Father Tuk immediately began to study these skeletons with fascination, forgetting his fatigue. He carefully handled the bones, examining the remnants of their clothing, trying to understand the story of these unfortunate souls. His experience and knowledge of ancient cultures, though not specific to this one, allowed him to make a shocking assumption.
"My lord," said Father Tuk, his voice deep and respectful, "look at their clothing, at the style of these... relics. These are not looters, nor victims of a cave-in. They are more likely the very people who brought the treasures here. The ones who built this mosque, these passages. They chose death here, in the depths, rather than returning outside."
He glanced around the cave, then returned to the skeletons. "These bones... their condition indicates they were here a thousand years ago."
Father Tuk's words echoed through the cave, adding weight to his grim discovery.
"What drove them to this remained a mystery. What danger was so great that death in this deep grave was preferable?"
Father Tuk's words filled the air with new meaning. These skeletons were not just ancient remains, but silent guardians, the last witnesses of those who hid the treasures. Their choice to stay and die here spoke of an unimaginable threat reigning outside, or of an oath that bound them even in death. It also indicated that the treasures were likely very close.
Hassan, realizing he had stumbled not upon mere gold, but upon the dead, first turned pale. But then, hearing about "treasures," he began to tremble with anticipation again, his eyes feverishly darting across the cave floor. Green, accustomed to danger, merely tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, realizing that the path to the treasures might be paved not only with gold but also with ancient secrets and perils.
The Lord, Green, and Father Tuk bent over the ancient parchment once more. The joy of finding the cave and escaping suffocation was replaced by a new anxiety. A thorough examination of the map revealed the obvious: it had led them only to this cave. Here, on the threshold of this vast underground world, the lines and symbols seemed to end abruptly.
"It... it doesn't show the way inside," the Lord said, tracing a finger over the worn parchment. "Apparently, its creators assumed that their descendants would know what they were looking for. They expected us to know the secret signs, rituals, or the history of this place."
Green frowned, confirming his fears. "Or that we would have other maps, detailed plans of the inner passages. But we don't."
Father Tuk, looking up from his study of the ancient skeletons and writings, sighed. "Too much time has passed, my lord. A whole millennium. Knowledge is forgotten, languages are dead. Those who brought the treasures here and died here took their secrets with them."
This was a new, unexpected turn. The Lord found himself at the very heart of the mystery, but without a key to its solution. The map, his faithful guide through the desert, was powerless against the internal labyrinth and lost knowledge. He would have to find the treasures not by clear directions, but by relying on his own insight, observation, and perhaps, luck.
Meanwhile, Hassan, still trying to brush the dust from his clothes after his fall, looked at the Lord with bewilderment, not understanding the reason for the new thoughtfulness. He still believed that "the treasure is somewhere here, we just have to find it."
Fully rested and recovered after the unbearable journey, the party, now reduced to thirteen men, began to explore the spacious cave in more detail. Everyone understood that the map would no longer help, and now everything depended on their own skills and insight.
Green methodically circled the cave, his eyes scanning every ledge, every shadow. He was searching for hidden passages and traps—signs of artificial intervention that could point to caches or the defensive mechanisms of the ancient builders. He tapped on the walls, listened for sounds, and carefully inspected even the most inconspicuous hollows, knowing that the most important secrets are often the best hidden.
Father Tuk, as if mesmerized, once again immersed himself in studying the inscriptions on the walls. He traced the carved symbols with his fingers, trying to discern any pattern, any meaning in these forgotten markings. He compared them with what he had seen on the skeletons and with the fragments of images on the walls, searching for a connection between the language and the demise of those who died in this place.
Hassan, as usual, ignoring anything that didn't glitter, frantically searched for gold. His torch darted across the floor, snatching pebbles and dust from the darkness. He felt with his hands in every crack, every depression, muttering to himself about the "wealth that simply must be here."
And the Lord stood by the skeletons, the very ones that the fallen Hassan had accidentally uncovered. He looked at them, wondering if the same fate awaited him. Their silent presence was a grim reminder of the dangers hidden in these ancient places, and that even a great treasure can come at a deadly price. The Lord tried to read their story in their poses, in the fragments of their belongings, searching for a warning or a clue.
A tense silence hung in the vast cave, broken only by the rustles of searching, Tuk's muttering, and Hassan's impatient breathing. Each was absorbed in his own task, trying to find the key to the secret held in these depths.
