Once Mental had calmed down, The Rotten Apples left the trolls where they lay, and walked up the rocky slope. Jaelin cast furtive glances at her. She looked tired now, her eyes dull and unfocused. Greenblade and Fortune both managed the climb to the top, despite the tendency of the rocks underfoot to move. Mila and Tree had treated their wounds. But they were badly injured, and needed protection.

  ‘There it is,’ he said, pointing down the valley to the mound, topped with its single tree.

  ‘And those, perhaps, are its residents,’ Tree said.

  Standing to one side of the mound was a group of ten trolls. Jaelin studied them as he descended into the valley. Some looked older, and some were perhaps children, despite being the size of regular humans. It added to the idea that the mound had been a home to them. They looked at Jaelin’s group with impassive expressions.

  ‘They must know that we just killed their warriors,’ Jaelin muttered.

  ‘They must,’ Tree agreed.

  Jaelin shook his head. Of all the creatures he had encountered, trolls seemed the most alien; the hardest to understand.

  The entrance to the mound was large, plenty big enough for a troll to use.

  ‘Redblade is glowing,’ Bletcher warned.

  ‘Of course it’s glowing, you fool,’ Fortune bit out, gesturing with the blade at the group of trolls who stood, silently observing.

  ‘Yes,’ the sorcerer admitted.

  Jaelin caught a confused look on his face. ‘Could we be in danger?’ he asked Bletcher.

  ‘We could be.’

  ‘Well, is the staff warning you, or not?’ Fortune demanded.

  ‘Listening to the gods is not so straightforward,’ Bletcher responded, rubbing his forehead.

  Jaelin eyed the dark tunnel of the mound. ‘I think we need to be very careful about entering,’ he suggested. ‘Be ready.’ He took the Rod of Light in hand, and directed it inside. Much of the tunnel was revealed. It stretched ahead in a straight line, before turning left. Much closer to the entrance, two little nooks had been dug out, facing each other on either side of the main tunnel.

  Jaelin angled the Rod into one of these, trying to work out what it was. There was a strange shadow. He caught something on the floor against the nearest wall, only just visible, and directed the light at it. It was green. It was a foot. It was—

  The troll moved quickly, launching itself from its hiding space. The second troll emerged from the nook opposite.

  Jaelin was ready, half expecting them. It also helped that the two trolls emerged into the tunnel at the same time, hampering each other’s movement. He turned, and ran past his companions.

  When the two trolls reached The Apples, their attempt at surprise was over.

  Tree attacked first. Two of his five strikes with his hand axe penetrated the troll hide, reducing his target to 18 points.

  Smoke took on the second troll. It seemed strange that such a small knife could be used with such deadly effect. By the end of his fifth action, the creature was dead.

  The Hoffmeister saw success, two blows from his hammer taking the first troll down to 3 points. The Bludgeoner finished the brief battle with a crack from his mace.

  Jaelin looked across at the ten trolls who had gathered nearby. Not one had moved to aid their warriors. Perhaps they had a mournful look now those warriors lay dead. Or perhaps I am seeing something that simply isn’t there.

  With a glance at Bletcher, he returned to the tunnel that led under the mound. Using the Rod of Light, he stepped inside. Behind him came Tree and Smoke, their presence boosting his resolve. He reached the two nooks where the trolls had hidden. There was nothing else there, and they continued.

  The tunnel made a sharp turn to the left. Here, one ahead—the other to the right—were two individual tombs, carved into the underground rock. The remains lay on stone slabs, along with items they had been buried with. If the trolls had indeed lived here, they had not disturbed the burial. Jaelin illuminated one then the other.

  ‘Children?’ Smoke asked.

  ‘I think not,’ said Tree. ‘It would be highly unusual for children of this size to be buried with weapons. This one has a sling that has survived the intervening years fully intact.’

  Jaelin called Twerk over to investigate.

  ‘Has to be a halfling,’ Twerk said, examining the figure and its weapon. ‘Now, this one,’ he said, turning to the tomb that lay ahead of them, ‘is significantly taller. Buried with a sword and armour.’ He turned to Jaelin with bright eyes. ‘A gnomish warrior! It must be!’

  Jaelin understood why the discovery was important to Wilson. He had spoken about being an outsider for his choice of career. Here was a pioneer in Gal’azu who had followed the same path long before him.

  ‘That’s incredible,’ Jaelin said. ‘And it’s surely possible, given the previous barrows, that they owned a magical weapon you could use.’

  ‘I suppose so.’ Twerk looked unhappy at the idea. ‘I wouldn’t want to take it from him.’

  ‘I am sure they would want you to have it.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  Returning to his task, Jaelin shone the Rod of Light along the next section of tunnel. They followed it into a large underground chamber. There were signs of troll activity here—huge footprints in the dusty floor; soot, and scorch marks from fires; a rancid odour hung in the still space. But it wasn’t clear whether the creatures had actually been living here.

