Whoop de doo! Ready for next chapter of "Medieval Cohesion"? You got it. Wesley has decided to follow his friends into the dark crypt, despite that he feels extremely insecure, about tresspassing on sacred soil. But why on earth would Gary lead them into a dark crypt at the cemetary, offering them no escape from Jibanon? It will all be revealed today, in chapter 48, so read on and find out!

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Chapter 48 - Grave danger

My footsteps echoed throughout the dark catacombs, as I descended the stony staircase, leading directly underground. I was treading very carefully, because without a light source, my eyesight was greatly reduced. The staircase was in a terrible shape, so it required much concentration to avoid tripping down the slippery steps. It was frighteningly cold in here, but I convinced myself that it was just my fear, causing me to shiver uncontrollably. Or perhaps the loss of blood was finally getting to me. The nausea was still lingering inside me, making it feel like my throat was swollen. Descending the staircase in this condition was a living nightmare. At the very least, it comforted me to a certain extend, that I was finally sheltered from the rain. My body was still soaked to the point, where I could feel the wet padded leather underneath my armor, sticking to my torso in a very uncomfortable manner. The silence was downright disturbing. Even when holding my breath, I couldn't hear Raksasha or Gary at all. It was tempting to shout out for them, but I just couldn't find the courage. This creepy place was really playing tricks on my wild imagination. As I approached the catacombs, a sinister smell met my nostrils. It was the horrible stench of death and decay. I was convinced that I should be grateful, that it was too dark for me to see anything. The only thing that could be heard, was the sound of water dripping from the ceiling somewhere in the catacombs. The rain must've found a way to leak into the tunnels, from the moist earth above. In the end, I finally made my way to the bottom of the staircase, feeling my foot standing on flat and solid ground. From that point, my only choice available was to advance forward into the crypt.

Once having entered the dark catacombs, with no idea what was around me, my body suddenly weakened greatly. A powerful jolt of pain passed through my chest, forcing a groan out of my mouth. It seemed like my remaining time was about to expire. Having located the wall with my hand, I leaned against it for support, but it didn't take long before even my legs had to give up. Collapsing onto the ground, I was sitting on the floor, leaning weakly against the wall. Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult. There was no further time to waste - that knife had to be removed, here and now. I raised my hand and grabbed onto the hilt of the knife, clenching my fist around it. Then I inhaled deeply before pulling the serrated knife out of my chest, extremely slow, to minimize the damage done to my inner organs. It was dangerously close to my heart, so jerking it around carelessly, could lead to my own demise. The pain was absolutely excruciating, and every tooth of the knife being pulled out, felt like a victory in itself. When the bloodstained knife finally slipped out of my chest, I immediately tossed it down the tunnel, wanting it far away from me. The metallic noise released a loud echo, that lingered in the crypt for a few seconds, before it once again became completely silent. I leaned my head back against the wall, exhaling deeply in relief. But maybe it was already too late. My eyes slowly closed, and I passed out. It felt like my brain was just switching off.

I have no idea how long I was unconscious. But later on, my eyes once again opened, leaving me surprised that I wasn't dead. When my vision stopped flickering, I gazed directly into the face of Gary, having his face partly hidden by the hood. He was holding a torch in his left hand, that he had probably lit himself. The flame emitted a gentle warmth, and now I could finally observe my surroundings. I had collapsed only a short distance away, from the staircase leading back out of the crypt, dangerously close to join the dead in their eternal slumber. It was really cold in here, but then again, that is what you should expect when heading underground. From my current position, I was able to peer into the open room across the corridor, noticing the edge of a stony sarcophagus located in the center. Judged by the fancy design, that thing clearly held the remains of someone important, that passed away long ago. As I turned my head to gaze further down the corridor, many more openings were located ahead, leading into similar rooms. It could be expected, that there would be a person buried in each room, unless some empty rooms were reserved for particular nobles that were still alive. The silence was disturbing. I couldn't even hear the rain above. After having been conscious for a short while, my injury suddenly came to mind, causing me to lower my sight towards my chest. By the looks of it, Gary had wrapped a piece of cloth around my torso, as an attempt to stop the bleeding. A red blotch had appeared on the piece of cloth, where the serrated knife used to be. It could keep me going for a while, but it wouldn't last forever. I was surviving on borrowed time. But at the very least, now the knife wouldn't cause any further damage to my organs.