While everyone was absorbed in their search in the vast cave, danger crept up unnoticed. One of the warriors, exhausted and inattentive after long days of trials, simply stepped on an inconspicuous boulder protruding from the floor. A sharp, dry creak echoed, making the hair stand on end in the complete silence of the cave. It was the sound of a bowstring being drawn, ancient but no less sinister for it. And before anyone could react, he was struck by an arrow.
An arrow, fired from an unseen crevice in the wall, hit him squarely in the chest, knocking him off his feet. The warrior collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath. The arrow, it seemed, was not merely wooden but metal, heavy, and had pierced his armor through. Instant silence fell, broken only by the death rattles of the wounded man.
Green immediately rushed to the spot, his eyes frantically searching for other hidden threats, his gaze filled with fury at himself for having missed this trap. Hassan shrieked in fear, his torch trembling in his hand, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Father Tuk flinched, his gaze tearing away from the inscriptions. He uttered a prayer for the fallen man, but his eyes showed an understanding that these traps were further proof that the treasures were carefully guarded.
It was a sharp, cruel reminder that the ancient guardians had not only died but had also left behind deadly surprises for those who dared to invade their final sanctuary. The traps were still active, despite millennia of oblivion.
The moment of shock from the ancient trap's activation gave way to decisive action. Father Tuk, leaning over the fallen warrior, began to recite the last rites. His voice was hoarse, but the words, addressed to the heavens, echoed through the spacious cave, granting comfort to the dying man and reminding the living of the inevitability of the end.
Hassan, seeing his fallen comrade, froze completely. His usually cunning mind seemed paralyzed. He stood rooted to the spot, his eyes wide, the torch trembling in his hand, illuminating only his own pale face. The fear of an unseen threat was far greater than that of a visible enemy.
But Green and the life-hussars wasted no time. Their professionalism did not allow them to succumb to panic. Under the guidance of Green, who, despite his exhaustion, acted quickly and methodically, they immediately began to investigate the area around the fateful boulder. They carefully felt the floor, examining the walls and ceiling. Soon, Green discovered a very thin, almost invisible thread stretched across the passage, connected to that same "inconspicuous boulder." The thread led to a small, cleverly concealed niche in the wall from which the arrow had been fired. The mechanism, made of ancient but still resilient wood and some kind of metal alloy, was surprisingly well-preserved.
"A simple tripwire, my lord," Green said hoarsely, his face focused. "But masterfully made. Hidden so that even a trained eye wouldn't notice. And the arrow... the arrowhead is made of some unknown metal, very sharp. It has waited for its victim for centuries."
He carefully disarmed the mechanism, making sure no more arrows would be fired. The hussars, having received their orders, began to sweep the nearby areas of the cave, searching for other similar traps, tapping the floor and carefully inspecting any suspicious protrusions. Now that the nature of the threat was understood, they could proceed more cautiously, but with more confidence.
Green, his face grim, nodded in agreement with the Lord's words. "My lord, now we at least know the direction in which we need to move. These traps indicate that we are approaching something important. But we must move with extreme care. What remains of the ancients is no less deadly than it was a thousand years ago."
The party, now even more cautious, continued its way deeper into the spacious cave. Every step was deliberate and slow. Green and the remaining life-hussars led the group, their eyes carefully scanning every inch of the floor, walls, and ceiling. They were now searching not just for passages, but for the slightest signs of tripwires, hidden pressure plates, irregularities in the stonework, or barely noticeable slits from which new arrows could be fired or rocks could fall. Their improvised crossbow sights were now used to inspect suspicious areas from a distance. The warriors of the "Black Squad" followed, their weapons at the ready, their steps light and silent so as not to disturb other hidden mechanisms.
Father Tuk continued to study the inscriptions, hoping they might contain warnings or clues to understanding the dangers or the path ahead. Hassan, after the terror he had experienced, moved with extreme caution, his eyes glued to the ground, and his famous "luck" now seemed to have transformed into a supernatural ability to avoid any protrusions and suspicious stones. He walked as if afraid that his very breath might trigger another trap.
The torches cast dancing shadows on the cave walls, illuminating its uneven, sometimes bizarre shapes. The silence was broken only by cautious footsteps, a rare whisper, and the sound of dripping water. Every nerve was stretched to its limit, every breath was focused. The Lord knew that every step in this ancient labyrinth brought him closer to the treasures, but also to even more deadly trials.
The party moved slowly, each step measured. The eyes of Green and the hussars scanned the walls and floor, searching for the slightest signs of hidden mechanisms. Father Tuk muttered something under his breath as he studied the ancient symbols, while Hassan, though frightened, tried to keep up, watching his feet carefully.
