CHAPTER 1 - Meeting

"Which one of you is Emmy?" Jean's beak clacked shut with the end of his sentence. The sour annoyance of having to unravel such a nuisance had dried up his patience.

A large female wolf and a boyish collie looked back at him, witless both.

The wolf banged her fist to her chest, her knuckles drumming on the metal of her armor. It was a philistine gesture more suited to cave dwellers than civilized people, at least in Jean's view. "Emmy!"

"And once more, I am Abelard. Nyehem, but Abby will work." The collie adjusted the large circular glasses upon his snout. He'd already introduced himself to Jean days ago, but the vulture had the sense the spellcaster enjoyed hearing his own name.

"And he handed which one of you the map?"

Emmy turned her head and looked down at her magically inclined companion, immediately giving away the game. Abby smiled with undue pride in having been entrusted a piece of paper. 

"That would be me."

"May I see it?" Jean's curt, hissed words really should have been conveying his distaste with his two coworkers. Canine skulls are thick, though, thicker than what his social tact could cut through. He held a cup of wine in his claws, considering how far below that swill was to the heights he'd imbibed in better days.

Abby dove a hand into the linen double-breasted tunic he wore over another shirt. He produced a pristine and ageless coil of parchment. Hardly the yellowed primeval cartographer's treasure Jean imagined. The collie brushed off the ribbon keeping it bound and unfurled it for them, swinging it far too close to the candle on the table for anyone's comfort. 

"See? Red X and all. Couldn't ask for an easier trip."

Depicted on the map was a segment of land not far from the hamlet they had gathered in. It was a parcel of little value, and unsettled by anyone with sense. No quarriable stone, no river ways, no arable land. This hamlet clung to life only via infusion of gold from travelers who disfavored the highway. The map made it clear their trip from the hamlet to a nearby doline. There was no need for a dig, and only a brief spelunk, to arrive before the stone doors of the mausoleum within. 

Jean rubbed a knuckle across the bottom of his beak thoughtfully. "Then how come no one's found it yet?"

"Plenty of people have found it! Getting out with the treasure, that's the real challenge."

Jean took a swig, trying to pretend it wasn't such a sour vint. The gravity of it, the tomb's danger, was undercut immensely by the cheerful and naive delivery with which Abby presented it. Jean's imagination swirled gloomy clouds of battered and broken treasure-seekers, decades old blood staining the stones concealing the traps that had killed them.

Emmy reached her hand over, clumsily knocking into and threatening to tip over the pewter ewer of wine. Unperturbed by Jean's burrowing glare, the wolf girl acted as if her doe-eyed staring contest could distract him from her blatant theft. From his plate, the swordswoman snatched a hunk of cheese and a few grapes, all her claws could scoop, and dragged it back to her side of the table.

With no regard for decorum, crumbs, or even taste and seemingly her own enjoyment, she scarfed down her loot in one crunching gulp. Emmy looked between the two of them as she chewed, fast, and swallowed. 

"Did you even enjoy that?" Jean asked, squinting. There wasn't a chance in hell she even tasted any of that before she was done with it, with how quickly she awayed it.

"Ya."

Jean didn’t feel the need to press the issue further. "Are you certain this payday will materialize?" The turkey vulture had asked it more times than Emmy could count, though that wasn't a particularly difficult metric to achieve.

Abby nodded. "I promise. Even asked for an advance like you suggested."

The rag-tag nature of this alliance reminded him agonizingly of his days with the partisans. It didn't come with the pressure of being an officer, but working with free agents like these two canines didn't allow him control either. He couldn't yank their collars and tell them to heel, tell them they were being foolish and to follow his lead. They'd laugh in his face, part ways, and all of them would be out of coin and work. That sense of disorganized, impromptu coalition had given him such ulcers commanding partisans. And it clung to everything about his partnership with Abelard.

The collie folded and secured the map again, brushing a hand through his hair. His long and luxurious mane was such a pristine black it almost hinted at undertones of silvery blue when the light hit it. It was nothing like the slate black of Jean's feathers, which refused to hold light's reflection. And instead of the maroon-umber that made up Jean's pate, Abby's face was a mixture of clay-grey around the eyes and chin with dark ash dominating the rest. 

Jean caught himself staring and diverted his eyes to Emmy. Vacant and friendly, the wolfess had no judgment for Jean. When she met his eyes it was like looking at a catfish dragged up from the mud. Not a single thought behind those plum-toned irises. That gave him a little epiphany. He whipped his short beak back toward Abelard.

"What's her last name?"

"Oh, Emmy?" Abby brushed the fur on his chin down to his throat with a manicured claw. "Uhm, errr... nyehehe. I know this, just a moment..."

"Rould!" She answered for herself, a slight nod of her chin. 

The blow that revelation struck made Jean's eyes flutter. He shook his head. "That's what I thought." 

"Right! I told you she is remarkable!"

Emmy frowned, and rubbed over her cheek and muzzle with her palm. Whatever she was looking for she didn't find, and leaned close to whisper in one of Abby's large lateen-like ears. "Have something on face?"

"No, you're fine, Emmy." Her smile returned.

"At the very least, she looks like she can rip apart whatever we find in there."

Emmy's ears, which favored drooping to the sides, perked up straight. She flexed her bicep, and though Jean expected to see nothing considering she was in her gambeson and armor, when he looked close he noticed her musculature was so defined it produced striations on the fabric. "Sure can. Great fighter."

The jade in Abby's eyes twinkled wetly, and he leaned close. It was the same look he'd given Jean initially, when recruiting him for this farce. "I've seen her strangle a bear twice her size and double her weight."

"Oooooh," she cooed. The fur on her wolven face prickled up in delight. "Remember that. Very mean bear. Kept spitting on the floor and knocking things over."

Abby's geeky, ear-ritating laugh played chorus to her story. "Nyeheheh!"

"Tried to throw a punch. Which he did hit." She tapped her cheek, claw poking a few of the steel blue speckles on her muzzle. "All the teeth are still good. Anyway, jumped up on his back from a table. Wrapped around the fat neck, pulled back and choked!" She armlocked the air, tussling with a ghost a little, whilst Abby clapped for her. 

Jean rose. He brushed down the front of his weaselbelly coat and adjusted his collar. The garments were soft and nearly threadbare. Hastily, but competently, stitched insignias adorned the collar. He brushed them across his forefinger and thumb. It was a symbol no one cared to know, record or recall. At least no one where Jean now rested his feathers.

"Such a rousing story, it’s found me absolutely tuckered. I am retiring for the evening. Don't get too loaded. I want to be on the path at first light."

Undercutting the austere air Jean had begun to settle into as he adjusted himself, Emmy acknowledged his demand with a big thumbs up. He turned with a sneer, and left the two canines to their drinks.

CHAPTER 2 - Travel

Emmy offered to take the burden of their climbing gear without a second thought. It was no burden at all for her, so her two companions weren't in any mood to protest. Considering they were bungling through the woodlands and hills, no one was around to give them a strange look for having the woman do all the heavy lifting. She was built like a workhorse, so it didn't weigh on Abby's mind too much that she was the brawn between them.

He more than made up for the brains portion. She was muttering her numbers. "Forty. Forty-one. Forty-two." It was a strange habit. The way she told it, she was taught to count years ago, but she held onto that repetition every morning. Just in case she forgot. Abby didn't think that was possible. She was a pretty good sponge for information.

Abby thought to interrupt her. "Emmy?" 

"Ya. Fifty. Fifty-one..." 

Jean gave her a sideways look, taking out his frustration with the incessant numeration by slashing some vines with his rapier.

