“There’s the monastery,” said Jacq in a low voice.
“It’s a priory,” Seetha corrected her.
“What’s the difference?”
“Priories are smaller covenants built by holy men, or sometimes women. Usually, they build them outside of cities and towns to better focus on an austere, minimalistic way of life that pleases the Holy Mother. And according to the map, it might be nearly two hundred and thirty years old.”
Jacq crinkled her nose back. “That old? And we’re one of the first to find it just now?”
“Apparently,” Seetha shrugged. “That, and maybe the secluded location, and ominous decals, made pretty convenient deterrents. But just to be safe, let’s keep our hopes mellow. The last we need is to be jinxed.”
“What, in case it’s a boobytrapped priory? Maybe it’s a nunnery then?” Jacq chuckled.
Ignoring her companion’s fatuous joke, Seetha surveyed their destination from the hill that overlooked the crumbling priory. It stood, like an island of sorts, on a monolithic rock formation against the arching cliffs of the quarry, which hung over it like broken archways. Separated by a ravine that ran around the priory in a semicircle like a moat, the only way across was a stone bridge that stretched over a fifteen foot gap. A second thought occurred to the Sword Dancer; it felt like an odd place for a priory given the eerily inaccessible area. Even such places of privacy were usually found only a little on the wayside by roads and forest paths, should a wandering or lost person be in need of food and shelter. Beyond the written layout of the ruins on the map, and the date of its supposed construction before its mysterious abandonment, Seetha knew very little about this place.
“So, which way do we go?”
Seetha followed Jacq’s lead down the rolling forested hillside as gently as they could go, mindful of the dead leaves beneath their feet that tumbled down the hill after them as though it were Autumn. They hopped silently off the retaining wall before coming to the stone bridge. Finding no traces of tripwires, invisible caltrops, or enchanted glyphs that could set off a burst of deadly acid once stepped on like a pressure pad, the two women hustled over the bridge.

They ducked behind what remained of the seven foot walls that once separated the holy site from the outside world. Hearing and seeing no one on guard, they passed through via the wide gaps in the walls. Nearly every precipice and stone block around them was blanketed with lichens and creepers from the nearby trees, and after another quick dash through the ruined gates the two women ducked behind the trunk of a fallen steeple. Jacq’s keen senses heard another voice; one voice, faint and sharp like a cry. Brief as it was, it’s echo lingered around them and pulsed throughout the shadowy ruins before evaporating into the grey sky, not unlike a ghostly voice passing over them. Jacq put the feeling out of her head, undeterred from her stronger desire for the treasure. And payback.

