I looked at my master, but said nothing.
No one else in our party was willing to question my master, either.
Then the boulder twenty feet ahead of us slid to the side.
“Welcome gentlemen, to my father’s land.”
No one spoke, but the revelation of our master’s heritage was palpable.
Each man, slowly crouched down and entered the tunnel. It was cramped, and with the exception of myself, they had to remain stooped to stay inside.
The cavern was dark, making it difficult to see where the opening went.
I looked around. There was nothing to suggest that the cavern had been purposely built, or that it had once been someone’s home. There was no evidence of any previous human interaction or other animal, for that matter.
Behind me, I heard the enormous boulder start to move again — closing the gap to the outside world.
One of my master’s men tried to move quickly to stop it.
“No, let it close,” my master ordered.
“But we’ll be trapped!”
My master ignored the man’s protest, simply holding him firm with his giant left arm. The boulder finished moving, completing blocking our view of the outside world and leaving us all in total darkness.
No one spoke.
I alone, amongst them, felt entirely comfortably with my master’s decision. With religious doctrine, I was confident that my master had a grand purpose in life.
As though I was being rewarded for my faith, I heard the sound of more ropes and pulleys moving. A moment later, a secret door at the back of the cavern opened, and a light-filled room came into view, which was large enough that even my master was able to stand comfortably.
“Follow me, gentlemen,” my master ordered as he led the way, only having to crouch to get through the small door before being able to stand tall.
The room opened up and became filled with natural light.
“This is called the king’s travel vault. There are several built into this track, so that the king can take refuge when required. In doing so, the king can travel light, with only a few royal guardsmen to accompany him.”
“And how did you know about the king’s vault?” I asked.
“Because he’s my father.”
“And what are we doing here, Master?” One of my master’s other men spoke up.
“Betraying him.”
We waited for the soldiers to come. From above, we had an uninterrupted view of the path below. It was an easy ambush and we slaughtered all eight men by throwing large rocks down upon them, before they had a chance to warn another watch tower.
We stole their armor and quickly donned it.
It was basic, but identified us as part of the civilization.
Only my master stood out amongst us, because he wore a solid gold pendant around his neck with a jade picture of one of the thirteen creator gods on at the center, making him look regal.
Within two days we reached the eastern side of the Great Tower.
The place looked even more enormous and sinister from our low vantage point as we saw it.
There, we waited until night came.
My master arranged for our ship to be rowed towards the harbor in front of the pyramid fortress as soon as the sun left the horizon and the weapon was rendered useless. They were to come in close and carry plenty of lighting to maintain the façade.
We waited until the second watch of the night, and then went forward towards the Great Tower to steal the most valuable weapon the civilization had harbored for more than a thousand years.
Where luck now played its part.
As I watched from a distance, my master walked with the confidence of a man who knew that royal blood flowed in his veins as he approached the pyramid.
A royal guard noticed him.
“Master, I thought you’d commenced the attack?” The guard looked nervous, as though he was expecting something to be wrong.
“Soon — but we have a new plan. My father has decreed that I should move the weapon to the edge of the mountain, so we can strike our enemy down when they are on the retreat and believe that they are safe having rounded the crest of the mountain.”
“A clever plan, master,” the guard replied, obsequiously — obviously keen to avoid confrontation.
Together, my master’s men carried the weapon down the stairs and along the ancient stone path that led to the edge of the inlet.
With every sound, my ear pricked with fear as though each one might indicate that the ruse had failed, and that my master’s family were going to kill him.
But the sound never came.
By the end of the second watch we reached the rowboat, secretly left at the shore by his crew.
Carefully loading the heavy weapon in the center of the boat, we all knew that any accident resulting in the weapon being lost overboard would mean that it could never be retrieved again.
By the fifth stroke of the oars, I thought we had made it.
“Well Rat Catcher, there’s a tale to tell your grandchildren — if you were still capable of having them.” My master laughed as he said it.
I started to reply, but he didn’t hear what I said.
In the distance, his ship was on fire.
We rowed faster to our ship only to discover that my master’s twin brother had attacked the ship. Our crew were strengthened by the return of their master and were able to fight off the assailants, but not before all but one of the masts were destroyed.
Every man on board then fought hard to save the ship from burning. By the morning, we were far from land, and the fire was doused.
The narrow escape was almost mythical.
My master ordered the men to continue rowing past the next two harbors, with the intention of going ashore at the third to make repairs.
After three days, we reached the third harbor, but as we rowed in towards it our waiting enemy threw thousands of stones at us from the high mountainside. Few reached us, but those that did destroyed everything in their path.
If we had been under sail, we could have never turned around in time.
As it was, the rowers were already at their oars and were able to immediately change the direction of the strokes.
For nearly a week, each time the ship came close to the shore it was attacked. My master became increasingly worried that his enemy had a much better means of communicating from each outpost than he had predicted and would soon attack him with their own warships.
It was a risk that my master was not willing to take.
On the fifth day, he ordered his senior commanders to the deck and said, “It is my intention to return to our homeland with the weapon. We have one mast intact and will be able to keep rowing as we cross. Our supplies are less than I would like, but I fear that any attempt to go ashore to replenish them will put us at far too much risk of losing the weapon. Once we are out to sea, their ships will never find us again.”