"Have you tried skipping that part of your morning before? To test if you can remember all of it?"

"Fifty-seven. Uh." She took a moment to consider. Her thinking was accompanied by an open mouthed look toward the sky. "If drills were skipped. Body would get soft. Numbers skipped, brain gets soft. Happens."

Abby found some merit in that. Insofar as Abby knew, the mind was a muscle in a way. It had to be flexed to keep its wrinkles.

"Oh, your mind isn't soft, Emmy," Jean interjected. The fluttering sound of a bush being sliced came first before he spoke again. "Your mind is incredibly dense. Like a rock."

The wolfess made a gentle cooing of approval. "Thanks! Rocks are real strong. Emmy is real strong. Mind and body."

"See?" Jean looked to Abby to invite him to share in the humor. The collie wasn't impressed. The vulture only got a frown in return for his little prank.

"Emmy, do you remember the grocer at The Nook?"

A low, growling rumble began in her throat and travelled past her teeth where it made her lips shiver. "Ya." 

"You see, Jean, the grocer made fun of Emmy for taking too long to count out her money. She had these coins she'd never used before so it was a little confusing. He called her dumb, and then we found out later he short-changed her."

Emmy's growling continued. Jean could practically feel the rage radiating off her in quivering waves.

"So what happened when we found out?"

"Went back. Jumped over counter. Dragged out to the street. Punched all the teeth out. Counted them all and threw each one at his face."

Jean's haughty joy in insulting her was quickly replaced with a low dose of adrenaline. Merely imagining her atop a man and brutalizing him brought on his flight response. 

"Just because she speaks strangely, it doesn't mean she's stupid. Right, Em?"

"Ya."

Reflex had Jean wrap a hand around his beak protectively. He pushed away the thought of her shattering it.

"That it?" The wolfess proposed, pointing ahead.

The woods had broken into a partial gulch. A brook with so little life it appeared stagnant trickled down the taller crest, dripping down into a deeper pit. This very gulch was sketched on their map. And that dark pit was what needed to be alighted. 

"That's it! Nyehehe, and it's not even noon." 

Abby took off, first to reach the edge of the gulch. Though it looked dark from the side, much of the crevasse received light. The overhand providing the brook had given a thin puddle for the stone below. Moss and simple vegetation had sprung up on the bumpy grooves not yet swallowed by water. The stagnant water had become a choice breeding ground for a variety of insects. Even from above the sounds of their flights of fancy and socializing could be distinguished. 

Emmy dumped their gear with a crash of pitons that made both companions flinch. "Climbing time."

The stink of stale water made the alight down unpleasant, but otherwise it was a cake climb. The slick but mostly flat surface of the gully wall offered just enough cracks and handholds that Jean wondered if he could free-climb it. It was only Abby who struggled, clutching to the stones and shaking his way down each step. Emmy's offer to carry him down was rebuffed with a tooth-chattered mouse-squeak of a "no".

The turkey vulture was the first to reach the bottom. Jean stepped widely where he could, avoiding the mucky water on his talons as much as avianly possible. At the far end of the gulch, hidden in part by a wedge of stone, a set of doors were carved into the earth. He sprang toward it, mystified not only by the fact it was actually there but also its magnificent construction. He reached out and touched the cool slate with his finger tips, just as Abby exhaled a loud sigh of relief somewhere behind him.

Emmy helped the collie get the jitters out and unhooked him from the ropes. Jean couldn't see more than that, having to return his attention to the doors. They were taller than him by a few heads, with deep seams that seperated it from the rougher wall surrounding them. The stone must have been hewn by magic or a master mason, for not a single blemish appeared on the entire surface. No clear contraption for opening the door could be found, and running his hands over the seams revealed nothing in particular.

Abby surprised Jean, appearing beside him and sniffing at the door. He hummed and muttered to himself, invading the avian's personal space with little regard for tactlessness. "Nyehe, my. The potency of this spell. Impressive! I know professors who'd give an arm to cast a binding like this."

"Can you tell anything about it?" Jean hesitated pushing against the stone, not wanting to risk the unknown.

"Aside from its strength, not much. It's a transmutation for certain."

"No abjuration?" 

"Nothing I can sense." Abby laid his palm flat to the stone. "Ooh, cold. Heh. But how in the hell do we open this?" 

"Explain," Emmy said, darkening the view by standing in the way of the light. “The magic thing.”

Abby adjusted his large spectacles, a cool and self-satisfied expression appearing on his face. "As I said, a transmutation. That means there is a spell that changes the properties of an object."

"And the other one? Abteration?"

"Uhm, more like traps or wards. Like, if we knocked on the door it might catch fire to get us to fuck off. There is none of that."

"So it won't hurt?"

Abby shook his head. And with that acting as consent enough, she pushed past the both of them and shoulder charged the door.

"Emmy!" The collie bleated out, staggering away from her nudge more out of shock than the push itself. 

The wolfess hit the stone with the full force of her muscle and bulk, and the gritting grind of stone on stone reverberated around the cavern's walls. She pushed and pushed, a part appearing in the middle seam and a faint blue light seeping out. She was opening it!

With one final shove whatever kept the door so stiffly stuck gave way, and she had breached the first obstacle. With a wave and smile she ushered them in, holding the door open just in case. Her less brash companions scuttled past her like ducklings following their mother. 

Like the entryway, the chamber that preceded it was cool and smooth. The exactness of every brick that made up the walls on any side of them was captivating. A reflection like caustics produced by clear ocean water illuminated the entire square chamber in a faint blue light. The stale air of the musty natural cavern had no effect here, instead it was fresh and neutral. Cut almost imperceptibly into the walls were thin slats, and a draft came from them.

Jean would have first considered them traps, home to spears or worse. But, he wondered instead if they weren't vents. A little bit of daylight illuminated the cuttings, and cool air filtered in from them. He tentatively ran his hand near them, ready to yank away at the slightest sign of danger.

It wasn't the vents that made him jump though, it was the grinding of stone. Emmy and Abby had left the door to explore the chamber more, and the scrape of rock to rock signalled the entryway sealing behind them.

"The door!" Abby squealed in shock, some spell flinging from his palm to slow the stone. A dense web of summoned material clung and slowed the slab for a moment, but it was dead set on sealing them in this tomb. A whipping snap signalled his arcane webbing’s strength failing, and the tomb continued to seal.

Emmy reacted just as quickly. She sprung for the door, grasping it to tug it back into place. Her footpaws slid across the floor even as she dug her claws in. The strain on her face was clear and she too was only slowing the inevitable.

The vulture among them reacted slowest, and only after consideration. He interposed himself into the opening gap, his back to the other half of the double doors, pushing while Emmy pulled. He put all his strength into it, what modest power he had. Emmy snarled, growling at the stone as it defied her wishes to stay open. As his biceps strained and he could feel his elbows begin to bow, he turned his beak to the side, and to freedom. 

He could do it, slip out right there and leave them to whatever fate lay within that tomb. 

Just as he felt self-preservation shift his body in a pose to flee, he was ripped from the chance by his collar. Emmy had yanked him out before the door sealed and he was crushed, the two of them collapsing to their behinds. 

"Now we know why no one has taken the treasure yet." Abby blurted out, clutching his head. With his eyes wide and pupils narrowed to needle points, he croaked out a horrified, "hah!"

Dread simply couldn't set in for Jean or Abby, for one door closed and another opened. Revealing itself seamlessly from the bricks, a passageway opened opposite the sealed entry. Emmy, ever the vanguard, was already on her footpaws padding on. Whilst the others recovered from the spike of cortisol visions of their potential doom had brought, she peered into the next chamber.