The closest place she could see to take cover behind was through the gatehouse and along the cloister. She signaled to Seetha, and they shimmied discreetly along the steeple before darting behind a fallen column that once connected the gatehouse to the cloister. The shadows casted by the crumbling ruins made it difficult for Jacq and Seetha to discern what laid within the interior of the structures, even in the daytime, but they could see well enough that the gatehouse, and the other buildings they had passed, were mostly denuded of floors and other indoor features. Time and the elements had decayed and consumed whatever valuables may have been inside them, given that most of their roofs had caved in, presumably by tumultuous weather once upon a time.
Another echoing voice erupted faintly from somewhere among the ruins, only this one sounded less like a pig in a brothel, according to Jacq. In fact, it sounded abhorrent, like a scream of fright. Silence followed.
“Did you hear that?” Jacq whispered.
“Yeah,” Seetha answered, feeling uneasy the deeper and deeper they entered the dilapidated site. “Hopefully, it’s the sound of a boobytrap being sprung, which would mean one less brigand in our way.”
“You know sometimes, I don’t think there’s a difference between optimism and sadism with you, is there?” Jacq said with just the hint of a sardonic smile.
“Not when we’re up against men who would gladly kill us, given half the chance,” reasoned Seetha, “like those guys back at the inn.”
“Fair enough. Wait here a moment, I’m going to take a peak.”
From the base of the column, Jacq had spotted a window a few paces away. Keeping out of site, she went on all fours and crept along the standing sections of the cloister. Not minding at all that her lower body was brazenly prompt up, her large and round rear gently bounced and jiggled from her quadruple striding, like that of a sultry feline. She stopped beneath the window, once shimmering with a stain glass surface that was now broken, and stood up to take a furtive look. But to her surprise, the window was out of her reach by a foot, with no jagged stone or wooden stool to stand on. She had to beckon Seetha, twice, who had averted her eyes from her friend’s indignant crawling and didn’t hear her the first time.
“Her cheeks clap so loudly a blind elf could riddle her with arrows,” Seetha hissed under her breath. “And I would gladly pay him to do it.”
“I was trying to be silent; no thank you,” Jacq heard Seetha, rolling her eyes in a dismissive mood.
“Yeah, could’ve fooled me.” Quickly darting over to Jacq’s side, Seetha climbed on to her shoulders and, once she found her footing, the Barbarian lifted her up until she could see through one of the broken frames. The vines that snaked along the toppled roofs draped the cloister like a curtain, making for a natural concealment as Seetha safely surveyed the ruined grounds for the cemetery.
Her face brightened as she answered in a loud whisper: “There! I can see the mausoleum.” Across the dormitory and through the half leveled roof of the chapel house, she could recognize the large, stately features of a towering tomb. Such tombs were strictly reserved for saints and lost monarchs from the past, which made them the most logical point of interest for scholars, or even prey for grave robbers. If all else failed, they could loot whatever helpless royal corpse was inside, but Seetha mentally postponed that idea until it actually came to that. What she saw next was a small pile of what appeared to be excavation tools at the foot of the mausoleum. Not rusted or gathering dust but new, relatively speaking.
“Any guards?” asked Jacq.
“Nope,” said Seetha. “Let’s get over there and take another look.” Though the overgrown lawn muffled their approach to the mausoleum, they kept their senses alert for any hidden sentries that could be squatting behind any pillar or balcony. There were plenty of spots here for dirty sneak thieves to hide.
The construction was a near-exact recollection of the pictures Seetha had seen in the historical codexes from Rourkehaven, now that they were six feet away looking upon it. It was a ten foot high rectangular block of gleaming marble with Imperial-esque pillars crisply carved out from each of the four corners, with bas-reliefs on the sides depicting grandiose scenes of bygone battles and visitations by the Holy Mother. The dome, comprising most of it’s imposing height with its high ceiling, was pyramidal. How its surface shone with a dark hue of emerald, the rare sacred stone of Old Cimbri’s emperors. Perched on the top was a bronze quadriga: four massive Pegasi pulling a majestic chariot in which rode the image of Sol Invictus with an enchained Cerridwen, the moon goddess of Eriu. How black and grim it all looked, for the darkest streaks of the sky, caused by a coagulation of grey clouds, were now hanging right behind it. A little flight of steps, flanked by an eroded pair of either stone lions or stone griffons, led into an arched doorway where the inner chamber was supposed to house the sarcophagi.

Only once did Jacq draw her own sword and stand guard outside did Seetha have the assurance to tiptoe inside without fear of being jumped. The light in the chamber was poor, but what she found inside instilled a mix of awe and anxiety in her.
“Holy Mother. It’s a cenotaph,” gasped Seetha.
“A what?” asked Jacq.
“They removed the stone lid, but there’s no one in here. The tomb was hiding a… well, come and see for yourself!”
Jacq stepped into the chamber to have a look. “Well,” she said in astonishment, “this just keeps getting deeper.”