  In the centre of the chamber, sitting on four stone columns, was another tomb. Jaelin examined the size of the skeleton, encased in armour. Larger than the gnome figure, but smaller than any other they had come across before.

  ‘A dwarven warrior,’ he commented. ‘It’s surprising to find them here in Gal’azu, when their kind haven’t visited these shores in centuries.’

  ‘There’s certainly a story here,’ Tree agreed. He and Smoke lifted a great chest that had sat at the feet of the dwarf, and placed it onto the stone floor of the chamber.

  The rest of the squad filed into the chamber to observe the opening. When Tree lifted the lid, Jaelin shone his Rod in to reveal its contents. There was treasure—gold, and jewels, just like they had found in their previous explorations. Drawing attention even more than that was a sword. The stone at the bottom of the hilt glowed with a golden light. When Jaelin shone the Rod onto it, it bathed them all in its glorious colour.

  ‘It’s already glowing,’ Christoph said. ‘Whatever type of creature it detects is already here.’

  Jaelin looked around the room, but there seemed to be nothing else sharing the space with them.

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  ‘Look what else,’ said Twerk. ‘A dwarven battle-axe.’ He picked up a smooth, grey stone that had been worked onto a metal chain. ‘Probably dwarven as well.’ He cackled. ‘All of you come here to claim a weapon, and they’re all too small for you! The tables have turned at last. Welcome to my world!’

  It was a mean thing to say, but none of the Apples retorted and started a fight.

  ‘Goldblade isn’t dwarven,’ Fortune pointed out. ‘Another sword. Shame we don’t have anyone else with the talent to wield it.’

  ‘What’s that on the underside of the lid?’ Smoke asked.

  ‘It looks like one of the maps,’ Greenblade said. ‘We found the same in each of the other barrows. They all show the locations of the four barrows.’

  ‘Oh.’ Smoke sounded disappointed with the answer, and wandered away.

  Mental picked up the axe to examine it. ‘Looks like a fine piece. There are runes on the blade here. Shine your light, Explorer.’

  The Rod highlighted the lettering.

  ‘Can’t read it,’ Mental complained.

  ‘Splitter,’ said Twerk. He shrugged. ‘Gnomes can understand dwarven runes. A good name for an axe, I suppose.’ He sighed. ‘But it’s a two-hander. I wouldn’t be able to use two weapons.’

  Mental returned it to the chest. ‘Never mind, gnome. Anyway, only a dwarf should wield such a weapon.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Wilson said, slightly surprising Jaelin with his agreeability.

  ‘Over here, Explorer,’ said Smoke from the other side of the chamber. ‘Bring your light.’

  When Jaelin illuminated the section of wall Smoke was interested in, they saw that it had a slightly darker colour than the rest of the wall. How he’d noticed it in the first place, Jaelin couldn’t say. Smoke traced a finger where the two sections met, revealing a thin line that separated them.

  Eager to get it open, various mercs began pushing against one or other section of wall. But the stone stood defiant.

  Smoke got Jaelin to focus the Rod on different sections of wall, while he wiped away the accumulated dust of centuries. But there were no patterns, runes, or anything of such nature carved into the wall. ‘Search the floor, and the other walls of the chamber,’ he said. ‘Search the three tombs. There may be a hidden mechanism somewhere.’

  Everyone obliged, scouring the barrow for some way to get the wall to open. No one was able to find anything.

  Jaelin approached Bletcher. The wizard had taken a seat in the corner of the chamber, as if overwhelmed by the squad’s search. ‘What if it’s magic?’ Jaelin asked him. ‘Could there be a spell on the opening?’

  ‘There could be,’ Bletcher said. He looked at Jaelin with a sort of mute appeal. ‘I don’t know much about spells and the like.’

  Jaelin nodded. He thought he understood, a little. Whether it was true or not, Bletcher believed his magic came directly from the gods. He therefore had no internal knowledge of magic. ‘Is there some way to know whether it’s magic or not?’ he asked. ‘Only, we could be completely wasting our time.’

  His words sparked something in Bletcher. ‘My mask!’ He rummaged in his cloak, withdrew the Mask of Magical Warding, and placed it on his face. Jaelin pulled him to his feet, and Bletcher went over to investigate the patch of wall Smoke had discovered. ‘Has anyone tried the handle?’ he asked.

  ‘Handle?’ Jaelin repeated. With anyone else, he would have suspected he was being mocked. But that didn’t seem to be Bletcher’s style. ‘We couldn’t see a handle. Has the mask revealed one?’

  He watched as Bletcher placed his hand on thin air before the wall, and mimicked turning a handle. Alright, he actually is taking the piss, Jaelin decided. Only, when Bletcher pulled down on his imaginary handle, Jaelin could hear a grinding noise coming from the wall. He rushed over, putting his weight against it. As it began to move, more of the crew rushed over to help. The wall became a door, revealing a set of stone steps that descended into an adjoining chamber.