CHAPTER 3 - Bizarre Games

Emmy saw a skeleton. Slouched against the wall, with its arms on either side of its thighbones. Maybe a dead treasure hunter? She took a step toward it, and that caused it to jump!

The skeleton sprung a few inches forward, before collapsing into a rattling assembly of bleached ossified remnants. All save for its skull, which instead took flight entirely. The cranium caught aflame, flickering with a magical crackle of reddish-white fire. Its eyes gleamed with ruby gemstones, an internal glow offering something close to a pupil.

The very second the skeleton moved, Emmy had already drawn her blade and swung. One couldn't take any chances with bony enemies, she thought. And a floating skull was an even bigger concern! The flighty head bobbed away from her sword swipe like a gnat just barely evading a swatting palm.

"Welcome," the skull said to her. His voice rattled from behind his teeth with a chilling and ethereal vibration to it.

Emmy lowered her sword, and tilted her head. "Hello."

"You've come to take my master's treasure?"

"Ya."

"Very well, I will serve as your guide."

"Oh! Thank you!"

By now Abby and Jean had run in behind her, weapons unsheathed, and if she'd not engaged in dialogue with the thing, they'd have tried to destroy it. Jean had never seen such a sight, and took a moment to fully absorb what he was seeing. The flame-wreathed bone didn't blacken, and something was off about the fire. Of course something was off, seeing as it was serving as the cloak for a floating human skull, but it didn't seem like true fire.

Abby gasped with a pleased, academic squee. He grasped Jean's forearm and pushed it down, making sure the vulture's drawn rapier wasn't making a threat with its point. "My goodness. Nyeheh, aha!" 

He paced toward the hovering, crispening orb. As he circled it, the skull's eyes turned to follow him. "It's a mimir! We had one of these at the academy. A hold over from, oh who knows how many centuries!"

"Astute observation, cynocephali."

"My name is Abelard, Abelard Normel. I am an alumnus of Flakefeather. I am sometimes known as the White Flame, a pyromancer of renown and potency." Abby bowed to seal the theatrics. "Do you have a name?"

Jean had heard that spiel when they first met. It nearly made him turn around and leave then, it would have now if they weren't sealed in. The mimir had as deadpan a reaction as Jean did, "I am Skhost."

"My, ahem, are you a guardian here?"

"After a fashion. I am here to observe entrants, answer their questions, and guide them through the challenges they will face. I also oversee the removal of failed contestari."

Abby winced at the revelation of that final duty. 

"Can we leave?" Jean pressed.

"If you succeed."

The vulture turned his head and snapped his beak down on a knuckle, biting into it to vent some frustration. It was better than yelling or playing the blame game.

"Emmy!" Emmy announced, once more giving her barbarian salute. 

"Skhost." The skull provided either a nod or a corrective bob, before turning toward a neglected corner of the room. He seemed to scan for something, the bricks taking on a reddish glow.

Jean walked closer, stowing his blade and trying to meet the skull's eyes to get his attention, but it ignored him. "Can you explain a little more about where we are? Why we are locked in?" 

The skull continued to scan the wall. Abby wondered if he were looking for the next hidden door. He kept close watch, seeing if he could learn anything about what distinguished the wall from the illusory door. Given how magically potent the constructor of the mausoleum was, he doubted there would be even a hint.

"You don't know where you are? Do you often stumble upon hidden tombs?"

"We had a map."

"Many do. This is a cache of riches deposited by a wizard of magnificent power. My master and creator." Skhost added that last portion with a bit of bitterness. "Each chamber is a challenge, designed for his amusement and your frustration. Failure may result in death, but failure to try will result in death. The only exit is via the treasure room." 

"What's in the treasure room?" Abby watched Skhost unveil the next door. With a suck of his teeth, he signalled his annoyance at not discovering a single thing about what mechanism hid them. It was worth a try.

"The vault has a collection of valuables. Precious metals. Magical items. Tomes of knowledge."

Each item made the collie more excited than the last. The doomsaying and threats of death had completely evaporated from his mind. Jean though, wasn't so easily distracted.

"You said this was for your master's amusement. Is he here? Is he still alive? Isn't this place hundreds of years old?"

"I am not at liberty to answer those particular questions. There is information I am not privy to. There is information I am not allowed to reveal." Skhost hovered over the threshold. "Will you follow me into the first game?"

"Game. Wonderful. We're playing with our lives. Gah, I should have—" Jean silenced himself with a shake of his head. This time he took the lead into the unknown.

CHAPTER 4 - Ducks & Peas

Skhost bobbed a mite above head height by the same magic that kept him 'alive'. Behind them, a heavy stone door grinded to a close. The change in air pressure forced the fire cloaking his boney visage into an unsure flicker, tugging away from the singed bone and toward the door. Even though it had happened two times already, Emmy was no more comfortable with that sound or the sensation of being trapped in a box.

Jean gave a look to Skhost, not that the damnable mimir had any answers. The gemstones making the "referee's" eyes gleamed, a deep set light acting as a pupil, returning the look to Jean. 

Abby was the first to take a real step forward, adjusting his glasses and canvasing the room with long, sweeping movements of his head. At the far side of the room a hemisphere reservoir no more than a half-meter tall held water dotted with something. First, Abby thought it was the spout that gave the pool its water, but in fact there was no fountain and the fixture that was set above it was a large sandglass. The spellweaver manipulated his magelight over the reservoir directly, realizing with an amused 'hmph' that the water was busy with peas. 

"Oooh! Pea soup," Emmy cooed, immediately making great strides to secure the source of sustenance, as if she hadn’t been fed properly many times over.

"Emmy, wait!" Jean called, stretching out a claw.

She turned to look back at him, and noticed what made him speak up then too. A bit of dust, the grind of stone, and then the sight of four passages opening. A finger taller than the reservoir, blocks on the walls to the left and right of the contenders lifted to reveal tight, small tunnels. 

Four ducks of varying colors and plumage waddled out with speed and intent, ignoring everything else but the reservoir. The sway of their ovoid bodies didn't properly convey the speed they could output. And all four of them honked an indecipherable chorus of distinctly duckly wails. 

They were several meters out, but the constant slapping of their webbed stompers to the dry stone created a cacophony in the room. Skhost's lower jaw chattered and clacked to his upper teeth. The clatter of sound forced him to project his voice if he had any hope of being heard. "If the ducks eat all the peas before time is up, you fail."

With a metallic click, the sandglass above the fountain flipped in its mechanism, beginning the count, with the plunderers already at a disadvantage. 

Emmy drew her bastard sword and brought it down upon the nearest duck in one beastly motion. The consideration of fresh duck to go with her pea soup fueled her righteous blow. 

Jean, needing to sprint to catch up, likewise had his rapier's point aimed for another duck's heart instantly. 

The tip of Abby's finger brightened with a flare of fire, which he sent out to a third duck. 

Confident in their blows, none of the treasure seekers made a move for that fourth who continued to waddle forward.

All three of them were awestruck, however. Stunned, all, to momentary paralysis. Emmy's blade came down with such crushing force the tip cracked the stone it met. But there, a hand-length up from that tip, the duck who was meant to be bisected weaseled free from the blow like it was made of jelly. 

Jean's rapier, meeting the duck's feathers, was diverted with the fluidness and effortlessness that those same feathers repelled water. 

Abby hadn't noticed his spell’s ineffect immediately. The flash of fire that broiled his duck seemed right enough to him, and he sent a second firebolt to the untouched duck. It was when his second target, ablaze but unfazed, kept waddling, that he understood the failing of his magic.

