The Rivals Ch. 04: The Black Tomb

Author's note: For those of you who are joining us for the first time, here's the deal. She's a warrior woman who flies a giant bird. He's a scholar and explorer. There's mutual attraction, but some betrayal and anger as well. That's as much depth as there is to the story. Now let's get started!

The mausoleum of Archduke Nemez was magnificent to behold. Standing at the centre of the largest park of Arnhol, the late nobleman's home city, it was shaped like a flat-topped step pyramid and covered with polished black granite. Traces of gold and crystal recreated scenes of trees, birds, animals and more fanciful creatures, shifting and changing with the turning of the sun and moon.

Nemez, as the Emperor's beloved uncle, had been laid to rest beneath the massive structure on the first day of spring. For a month, his heavy coffin lay in state in the large burial chamber, waiting to be sealed inside the day after the next new moon.

Neither particularly clever as an administrator, nor successful as a military commander, Nemez had derived his popularity from his immense wealth and his generous nature. People flocked from all over the Empire to visit the tomb before it was sealed, to pay their respects and perhaps catch a glimpse of the treasures that were to be buried with him.

On the final day, soldiers from the Emperor's own guard swept the park, evicting stragglers and merrymakers. At the gate, the grizzled Under-Captain looked on as they left. The last few weeks had been easy duty: mostly he'd sat in the early spring sunshine, occasionally sending one or two of his soldiers to deal with drunken troublemakers. Back to standing guard outside the Emperor's quarters tomorrow, he thought glumly.

He decided that he'd miss looking at the great stone mausoleum. The structure would no doubt continue to draw visitors to the city long after the tomb was sealed. He'd enjoyed watching the pictures change with the passing of the weeks, as the moon turned through its phases and the sun awoke from its winter slumber.

His eye caught someone approaching the gate from the direction of the Priory. A tall man, but hunched over, wearing the shabby brown gown of a clerk. He walked with a pronounced limp and leaned heavily on the sturdy stick in his hand. His other clutched at the satchel that was slung around his neck.

"What now, Brene? Has your esteemed master decided that he wants yet another inventory drawn up of the burial goods?" He laughed at his own joke, but not too loudly. It was clear that poor Brene had indeed been sent to spend the night at the mausoleum.

The man called Brene paused as he reached the gate, panting and rubbing his leg. "The Prior, in his wisdom, feels that someone should make sure that nothing has gone missing. Again." He straightened and spat. "Guess who?"

The Under-Captain gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder, careful not to throw the bent man off balance. "You poor fool. Listen, come join me in the tavern over there for a nice hot drink. The night will be cold, and that stone tomb even colder." He grinned. "I'll swear to the Prior and anyone else who asks that you were hard at work all night."

The other man looked at the bright lights spilling out from the tavern's windows, but eventually shook his head, a wistful expression on his face. "If anything is found missing tomorrow... It's more than I care to risk. And more than you should risk, too." He turned and limped through the gate. "Thanks for the offer, though. You're a good man. Now be a good soldier and lock that gate behind me."

Shaking his head, the Under-Captain did just that. The smaller gates in the high fence were already locked, and he had soldiers patrolling outside. With a last glance at the hunched form vanishing into the darkness under the trees, he turned and made his way to the tavern and that hot drink.

The man that reappeared a short while later from beneath the trees bore little resemblance to the hunched, limping clerk. The shabby gown was gone, revealing a tight hose and jerkin of a soft dark wool that seemed to melt into the shadows. The stick had transformed into a short spear with a long, dully gleaming blade. Walking smoothly, his rangy form glided along, barely making a sound. When he reached the open lawn surrounding the mausoleum he stopped, just another patch of darkness in the night, and searched for anything that was out of place.

Decorative trees and shrubs stirred gently in the cold night air. An owl hooted, and somewhere in the undergrowth a small creature rustled. The sky above was clear and black, stars scattered across the heavens like... well, like stars in a clear night sky. The man grinned to himself. What's the point of flowery descriptions if I'm the only one to appreciate them?

