“Your legs were chopped off,” said Leonis, tone deadpan.
Scorio leaned back against the bier, bracing himself against the beveled edge. “It was just a little chopping off.” He saw them exchange looks once more, and forced himself to stand up straight, his legs still numb and prickling beneath the knees. “I’m fine. Look. They came at me like this.”
And he demonstrated each cut. The first scimitar had slashed down at an angle, forcing him to sidestep straight into the rapier-like blade that had stabbed him through the side.
“Second blade came in at about three feet above the ground, maybe a little higher,” said Scorio, tapping where he’d been wounded. “Then an ax cleaved through my shins at just about over a foot’s height.”
Lianshi frowned, visualizing the setup. “So if we sidestep the other direction, away from the second and third blades, we’ll be cut by the angle of the first.”
“Unless we dive and roll away beneath it,” said Leonis, moving to stand alongside Scorio. “The blade comes down like this, from high left to low right. If you step to the left, avoiding the strike, you get stabbed. So either you roll hard to the right, or perhaps dive forward?”
“Maybe if you hit the wall of light at a run,” said Scorio. “And went straight into a forward dive. Perhaps you could avoid the downward sweep that way.”
“You tell us,” said Leonis, turning to him. “You’re the one who saw the setup.”
For a few minutes, Scorio mimed the different options, trying to recall the exact speed and angle of the blade. Which to do? Down and to the side, or forward dive.
“Dive it is,” he said at last. “I don’t know how far the scimitar cleaves. It could flow all the way down or even follow us. Best bet is to go straight and get out of the trap altogether.”
They both nodded.
“This means we can expect two things,” said Lianshi. “The first is that each subsequent encounter will be tougher than what we faced in the original Gauntlet. Second is that the second room will hold some kind of melee combat against three foes.”
Scorio punched a fist into his other hand and grinned. “It’ll be fun not to hold back. To see what our Cinder-level bodies can do.”
“I’m going to remind you later that you said that,” said Lianshi.
“You guys ready?” Scorio stepped to the foot of his bier. “It’s still Amber. That means we’ve got the rest of the cycle and all of Second Bronze to train. Let’s not waste time.”
“Agreed,” said Lianshi, moving over to the closest bier.
“You’re both crazy,” said Leonis, wandering off and shaking his head. “See you both in there.”
Scorio swept Coal into the large crystal, and when it flared to life, he climbed onto the bier and lay flat.
Darkness swept in to carry him away once more, and a moment later he awoke in the tomb of hammered copper. It was exactly the same as before, the pale light filtering in from the rectangle above.
“Here we go,” he whispered and flipped up to a crouch. Drank deep of the ambient Coal, ignited his Heart, and leaped out once again, clearing the hole easily and landing on the balls of his feet.
To one side Leonis blew out of his own tomb, leaping so high that he was able to land fully standing, his full mane of hair hanging loose past his shoulders. Behind them, Lianshi leaped into sight, lithe and limber, her hair hanging free of its braid as well.
“Look at that,” said Leonis, voice soft with awe, taking in the huge chamber, the raw rock formations, the pale blade of white-hot gold.
“I see what you mean,” said Lianshi, stepping up to stand close to Scorio. “It has the air of neglect, of… some ancient force encroaching upon it.”
“I’ll go first,” said Leonis, moving toward the distant shaft of light.
“As you wish.” Scorio’s resolve was indomitable, but even so, he wasn’t eager to face the three blades. “Remember to leap straight and high.”
“You’ve got it,” rumbled Leonis, biting at the hem of his sleeve as he strode ahead and then tearing a strip of cloth from his robes. “Don’t worry about me.”
When they reached the great beam of pale light both Leonis and Lianshi had tied back their hair; for a long moment they simply stood there, squinting and drinking in the light’s terrible glory, and then Leonis clapped his hands loudly, taking a few steps back.
“Make room! Leonis the Golden King’s going in. Prepare yourself, oh Gauntlet, and tremble!”
And with a great, wordless cry of defiance, he ran right at the blade of light and dove into it.
“See you on the other side,” said Scorio, smiling sidelong at Lianshi, and then he ignited his Heart. Immediately welcome strength and warmth flooded through his frame. Feeling light on his feet and infinitely dangerous like some monstrous predator, he ran right at the light, picking up speed, his last steps broadening so that at the last he threw himself into a dive, forearms crossed before his face.
There was a flash of blinding light, and then he was diving through the air, the blade a flash to his left, passing beneath him even as he curled down to the ground and tucked his head, hitting the dirt smoothly and coming up onto his feet, Leonis catching hold of him before he could stagger forward, the large man’s face alight with joy.
Scorio allowed his Heart to die just as Lianshi sliced out of the wall, her form perfect, her grace liquid, diving high above the slashing scimitar with ease. She dropped into a natural roll and came up, all poise, chest heaving as she turned to stare at where her set of blades had materialized.
“Now that’s how it’s done!” roared Leonis, clasping each of them under one of his arms. “One chamber down!”
“A thousand more to go,” said Lianshi, a tentative smile appearing on her lips. “Well. The next room will no doubt prove more formidable. Are we ready?”
“Are we ever.” Leonis clapped his hands together again, rubbed them vigorously, then turned to face the rear wall where the large black door had appeared. “Let’s have at it.”
“Word of advice,” said Scorio, crossing the chamber with the others. “If we’ve the ability, let’s focus our attacks on one foe first. The quicker we drop one of the enemy, the sooner the odds will be in our favor.”
Both Lianshi and Leonis nodded.
They paused before the plain black door. Leonis pulled it open, revealing an equally black space behind it.
“Well, then.” He took a deep breath, held it, and glanced sidelong at either of them. “You both ready?”
“Ready,” said Scorio. “Let’s wait to ignite on the other side.”
“Agreed,” said Lianshi. “But saturate your Heart now. We don’t know what the mana situation will be.”
The three of them drank deep of the Coal around them, and when each was filled to bursting, Leonis squared his shoulders and stepped through the door.
Scorio didn’t hesitate, and carefully balancing the power in his Heart as if walking with a glass of water on his head, stepped in after.
The next room was large and steeped in dramatic darkness but for the dozen cones of frosty light that plunged from the ceiling to bathe twelve statues in radiant light. The statues were arranged down the length of the hall, six to a side, each facing its partner across a river of absolute shadow.
None of them moved. All were carved from the same pale gray stone, the detail so painstaking that they could have been petrified but seconds ago.
Scorio activated his darkvision, and immediately the dark river down the center of the room relinquished its secrets, which in this case proved to be blank floor all the way to the far wall.
Lianshi emerged next to them, and together the three of them stared at the statues on their short plinths, drinking in the individual nature of each.
For each was utterly dissimilar to its neighbor. All were roughly the same height, but some were clad in bulky cloth armor, others in robes, some were broad-shouldered, and others lithe. A couple were hooded, three bare-headed, the rest with different manners of helms.