Hot Coals simply couldn’t believe how calm and peaceful the island had become now. There had been a hundred mummies crawling over the island, maybe more, but fifty minotaurs had ripped them to pieces without any casualties. And they’d done that quite literally; removing the heads of the mummies didn’t kill them, so the minotaurs had used their ridiculous strength to rend them apart into rotten paste until they didn’t pose a threat anymore. Here and there lied a twitching limb or a snapping head, but they were easy enough to avoid as he followed Chirp through the trees.
Who would have thought that the minotaurs of all things would be the ones to save the day?
Behind him, about half of the minotaurs picked their way through the jungle, while the other half remained at the camp to secure it and kill any more mummies that might wander into the island’s focal point. Their leader cleared the way with his spear, breaking away vines and other undergrowth as he led his soldiers, and even though they were ostensibly on the same side as Coals now, the stallion did try to keep some distance between himself and the chief. At the very least, his horn and fatigue had recovered enough to where he could throw a few spells to protect himself if need be, but not even that would last him forever.
After a few minutes of walking, Chirp finally sailed out of the trees and perched himself on a moonlit rock near the rocky shores of the island. Coals made it to the bird’s side and looked down at the frothy white waters washing up against the stones piled at the bottom of the overhang. Somewhere down there, if he remembered correctly, was the hidden entrance to the shrine under the temple.
The minotaurs stopped around Coals and peered over the edge into the water as well. Frowning, the chief examined the waves below for a few seconds before turning back to his war band. The minotaurs began to discuss the situation among themselves, and Coals quickly tuned them out, not knowing what they were saying and with no way to find out. Instead, he just looked at Chirp, who had fluffed up his feathers and began to preen himself. “What do I do now, little guy?” he asked the macaw. “You seem like you’ve got the answers… somehow. What’s the next step?”
The macaw only made a little grunt at him and went back to preening his feathers. Sighing, Coals shook his head and looked down. “You’re no help,” he muttered, watching the waves go in and out beneath him. But, on reflection, it seemed obvious enough. If the rest of the stallions were held down in the shrine, wouldn’t the minotaurs be the best bet at freeing them?
He looked over his shoulder again, but the minotaurs were still in conference, unsure of what to do. Coals blinked and frowned. Did the minotaurs not know about the shrine underneath the island? He found that hard to believe given how much longer they had been around than any of the survivors. But they never visited this island, did they? Some sort of superstition or fear kept them from going here or to any of the other islands except for the occasional visit. Perhaps that was what Chirp was trying to tell them, and the bird obviously couldn’t make it down beneath the water and into the caves. But he could.
“Hey!” he shouted at the minotaurs, moving to the edge of the overhang as he did so. When they looked at him, he pointed to the water. “What you’re looking for is down this way! Follow me!”
He started to scramble down the rocky slope, pausing to make sure the minotaurs saw what he was doing, and continued on again when their chief moved closer to investigate. When he made it down to the water’s edge, he jumped in and rode a wave into the dark cave waiting behind the rocky overhang. He reached out with his hooves to catch the stony edge before the receding water dragged him back out to sea, and he found a split in the rock to grab onto. He started to haul himself up when he heard a hiss and a growl split the darkness.
His horn sprang to life almost immediately, filling the dark cave with a pale glow. Directly in front of him, two mummies began shambling over from their posts by a tunnel that led deeper into the shrine. Quickly flaring up his horn, he grabbed one by the neck and flung it into the water, then shifted his magic into a wall to keep the other one from biting his face off when it lunged at him. He grimaced and tensed as he tried to keep his feeble magic up under the undead’s onslaught, but the tireless persistence of the mummy began to wear his already exhausted horn down.
Just as his shield broke, however, a spear tore through the mummy’s neck and flung it back into the wall. Coals gasped and looked over his shoulder to see the war chief emerging from the water, using his muscular arms to pull himself onto the ledge. While the mummy struggled to stand, he calmly walked over to it and stomped his hoof down on its skull, painting the walls with centuries-old gore. Then, after a second to regard his fallen foe, the minotaur grabbed his spear and flung the twitching body into the water.
More minotaurs began to appear in the cave, and the chief stooped down so he could squeeze into the tunnel. Coals, meanwhile, pulled himself onto the ledge and watched as the warriors began to file in after their chief, one at a time. Only five or so emerged from the water, while the rest were likely taking up positions around the cave to protect it. When the last minotaur squeezed his way into the tunnel, Coals swallowed hard and followed them as well, his hooves splashing on the inch or two of water sitting on the stones from the tide.
He didn’t know what he’d find inside the shrine… but he was at least relieved that the minotaurs were clearing it out.