However, the ancient guardians were true masters in the art of deception. As the party was passing through a relatively wide section of the cave, a faint scraping sound was heard overhead, a harbinger of disaster. No one had time to look up or jump away.
As if from nowhere, a huge torrent of stones and boulders crashed down from the cave ceiling directly in front of the party, blocking the path. This was not a simple rockfall, but a clearly engineered falling rock trap, likely activated by another inconspicuous pressure mechanism on the floor or in the wall. A cloud of dust instantly rose, muffling the screams. The warriors scattered, trying to take cover behind rock outcrops.
A few seconds later, when the rumbling subsided and the dust began to settle, it was clear that the trap had worked effectively. The ancient stones formed an impassable barrier, completely blocking the way forward. None of the survivors were directly crushed, but two warriors who had tried to jump back were trapped behind the rockfall, separated from the main group. Their cries were muffled by the mass of stones.
Now the party was divided, and the path forward was blocked. The air filled with dust, and their hearts with new anxiety. This trap was more complex and dangerous than the last, showing that the ancient defenders were prepared for any intrusion.
Seeing the huge rockfall that had divided the party and blocked the path, the Lord merely chuckled. "Ha, they want to surprise us with stones," he said, his voice confident. "We northerners command the stone itself!"
The warriors, hardened by life in the Mountain Ridge where rockfalls were commonplace, and trained in the impregnable fortress, immediately set to work. This was not an unfamiliar enemy. They knew how to handle mountain rockfalls. Under the Lord's command and the watchful eye of Green, who pointed out which stones to move first and which might be dangerous, the party expertly began to clear the blockage. Each warrior, despite their fatigue, worked in a coordinated and efficient manner. They used their bayonets, short swords, and even their bare hands to move the stones. Those that were too large were rolled aside by their combined efforts.
It did not take long. Years of experience working with stone and constant training in clearing blockages and reinforcing tunnels in the fortress paid off. Soon, a passage wide enough to walk through was cleared in the pile of rocks. Reunited with the two cut-off warriors, who were unharmed but shaken, the party breathed a sigh of relief. They had proven that even the most ancient traps were no match for the perseverance and skill of the northerners. The way was open again, though it now required even greater vigilance.
Having cleared the rockfall and reunited, the party, now even more cautious, moved on. Passing through the cleared passage, they found themselves in a new corridor. This corridor was completely different from the narrow, collapsed path through which they had entered the cave. It was wider, its walls appeared smoother, and on both sides were niches, as if carved for a specific purpose. The air here was cool but still heavy, not as fresh as in the main cave, but not suffocating either. The torches burned steadily, casting long shadows on the smooth, worked walls.
This new corridor clearly indicated that the party was in a part of the cave that had been either created or significantly altered by an ancient civilization. It led deeper, away from the natural formations.
However, as they advanced, new mysteries appeared. On the smooth walls of the corridor were carved or painted not only the inscriptions that Father Tuk had been studying, but also strange images. They resembled silhouettes of people in unusual clothing, animals they did not recognize, and some geometric figures that glowed with a dim, inexplicable light. Some of them were damaged by time, but many remained surprisingly clear. In some of the niches along the corridor stood small, perfectly polished stone pedestals. There was nothing on top of them, but their surfaces seemed to be slightly indented or had strange depressions, as if designed for something specific.
Faint sounds came from the depths of the corridor—not the sound of wind or dripping water. It sounded like a distant, low hum, or a rhythmic thudding that seemed to emanate from the very bowels of the earth.
Green walked at the front, his eyes fixed on the walls and floor, searching for the next traps, but now his attention was also drawn to these new mysteries. Father Tuk, seeing the new inscriptions and images, froze in reverence, his face expressing the deepest interest. Hassan, despite all the horrors he had endured, perked up again, his gaze darting around the niches, looking for something he could carry away.
After a long and cautious advance through the corridor filled with strange images and empty pedestals, it finally ended. Before the party stood a massive stone door. It was colossal, perfectly fitted to the walls with no visible seams, as if carved from the rock itself. Ancient inscriptions and symbols, similar to those Father Tuk had studied on the walls, covered its surface, giving it a sinister and mysterious appearance.
However, the party's attention was immediately drawn not to the inscriptions, but to three conspicuous levers protruding from the stone door. They were positioned at different heights, their handles worn by time, but the mechanisms looked intact. And everyone understood instinctively, without a word: only one of these levers would open the door. The other two would activate a trap.
