide on my course of action, I ducked back into the passage I was still in and hid around a corner. I realized I was trapping myself, but I couldn't know if my other options would be any better. There were so many dead ends in this cursed Labyrinth, and I knew this passage was at least safe from further traps.

  I waited, unsure if what was approaching was a human or a monster. I wouldn't call out until I knew for certain. The footsteps grew louder. Whoever—or whatever—was making them had a heavy tread and revealed no effort to conceal their approach. Then I heard something else. Was that … whistling?

  Before I could determine for sure, the heavy footsteps suddenly stopped. It seemed they had reached the intersection. Why had they stopped? Had they heard me or caught my scent? Perhaps they were simply trying to decide which path to take. There was a one-third chance they would choose my passage at random. I gripped my club tightly and waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  I strained to hear, but there were no further sounds. Perhaps I was mistaken about them stopping at the intersection. Maybe they had continued down another passage. After waiting for another five or ten minutes, the suspense overwhelmed me, and I decided to peek around the corner.

  I gasped.

  Standing before me was a pudgy man I recognized. Once our mutual shock at seeing each other wore off, a familiar smirk touched his lips.

  “Hey, Eric, have you heard the news?”

  I threw my arms around his shoulders and hugged him tightly.