※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※

“At least this would explain how they got down there,” said Seetha, following the rope from where the piton was staked and into the dark opening. She pulled the other end back up, only to find that it had been shortened. “What the hell? Looks like the rope’s been cut. Look around, see if you can find any…”
She turned to see Jacq holding up a bundle of spare rope: “Three streets ahead of you. Should be at least thirty feet.”
Seetha looked surprised for a moment. “Where did you find that? Oh right, the extra supply of tools there. What else did you find?”
“Nothing much,” answered Jacq. “A couple of pitons, one torch, and this little baby.”
“Uh, baby?”
“Hatchet.” Jacq twirled around to show Seetha the little chopping tool that hung from her hip by a simple sling.
“Oh.” Seetha laughed awkwardly.
There suddenly came a sound coming from the opening that startled the two women. They listened. Then silence. They waited, and heard it again. The noise was similar to that of rushing water; an underground spring? Neither of the women could tell in the shadowy chamber.
“I guess we’re getting our feet wet,” said Jacq, undoing the bundle of spare rope after a moment had passed. “Not that I’m whining. I could use a good scrub on my ass after the Pike’s Pike anyways.”
Seetha held up her hand before untying the shortened rope from the piton. “Just a second.” Then, taking the fire starter from her pouch, she laid the rope on the edges of the opened sarcophagi before she began striking the steel and flint against it as hard as she could. She was elated to see the rope alight after the fourth try, though much to the confusion of the Barbarian. Curious as to why they were suddenly delaying after all this time, but not wanting to disturb her more sagacious companion from whatever skill check she was preparing to execute, Jacq held her tongue and waited. She observed Seetha holding the lit rope over the gapping hole, and her intentions dawned on her within the span of a second.
“At least a twenty-five foot drop,” Seetha calculated. The sound they heard before came once again. Now, it sounded distinctly like dozens of tiny feet scratching against the hardened earth, scurrying hastily away from the burning rope that fell. Then there was silence. “It might be an alcove or recess. It’s hard to tell in this light.”
“Only one way to find out,” said Jacq. Lashing one end of the spare rope onto one of the stone creatures just outside and after giving it a secure tug, she threw the rest of the line down the darkness and heard it slap hard against the stone ground. “I’ll go first, see where it leads.”
“Okay,” said Seetha. “But-but just look quickly and then come back out if it’s a dead end. Nothing else, alright?”
“What? You think I’m planning on being reckless? Jacq smiled as she swung herself over the edge. Seetha nodded. “Reckless is that I do when the plan fails. But since you didn’t plan for any of this, then there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Call it a personal experience, but finding trouble seems to be your forte,” Seetha shook her head.
“And how much trouble can I get climbing down a deep dark hole? No. Don’t remind me, you’ll just make me laugh and I need to concentrate.”

Jacq rappelled herself down the hole and landed near the burning rope. The ground was dry. She looked about with her back against the cavernous wall on one side, until she dimly saw a path going the other way into what was like a wall of absolute blackness. There was very little she could see, even lesser now as the burning rope was down to its last cord, but she could feel a tiny gust of cool air coming out from the darkness, lapping against her skin. If there were shafts down there, then that would not only mean air but light as well. “Here,” Jacq’s voice echoed. “Drop me that torch and the flint down to me.”

Moments later, the darkness was parted and the recess was actually the entry way to a cavernous passage to her right. It was five feet high and wide enough for a single filed march. From what Jacq could see beneath the length of the torch light, the cavernous walls became a stone-cut corridor five paces down, dank and ranked with the stench of mold with the usual cobwebs strewn about the low ceiling. She peered a little closer down the passage, perceiving what appeared to be an arched opening carved into the wall at the far end with the path splitting left and right, though she knew not which path to take yet. Another bridge waiting to be crossed, she decided to wait for Seetha to get down there. Her shuffling foot suddenly knocked into something that rattled against the stonework. Looking down, she discovered—there were bones—and not a lovely pair.

“Seetha,” said Jacq, as her companion rappelled to the bottom. “Look.”