Gary: It's great to see that you are still with us. But you should've left that knife alone for a bit longer. It prevented you from bleeding to death.
Wesley: I was growing weaker swiftly, and thought removing the knife would help. Where have you taken us, Gary?
Gary: This is the honorable family tomb of Duke Harlow, the man that brought democracy to Jibanon more than a century ago, and fell in battle during the uproar of rebels. This place houses the ancient secrets of his deeds, and becomes the final resting place for all his relatives.
Wesley: That is just weird. Democracy is a good thing. Who could possibly have anything against that?
Gary: Trust me, young one... when it comes to politics, it doesn't matter what subject you support. There will always be someone out there, who strongly disapprove of your suggestions. If you wish to succeed at politics, your blade must be as sharp as your tongue.
Wesley: Huh. Guess the old Duke Harlow wasn't up to the task then.

Gary suddenly sighed deeply and shook his head slowly, making me feel that I was missing out on something important at this topic. Then he carefully helped me up into a standing position, and shouldered me as we walked down through the corridor, past the many dark grave chambers. As my morbid curiosity lead me to peak into the chambers, where the remains of departed family members were kept, I noticed that valuable treasures and artifacts were placed close to the sarcophagus. Small chests full of sparkling gemstones, shiny accessories of pure gold and various trinkets molded in rich silver. These were clearly impressive gifts and offerings, that the family had left behind to honor the departed. It would truly have been beautiful, if only the relics weren't covered in thick layers of dust, and had been weaved into a sticky mess of cobweb. This proved, however, that the treasures had apparently been left untouched for ages. And taking into consideration that Gary knows of this place, I was surprised that the graves hadn't already been shamefully plundered. But before I was able to question this, the light from Gary's torch now revealed Raksasha by the end of the corridor, leaning up against the wall with her arms crossed. She was clearly growing impatient again. Once our eyes met, she just nodded wordlessly as a silent way to say, that she was glad I decided to join them. Right next to Raksasha, was a staircase leading up to what seemed like a dead end. Guess this marked the end of our escape. There was nowhere else to go. But from this perspective, I could see the lid of a sarcophagus in the room upstairs, clearly shaped to match the figure of the person buried in it. Could this be the remains of Duke Harlow himself? No, the shape of the lid indicated that the sarcophagus held the bodily remains of a female. Who ever it was, I could sense that this person was very closely related to Harlow, in one way or the other. Gary slowly released his grip on me, letting me walk on my own for a while, before stepping up to face the staircase ahead of us.

Gary: My footsteps haven't echoed through these catacombs for more than twelve years, and yet, everything is the exact way that I left it.
Wesley: You have obviously been here before, though I question the purpose connected with roaming about in a crypt. But be that as it may. Do you know who is buried in that sarcophagus up there?
Gary: That, young fox, would be the duchess Miranda Brockswurth. The faithful wife of Harlow Brockswurth, who suffered from a severe case of tuberculosis. She passed away in her bed, while Duke Harlow was send by ship to France, to negotiate an alliance with the king and his cardinal.
Wesley: Poor woman. That must've crushed Duke Harlow's heart.
Gary: Tragic, isn't it? Unfortunately, we'll need to disturb the sleeping beauty if we wish to continue. Raksasha! Lend me a hand, will you?
Raksasha: On my way.
Wesley: Wait, what!?

Without responding to my reaction, Raksasha and Gary descended the staircase, approaching the noble sarcophagus of Duchess Miranda. I really didn't like where this was going, but I followed them reluctantly. Gary and Raksasha placed themselves on the left side of the sarcophagus, before placing their hands on the dusty lid. And with their combined strength, they slowly pushed the stony lid off, until it crashed onto the floor on the other side. I was left completely speechless. Anger boiled in my heart, and I was dangerously close to protest against this sacrileges act. What could we possibly obtain, by desecrating the grave of such an unfortunate soul? Despite how repulsive this was, I couldn't resist the temptation of approaching the sarcophagus slowly, and peer into the grave. Once I was close enough to lean in over the sarcophagus, I prepared myself to have my nose tormented by a gruesome stench of death. But no, the expected foul odor never came. This corpse was so old, that the decomposition faded away long ago. All that remained, was the skeletal remains of a middle-aged woman, and tattered pieces of what used to be an elegant dress. There were only few long strands of hair remaining, attached to her completely exposed skull. Even for a woman of her age, she must've been gorgeous before her death. Her skeletal hands rested peacefully on what used to be her bosom, and it caught my attention that she wore an old wedding band on one of her fingers. This must've been given to her by Harlow himself, back when they became married. While I was observing the remains of Duchess Miranda, Gary suddenly leaned in over the sarcophagus himself, and reached down into the grave. His hand rummaged in the dark, until it found what seemed like a hidden lever. The lever was pulled, a strange clicking noise was heard inside the wall behind the sarcophagus, and the click was followed by a loud rumble. I turned towards the noise, and observed as the dirty wall slid aside very slowly, revealing a hidden chamber. Gary pulled his hand back out of the grave, having his glove covered with dust and web.