Four beaks met the water with such fury and rapidity that they'd swallowed a quarter of the thousands of peas in a flash. The crackling fires burning off the preen oil on those ducks was doused by their splashing and quacking. Their wings and beaks made a romp of the reservoir, sending spare veg and droplets everywhere. Each of them dove their open mouths to skim the water for their meal.

"Ooh, best get them out of there," Skhost hummed. He scanned the water with his chiseled, mineral eyes. "Little more than half left."

Being the closest, Jean and Emmy were in the primest position to intervene. To her credit, though, Jean saw she needed no aid from him. Abandoning her sword without a second thought, the semi-feral and simple minded girl leapt into the pool with the same eagerness as the ducks. Her jaw snapped down around the taffy-like neck of one, filled both her hands with the others, and kicked the fourth out with a singular and arcing strike that sent it flying and bouncing across the floor. All screaming and droplets, that fourth duck smashed watery imprints of itself with each collision to the ground until it slowed, stopped, and flapped pathetically on its back.

"Amazing work!" Abby called, clapping raptly for the triumphant canine. 

Jean put up a hand, protecting his eyes from the peas and spray being sent all around. Emmy did look proud beyond proud, growling and fighting to keep her jaw tight around a duck kicking and flapping its all at her, and holding tight to two more equally vigorous in their yearning for freedom. 

The fourth and lonely duck righted himself, rolling to his side and rising to his feet. Jean didn't hop to, considering the deed done. As ever, the task was not so easy. From the tunnels, four more came slapping out. Emmy swept her head to regard all four new waterfowls, the duck in her jaws lagging around after the motion. 

The two males joined Emmy by the pond, wanting to get close to the objective and intercede the incoming foes. Abby had a genius idea though, another divine spark of intellect, a common epiphany of arcane insight emblematic of the White Flame's skills. He pressed his palm to the water's surface, and with a pulse of mana, imparted the essence of cold to the water and froze a layer of it, imprisoning the green bounty!

Emmy was largely handicapped with her burdens, kicking when her balance allowed. Jean and Abby were the real last line of defense now, repulsing the five waterfowls with whatever they could. Abby tried to conserve his vim, using the most minimal bursts of force to send the ducks rolling back against the walls. The flurry of feathers that clouded the air seemed to be limitless, brought up from the bludgeoning the ducks were enduring. Jean felt his body strain in brand new ways as the avian to avian combat forced him to use muscles he'd neglected in conventional battle. 

But they began to slip through. A beak here, and peck there. They ran forward with their heads low and beaks forward, quacking their war cries and knocking into the goalkeepers’ shins with force enough to make them croak in pain. Thoughtful as Abby's icy imprisonment was, he didn't anticipate the power behind the duck's desire for green pea-ness. The sharp, dry sounds of ice being chipped made the wizard's big radar-dish ears twitch anxiously. They were getting through, nibbling up the peas even as they lay frozen in the ice. 

"Abby, your blade!" Jean called, arm outstretched for the tool.

The wizard didn't question it, unhooking his sword belt and tossing the whole bundle of leather and scabbard and blade at the vulture. Exactly what Jean had wanted, really, for his rapier was far too thin to use as a bat. Now, Abby's arming sword, with its broad and triangular blade, was perfect. Jean swung it, striking a duck squarely in the chest. It was launched to collision into the nearby wall with an exhausted croak as the air was bludgeoning from its lungs.

The wide-beaked, tongue waggling sound of despondency at being denied its rightful pea prize nearly gave Jean sympathetic pause. 

Greens began disappearing. No member of the trio wasn't sore and drained, feeling the impact of their punts and blows against the ducks reflected at them. The immortal scaups were solid when they took a strike, but fluid as water when evading grabs and swings.

Just as Abby was pivoting to refresh the now melted ice providing some protection to the peas a bell's chime came. Only a fistful of veggies remained, bobbing around the center of the pool, surrounded by chipped ice. That was enough though, for the sandglass had drained from the top bulb entirely to the bottom. 

"Congratulations." Skhost's verbose felicitations didn't carry much emotion to them, and were nearly drowned out entirely by the sound of grinding stone. 

Just there to the left of the pool the wall lifted, rising up to a cut-out in the ceiling above. All around them, pea-loving ducks turned grey and returned to lifeless blobs of wet clay. The mallard shape disappeared, collapsing upon itself and draining of color and energy. Whatever happened to the peas isn't obvious, perhaps lost among the clay and digested in some capacity.

Abby let himself fall to his butt, sitting on the edge of the reservoir. Jean did the same, sliding to the floor instead, resting his back against the cool stone of the pool. Both of them taking big gulps of air to catch their breath.

Emmy, a more seasoned warrior, was hardly drained. Or perhaps she was just too dense to recognize her own fatigue. Or maybe she was too busy with her current task to rest. After sheathing her sword and realizing there was no longer a threat, she'd about-faced to the water and began scooping out what few peas remained to snack on herself. She didn't ignore the chunks of ice either, happily crunching them or taking some to put down the collar of her gambeson to cool down.

"Good job!" She said merrily, looking between her two companions.

"Thank you, Emmy. You were wonderful." Abby didn't give off a single note of incredulity.

"You leave me speechless," Jean tacked on, caking on enough snark to account for what Abby didn't provide.

Thankfully for the wolfess, such things went over her head. 

"We're allowed to rest, right?" Jean asked Skhost.

The floating skull rose up and down in a nod, and added, "You may begin the next challenge at your leisure."

Emmy splashed some water on her face and slicked her hair back, turning to face their guide. "More greens?" She asked, pointing behind her with her clawed thumb.

"No."

"Sad."

CHAPTER 5 - Iron Golem

The golem towered over all three of them, standing easily three meters tall. It was built in a humanoid shape, a mixture of armor and artificial muscle cutting a warrior's figure. The thing must have weighed a ton, for it looked to be made entirely of iron. Between the grinding limbs and pieces of carapace a noxious green glow emanated. On its right arm a mechanism allowed for a broad bladed weapon to spring forth, crafted to its forearm, wrist and elbow. 

"What the fuck is that thing?" Abby whispered, not daring to take his eyes off the golem. His question reflected all of their thoughts, but was directed to their guide.

Skhost almost savored the moment of silence before he directed their attention to the box beside him. It appeared to be some sort of console, with impressions carved into the face of it, and a tray of wooden shapes. 

"All you must do is place the objects in the appropriate hole before the Shapewarden kills you."

As if explaining began the timer, the Shapewarden came to life. The sound of a blade being dragged against a whetstone rang out, the wrist-blade on the golem coming to life.

"Okay. You do thing, I fight," Emmy said with confidence. She drew her sword and stalked forward, intersecting between the golem and her allies. 

Abby, entrusting Jean to the task of sorting simple shapes, patted the corvid's shoulder and broke off to help Emmy. Already the warrioress and the mechanical terror were crossing blades. Sparks flashed against the floor as Emmy put her strength into deflecting a blow. The Shapewarden moved with such ease, and gave no hint of emotion from its metal mask of a visage. His disposition combined with how much power it could apply unsettled both canines.

Emmy tried, not consciously but through intuition, to find a point along the Shapewarden's blade she could leverage. Perhaps it was the brace, the golem's strength, or her own weapon's lack of reach, but she simply couldn't. It was all she could do to absorb a blow, between the ringing impact and the recovery she scarcely could form a reply. 

As her wizard friend got closer, the golem's attention drifted, and there Emmy found an opening. The Shapewarden's head turned slightly, its glowing eyes settling over Abby. Emmy claimed the chance Abby had given her and swung her blade high. Her edge caught the golem right on its metallic collar, digging her blade into the material. Her arms vibrated from the impact's reverberation, rolling up her shoulders and rattling her skull. 