What kind? Falling rocks? Arrows? Or something much worse, capable of destroying the entire remaining party? The price of a mistake was prohibitively high. After all the trials, after the losses, after hunger and suffocation, this was the final and perhaps most dangerous obstacle.
Green and the life-hussars, whose eyes were trained to spot the slightest anomalies, immediately began a thorough inspection of the massive stone door and the three levers. This was not mere guesswork, but a systematic search. Green crawled on the floor, felt the stone, and carefully examined the area around each lever. The life-hussars, using their crossbow sights, studied every millimeter of the wall, searching for irregularities or hidden openings.
Their diligence soon paid off. At the base of one of the levers, a thin thread was discovered, almost invisible to the naked eye. It was the same as the one that had activated the previous arrow trap.
"My lord!" Green said quietly but firmly. "Here it is. One of these levers is another arrow trap." He pointed to the barely visible thread.
With his experience and the recent incident, he identified the danger unerringly. With extreme caution, his nimble fingers reached for the thread. With a soft, almost inaudible click, Green deactivated the trap, ensuring that an arrow, if there was one, could no longer be fired.
The party breathed a sigh of relief. One danger had been eliminated. Now two levers remained, one of which opened the door, while the other undoubtedly concealed an equally deadly trap. Death had been postponed, but not avoided.
While Green and the hussars were dealing with the mechanism of the first trap, Father Tuk, without distraction, continued to intently study the ancient inscriptions and drawings on the massive door. His eyes scanned the carved symbols, trying to find the key to their meaning. And then, one of the drawings caught his particular attention.
"My lord!" he exclaimed, his voice tense but with a triumphant note of discovery. "Look here!"
He pointed to a fragment of the wall next to one of the remaining levers. "This drawing... It stands out from the other symbols. It depicts people burning in fire. This is not just a symbol. It's a warning."
Father Tuk sighed heavily, his face grim. "The second trap, my lord. Fire. If we choose the wrong lever, the cave will fill with flames. Perhaps not ordinary fire, but alchemical fire, which nothing can extinguish."
It was a sinister omen. After the arrow, after the rockfall, now the threat of fire. The ancient guardians left no chance for those who tried to enter their sanctuary. The study of symbols, which until now had seemed academic, had now become a matter of life and death. Now the Lord knew that one of the two remaining levers would lead to salvation, opening the way to the treasures, while the other would unleash torrents of all-consuming flame upon his already exhausted party.
The threat of fire was too great to risk the lives of the remaining warriors by having them interact directly with the mechanism. He made a quick decision.
"Party—fall back!" the Lord commanded. "To a safe distance! And no noise!"
The warriors quickly and silently retreated deeper into the cave, away from the massive door. Hassan, pale as a sheet, gladly hid behind one of the largest stalagmites. Father Tuk continued to pray, his gaze fixed on the door. Green readied the remaining hussars.
"Most experienced crossbowman!" the Lord ordered, addressing one of the veterans whose hand never wavered. "Aim for the lever... the one Father Tuk said is connected to the fire. It will either open the door or activate the trap. Be ready to jump back!"
The crossbowman, his face focused, drew the bowstring of his crossbow. In the complete silence of the cave, only his deep, steady breathing could be heard. He aimed, his gaze fixed on the chosen lever. This was the moment of truth.
With a short, sharp "thump!" the crossbow made a dull sound. The bolt, whistling quietly as it cut through the air, flew towards the stone door. It hit its mark precisely, striking the lever.
The whistle of the crossbow bolt was cut short by a dull thud as it struck the chosen lever. A second hung in the air, filled with tension and anticipation. And then...
Instead of the scraping of an opening door or the rumble of falling rocks, flames erupted near the door with a hiss. This was no ordinary fire. Tongues of flame, bright blue and orange, burst from barely visible cracks in the stone, enveloping the lever like a living predator. The air filled with dry heat and the smell of scorching stone.
Father Tuk was right. It was a fire trap, possibly fueled by natural gas that had accumulated in the depths of the cave for centuries. Its combustion was too strong and too steady for a simple torch or alchemical powder. The flames did not spread throughout the cave but concentrated directly in front of the door, creating an impassable wall of fire that made it impossible for them to reach the door or even examine it more closely. Any attempt to pass through it would have resulted in certain death.
The flames roared before the door, but now the Lord knew their nature. One trap had been activated. Only the last, single correct lever remained. There was no time to delay.
"Same crossbowman again!" the Lord commanded, his voice loud and confident, cutting through the roar of the fire. "Aim for the remaining lever! The flames are no obstacle for you!"
