Golems Prt 2

The second part is up:

Golems


“Then do what you must, hopefully we can find another answer when we’re out of this place.”
“That won’t happen.” came a reply from behind him as Ehir trotted up, “The entire chamber
caved in at the entrance, I think it was that tremor from their activation.”
“Damhan’s also gone.” said Lugh softly from the opposite wall.
Taranis leant against the wall and lowered himself into a sitting position with a sigh, “Well we
knew this was most likely a one-way trip... I would have liked to have seen the sun again or felt
the wind over the hills.”
“Aye, or the whisper of the sea.” said Lugh, a faraway look in his eyes.
The scout sat down next to the dead Damhan “I would not mind a simple mug of the old Mill
Tavern’s ale.”
The other two warriors laughed in agreement with the scout. The shaman smiled and reached
into his pack, the hand came out with a skin, “Pass that around Taranis, you lads will get one
wish tonight. As for the other they may have given me the answer.”
To the warriors’ surprise the skin contained not water, or even the ale from the Mill Tavern. It
contained the Mill Tavern’s own special mead; a honey golden drink meant for chieftains and
holy days. As they passed it around the shaman closed his eyes and meditated.
“I want you to now concentrate on that mead, and concentrate on the sun, the wind, and the
sea. See those places you know best in your mind and feel those things.”
As each warrior thought and concentrated, the shaman plucked the emotions from deep within
his meditative state. His hand once again seemed to melt within the tablet and the runes shifted
and changed. As the shaman finished a great sigh rose from his body, his hand withdrew itself
from the tablet.
“Well I am spent, no more from me.” said the shaman as he leaned against the wall, “But the
stone men are stopped, and can only get life if the wind and sun makes its way down here; or
the sea with its salt and spray.”
At the entrance of the tunnel the stone men slowly ground themselves to a halt. The deep red
fires that had lit their eyes were now gone.
“Good job Shaman, I knew there was a reason we kept you with us.” said Ehir and smiled at the
still figures.
“You kept me because I am the only one who thinks Ehir!” scowled the shaman in reply.
Taranis stood up with a laugh and said “Well Shaman, you saved us, no doubt about that. But I
don’t know about the rest of you, I want to see if there is another way out of this hole.” The scout
and tall warrior vocalised their agreement and leapt to their feet.
“We should give our brothers the honour of a proper burial at least.” Lugh said as they gathered
what gear they had left, “Damhan here as well.”
“Bring him then tall man.” answered the shaman, as he slowly got to his feet. The four made
their way back into the chamber, wary of the now still golems. The living warriors found the dead
and shattered bodies of their comrades and arranged them next to each other on the raised
platform, with the enchanted weapons at their feet. That done each of them stood in silent
contemplation for a few minutes.
Find your heart’s light, draw back the veil and leave this world. We now call you Men of Ireland,
Heroes of the Emerald Isles. Brothers. Sleep now and wake not to trouble this world
As he looked at Lugh in surprise, the shaman said, “Maybe you are descended from the fey folk
of old.” The tall warrior laughed and slapped the shaman on the back, “I will tell you one day,
holy man!”
With that the warriors took their gear and started to move towards the other side of the
chamber. The shaman stood on the raised platform but did not move to join them. Lugh spotted
him and went back up.
“Afraid I will not join you Lugh, I am spent. My body is dying. I can feel my connection with the
earth dying.”
The shaman once again eased himself into a sitting position, now amongst the bodies of the
fallen he carried on, “No words for me tall man. I am a shaman, my time was always borrowed.
Go now and live under the sun.”
The tall warrior nodded, picked up his spear and trotted off to the other warriors. The shaman
saw Taranis start back, but Lugh grabbed his arm and shook his head. The leader turned and
met the shaman’s eyes. He nodded in gratitude and acknowledgement and led his remaining
warriors out of the dark cavern.
“Aye, spirits, I see you and know. Give me a few minutes.” murmured the shaman to the air
around him. The old man sat cross legged and the placed now dormant tablet in his lap. The
shaman’s body slumped as the last breath left it.