He was about to step forward when his eye caught a glimpse of motion. High above, something was moving. A giant bird, making tight circles above the park. For a moment he caught his breath, emotion hitting him like a punch in the gut, then he spotted two more of the birds. The garrison's roc-riders, patrolling at the Emperor's orders. Get a grip on yourself, Sligh. Winter has come and gone, and you're still seeing her everywhere.

Four months had passed since he and Avilia had parted ways. He'd headed south, like he'd promised himself and his riding-lizard Zretha, and arrived here in Arnhol days before Nemez died. It had been child's play to insinuate himself into the Priory, to be made one of the Prior's assistants to help with the burial. He'd been planning and preparing ever since.

So tonight he couldn't afford to be thinking of Avilia, or her hard body, her mocking smile, her effortless attractiveness. Her small breasts with their hard nipples, her round arse and her pink gash... It took an almost physical effort to stop thinking about her.

No, he reminded himself, tonight he needed to be focused. Tonight he was going to rob the Archduke's mausoleum.

***

The other two rocs spiralled down after Farflier. Black against the moonless night, the giant birds would be virtually invisible from below. Avilia guided Farflier onto a small lawn sheltered by trees and waited for the others to land.

Dismounting, she took a satchel and patted the roc on his neck. "Stay here," she whispered. "I'll be back before you know it." The giant bird crooned softly, then settled onto the grass. The other two followed suit.

Even through the trees, the great bulk of the mausoleum loomed before her. In the darkness, the patterns on its black walls gleamed. The tall fronds of palm trees around the base, with great catlike beasts prowling in between. The higher levels showed only stars tonight, with a few nightbirds, although she'd seen the moon in different phases on different nights. It truly was a wonder. And all for a dead man who was liked most for scattering silver like most people scattered empty promises.

She'd visited the park several times while the mausoleum was being built, and had returned on a number of occasions since it was completed. Preparation, she thought to herself. More of a plan than just "get the gold and get out."

Keeping low, she crept along the paths laid out in the park until she crouched directly opposite the massive stone monument. The night air was chill on her face and hands. A breeze rustled the leaves overhead, and an owl hooted. Then everything was silent again.

She was about to rise when she felt a warm presence pressing against her back. A voice whispered in her ear, "Well well, doesn't this bring back memories?"

She froze. If she hadn't recognised the voice instantly, the mocking tone would have told her enough. "Sligh. Scholar, schemer and sleaze." Or else the scent of his body would.

He gave a low chuckle, and she felt him move back. Turning, she lowered her hands to the heavy daggers that hung at her waist, then stopped as she became aware of a short spear pointing at her chest.

"As I recall," Sligh said in a low voice, "you promised to stab me with your spear the next time we met. I'm holding the only spear I see, but I'll not take any chances."

Avilia kept her hands away from her blades. "You seem to have the advantage. Shows what a fool I am for believing knives could be better than a spear."

"The present knows what the past could only guess, as the poet said. I don't suppose you'd consider climbing back on your bird and leaving?"

"How about you go and fetch the gold, and I take it from you when you come out?" She was annoyed -- at Sligh, at herself for being caught, at her eyes for lingering on his face and hands, at her nose for trying to catch his scent again. At her heart, she realised, for pounding in her chest.

He gazed at her for a long moment, his face giving nothing away. I can't tell whether he's still angry! At length he drew back the spear. "A truce then? Neither of us is willing to leave, and we can't very well fight without attracting attention. We might as well work together."

She held his gaze, then nodded. "A truce. We don't stab each other in the back. We don't betray each other. We don't let each other be raped by demons." She was unable to hold back a rueful smile, and was pleased to see him grin back.

"Here." He dug into one of the pouches on his belt and held out a small vial of black glass. "Put a few drops on your tongue."

Her suspicions flared up immediately. "What is it? One of your poisons? Or just something to put me to sleep?"

"Nothing of the sort." If he was insulted, it didn't show. He removed the cap from the vial and shook a drop into his mouth. "See? Harmless. It stops your breath from misting in the cold air."

It was true, she realised. Her own breath hung around her in a cloud, while he might not have been breathing at all for all she could see. "Alright then. But will it make such a difference?" She took the vial and shook a few drops of the liquid onto her tongue. It tasted of ice and mint. Her mouth tingled.

"How do you think I found you?"

