Land of the Gods (Isolde Saga Book 4) by Robert D. Jones

Author:Robert D. Jones [Jones, Robert D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-12-18T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER VIII

Harald's eyes burst open to the sheer darkness of the tomb. Had he fallen asleep in the stone coffin? He could not remember, he had no way to tell. The rough cloth of the corpse's rags scratched against his skin and made him itch all over.

He could feel his heart panicking and racing, he could hear it like a drum in his chest, pounding out into the darkness. His frozen fingers wormed themselves in the utter darkness until he could feel the icy edges of the stone sarcophagus. The torch... he remembered. If he could get to the doorway then he could relight it.

With a heave, he pulled himself up and stepped over the edge of the coffin. A shudder ran down him as his foot crunched hard through something brittle, and he felt his stomach turn as he realised he had crushed the remains of his host. Whispering a silent apology, he groped his way back to the door, bumped into the chicken’s cage and the bird went wild with terrified squawks that made Harald weak in the knees. He scrambled up the edge of the stone in the horrible blindness. He felt useless, all his senses had fled away. There were no sounds, no sight, only the smell of dry dust and the frigid cold of the air and walls. Still, he found the torch and managed to strike it alight with his flint and steel.

The fire streamed warm yellow light that died against the cold grey of the stone around him. He held his hands by it for a while, trying to rub some life back into his fingers. He had crushed the ribs of the skeleton, he could see it now and thanked the gods that the skull was still intact. Curse my clumsiness... he thought to himself.

His eyes followed the skulls perched on the walls and for the first time, he realised that they each had names engraved below the hollows in the walls. ROLFUS CUSTOS... SIGARUS CUSTOS... and on they went. His mind flashed for a moment, he knew that word, custos, it was the same one the elves had used. Guardian... that is what it meant, and it made sense now. He was being watched by the hollow eyes of twelve guardians. He looked at each of them grimly and thanked their souls in silence.

He took his axe and began to pry away one of the stone blocks from the floor. It was heavy, but age had opened its edges and he soon had it shifted away and dug himself a small hollow in the earth. The chicken cawed quietly and he paid it no heed. He had to harden himself for the job ahead. With gritted teeth, he moved back to the pile of bones on the floor and took the skull. He placed it on the far side of the hole and then began to smash the remaining skeleton into dust. It was a horrible task and he hated himself for it, but with no other choice at hand he went on until a fine powder was all that remained.

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