The Hour of the Crow

Chapter 23: A Reptile Guide

"Are you all right? Should we take a break?"

"No," he wheezed, short of breath. "I'm good."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow, but didn't insist. Instead, she stooped to hoist the carpet onto her shoulder. "I'll carry this for the time being, then. Come on. The next trap won't be so easy."

The corridors narrowed even further, to the point where they had to crawl on hands and knees to proceed. Inna's flames cast flickering shadows on the crumbling walls with every one of her movements. Since she could no longer bear the thing, she had to shove the carpet through the tunnels, which slowed down their progress even more.

A bead of sweat rolled between Arran's shoulder blades. His head spun with the heat and the lack of a destination. There was no way of telling whether they were still heading in the right direction; for all he knew, they might as well be going in circles until they were trapped at the pyramid's center, with backward being the only exit.

After an eternity of sliding and squirming, a welcome breeze ruffled his hair and cooled his skin. He closed his eyes, yet opened them again when Inna tapped his arm with her foot. A rectangular frame of mellow, white light beckoned them further ahead. The promising lure of open space energized his muscles, and he sped after Inna toward freedom from these terrible tunnels.

They emerged into a vast chamber, the air fresh instead of dank and oppressive. The ceiling parted at its highest peak into a small oculus, through which a thin beam of moonlight fell into the room and broke into glittering rays of gold, reflected by the treasure that littered the corners. Frescos covered every square inch of the walls, their scarlet, azure and gold hues as vivid as though the paint was still wet. Arran and Inna stood on a platform, from which wide steps descended to a great, round basin with a sparkling fountain at its center.

Arran ran his tongue along his dry lips. "Gods, I'm thirsty. If we drink from that fountain, we won't have to use up our own rations."

"Wait." Inna held out an arm to bar him from taking another step forward. "We have to test if the water's drinkable first."

"It looks clear."

She gave him a hard look. "Not all poison is blue or green, Arran." While he rubbed his eyes, biting back a sarcastic retort, she kneeled down to rummage around in the duffel bag. She pulled out a vial with a dark blue liquid. Pinning it between her thumb and index finger, she crossed the room to the fountain and poured a drop of the liquid into the water.

It dissolved immediately. Inna released a breath in a low hiss. "It's safe to drink."

"Good." He dipped his hands in the fountain and brought them back to his mouth to drink. The water had a sweet aftertaste, which soothed his scorched throat. With his thirst quenched, he filled his hands once more and splashed the water in his face to clear his head. He felt ten times better than a mere instant before.

Reawakened, he gazed around the room, assessing the treasure stocked inside. Even if he stuffed his pockets with only a fraction of the gold, jewels, daggers and armor pieces displayed in here, he would probably still be richer than most merchants in the Bronze District. Nevertheless, an invisible force, call it intuition, prevented him from actually scooping up handfuls of the riches, greedy as he was. As he lifted the Vahja to look beyond, his eyes confirmed his suspicions.

"It's cursed. The whole lot. None of it is real."

Inna's shoulder brushed his. "Of course it is," she replied. "Afthar The Sane was a nomad who didn't believe in earthly possessions. No one who respected him would have buried him amidst heaps of gold."

He sighed. "A pity."

Inna looked up at the oculus above their heads, exposing her neck. The moon bathed her skin in a white, ethereal glow. Clenching his fists, Arran averted his gaze before he had the chance to do something stupid and irreversible. "It's nighttime, yet I don't feel tired anymore," she said. "Though it's been a long day."