Seetha saw, to her disgust, what appeared to be a mutilated body, if it could still be called a body. “Ew! Holy Mother, that’s gross!” she said, holding her nose in her clenched hands. But, it was more of a fleshy skeleton wearing a torn up leather breastplate riddled with teeth marks, and all that remained of his flesh was a pulpy, dark stain on the ground like an ink blot.
“Hold on a sec…” Jacq paused as she knelt down cautiously to examine what remained. It reminded her of one of the brigands from before, given his familiar attire like those of his comrades, or she was no tracker. His tattered armor offered little protection as shown by the numerous tally marks streaked in dark red. Both skin and cloth had been diced into strings as though from a thousand cuts from tiny sickles. He was lying in the dried pool of his own blood in the shadowy crevices, hence why she didn’t notice him at first. “That’s odd. He’s still fresh,” Jacq said to herself. After shining the torch a little closer, she could now see that only the top half of his body was visible, while the rest seemed to have sunken into some hole in the wall.
Jacq began to softly list off a short description like some shopping list: “Hmmm, short man, human, multiple lacerations all over his face and exposed limbs. Probably died horribly, given that the shape of his twisted posture would indicate fitful resistance; followed shortly by agonizing convulsions in his last moment.”
“Yeah—really didn’t need to know that part,” said Seetha squeamishly. “What else?”
“See the arm fracture here?” Jacq pointed at the remains.
“Where?”
“There, near the right forearm. Looks like this guy might have landed on his arm, bending before it broke like a twig. His rope must’ve snapped, causing him to fall. Lucky us for that extra rope, I guess. But then, some creature attacked him.”

She had almost said some creatures given the subtle indications all over the skeletal remains, but she didn’t want to give Seetha second guesses; that worry wort. Still, the mere mention of one unidentified creature on the loose, still lurking ravenously in the unexplored darkness down there waiting to sink its teeth into them next, made the Sword Dance pull her sword closer to her side by the pommel. “Maybe he was trying to push himself into one of these holes to hide himself from whatever was coming,” Jacq concluded. “Guess he was too big to fit in; got himself stuck before he… was killed.”
“Sad,” said Seetha, but without any hint of emotion. “Check his pockets.”
“Heh. You’re all heart, Seetha.” Jacq then noticed something concerning; the dead man’s blade hung loosely from the bough of his skeletal hand. Yet, it was still bright.
“Hold on a moment—did you say he was still fresh?” Seetha broke in. “As in recent? But that doesn’t make any sense; they just got here. What the hell happened him?”
“Beats me.” Undeterred, Jacq stood back up and pulled out the hatchet from her belt. Due to its shorter length and lighter mobility, the hatchet was a better-suited weapon for close quarters in the underground than her bastard sword. “C’mon, let’s keep going before whatever it was that had a go at him finds us next…” She stopped when she noticed her companion didn’t follow her. “Seetha? What’s wrong?”
“Didn’t you notice the way that guy died?” Seetha asked, trying to sound as though she was being cautious rather than frightened. “Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think that he was trying to hide in that hole. More like, he was dragged… like something was trying to pull him in.”
“Oh, c’mon Seetha, you’re just a little jittered.” Jacq started down the tunnel.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Seetha held Jacq back by her hand. “Something about this still feels—hinky…”

“Hinky?” Jacq looked back at her, smirking. “Is that even a word?”
“Fishy, alright? Something feels fishy here. Are you happy, grammar dark lord?”
“A little late to change your mind.”
“Never said I would.”
“Well, you’re acting as if you’ve never seen a mysteriously defiled corpse in the middle of a spooky place before.”

“I’m being serious, Jacq.”
“What’s going on with you, Seetha? We’ll be fine.”
“Tell that to this poor bastard!”

“Alright, tell you what,” Jacq smiled as though she were coaxing a frightened child, “why don’t you stay here and, uh, reassess our surroundings. I’ll check it out myself and I’ll call you if I run into any evil nuns.”

An impatient growl from under her breath was Seetha’s only response. As Jacq started down the corridor, the torch light grew fainter, and there came the low yet rising sound of what they had falsely perceived as rushing water. The ground beneath her rumbled, the sound came closer and closer, and the inner walls seemed to tremble and chaff against something scratching and clawing against it; as though something was trying to get out. Or somethings. “Oh, like hell I’ll stay!” Seetha caught up with Jacq, eager to wipe that smirk off her face the first chance she got to make her eat a crow. The scratching behind her died away.