For all her effort, for all her strength, naught but a small chip had been made in the golem's neck. Swift as such a hulk could move, it slashed but missed Abby and swatted at Emmy. A heavy iron forearm collided with her torso, sending her sprawling onto the floor with all the air crushed from her lungs. Abby didn't have time to make his fear for her known verbally, instinct taking control and driving him to do something to divert the golem's attention from her vulnerable state.

With a flickering ignition at the tips of his fingers, Abby bathed the iron golem's upper body in arcane flame hot enough to slag metal. He held the fire spray as long as he could, turning with the golem as it tried to avoid him. When his concentration petered, and energies dimmed, the Shapewarden revealed it had no reaction. Its face glowed a blistering red-orange, the air around its head distorted from the heat. Nothing was harmed though. In fact, upon closer inspection, it seemed to Abby the golem had used his energy to mend itself somehow. On its collar, where Emmy had left her mark, was nothing but burnished perfection.

"Abby! Abby!" Jean called out. His voice was burdened with confusion, repeating himself in a stutter brought about by an overwrought brain.

The collie made sure he left only when Emmy was on her footpaws and gave the okay signal. Manipulation of fire was his strongest suit, and if it was useless against this thing, he was only a liability.

Like a pit fighter struggling against a counting referee, Emmy rose back to a straight posture. She didn't know if she had broken ribs. Or really what ribs were aside from delicious food. She did know this Shapewarden was beyond her ability to harm. But, all the wolfess needed to do was keep its attention. She hunched herself low, entering a prowl just like a feral beast might. The blade itself couldn't be leveraged, but perhaps its mechanism could be disrupted.

Emmy flitted around the Shapewarden like a butterfly inspecting a field of flowers. She was at its side one moment, then diving between its legs another! Occasionally she brought her blade to bear against the iron hide of the golem, to little effect. Meanwhile, the Shapewarden swung its arms, kicked its legs, and quartered the air with its blade. The closest it ever got to Emmy, though, was shearing off a few hairs from her ear. 

The backdrop of clangs and grinding metal to stone didn't provide the best soundscape for thoughtful consideration. Abby's large ears twitched and flicked in the direction of the fighting, even as his eyes narrowed on the puzzle before him. "What is the problem?" He insisted.

Jean, imploring him with his expression, explained with action instead of words. From the tray, the vulture picked up an arch shaped wooden block. A child's toy. A foolish little carving. He then, naturally, pressed it into the impression matching that shape. Abby, with his lips parted just slightly in disbelief that Jean was showing him this, shifted from believing his companion was an incompetent to understanding what the problem was.

Jean shoved the arch block into the arch hole. And instead of disappearing into the dark, it promptly spat back out at him with haste. 

"Nearly done?" Emmy shouted toward them, diving into a tight roll to avoid being cleaved in twain.

"Y-yes! A moment more, please!" Abby called back. 

He snatched the arch from Jean, and shoved it into its supposed home. Fwoomp. It shot back out at his chest. 

"Pray, do you see the issue?" 

Abby adjusted his glasses, rubbing a thumb over the smooth arch block. "I think so." 

He looked over what was in play. Blocks in the shapes of a square, cylinder, triangle, thin rectangle and semi-circle lay in a tray beside a line of homes matching those shapes. It was a child's toy, he'd seen them before and likely even played with one as a pup.

"Did you try others?" Abby asked, diving to explore it himself so as to not waste time.

Cylinder within the circle hole. Fwoomp. Shot right back at his chest.

Jean followed suit. Rectangle within the rectangle slot. No luck.

"Perhaps there is some correct order?" 

Jean looked around, passing his eyes over the beleaguered Emmy, searching the room for clues. "That's an idea." Jean's eyes met Skhost's, whose expression reflected some diabolic enjoyment at their suffering. The vulture had half a mind to smack him out of the air, but didn't give the mimir the pleasure.

Abby already began experimenting. From the left to right, one after the other. Cylinder to cylinder. WRONG. Arch to arch. WRONG.

Square to square. Gone. The wooden block was accepted.

"Got one!" He gleefully shouted.

Jean's head whipped back around, finding nothing among the same boring grey stones that had made every room. "What did you do?"

"Put the square one in the square spot. And it disappeared!"

Jean's eyes gleamed. "Alright, there must be some sort of order to it then."

"Well, let's try left to right again I suppose!" 

Cylinder to cylinder. WRONG. 

Emmy nimbly saved herself from becoming deceased by keeping her body close to the Shapewarden's left thigh, finding safety in a dead zone. It was only a moment's reprieve. A moment to glance sidelong at her companions and wonder what in damnation they were doing.

Arch to arch. WRONG. Triangle to triangle. WRONG. 

The golem swung down with such fury and force it cracked the stone bricks of the floor and sent chips flying. But the blade didn’t fall before Emmy had leapt to the side and avoided it connecting with her shoulder. Her half-hearted riposte to its midsection glanced off, and she wondered just how much she was blunting her blade. 

Rectangle to rectangle. WRONG.

Jean and Abby placed the hemi-sphere into the slot. Both of them, silently, reflected on their terrible luck that the next object in the sequence happened to be the final shape in the row. But now it would go faster. 

Fwoomp.

They were stunned. All of their cognition having already accepted the hemi-sphere would have disappeared into the console. Only to have it rebuffed back at them.

"Oh my fuck," Abby said under his breath, sweat accumulating at his brow. 

"What is going on?" Emmy said with impatient concern and more than a sliver of panic. She was beginning to tire, and the golem was losing interest in her and moving closer to Abby and Jean with each clash of blades.

Neither of them had an answer for her.

"We'll concentrate on the golem, take it down, and solve this sequence," Jean offered. 

Abby accepted, conjuring up his arcane might and inhaling deeply. All four of them were joined in battle then. Emmy's exhausted body became sluggish now that she wasn't on the razor's edge. With Jean and Abby alongside her, the golem had a lot more to handle. Both of them had fresh reserves of stamina, and their antics gave her some respite.

Unfortunately, no matter of mystical frost iced the golem up enough. And Jean didn't even consider his rapier's point being able to pierce the golem. Instead the turkey vulture dedicated himself to running interference for the other two. Abby couldn't help but feel a little inadequate, first stumped by a child's puzzle and now watching all his great magical tricks fizzle out against the golem.

Emmy, with her calves and shoulders burning and battered torso aching, slinked from direct combat for a moment to breathe. Skhost bobbed around her head, observing her as she winced and leaned upon the console. She held her left elbow close to her wounded side, the pressure alleviating a bit of the pain and making her feel more secure.

"Will you try the game now?" Skhost asked, dully.

Her eyes, winced shut in pain, moved between his ruby reds, and the tray of shapes. Blocks of some kind?

She leaned her sword against the console, picking up a block instead. She sniffed it. Some kind of wood she didn't know the smell of. She chewed it. Some kind of wood she didn't know the taste of. It was in the shape of a bridge from the side, long on either end with a swoop in the middle. There was another block, like a circle cut in half. 

The swoop part and the half-circle were the same, kind of. She jammed the two together. They fit nicely. She bit it. Didn't taste familiar. Hmm. The surfaces of the wood were so finely sanded that the two pieces slipped against each other if she applied pressure. That was fun, but not the solution.

She shoved the combined objects into one of the holes. And as her palm jammed it in, it disappeared. That's good. For some reason, she noticed, Skhost's jaw was unhinged and hanging open. 

Emmy picked up the tube shape. Chew and sniff tests yielded no results. So she shoved it into one of the holes. She missed at first and had to force it in at an angle. It disappeared.