A hidden chamber within a crypt. I certainly didn't expect to see that. What could possibly be the point behind this? My curiosity pushed me to become the first of us that entered the hidden room, limping cautiously inside, letting my eyes roll to examine my surroundings. Gary and Raksasha followed me closely, but once we were all inside the hidden room, we went separate ways to make our exploration cover the entire area. There was a large wooden table in the middle of this room, and about a dozen wooden chairs scattered all over the place, all covered with cobweb and dirt. This place had clearly been deserted for ages. A small spider darted across the wooden table, and made its way across a large unfolded map, that someone must've left behind. A small dagger was stabbed into the map, standing up while the blade was stuck in the table's board, as if it pointed out a location of import. Rusty mugs were scattered around the table, and you could still see the faint indication of ale inside them. In the corner furthest away from the entrance, there were a couple of wooden barrels, that seemingly contained goods brought to Jibanon by sea. What was this eerie place? I can't imagine why anyone would hang out like this inside a crypt. My ear caught a loud creaking noise, as Gary had kneeled down to open a large chest, located close to the wall on the left side of the table. From what I could see, the chest was full of various types of weapons, all carrying a foreign design that I couldn't identify. Due to our lack of time, Gary searched the chest rather carelessly, throwing weapons over his shoulder to find the items kept at the bottom. A peculiar sword bounced on the floor, before sliding towards my feet. I slowly reached down, picked it up, and examined it closely. It's blade was long, thin and slightly curved. It seemed to possess a similarity with the scimitars worn by the bandits, that we encountered in the southern deserts, but a lot more delicate and fragile. Gary finally stood up, released a sigh, and then noticed me examining the sword.

Gary: That is called a "Shamshir", young fox. It's a graceful blade worn by warriors of Persia, light and suitable for swift attacks.
Wesley: It's not exactly what I am looking for. Did you find any other blades in that chest over there?
Gary: I'm sorry, this was the last blade we had in stock.
Wesley: Oh well, it's better than nothing. So now that we've made it this far, are you going to explain how you knew of this hidden chamber?
Gary: Several years ago, I used to be a member of "The Shady Ghosts", before the group was dissolved. It was basically a gang of outlaws, that earned a fortune on the black market, by smuggling illegal goods into Jibanon. What you see here, is the remains of our secret hideout.
Wesley: Good gracious, what a peculiar place to have a hideout.
Gary: Think about it, Wesley. Who would possibly search for a smuggler lair, inside a random crypt at the cemetery?
Wesley: Suppose you have a point. So how can it be, that this notorious group was dissolved? It sounds like you were making great profit.
Gary: We were. But the founder of our group, Albert Tuck, was captured and beheaded by the captain of the town guards. With no leader, there was no one left to pull the strings, and no one else had the skills to take his place. So every member abandoned the hideout, one by one.
Wesley: I see. But hey! If you guys smuggled goods into Jibanon through the graveyard... then you must have had an alternate way into this crypt from the outside. Am I correct?
Gary: Precisely, young fox. And that is exactly why I brought you here. Our secret entrance also works as an exit.
Wesley: Excellent! Did you hear that, Raksasha? We're getting out of...
Raksasha: Please, be silent! Did you guys hear that too?
Gary: What...?

We all remained silent for a moment and just listened. A couple of seconds passed by. I couldn't hear anything. It was completely quiet, just like you'd expect in a dark crypt. But just like we were about to conclude that nothing was amiss, we all heard an utmost chilling moan nearby. I was completely petrified by fear, and had to summon the courage to face the direction, where that disturbing sound came from. Something convinced me that it came from the sarcophagus, that we opened just a moment ago. But that's impossible. We all turned very slowly around and faced the entrance still left open. The sarcophagus was within our sight. Only a few moments later, a skeletal arm rose from the grave, stretching the bony fingers out. The old wedding band once again caught my attention. Both the skeletal hands grabbed the edge of the sarcophagus on each side for support, before the corpse of Duchess Miranda rose from the grave, leaving her in a sitting position. She turned her head and looked in our direction, revealing the unholy glow in her empty eye sockets. Without hesitation, Gary drew his dagger and Raksasha raised her large axe in preparation. None of us had any idea what was going on, but when the dead rise from their graves, calamity is bound to occur. Miranda slowly rose from her grave, releasing yet another haunting moan, with a feminine tone attached to it. What the heck was going on!?

Gary: Looks like a certain lady thought, that my earlier statement was meant literally. Prepare yourselves for the worst!
Raksasha: Wait, there is more! Listen...

