Of Treasures and Darkness

by Material Defender

Vertigo

Blake Westerly panted, taking in a deep breath of clear mountain air, unsure of how long it had been since these steppes had seen the presence of a bootprint, or the presence of an actual living being, for that matter. The sharp incline below him ended at a small opening, a small outcropping of rock... one of few signs of actual footing on the side of this accursed mountain.

Figuring that there was nowhere else to go, he merely hopped off the ledge, letting his custom travel boots take the brunt of the friction as he slid his way towards the small jut of rock, avoiding the vines and angled tree roots obstructing his way. The damnable rainforest had been more than humid today, and he would be glad to be rid of this place as soon as possible; as much as he liked treasure hunting, the locales that ancient people liked to hide their shiny trinkets in did nobody any favors.

"Fuckin' rocks," he cursed. He didn't like mountains, and he didn't like rainforests. The fact that his target's residence location had included both only served to irritate him even further. Why couldn't ancient civilizations just bury their treasures under the dirt or water, and mark it with a map, and hide it away in some obscure library? Why build the mother of the Fort Knox Bullion Depository and then put it in the middle of nowhere, and then stick it underground just to be sure? These people and their obsession with shiny objects...

His previous expedition to locate some Spaniard gold had proven to be a good payout with minimal risk due to having a map. Then again, ancient civilizations didn't think like Spaniards did. If only wealthy collectors didn't already own everything that was already a European antique... all the easy stuff had been collected years ago, so he couldn't really fault for not having been born sooner to plunder the ancient wonders of the world so they can sit behind glass on a wooden pedestal in some eccentric old man's mansion.

He fell into a roll, mitigating the force at which he landed, before pulling himself to his feet, noticing several signs of a ruin nearby. There were small inscriptions carved into the rock behind him, obscured by the years of vines that had grown there, and a small clearing at the forest below where the ruins themselves stood. Naturally, the only thing that stood between him and the ruins was a clear staple of the treasure hunting business: the drop that led to nowhere except your own death.

Thankfully, he'd had the sense to bring his climbing gear this time, and quickly prepped a rappel down the rest of the mountain face, ensuring that his hooks were tightened properly before beginning his descent. He'd taken special care to manufacture a special utility harness that allowed his weapons, his trusty Colt M1911 and a Mossberg 500, to be magnetically latched into their holsters. The pull wasn't strong, but it was better than leaving a random jump or fall to chance and end up losing his keepsake weapons, the trusty tools that had seen him through thick and thin and several different species of predators.

"Nice and easy now..." He carefully began to proceed down the mountain face, taking special care to observe that the sun had yet to hit noon. He had been climbing the damnable mountain through the early morning and only realized once he'd hit the other side that he had to descend to get to the ruins. How irksome. Perhaps walking around would have been less strenuous.

Landing with a soft thud, he quickly unequipped the climbing harness, leaving it wound up at the base of the mountain for him to use when he was going to leave. Thankfully, the slide down the mountain hadn't been one-way: he'd noticed a small trail heading off around the side, most likely leading back to where he had come from. If not, well, it certainly did him a favor since he wouldn't have to climb back up.

Making sure that his pack and weapons in place, he proceed towards the outer courtyard of the ruins. The architecture was obviously ancient tribal in nature, with lots of open-air windows and adorned columns detailing rituals of ages long past, involving a lot of iconography regarding equine species, it seemed. A normal person would have been curious, but Blake found it best to leave that sort of inane wonderment to the historians and researchers: his task lay in retrieving an artifact from this place.

His contractor had been anonymous, which wasn't entirely unheard of in the business since a lot of the gigs that treasure hunters dealt with involved taking items from protected territories, something that world governments didn't exactly like. Henceforth, having weapons was a two-fold affair: the first was for predators and other natural dangers... the other was as a last resort against soldiers or guards who may or may not be dispatched to the site of retrieval to "relieve" a treasure hunter of his or her belongings.

This contract in particular was to retrieve a crystal orb roughly around the size of a baseball, he'd been told. The item was said to be obviously noticeable and would reside in an altar. As far as things were concerned, he had been told that there were no traps, and anybody willing to hire a treasure hunter had to have some interest in keeping their investment intact, though that didn't stop some from dying. Blake didn't like being thought of as expendable, but damn his reputation if he didn't deliver: only dedicated and trustworthy treasure hunters got repeat customers, either by word of mouth or from the same client, so he often gave the benefit of the doubt when it came to his own safety towards the details provided.

The temple in which the artifact was located seemed to have an entrance that led underground, opening into a large chamber with an altar sitting in the middle of a giant pool of water... water so dark, it was almost as if it were made of ink. A single stone bridge connected the entering stairs with the altar, and Blake quickly walked over it, looking around the chamber as the sunlight flooded in from various open holes in the roof.

---

Now, this was a strange thing. It was a crystal orb, clearer than day and shining with resplendent flair, with what seemed to be a black-ink crescent seemingly inside it. Hefting the small orb, Blake had to admire whoever had made this: it certainly would have taken a huge feat of skill in order to manufacture something as intricate as this crystal orb.

Tossing it between his hands, he noted the strange feel of the object. It was abnormally cold, almost like ice... strange considering the climate and location of the place... though he had to admit that the placement was quite ingenious: the temple complex sat in the middle between two tall mountains, nearly impossible to find unless someone had taken a flight directly over it, which was also nearly impossible because it was located in the middle of nowhere within the rainforest, away from any route towards civilization. Even he had to get a helicopter ride out here on a special basis.