The triangle was a tricky one too, it didn't want to go in. So she really punched it in. As she did, she watched closely and chuckled. That was the trick! There was a proper angle to these things, she noticed, for the triangle had popped smoothly into the hole once corrected with a strike. This was difficult!

Emmy, enlightened now to this crafty game's tricks, stuffed both the cylinder and rectangle into the hole with far more ease. And then, just as she found herself bouncing giddily from side to side, she heard the golem screech to a halt.

The Shapewarden's metal limbs grinded to a still position, its weapon dangling over Abby, who was sprawled on the floor with only his crossed arms to defend him. The Shapewarden's retracting blade cycled back into its sheath, and it stepped over its would-be prey to take up vigil where they had originally found it. The collie squeaked a groan of relief, and he fell limp against the floor, the sweet mercy of providential timing having spared him. 

Jean, who was likewise crumpled on the floor, held his head with one hand and got to his feet. He limped over to Abby, tugging the collie to rightness and looking over to Emmy with more anger than appreciation.

"How?" He spat, simmering so bad his feathers were fluffed out in a rage.

"Put the things in the hole!" She beamed with pride, pointing a clawed digit at the square hole.

They all fit in the square hole...

CHAPTER 6 - Sphinx

First in surprise, Abby sucked in past his teeth. Then, Jean through his beak. Finally, when she noticed, Emmy commented.

"Wow! Big tits."

Opposing them, in this room, was a great sphinx. The form of a lioness' body, wiry muscular legs and a short coat, with the face of a human woman. Two colorful wings of green, blue and yellow spread from her back. Their small size compared to her body betrayed their inability to grant her flight.

Weighing her down, and a magnet for wandering eyes, her mammoth tits defied the sleek feral body beneath them. They looked peculiarly like two massive pillows. A deep purple tone distinguished the nipples from her otherwise tawny skin. On a normal body that purple might be cause for concern, but the warmth and fullness of her breasts dispersed any worries. 

She laid with her forepaws crossed, resting her boobs upon them. The taupe tone of pelt traveled up from her paws to roughly her biceps. The pelt gave way to bare skin about her shoulders, adding to the confusion and making the strange form even odder. 

"Thank you, they are big aren't they?" The sphinx’s voice was as bewitchingly mellifluous as her body was confoundingly alluring.

"Are they part of the challenge?" The genuine twinkle in Abby's eyes gave the sphinx quite a bit of joy.

She looked down at her chest, brushing off the fluff of a fallen feather from her cleavage with one paw. "No. They're immaterial when it comes to my riddle."

"Don't look too down," Jean elbowed the collie once he noticed his companion's frown. "You can still stare."

The sphinx turned a forepaw towards herself, examining the sharp nails. Each one was double the length of Jean's beak and four times as sharp. She looked quite bored all together, reclining there in her nakedness.

"What is your riddle, my lady?" Abby stepped closer a few paces. He looked especially small compared to her. 

The tuft of feathers in her hair ruffled, and the languid black sclera of her eyes deepened its darkness and caused the white irises to glow. 

"What walks on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon, and three legs in the evening?"

"Oh!" Abby once more immediately perked up. 

Jean let him answer, also instantly aware of the correct reply. He turned with no particular interest to take a look at Skhost in anticipation for whatever the next instructions would be.

"A man. The passage of the day is, nyeheh, a representation of the passage of time, of course! As a child or cub, we crawl on all fours like a beast!" Abby's theatrical vocals joined with his pacing and gesticulating to really sell just how fully he understood this child's riddle. 

Emmy appeared to be listening closely, or zoning out. It was hard to tell given her blank and open-mouthed expression. The sphinx however was clearly disinterested. Her cheeks were raised in the most polite display of a sneer. And no wonder, she's heard this recitation a thousand times.

"In our prime we walk along two legs. And at sundown, the eve of our lives, we walk with a cane. This is the third leg, nyehe, ahem. Sometimes used as a euphemism for—"

"Wrong!" The sphinx declared. Her denial of his attempt cut through him with such vigor it could have knocked him on his ass if it were any more potent.

"Wrong?" 

"Wrong. You may no longer guess."

"You won't eat me?"

She squinted at him, her feathers flaring a bit to really sell her suspicion. "No. None of you die unless you all fail to answer."

"How is that wrong? That is the answer," Jean protested, though not against the sphinx. He had the assumption she'd not shed any light on it.

Skhost jounced and did a loop around the vulture's head, truly just to irritate him. If the mimir weren't on fire he'd have swatted at him like crushing a fly. "Did she ask for the right answer? Has anything been its surface appearance here?"

Abby looked to his avian companion pleadingly, shrugging. Jean shared his confusion. Emmy would be no help in this game outside of offering another try. She couldn't cut a riddle in two or bite into its jugular, but she did give them another guess.

"What happens if we all fail to answer right?"

Though the question was levied at Skhost, the great hybrid answered instead. "I can offer you a battle you have no hope of winning. Rather an anticlimax after all you've endured." The dryness of her claim, given with no emotion beyond mild distaste, rattled Abby and Jean.

Emmy scratched her cheek. "Hmm. Crawling morning."

"Our finest mind is on the case," Jean said coldly. He convened with Abby, drawing close to him while Emmy considered the sphinx as she thought. "The direct textbook answer is out."

Abby in turn, threw a question over Jean's shoulder to the floating skull. "What exactly is the game here?"

"Entertain her riddle."

"Entertain her riddle," Emmy repeated. "Make the riddle laugh?"

"I don't think that's it, Em."

"It isn't man in general. Perhaps not man at all."

"No men."

"Right, my, my. I'm sorry. I've heard the riddle a hundred times, I answered too hastily."

Jean shook his head. "I was confident that was going to secure us passage, or else I'd have stopped you."

"Seen bugs in the morning. Sometimes bugs have four legs, right?"

"But do they have two, or three legs?"

"Ripped off, yes. Normal? Don't think so."

"Then bugs are out."

"No bugs."

"What crawls and then stands?"

"I've seen a hound trained to stand on his hindlegs and beg for scraps," Abby offered.

"Can do that too," Emmy didn't clarify if she meant stand up straight or beg for scraps. Seeing as they had clearly and currently all been standing on two legs, it wasn't much of a feat worth mentioning. 

"What if it is three different items, but they're all associated?" Abby adjusted his glasses, the nearly inaudible clack of his frames and lenses accompanying his thoughtful look to Jean. 

"It's a possibility." Jean was too busy watching Emmy do... something to give Abby a glance.

Emmy had unsheathed her sword, but not in a mad dash to cut a bloody swathe through the riddle. She had it pointed down, dragging it. The awful grind of the steel to stone roused everyone's attention immediately.

"Got it!" She exclaimed, and bounded before the sphinx before her companions could stop her. "Answer: me."

The riddler's face became alight with engagement. Emmy wasn't immediately disqualified. The gears began turning in Jean's head, and he watched closely.

"Sometimes in the morning, if real tired or had a lot of ale, crawl from bed." Emmy pantomimed the act, dropping her sword and crawling on all fours.

The sphinx nodded, encouraging the wolfess.

"Okay, so during the day, like to walk around the city and look at things." She puffed out her chest and made a real show of stomping around. "Walking is good, and do it with two legs."

Now the sphinx became a little more withdrawn. Was Emmy losing her attention? The riddle wasn't entertained enough? Is that it?

"Uhh. Right. At night, the eve. Sometimes real tired, yeah?" Emmy tilted her head theatrically, encouraging the sphinx to reply but receiving no affirmation. "When tired, hard to lift swords!"