While having positioned ourselves in a defensive stance, prepared to protect ourselves against the awakening dead, we heard a loud rumble that came from an unknown location within the crypt. Something was going on, on the other side of those walls. A few seconds went by, and then we heard an utmost intimidating noise, that sounded like heavy steel being dragged across the floor. We attempted to track down the noise, but it didn't seem to come from anywhere logical. All we could figure out, was that it was heading this way very slowly. My fist closed around the hilt of the eerie blade that Gary gave me, as it was the only weapon around, that I possessed the skill to use effectively. Although my shield was equipped on my left arm, I barely had the strength left to keep it raised. The following minute felt like an eternity. Something lethal was approaching, and we could all sense that it radiated powerful dark energy, that none of us were in condition to defend against. And it made me feel very vulnerable and helpless, to know that an enemy were so close, without being able to see it. But then all of a sudden, yet another secret passage was revealed, as the wall to the east slid aside. Judged by Gary's expression, this was a hidden door that not even he knew about. As we all turned to face the new open passage, our eyes fixed on a formidable adversary that made an entrance. It was a tall undead warrior, wearing a heavily rusted platemail, and a metallic helmet with noble wings attached to each side. A red glow sparkled in both his empty eye sockets. Somehow, I was not in doubt - this was no other, than Duke Harlow himself. His right hand was holding onto the hilt of a gigantic sword, with a disturbingly thick blade. He was clearly a strong and muscular warrior as a living being, but in this undead form, his strength was not sufficient to wield a blade of that size properly. Because of this, he was simply dragging the blade behind him, while moving slowly forward. But my intuition warned me, that his power should not be underestimated.

Gary: So that is where Duke Harlow himself was buried. Interesting.
Wesley: What, you didn't know?
Gary: Nope. His grave was kept hidden inside this tomb, with only his close relatives knowing about it's location. And I suspect that the hidden passage behind the wall, could only be opened from the other side.
Raksasha: Guys, he is coming this way! What should we do?
Gary: Wesley, stay back! Let Raksasha and I handle this one. You're in no condition to fight an enemy this powerful.
Wesley: Neither are you...
Gary: We're less injured than you. Here he comes!

Despite that I was against standing back, and letting the others handle this decisive battle, I obeyed Gary's order and attempted to stay out of harm's way. Even if we weren't wounded, this menace was completely out of our league. This walking corpse is greatly empowered, by the vast amounts of experiences, that Duke Harlow acquired in battle during his life. He was a veteran. Before the dreadful fight would occur, I was secretly contemplating what to do, if Gary and Raksasha were to be destroyed. If they couldn't defeat this undead warrior, then I certainly wouldn't stand a chance myself. And the injury would make it difficult for me to retreat. But even if there was a way for me to escape, I didn't even want to think about continuing this journey alone, especially not while being heavily wounded. Gary and Raksasha stood a few steps ahead of me, facing the slowly approaching walking corpse, preparing themselves for his deadly blows. It could happen any time now. I gulped nervously, while clinging onto the hilt of the Shamshir, barely feeling brave enough to inhale at this moment. The corpse of Harlow suddenly stopped no more than a few steps away from Gary and Raksasha, still holding onto the massive hilt of the oversized sword. Then he raised his free skeletal hand...very slowly. Raksasha and Gary took one step back, moving closer to me, raising their weapons even higher. They clearly expected that a devastating attack was on its way. His skeletal hand moved slowly upwards... and then he saluted us politely. Like a soldier acknowledging the presence of a fellow warrior. Raksasha, Gary and I looked at eachother, not sure how to react upon this unexpected gesture.

Wesley: Uhm... Should we salute back, and return the kindness?
Gary: Of course not, he’s our enemy!
Raksasha: I don’t know. Something isn’t right about this.
Gary: He is undead. All the restless undead must be destroyed.
Wesley: But he doesn’t seem... hostile.

During our confusion, Duke Harlow seized the opportunity to walk right past us, dragging the gigantic blade with him. The loud noise of metal grinding into the floor, disturbed our discussion and directed our attention back to our undead foe. We turned around and watched, as the walking corpse approached the exit, showing no interest in attacking us. The corpse of Miranda had seemingly disappeared, leaving her grave empty. A low rumbling noise was heard throughout the crypt, from the many graves that we passed by on our way. Lids were being pushed off the sarcophaguses from within, and within long, an unholy family reunion would apparently take place here. None of us expected this turn of event. But we had to decide our next move swiftly. Should we pursue these undead menaces and destroy them before they hit the town of Jibanon... or should we leave them be, and focus on our own escape?



Well, what would you faithful readers do? If you're interested in having an impact on the story's outcome, leave your answer in the comments below!