She stared at him for a moment, then raised the vial again. He reached out a hand to stop her. "Don't. That was enough." His fingers seemed to burn on the bare skin of her hand. "It's difficult to get hold of. And I like to keep some around for... other uses." His smirk left no doubt what uses he meant.

"You're disgusting." Still, she couldn't stop herself from imagining what it would be like. A combination of heat and ice as his tongue explored between her thighs... "Your mind's never far from fucking, is it?"

The smirk broadened into a wide grin. "You just bring out the best in me." He bent down to retrieve a satchel from the ground. "Come on, we'd better get a move on. Otherwise we might as well forget about robbing this tomb and just get naked."

She shut her mouth firmly on the comment that was about to escape and instead turned towards the dark bulk across the expanse of grass. "It seems to be deserted. If there was anyone here, they'd have seen your cock glowing in the dark."

He moved to stand beside her. "The danger's not out here. All the soldiers are outside the fence. I take it the rocs I saw were all yours?"

She nodded absently. "To carry the loot." That wasn't the whole reason, of course. Their shoulders were almost touching. "What's inside that's so dangerous? I've been in there a few times, and there's just a passage leading to the burial chamber. A temporary gate to keep people at a distance until the tomb is sealed. That's all."

Sligh stepped forward and began to trot across the grass. She watched him for a moment before following. The fine dark wool of his hose and jerkin was moulded to the lean body, wiry muscle and firm thighs gliding underneath. "That's not the burial chamber," he said when she caught up.

That stopped her in her tracks. Catching up with him again, she asked, "Not the burial chamber? What do you mean? I've seen the coffin. The treasure that they're going to bury with the rich old bastard. That's the burial chamber."

"A glamour. A phantasm." They'd reached the base of the structure by now. "Or a reflection, I suppose." The confusion she felt must have been apparent on her face, because he went on, "Like a mirror placed inside the chamber, but instead of throwing the image back, it shows it in the passage behind that gate. That reflection is what appears to everyone who walks past to honour His Wealthiness and ogles in dismay at the vast treasure that will remain forever beyond their reach."

Avilia grunted. It had been too easy, she supposed. "How do you know? Is that what they did during the First Empire, or something?"

He started up the ramp that led to the unadorned opening in the shiny black stone, but looked back at her over his shoulder. "For the past two months or more I've been the Prior's personal clerk. I've been at every meeting, seen every plan. Stop staring at my arse and come along."

She'd halted again, but not to stare at his arse. But since he mentioned it, I might as well. She'd thought that her own planning had been thorough.

Up close the images on the mausoleum's walls were little more than fine lines of gold and white in the black stone. Still, Avilia could see that the craftsmanship was remarkable. How much gold has the Emperor spent on this vanity? she wondered. How many women and men have laboured in memory of an unmemorable man?

The entrance loomed before them like a dark maw, blacker than the black stone in the night. She could feel a chill emanating from inside, even colder than the night air. She shivered. "You were telling me about the dangers. What should I expect? Guards, monsters? Demons?"

Sligh stepped inside, fingers of one hand brushing lightly along the wall. "Couldn't say. The Prior was only responsible for the construction, not for the protections."

"So we're going in blind? What are you looking for?"

"Not entirely blind. The Emperor's sorcerer isn't known for dealing with demons, so we can probably rule out being molested. Except by each other. Ah, here we are." He was a handful of steps inside the passageway, tracing a line from the wall to the floor. "Here, help me push."

Avilia knelt down beside him in the dark. They were so close that their shoulders were pressed against each other. She could smell him again, sweet and warm despite the chill in the air. "What are we doing?"

"Pushing. Not there, on the other side of that flagstone." They shoved, and the block of stone slowly sank a handspan into the wall. Avilia heard a scraping, and felt the flag by her feet following the block. She glanced behind her, but saw nothing in the darkness.

She heard Sligh rummaging in his satchel, then a soft beam of light appeared. Blinking, squinting, she saw that he held a glass ball the size of an apple, frosted on all sides except the front. The light from the glowstone inside was dimmed in every direction except where he pointed it.

By its soft glow, she saw that a gap had appeared at the bottom of the far wall of the passage. Sligh gestured to her, and she reached inside. Her fingers found the underside of the stone. "Lift it up," he instructed.

