“A hollow hill,” murmured Whit.
“I’ve read about them.” John gazed avidly down. “From ancient legends about fairy kingdoms.”
They paused for a moment, each taking in the wonderment of an actual hollow hill. In silent agreement, they descended the stairs. Their boots scraped over the stone, and the sound echoed as they delved farther. They found themselves in an underground chamber. Whit could not imagine what kind of ancient tools had the strength to carve a large chamber out of solid rock, yet somehow, some ancient laborer had done just that. The room itself was almost entirely bare, just a floor and sloping walls that arched overhead. Whit was surprised at the height of the ceiling. He was a tall man, yet he did not have to stoop or bend in the chamber. Instead, he stood at his full height as he and his friends slowly turned in circles as they gazed at the incredible room hewn from a stone hill.
Yet the chamber was not empty.
“We have a companion, lads,” said Whit.
At one end of the chamber, on a crude seat carved from solid rock, sat a man—or at least his skeletal remains, remarkably preserved given that they had been buried in this chamber for what had to be over a thousand years if the age of the ruins above was any indication. Whit and the others pressed closer to stare at this new discovery.
“He’s wearing the uniform of a Roman centurion,” John whispered. “His helmet has the horsehair crest, he has medals upon his chest, and—this is astounding—his wooden Bacillum Viteum stick has not decayed.” Sure enough, a knotty stick rested in the crook of the centurion’s arm.
“I’m more interested in that,” said Whit. He pointed to what the long-dead soldier held in his bony hands. A bronze box, the size of a writing chest, with images of twining snakes worked all over its surface. The centurion gripped the box tightly, holding it snug against his breastplate. Whatever was inside the box must have been extremely valuable, valuable enough to consign a Roman officer to death.
Bram stared at the box, then at the faces of his friends clustered around. He grinned fiendishly as he placed his hand upon the box. “Let’s have ourselves a look.”
Whit stared as Bram forcibly pried the box from the skeleton’s grip. The bones cracked as the box was wrenched free, yet Whit did not wince at the sound. All he wanted was the box, to learn what it contained, and he gazed avidly as Bram began to open it.
Be careful, Zora had warned him. Yet he shoved her warning aside. The answers to everything were inside the box.
As the lid opened, the flames from the torches were suddenly sucked inside the box. The chamber plunged into darkness.