The warrior, despite the shock and the heat from the flames, simply nodded. He was experienced; his hand did not tremble. He had already memorized the positions of all the levers, and now that one was confirmed as a trap, the choice was obvious. Through the dancing flames, he drew his crossbow string again, his gaze fixed on the last untouched lever. The air was once again filled with tension. The roar of the flames, the heavy breathing of the party, the creak of the bowstring—it all merged into a single sound, heralding the climax. The last hope.
With a dull thump! the bolt shot from the string, piercing the heated air. It flew through the tongues of flame, which seemed to part for a moment, and struck its target—the last lever—with a sharp impact.
The crossbow bolt embedded itself in the last lever with a dull thud. A second of waiting, full of bated breath, and then...
With a deep, low groan, like that of a waking giant, the door began to open with an unpleasant creak. Slowly, inch by inch, the massive stone slabs began to move apart, revealing a gap into the depths beyond. The heavy sound of moving stone echoed through the cave, drowning out the roar of the flames. The hearts of the party members beat faster. They had done it! The ancient door had yielded!
However, their joy was premature. The passage was still blocked by the wall of fire. The flames, activated by the first shot, continued to rage between the opening door and the party, creating an impassable curtain of fire. The door was opening, but the path beyond remained inaccessible, blocked by tongues of hellish flame.
The flames roared, blocking the opening passage, but their nature, possibly natural gas, meant it was not an ordinary fire that would burn indefinitely. The Lord looked at it closely. The tongues of flame were bright, but they didn't seem to fill the entire passage, leaving narrow gaps.
"The flame doesn't matter anymore!" he exclaimed, his voice resolute. "It hasn't filled the entire passage. We can run through it quickly, singeing our clothes and hair, but we'll survive! This is our chance! The last obstacle!"
Green nodded, his gaze full of determination. Father Tuk, though flinching at the sight of the fire, understood there was no other way. Hassan, though trembling, was pushed forward by the thought of the treasures behind the door.
It would not be easy. Clothes would catch fire, skin would be burned, hair would crackle from the heat. But it would be quick. Quick enough to get through before the fire could inflict fatal damage. The risk was great, but the reward hidden behind this door was incomparably greater.
There was no time to hesitate. The leader's example was needed to break the final barrier of fear.
"Follow me!" the Lord shouted, and before anyone could react, he took a deep breath. He broke into a full sprint from a standstill, straight towards the roaring flames. The heat seared his skin, his hair instantly caught fire, and his clothes began to smolder, but he did not stop. Right in the middle of the fiery curtain, when the heat became unbearable, he performed a quick roll. This move, perfected through years of training, allowed him to pass through the densest part of the fire, minimizing contact.
An instant later, the Lord was behind the wall of flames, on the other side of the opening ancient door. He stood up, brushing himself off, feeling a slight burning on his skin and the smell of singed fabric and hair. But he was alive. He had done it. The way was open.
Now that the Lord had passed through the fire, the rest of the party looked at him, their faces a mixture of shock, relief, and newfound determination.
Singed but alive, the Lord stood behind the massive stone door. Cool, fresh air filled his lungs, and he took a deep breath, surveying the underground chamber he had strived for so long to reach. Behind him, dull thuds and the hissing of fire could be heard as the party, inspired by his example, overcame the fiery barrier one by one, repeating his risky roll.
The room he found himself in was incredibly vast, much larger than one could have imagined. Its dimensions were lost in the distance, beyond the reach of the light from Hassan's single torch, which now burned much brighter than before. The air here was dry and cold, completely different from the humid stuffiness of the tunnels they had passed through.
Along the walls and down the center of the hall stretched massive, intricately carved columns, adorned with the same ancient, unfamiliar symbols as the walls of the corridor and the mosque. They rose upwards, disappearing into the unreachable darkness, supporting an unseen vault.
Between the columns stood tall, mysterious statues. Their faces were hidden under hoods or covered with strange masks, and their poses expressed silent expectation or grief. Some of them held objects in their hands whose purpose was unclear.
On the floor and in the niches of the walls were strange, complex mechanisms made of an unknown metal, covered in places with a green patina. Their purpose was completely unclear, but they looked complex and possibly still functional. The stone floor was smooth, polished, but in places covered with a thick layer of dust, worn by time and perhaps the traces of ancient rituals.
And, most importantly, despite everything they had seen, there were no treasures in sight yet. No piles of gold, no shining precious stones, nothing that would fit the conventional idea of immense wealth. This hall was more like a sanctuary or an ancient observatory than a treasury. It held something else.
ns216.73.216.20da2
and then Add to home screen.