The warrior reclaimed her blade from the floor. "Ugh," she slouched over, dragging the blade around. "Now walking back home with it, three legs, yeah? Sword leg? Then go back home for crawling again."

The hybrid beast, several times Emmy's superior in size and intellect both, exhaled heavily. Her chest deflating coincided with Jean's hopes deflating, bracing himself to see their spare guess wasted.

"Close, pup. But I would scarcely call a sword a third leg. Wrong."

Emmy frowned, despondent. She was sluggish to replace her sword in its sheath. 

"Take heart, I loved your enthusiasm," the sphinx said, succeeding in returning a smile to the wolfess' face. 

A small comfort that would be, if Jean screwed up. Suddenly his shoulders felt a lot heavier. He had all three of their lives to carry. Answer incorrectly, and that was it. He clenched his hand, feeling his nails dig into his palm as he thought and thought. The vulture couldn't damn Emmy, she was wrong, but she gave him a lot to reflect on.

"We're doomed," Abby slumped into a sitting position on the floor, morale shattered.

Jean couldn't distract himself with such things. He needed to focus, and consider. Right in front of him but very distant, he hazily saw Emmy pat Abby's shoulders to console him. He was staring, but deep in the habitat of his mindscape.

Abelard's direct answer was wrong. And the sphinx looked repulsed by it even. Emmy had brought a smile to her face, entertained her riddle, but what was missing? Consistency? Some sort of internal logic? Emmy was the furthest thing from logic. And her third-leg solution had been faulty. 

Jean thought and thought again, reciting his whole answer to himself. His tongue began to dry in his beak and he thought to wet his whistle with a sip of water. He was their last guess. The last try to overcome the sphinx's puzzle.

"A lecherous drunkard!" He exclaimed.

The sphinx's eyebrow perked up, and her head inclined toward him. She was listening.

"A lecherous drunkard crawls from bed, unable to stand with the pounding headache of his hangover. By noon he's upright, roused by hot coffee or perhaps some hair of the dog. He's already wondering how to bilk booze from friendships long since stretched to their limits."

The sphinx tapped a claw to the floor, the ticking sound hanging over his head like an executioner's axe. But, she was still listening!

"By evening, he's loaded again." Jean inhaled, the whistle of air passing through his dry beak and down his throat audibly announcing how much he'd have savored a stiff drink. "He's loaded and he's looking to leverage the only thing liable to get a drunk the company of a woman. A third leg, hung like a horse, and praying the whiskey hasn't taken his vigor."

The sphinx thought a moment, and smiled. She brought her paws together and clapped. The sound was soft and padded by her paw pillows, music to Jean's ears. "You pass."

"Woo!" Emmy belted out with a leap, throwing a punch up at the sky. "Good job!"

The door opened, but the sphinx remained. The three of them almost expected her to turn into a ball of clay or puddle of goo. 

Emmy debated the merits of the new passage forward and the sphinx's chest. "Can have a little squeeze?"

The sphinx concealed her smile as quickly as it appeared. She rolled her eyes playfully, and retaining her recumbent position, straightened out her chest. Lifted from her paws some, a clearer offer of approval could only be made verbally. The wolfess wasted no time, her semi-feral speed bringing her within groping distance in a flash. She dug her claws into the squishy and cushiony bare mounds of the sphinx. With a final cheeky pinch of a nipple, she gave a silent thanks with a bob of her head and departed.

Next in line, Abby struck her with puppy eyes. A less patient expression told him to get his feel in quick. Jean wondered how much that look had to do with making her endure another repeat of the riddle's classical answer. The runt of a mage grasped at both tits and hugged them, pressing himself to the middle of her cleavage until she 'politely' pushed him away with a paw that covered both his head and chest fully.

Jean was left, and though he had no part of him denying just how juicy those funbags were, he wasn't leaping to go next. His two companions had disappeared into the next room. Perhaps it was best to just carry on.

"Well?" The sphinx propositioned. "You of all are most deserving of a little squeeze." She smiled warmly at him, even shaking her chest to entice him. There was more than a spot of humor to it, almost nudging out the erotic entirely with how casual she was.

The curious turkey vulture couldn't deny such a blatant invitation. 

CHAPTER 7 - Reward

Abby, never at a loss for words to blab, could only manage three upon seeing the treasure room. "Oh my stars."

"Forget your stars! Heavens praise the madman who crafted this awful box for stuffing it with such treasure." Jean could feel a tremble enter his limbs, as if all his life's problems had just been solved. A great tightness had just been released, mortal danger giving way to the path to mortal pleasure. He spun to face Skhost. "If you weren't on fire I'd kiss you."

"I have no lips."

"It's fine, neither do I."

Emmy picked up a coin, flipped it with her thumb and caught it between her teeth. Her fangs dug a shallow cut to the material. Just as it should have. "Tastes real!" She spit the coin back to the pile, knocking over a tower of stacked coins and delighting in the clinking of dozens of golden disks.

The little pile she disturbed was just one of hundreds. The room was aglow with white, a calming and joyous change from the drabber blues of the challenges. It was a more compact area, but sensibly so for such a vault. Two tables flanked the ornate seal in the middle. They were wonderful ornaments of pure marble, beaming white and stacked with all manner of riches.

Coins from kingdoms and mints long since forgotten to history were stacked up in piles, loaded into handheld chests, scattered on the floor, and spilling from bags. Some appeared as pure, solid gold. Not the gold-ringed copper of Tappahannock or the plated slivers from Jean's home. Others were stamped in silver, depicting faces not even the well-read Abby could identify. As Jean ran his talons over them he noticed some were worn as if they'd been in circulation and used, and others looked freshly struck.

Precious stones hid amongst the coins like mountweazels, poking their heads over piles or arranged among them as eggs resting in a nest. Gems the size of Abby's fist, trimmed to perfection, reflected the arcane light bathing the room. He wasn't a geologist, but he knew some of them. 

Wine topaz with a firm, oblong oval lifted by dozens of trilliants seemed to shimmer with a fireplace's light when brought to the eye. Perhaps it was his pyromania, but another gem made his heart leap with visions of wildfires. It was an opal, no bigger than his thumb's pad, that seemed to flicker with a blazing plain atop a pearly-white sky. He took it and rubbed it between his fingers, warming the cool surface. Emeralds, rubies, sapphires, zircons. He could fill a bath with them all!

Emmy scooped up coins in great fistfuls and shoveled them into her sabretache or tossed them down her shirt. She didn't stop to count or regard them, but she did look forward to doing that later. It was then, bending over to grasp some more, that she found a swatch of cloth. She tugged it up, realizing how delicate it was a little too late.

It revealed itself to be a waist cape. Wonderful reds unfaded by the passage of time dominated, with dashes of white traced along the edges, occasionally broken up by circles. Blue chevrons provided the home for an insignia of a double-headed great heron. It was soft and frayed along some edges, chipped with age. Most notably, a ragged triplet of claw marks had been dragged across the middle of the ornament, and blood from either the owner or his foe splattered the lower half. 

Emmy rubbed her thumbs to the soft fabric, thinking how much it felt like a comforting blanket. Instead of discomfort, the marks of battle and blood filled her with reverence. Her mind flashed with ancient, imagined battles, of mighty heroes and dark villains clashing arms, and immortal victory.

"Emmy! Where did you find that?" Abby declared.

"Floor!"

"I believe," he adjusted his glasses. "It's one of the marks of the Ardea Vanguard. Uhh, a, uhm. Believe it was a republic of colossal herons. All extinct now. A piece of history you have there, Emmy. Jean, did you see this?" 

