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Windhammer, Copyright Wayne Densley 2001 - 2007 All Rights Reserved
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170
 The trap you have activated is an Impaler, one of the crueler killing mechanisms devised by the Horde. In a tremoring rush the ground about you erupts and splinters as huge metal spikes force their way up through the floor at your feet. With no time to think you jump for safety, leaping for the only unbroken piece of floor you see at the base of the far wall.
Landing heavily in the corner you roll up against the hard stone, and fight desperately to avoid being tossed back into the deadly forest of spikes by the wildly disintegrating floor stones. Sweat streams down your face as you try to maintain your balance; the sound of crushing stone a deafening crescendo that batters your senses and almost numbs you into unconsciousness. In this melee of fracturing rock the room fills with choking dust and quickly you are reduced to crouching in the corner, covered by your travel cloak and helpless against the power of the Impaler.
After an eternity of noise, sound and lethal danger the room falls silent. Cautiously you peer from beneath your cloak and then stand to find yourself confronted by the effects of the trap. A multitude of deadly metal spikes now block any exit you may have had back into the King's Hall. You are alive but you are trapped.
Enclosed within the hidden recess of the corner you brush dust and grit from your shoulders and wonder at what you should now do. In the absolute dark you slump back against the wall and consider the good fortune that has saved you from falling victim to this device. With hindsight however, all the signs should have told you of the danger lurking here, you just didn't see them. The dangers posed by this device are not yet finished with you though.
As you wait in the dark you begin to hear the sound of voices approaching. From some distance you hear the footfalls of a group of armed Hresh, their armour clanking in the gloom as they make for your position. Alerted by the triggering of the Impaler the Hordim have come to view the results of their handiwork. Hiding within the shadows you can see only the green eyes of the Hresh as they survey the mess that was the anteroom. Trying not to breathe, you huddle behind the nearest of the spikes hoping you will not be noticed. After a number of sharp exchanges between the soldiers and a round of laughter they continue on their way, sure in the knowledge that whoever sprung the trap is now dead. Your breathing returns as the Hordim disappear back into the inky darkness to the south.
Searching the wall nearest to the north face of the stone you reach out and take one of the torches that has remained undamaged. You listen intently for any hint of the Hordim and then, as sure as you can be that they have gone, you light the torch and survey your surroundings. The spikes have certainly blocked any exit from the room, only the narrow strip of unbroken stone upon which you stand still survives. In the flickering light of your torch you notice a slight projection in the tapestry hanging from the northern wall, about 4 metres from your position. Although huge slabs of upturned stone project across the narrow ledge of unbroken floor you push them aside and are able to reach it. Upon closer inspection you find that the projection is a small metal lever hidden behind the heavy cloth. It is connected to a mechanism buried in the wall. The Dwarvendim word for "refuse" is neatly inscribed above the lever. With nowhere else to go you decide to pull it.
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This book, and its associated books and other documents in the Chronicles of Arborell series are the intellectual property of the author, Wayne F Densley, and all rights are reserved by him. Windhammer is best viewed at 1024 x 768 resolution. Any questions regarding the Chronicles of Arborell can be answered by emailing the author at densleyw@shoal.net.au
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Windhammer, Copyright Wayne Densley 2001 - 2007 All Rights Reserved
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