  The excitement among the crew was palpable. They descended the dozen steps in a hurry, entering the musty smelling chamber. It looked like it had been left untouched ever since the secret door had been sealed. At the far end was a tomb on four columns, built to the same design as the one in the main chamber.

  As Larik rushed over to investigate, a metal bolt was released from the wall to his right. It slammed into his leg just above his knee, causing him four points of damage. It then retracted back into the wall.

  ‘Move!’ The Bowman advised.

  Larik hobbled backwards, only just avoiding a second impaling from the same bolt.

  ‘We encountered these things in the first barrow,’ Christoph explained. He proceeded to outline the story. It was one Jaelin knew well, even though he had been unconscious and on death’s door when it had happened. Without The Bowman’s bravery and tenacity, he’d have died in that barrow.

  ‘So, it’s likely to be magic?’ Fortune summarised when Christoph was done. He gestured at Bletcher. ‘You’ll need to disable it.’

  Bletcher was still wearing his mask, but it didn’t hide his blank look. ‘Disable it? Hmm.’ He wafted his hand in the direction of the hole in the wall, where the bolt seemed to wait for its next victim. ‘No. Can’t do that.’

  ‘Well then what bloody use—’ Fortune began.

  But he was interrupted by The Bowman. ‘That time I got to the chest by wearing armour and shields. I didn’t quite make it back by myself, but I think we have enough equipment to do it, depending on how many bolts there are in the room.’

  Pec and The Hoffmeister were the two willing volunteers. Neither had taken an injury in the fighting, and their hit points total was reasonably high.

  One group began to organise making them as well protected as possible. Meanwhile, Jaelin shone the Rod of Light around the room, and The Bowman and Tree identified the holes where more bolts were loaded and waiting.

  Mila undressed so that Georg could wear her Armour of Unyielding Silk beneath his ring mail. ‘Like what you see, do you?’ she challenged Smoke, who was staring appreciatively.

  ‘I cannot lie, girl. I really do.’

  ‘Quit it,’ Jaelin told him. Mila could handle herself, but he felt protective nonetheless.

  Mental gave Smoke a rough shove, and he reluctantly turned around.

  ‘You’re ready?’ Tree asked the two mercenaries.

  ‘Ready for action,’ said The Hoffmeister.

  ‘I guess so,’ Pecs said, sounding the more nervous of the two.

  ‘Keep those shields in front of your faces at all times,’ Tree advised them. ‘The faster you move, the less times you’ll get hit. Grab a handle of the chest each, then back away. Do not drop your shield arm.’

  ‘Orders confirmed,’ said The Hoffmeister.

  They went for it. The same bolt that hit Larik caught The Hoffmeister. Then Pecs was struck in the midriff. When they reached the tomb, both shields took a bolt from the opposite wall. They grabbed the chest with no difficulty, carrying it between them. The bolts kept coming, from ahead and to the side. Sometimes, their armour protected them. The other times they got a blow that caused a few points of damage, but nothing serious. They both got back in one piece: The Hoffmeister had suffered 7 damage; Pecs had taken 11. With 14 hit points remaining each, it could have been far worse.

  ‘Did you catch sight of who was in the tomb?’ Twerk asked, as they dumped the chest on the floor.

  ‘No,’ said Pecs.

  ‘Two figures,’ said The Hoffmeister.

  ‘Size?’ asked the gnome.

  The Hargon shrugged. ‘Maybe human size.’

  Larik opened the chest and everyone peered inside. There was a bow—much longer than the kind Jaelin used. It had inscriptions and images down its length, identifying it as magic infused. A folded piece of clothing was revealed to be a cloak.

  ‘Potions of healing!’ Tree exclaimed, pointing at three dusty glass bottles with a dark liquid inside them.

  ‘And a stick?’ Larik asked, holding up a piece of wood only a foot long. His disappointment at the haul was evident in his expression and the tone of his voice.

  Twerk chuckled as he held up the cloak. ‘What you have there, Bludgeoner, is a magic wand. This is an elven cloak. Too big for me, too small for you. This is a tomb for a pair of elves, I am sure of it. One was an archer; the other a sorcerer.’ He chuckled again. ‘Nothing for you poor humans to claim, for a change.’

  Victor and Georg, who had risked themselves to claim the chest, looked crestfallen.

  ‘You know,’ Larik said to Wilson, ‘I really don’t appreciate your sense of humour.’

  MISSION COMPLETE

  SUCCESS: The barrow was fully explored

  Some of your mercs improved their stats:

  The Bowman:

  Skill with bows: proficient

  Intellect +1

  Hit Points +1

  Action Points +1

  The Explorer:

  Intellect +1

  The Hoffmeister:

  Might +1

  Hit Points +1

  Action Points +1

  Pecs:

  Agility +1

  Tree:

  Intellect + 1

  Some mercs levelled up:

  The Bowman is now Level 3

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