The flagstone swivelled to reveal a black hole covering the entire width of the passage. Avilia rested the flag against the wall where they'd just moved the block and squatted opposite Sligh as he peered into the blackness. "What's down there?" she whispered. Their heads were almost touching.

"We'll have to find out." Suddenly he looked up at her, his face less than a handspan from hers. "Or else we go back outside and get naked."

"That option is sounding more and more appealing." He was so close that she could feel his breath on her lips. "About last time..." She hesitated, looking for the right words.

"Yes, about last time." He was nervous, she realised. As nervous as she was, maybe. "I shouldn't have--"

"No!" she interrupted him. "I shouldn't have. It was just..."

He waited while she struggled to finish what she was trying to say, then smiled. "Yes, it was. Never mind now. Once we get out of here," and he leaned in even further so that his mouth was beside her ear, "once we get out of here, we'll do what we should have been doing all along. And we'll do it on top of a pile of loot."

She chuckled, then murmured back, "You had to remind me of the loot, didn't you? I was about to drag you outside and tear off your clothes." His earlobe was right in front of her mouth, so she sucked at it for a moment, then said, "I'll just have to wait a bit longer to finally taste your cock."

"Careful," he groaned, "or else I won't be able to fit down this hole."

They both looked down. In the muted glow, his hose was showing a visible bulge along one thigh. Avilia couldn't repress a giggle, which sounded suddenly girlish to her own ears. "The gang is complete again. It wouldn't feel right, committing robbery without your friend there to help. Come on, I'll go first."

Before he could reply, she slipped over the edge of the hole. Slowly she lowered herself into the darkness, one arm on each side. "How far down is it?"

"According to the plans, the drop should be only a few feet. I was going to throw a glowstone in first, you know."

"Now you tell me. Oh well." And she let herself fall. Her feet struck stone an instant later, and she looked up to see Sligh peering down. "It's safe.

"Good," he replied. "If I'd built it, the floor would have been uneven and you'd have crippled yourself. Here, catch." He dropped the glowstone down, with his spear and their satchels, then turned to lower himself down as well.

If I watch, I'll probably grab him and suck his cock as soon as he's down here. Skies, I'm wet! To distract herself, Avilia took the glowstone and examined the hole she stood in. It seemed to be a featureless pit, with stone blocks on all sides. "Where do we go from here?"

Sligh landed lightly in the pit. He knelt down and pried at one of the stones close to the floor. Avilia watched as a thin sheet, as thick as her thumb, came away to reveal a shaft that led horizontally away from the pit. "A bit pointless, I thought," Sligh commented as he placed the tile to the side. "Anyone who found this hole would realise there had to be a way out. But the Prior thought it was clever."

"It sounds like you put your time in the Priory to good use," Avilia replied, kneeling down. "Shall I go first again?"

"Very good use. Here, take the spear." He handed her the short shaft. "I had little else to do but plan. The Prior had a very strict no-fucking rule. Well, except for himself and whoever happened to be his favourite."

"And that wasn't you?" Avilia slithered into the shaft on her stomach, kicking with her feet, glowstone in one hand and spear grasped below the head in the other. "I'm surprised."

"Could have been." Sligh's voice came from the dark behind her. "But I needed him to dislike me so he'd give me the menial jobs. Like one last inventory tonight. And besides, he was a bigger creep than me. Nice view of your arse, by the way."

She grinned. "I knew I should have made you go first. There's a chamber ahead. Do I need to be careful?"

She didn't, and moments later they were both standing in a low room. Besides one tall door, the walls, floor and ceiling were plain and unadorned. "This was supposed to be filled with rubble," Sligh explained. "Until I explained to his Arseholiness how difficult that would be. The workmen agreed, and in the end he gave in."

The front of his breeches was white with dust. She brushed some of it off. "What's behind there?"

"There? That's my-- oh, you mean the door. That's the memorial to his late wife. That's where we're going. I'll go first. I suspect there are traps there."

He stepped up to the door, a grey pebble held forward in one hand. Nothing happened as he traced the outline of the frame, but when he brought it down to the latch the pebble began to pulse with a sick, green light.