"Hm," he replied absent-mindedly. The turkey vulture had been captivated with something else. A signet ring, he assumed, given the emblem. In embossed black zirconium a falling vulture was depicted. What struck him from the sky wasn't clear, though why fate decided to strike Jean from the air wasn't clear either. The band itself wasn't a singular smelt of silver. It was in fact twelve thin rings, hammered and shaped into a variety of angles. They had been woven together into an infinity knot design which held the house sigil in the center. 

When he brushed his thumb over the seal, Jean felt the urge to put pen to parchment. Perhaps to write himself a history that didn't involve being driven from his home. Something about the ring kept his eyes on it, and made his chest heavy with determination. He'd forgotten all about the gold for a second. Until the glint caught his eye, and the zeal of using that wealth to fuel his life took his fantasy to flight.

"Now! Imagine you want to nap!" Abby said, fists clenched in excitement. 

The snap of fabric dragged Jean back in reality. Just in time to watch an overjoyed Emmy giving the waist cape another flick of the wrist, causing it to sigh into a full size quilt which pooled about her footpaws.

From nothing, the thick quilt poured from the original fabric. Densely padded diamonds warm enough to keep away any winter chill broke up the quilt's surface. The myriad of dyes made the blanket a blur until Emmy began to straighten it out. Wonderful yellow sunrises, heroic charges, shadowed spear tips, snarling beasts. The entire thing was a tapestry of some historical conquest. Still, staining one corner, the ragged claw mark and blood splotches. Not that she cared.

"Nap time?" Emmy tilted her head, as if the weight of imagined sleepiness was tugging down one of her floppy ears.

Abby chuckled and slapped her back. "No, we still need to haul this all out!" 

She beamed a smile, rubbing the quilt to her cheek before striking it back to the short waist cape. 

"Do you know anything about this, Abby?" Jean asked, holding out his hand. He'd placed the ring on one of his talons already, it felt a perfect fit.

The collie adjusted his glasses, and Jean hoped he'd find a pair in this vault that didn't constantly threaten to slip off his muzzle. He held Jean's hand in his, and toyed with the ring a little, but his expression wasn't assuring.

"Not a thing, it's a sort of signet ring I'd guess. He's got a short beak like you do, hm?" Abby tapped the symbol.

"What's that?" Jean asked, pointing to the feather jutting out from Abby's belt pouch. Like a miniature pennon, it appeared to be a peacock feather. Except the eye was a wonderful white, and the body an inky black.

The fire-tamer was happy to show off his token. It was a quill! Instead of a keratin rachis, some sort of dulled, blot-stained metal formed the nib and stem. Although messy with dried ink, Jean could detect just how intricate the delicate carvings on it were. Claws holding small gems, sullied with stains, traveled up to the figure wrapped around the item, a dragon. 

Unblinded by riches now that she had a bit of cloth, Emmy turned to look for Skhost, and waved at him to get his attention. "Exit?"

"Of course."

He opened a tight passage for them, little more than their shoulder's length. It took a sharp turn, and led down into the darkness, before another turn fed into the entrance which had sealed them in. It was with a particular satisfaction that all three planned and set to action a wonderful chain of transportation. Items were organized, treasure loaded into the chests and bags provided, and hauled. 

Not one of them had ever felt more pep when carrying such heavy burdens. Emmy, of course, carried the most and the fastest. Abby and Jean were no slouches though, ever behind her with just a little less. The trio realized not all of the loot could be carried out so neatly. Plans to bury the treasure to gather it later were hastily spoken of.

Amusement came when they considered drafting up a treasure map. Not one of them had a notion or consideration of greed, there was so much to go around only a fool would bother stealing more than their share. 

The looters hauled in sections. From the vault room, down to half way. Then, from halfway to the entrance. The light was dim in the entryway, the double doors splayed open and allowed a cherry red sunset to stretch a few fingers into the gully. The natural light appeared to cause the magical light to wane, and the three of them relied on Skhost for extra visibility as they worked.

Emmy, wiped her forehead and leaned against the door for a break. From her belt she unlatched her canteen and brought it to her lips. She entertained herself by staring at the flaming skull while drinking in needy gulps. 

A little bit sloshed back down when she was done, exhaling. "Water?"

The skull shook his head. No need apparently. 

"Coming with?" She smiled at him, and then gestured to the outside with a tilt of her head.

His bones couldn't emote well, but his ruby eyes betrayed some surprise. "I cannot."

"Why?"

"I am bound to remain at this place."

Jean set down a chest that rattled sweetly with the coins within. "Even if the vault is empty?"

"Even then."

The vulture made a sigh, but he could hardly bring himself to care about the skull's fate. Emmy looked a little disappointed, but didn't press the issue. After a respite, they redoubled their efforts. This time the final stretch was out of the tomb and to the gulley wall. Haste was made, all of them wanting to get it done before nightfall. Once the final trip was made, and Abby crossed the threshold with a sack of gems in his grip, the doors sealed shut behind them for good. 

"What about up the wall?" She asked her two companions, pointing to their climbing gear.

Abby and Jean communed, pondering a solution. They decided to rig a pulley with a nearby tree as a brace. Emmy helped Abby on the upward climb, and the others assured him he'd not have to go back down again, which he was very pleased about. In the fast fading light they made a sturdy pulley safe enough to carry Emmy and a chest both. If it could hold her weight, it could hold Jeans too, but the two males decided they'd both need to be on the top to hoist her up.

Try as they might, there was no way to get it all up before the moon rose. Abby made a magelight to keep everything visible, and they resigned themselves to camping out. 

Emmy found herself forgoing her bedroll, as her new quilt kept her warm and soft and then some. For all the work she’d put in that day, she was asleep the very second her eyes closed.

Abby was too excited to write much, but put his new quill to use in his journal and discovered with embarrassed elation it was an enchanted auto-quill! He kept it to himself that he didn’t detect its magic sooner.

Jean kept to himself apart from the others, reclining on a bed of chests and sacks of gold. Hardly comfortable but too amusing to not do once. As he drifted to sleep, running his talons over his ring, he felt a wonderful sort of gratitude and contentment. The sort only sleeping on a pile of gold coins could bring...

He awoke to a scream. Bloodcurdling and shocking him to rise from his bed. He tumbled out from his resting spot, tripping over his blanket and reaching for his rapier. Brigands! Murderers come for their treasure!

But there was no villain besieging their camp. It was just Abby, wailing in a pile of lead disks and bumpy rocks. He was running his hands through them, flipping them over and searching the pile for something. It took Jean more than a moment to comprehend what he was doing.

Emmy, meanwhile, wrapped in her quilt, didn't have a clue. She pat Abby on the shoulder gently to console him but really didn't get why he was in tears. Jean kicked open one of the chests he'd slept on. The top flipped open with a squeal of its hinges and clap of its latch.

No glimmer. No glitter.

Hunks of worthless, grubby lead. Jean felt himself begin to vibrate with anger. What of the gemstones? He dove in, searching them out and wrapping his claws around one. He yanked it free, an outpouring of 'coins' rattling to the grass. Nothing but a damn grey stone. 

He turned, and chucked it into the gully, letting free such a string of curses and expletives that birds went flying. He hefted up a chest and tossed the whole thing overhand, sending it crashing into the puddle below. It exploded into splinters and clattering disks. The ruckus ceased Abby's crying. Skhost could surely hear the commotion even within his rocky tomb. And when Jean’s lungs burned and throat tasted of blood he finally stopped his damnation of that crock of shit mausoleum and its cock-sucking floating cranium overseer.

Jean brushed back the flared up feathers on his forehead, trying to settle his heart rate. He felt he still had that ring on his finger. Emmy still had her blanket. And Abby his quill. And, they all had their lives.