“Lord Kenward thought me mum was special,” Wilmer said.
“I bet he did.” Myra smirked. “When he died, Kenward left the map section to her. Maybe he thought it was funny.”
“It weren’t funny. That map is cursed.” Wilmer sighed, then turned so that the lights illuminated the arrow in his side. “That fall snapped the end off. Don’t really hurt much though—not if I don’t move.”
“Then don’t move,” Royce said.
“Shouldn’t we pull it out?”
“No.” Hadrian held up a warning hand. “You’ll bleed like a spigot, and we don’t have any more bandages. That shaft is working like a cork in a bottle.”
“That’s another thing,” Myra said, returning from her lighting expedition to look at Wilmer. “Why aren’t you dead? Anyone else gets hit by an arrow, they die—you don’t even stop talking.”
“Just lucky, I guess.” Wilmer looked up at the ceiling, which appeared ready to cave in. “I don’t think our chances are very good. None of us will survive this place. Thing is—it’s all a joke, ain’t it? I mean, that dwarf made jokes for a living, right?”
“He was the imperial jester,” Myra said.
“If this is a joke, it isn’t funny.” Royce walked back to them. “I can’t find any other way out besides that steel door. No way to continue forward, at least. We could go back the way we came in, but I don’t think that’s wise.”
“So the choice is still the door, the chest, or the lever,” Hadrian said.
“The door is the only thing that makes any sense,” Wilmer insisted.
Myra shook her head in frustration and pretended to pull her own hair. “What in Maribor’s name do you know about sense? The door isn’t the answer. It’s way too obvious.”
“You think pulling that lever and bringing the roof down is the smart thing to do?” Wilmer asked with a sarcastic tone. “Because that definitely ain’t obvious.”
She glared at the farmer. “That’s also obvious—obviously stupid. Although I’d almost like to, just to see you crushed under a mountain of rock.”
“But what would be the point of opening the chest?” Hadrian asked. “We’d still be trapped. All the gold in the world won’t help.”
“No one said a thing about gold,” Myra replied. “The legend says the emperor’s jester stole, and I quote, ‘the most valuable thing anyone could ever possess.’ You people have such small imaginations. We’re talking about the ancient Novronian Imperial Palace here. The greatest empire the world has ever known. They conquered the dwarves and elves and forced them to pay tribute for centuries. The jester was probably once a dwarven king they had enslaved. And everyone knows how dwarves hoard precious gems. The old empire also had wizards so powerful they could move mountains and redirect rivers. The bloody Rhelacan itself might be sitting in that chest.”
“What’s that?” Wilmer asked.
“No one really knows; a weapon of some sort that won the war against the elves. I’m just saying whatever is in that chest might be magical and could give us the power to escape these caverns. We might be able to lop the whole top of the mountain off and just walk away.”
“What do you think, Royce?” Hadrian asked.
“I’m wondering where the battering ram went,” he said. His partner was focused on the little wooden door and seemed more bothered by it than before.
“Back to that hall of scary lights, I hope.” Wilmer was up and walking, not heading toward anything, just pacing in a circle. His still-wet feet left a damp trail. He stopped in his orbital trek and glanced around. “When you think about it, this is the nicest room we’ve found so far.”
“That’s what frightens me,” Royce said, then once more tilted his head.
“Not again,” Hadrian muttered. “What is it?”
“Water,” Royce said before running off to the far side of the room, grabbing one of Myra’s lighted candles on the way.
They all watched as he climbed the rear wall. From that distance, Royce appeared to be little more than a shadow. His trek was so fast and fluid that he could have been some dark liquid spilling uphill. When he reached the top corner, he set the candle on a ledge and they all saw the problem. Water was leaking from a crevice near the ceiling. A column of dark streaks discolored the stone below it. The room looked like it was weeping.
“So?” Wilmer said. “It’s just water—right?”
“Yeah,” Royce replied. “But it wasn’t there before.”
BOOM!
This time the impact didn’t come from the little door, and they heard a pop near the rear wall, which turned the trickle into a spray.
“Oh how nice, Royce,” Myra said. “Your friend is back. Must have heard you were missing him.”
“Not my friend,” Royce replied. “But it looks like he was off causing mischief. Maybe you’re right. Maybe he is a demon.”