He began to look around for any possible secondary artifacts... usually a collector would pay handsomely if a hunter found something extra than what was expected... and if the offer for the other artifacts wasn't to the hunter's standard, he would be free to sell them off somewhere else. He'd been in a pinch lately, so the extra money would definitely come in handy...

He searched around and under the altar, trying to make sure there hadn't been anything else that he missed. Turning around the chamber, it seemed that the only thing that lined the walls were overgrown vines and crumbled inscriptions. He carefully examined the edge of the altar island... and found a strange button. Whether or not this activated a trap, he didn't know, but if the creators of the temple had truly meant to harm him, they would have done so the minute he grabbed the orb, which was now safely stored away in his pack.

Carefully readying himself to jump back at a moment's notice... he pushed the button. Thankfully, it did not spawn a wall of traps like he had originally thought, but revealed a hidden passageway that led further into the temple, with another stone bridge rising out of the water leading to it.

"Well, ain't that some shit...?" he muttered. Readying his machete, he began to proceed across the bridge, pausing as he looked down the stairway. Would this be the biggest mistake of his career? He'd find out shortly. Taking a single deep breath, he proceed down the stairway.

---

Torches. There were torches down here. Here he was in a temple supposedly untouched for centuries, and there were still torches here, burning brightly and looking as new as the day they'd been put in. Not willing to spend the battery life on his shoulder-mounted floodlight, he took one of them, and was now holding it before him as he led himself down the stone steps, the smell of a musty enclosed area engulfing his nostrils.

It was a spiral staircase, descending down into... well, wherever he was going. Holding his machete up, primed to strike, he continued down for several minutes, accompanied only by the sound of rushing air and the thumping of his boots. Places like this were always unnerving... something he'd originally chalked up as simple mind games, but this was having a far more profound on him than he previously thought.

The path before him soon smoothed out, no longer stairs, but of tiles cracked with age. He stood before a small hallway, adorned with yet even more torches... an occurrence most strange. Perhaps those strange tales that he'd heard some other hunters speak of had some truth, after all... with any due luck, he wouldn't end up like that Drake fellow in the Amazon and end up fighting some crazed demon freaks.

"One hell of a day..." he said, pushing open the heavy wooden double doors at the end of the hall. It opened up to yet another chamber, but this one far more grand in both intricacy and size. It was a massive underground dome, with a single column of light shining down upon a large altar, which itself had a huge mural of events inscribed into it. The walls, from the bottom up to the top of the dome, shared similar designs.

Sheathing his blade, he walked around the room, noting again the presence of torches that, by all means, should not be there. He observed the murals, not really knowing what to make of them... there was a lot of mention of equine species on it, but strangely enough, no humans whatsoever. Had the place been built as a temple of worship to some horse deity, perhaps?

He focused on a single larger aspect of the mural... a depiction of a large armored horse that had both a horn and a pair of wings, standing above what seemed to be lesser or mortal subjects, also of equine nature. That was certainly a lot stranger than many mythological scriptures he'd come into contact with... just how did these ancient indigenous tribes know of the existence of a unicorn and a pegasus, of all things?

Shaking his preoccupation off of the display, he quickly advanced towards the altar, hoping to find yet another valuable artifact to carry him with him. Unfortunately, the altar held... nothing, and was completely barren save for the extremely intricate carving of a crescent moon built directly into the floor. He began to turn to leave, until he noticed something that seemed to be hidden underneath the altar.

Leaving the torch on the ground, he quickly began to inspect the object... it was some sort of accessory; an adornment, perhaps? Whatever it was, it would most certainly fetch a nice price... an intact specimen usually got him around six month's worth of straight pay, and that was just too good to pass up. He noticed that the thing was seemingly embedded into the altar, most likely having fallen off the table and then just simply whisked away under a pile of dirt.

What he didn't notice, however... was the fact that the room grew slowly darker. The torches were being put out. The column of light slowly dimmed until only the ever-disappearing light of the torches lit the room.

"What the fuck...?" Blake said, pulling the object free and grabbing his torch. Taking a quick glimpse, the object was a light purplish-blue, with a single emblem of a crescent moon embedded upon it. Still intact. He stuffed it into his pack before quickly running down the stairs, now aware that the torches were going out, at a rate steadily advancing towards the exit.

He quickly broke into a sprint as the torches in the chamber and the hallway finally went out, leaving him with only one... the one that he held in his hands. He quickly flicked the switch on his floodlight, only to have it... not work. Giving a groan of frustration, he quickly flicked it several more times as his own torch went out, leaving him in pitch-black darkness.

"Aw, shit."

And then he felt the ground beneath him disappear, and he fell into the gaping void.

Comments

[Blitz Stratus]

Structured very ell cant wait foe the next chapter

[RandomEncounter]

First read, I didn't notice any mistakes; another read might reveal some though. All in all though, well written. Would suggest finding some art to go with it though; some readers on this site equate no story picture with being sub par quality. I guess the rule of "bright shiny object" applies in that logic.

Interested to see where this goes. You have my attention.

[Material Defender]

699949 Thanks.

699996 Yeah, I figured that much about the cover art. The problem is that I usually never put one up unless it fits the story right.