George Martin - Old Mars

“That was terrifying!” moaned the Martian.

“These guys knew their stuff,” commented Scorpio. “It’s amazing that it still works after all these thousands of years.”

They walked cautiously, looking for more traps, for another hundred yards. Then the corridor curved to the left and terminated at a massive golden door that had a series of hieroglyphs carved into it.

Quedipai walked up to the first set of hieroglyphs and studied them intently. Finally, he stood back.

“Well?” asked Scorpio.

“This is the Tomb of the Lesser Kings,” he said.

“ Lesser Kings?” repeated Scorpio.

“The Krang had seven kings. Six of them are interred in this vault.”

“I assume the important one—the seventh king—is down the other corridor?”

“That seems likely.”

“But it doesn’t expressly say so on the door?”

“No.”

“Well, we’ll worry about it after we examine this tomb,” said Scorpio.

Quedipai was about to push the door open when Scorpio grabbed his hand.

“Don’t!” said the Earthman.

“What’s the matter?” asked Quedipai.

“Let’s assume the guys who designed this place meant business,” replied Scorpio. He pulled his knife out of his boot and tossed it against the door, which immediately began sparking and crackling.

“Electrified?” asked the Martian.

Scorpio nodded. “Yeah. I’m surprised it still has power after all this time.”

“What shall we do?”

“It’s deadly,” replied Scorpio, “but it’s not unique. Merlin and I run into this kind of thing a lot.” He pulled a small, complex device out of one of his many pockets and held it up. “A Nullifier. This little gizmo can negate any charge that’s not strong enough to melt the door.”

He pressed a switch, the device began humming, and he pressed it against the door. There was no repetition of the sound or sparks.

“Okay, let’s see what’s inside,” he said, pushing at the portal, which slowly swung inward, creaking under its own weight.

The chamber was spacious. More, it was luxurious. The walls were gold, and reached some twenty feet high to an arched ceiling. There were a number of ornate cabinets, and spread evenly about the chamber were six exquisitely carved and freestanding mausoleums, each looking like a miniature temple.

Scorpio entered the first mausoleum and saw nothing but a pile of ashes.

All I’m finding are ashes , signaled Merlin.

Me, too , replied Scorpio.

He walked back out and saw Quedipai emerging from another mausoleum.

“What the hell happened here, I wonder?” said the Earthman.

Merlin opened a cabinet with his pointed tail. Empty , he observed.

Quedipai walked to a series of hieroglyphs that had been carved into the wall. “Do you see this?” he said, pointing to an inscription at the very bottom of the hieroglyphs.

“Yes?”

“It was added to the original approximately five thousand years ago, if I have identified my dynasties correctly. It was written by a grave robber who actually reached the tomb, only to find that it had been robbed millennia earlier. He stole what few artifacts remained and left this message for any who followed him.”

“What does the message say?”

“That he looked for the Book of Blaxorak but couldn’t find it. Either it is in the other tomb, or it never existed.”

“As long as he got this far, why didn’t he just go to the other tomb and see for himself?” asked Scorpio.

“He had three companions. Cohorts, I think one could call them. They all died trying to enter the Tomb of Xabo, and he decided to leave while he still lived.”

“Xabo?” repeated Scorpio.

“He was the greatest of the Krang kings,” answered the Martian. “It was said that he was capable of feats that seemed very little removed from magic.” He looked around the tomb. “I am almost glad the thief’s associates were killed. I hope Xabo’s tomb is intact.”

“Let’s find out,” said Scorpio.

They retraced their steps, the Earthman once again jumped across the pit while carrying Quedipai, and finally they came to the fork. This time they set off to the right, down another glowing corridor.

Anything alive up ahead?

Not so far .

The corridor twisted and turned, and suddenly they saw two ancient bodies sprawled on the corridor’s floor about ten yards ahead. They stopped and stared at the scene.

“Do you see anything that looks wrong?” asked Scorpio.

He got negative replies from his two companions.

“Any marks on the bodies?”

No, but they’re both facedown .

Scorpio studied the scene with a practiced eye. “No bloodstains on the floor or walls, so whatever killed them, it didn’t break the skin.” He paused, frowning. “Cutie Pie, didn’t that hieroglyph say that the author lost three cohorts?”

“Yes,” replied the Martian.

“So one of them got through.” He paused as he considered the bodies. “We’ll never know how he made it until we know what killed these two.” He peered more intently at the farther body. “He’s got a weapon in his hand, so I think whatever killed them, it wasn’t something of flesh and blood that he could blow away.”

He scratched his head, frowning. “Nothing living. And it couldn’t be something that electrified the corridor. There are no burn marks, and one of them survived in each direction.”

“ Each direction?” repeated Quedipai. “I don’t understand.”

“We haven’t come to a third body yet, so he obviously got through … and the one who wrote the message either stayed on this side of the carnage or found a way to get back through it unharmed.”

Still nothing alive in the area , Merlin informed him.

“Well, once we’ve eliminated all the things that didn’t kill them, we’re left with just two possibilities: sound or gas. And I don’t believe it was sound. These walls would turn the corridor into an echo chamber. Any noise that was strong enough to kill these two would have killed the others. It had to be gas.”

“Why only two, then?” asked Quedipai.

“Air currents,” suggested Scorpio. “Or, more likely, a lack of air currents. If you weren’t standing directly where the gas was released, it didn’t reach you.”

“I don’t see any vents in the walls or ceiling,” said the Martian.

“It didn’t have to happen right there,” replied Scorpio.

“But you just said they had to be standing exactly where it was released,” protested Quedipai.

“They did,” confirmed Scorpio. “But they didn’t have to die instantly. They take a whiff, they scream ‘Run!’ to their partners, and they go two or three or ten steps before they collapse and die.”

“Then how can we tell where it was released?”

“We’ll check for hidden vents between here and the bodies,” answered Scorpio.

After ten minutes, they had to admit that there were no vents.

“You must have been wrong,” said Quedipai at last.

“It happens,” admitted Scorpio with a defeated shrug. “Let’s proceed.”

They had gotten to within five feet of the bodies when Scorpio yelled “Stop!” and both his companions froze.

“What is it?” asked the Martian.

“I’m an idiot,” said Scorpio.

I already knew that .

“Put yourself in their place,” he continued. “You know you’ve been attacked, been poisoned. You don’t know what lies ahead, between here and the tomb, but you know it was safe up until you were gassed.” He smiled triumphantly. “They weren’t running toward Xabo’s tomb. They were running back the way they came.” He took a step past the bodies, studying the ceiling, took another five steps, then he froze, staring at the ceiling.