“Watch where you put that thing!” shouted the professor at the student who worked a small
digging machine, “We don’t know how deep that is yet!” The student waved a dismissive hand
at the professor of archaeology who had led a small party of fifth year students on a small dig
for the experience. The ruins that sat on the high hill had already been taken apart over the
years; the professor knew they would not find anything of real value. The professor grumbled
to himself and looked over the work area charts that showed where the different students had
been assigned.
“Oh why is that great lummox here?” complained the professor to his student aide. “Because he
can use that digger?” said the student
“No, because his father is on the board of Trustees.” sighed the professor as he removed his
glasses and rubbed his eyes, “Sorry Trisha, neither of you two deserve my ire.”
“It’s alright professor, we will get the university representative off your back.”
The professor smiled and put his glasses back on then turned to face the aide. And stopped
what he was going to say. “Joshua! What are you doing? Stop!”
Trisha turned saw that the student had not listened to the instructions given to him that morning
and had dug up too much dirt from the hill. The student in the digger looked and saw the
professor running towards him and waved as the ground gave way under the machine. A
muffled crash came up from the newly formed hole.
“Don’t get too close!” shouted the professor as other students ran up, “It’s a sink hole!”
The aide herded them away from the hole and went back to their tents and radioed the nearest
city for help. A medical helicopter arrived within thirty minutes of the accident along with a
rescue team with equipment to stabilise the ground and send men into the hole. The rescue
leader, a young Irishman, went first into the hole but came back up a short time later. He went
directly to the paramedics and had a whispered conversation. The two paramedics went over
to the winch set up to lower people down into the gaping earth. The rescue leader went over
to the professor. “Are ye Professor James Ashworth?” the professor braced himself for the
worst, “Well the lad’ll live but we need te get him to a hospital. He has suffered pretty bad
injuries.”
“That’s a relief, I guess. How bad?”
“As far as I can see there’re multiple broken bones, an’ most likely fractures as well. The red
boys are getting him out now.” the rescue leader went on, and indicated with his head to the
paramedics that had been lowered into the ground. The rescue leader walked away to the rest
of his men near the hole. An hour later the first paramedic was back up, he shouted down into
the hole and gestured to the winch operators to pull slowly. Minutes later an orange body board
came up, strapped tight to it was the still body of Joshua. Some of the girls on the archaeology
group started crying. As the second paramedic was winched up the first checked for any
change in their patient’s vital signs; the backboard was lifted and carried it to the helicopter.
The professor turned to the waiting students, “Well that is it for today. Everyone get back to
your tents and rest.” The team leader came back to the professor and asked if he wanted a lift
back to the city, the team would, in any case, have to come back the next day to make sure that
the hole was stable. The professor said he would join them. Professor Ashworth turned to his
assistant and said “Ok Trisha, you are in charge until I get back tomorrow. We should be back
early and we can then deal with all this.”
“Professor... Good luck.” she replied softly.
Professor Ashworth nodded and went off to collect a few items for his trip as Trisha herded the
students back to their tents.

Trisha walked out of her tent early the next morning, and rubbed the sleep from her eyes when
she saw a hive of activity around the hole. The professor stood near it and directed men and
digging machines to enlarge the hole. She also saw supports, cables and ropes nearby. She
watched for a minute and decided that she needed coffee before she could deal with anything
that early. Trisha made her way to the pavilion set up for the food and the large amounts of
coffee needed for the dig. There she saw the petite figure of Samantha behind the serving
station.
“Morning Trish! Sleep well?”
“G’morning Sam... Coffeeee... Nooowwww.” Trisha mumbled in reply, she was not a fan of
mornings.
“Zombie Trish today I see. Well here, we made it extra strong today.” Samantha said and smiled
at the assistant who took the dark beverage gratefully. She filled it with milk and sugar and took
a sip with a sigh of contentment. Johnny ran up to the tent and stopped next to Trisha. The
Asian student was huffing and gasping as he tried to explain something about the hole. Trisha
held up a hand and stalled him, she pointed to her coffee with the raised hand.
“Catch your breath first Johnny, and let me finish my coffee.” she said. The Asian student took
a few deep breaths and stopped panting, “The professor wants to see you when you’re done
here. They found something.” Trisha raised an eyebrow at Samantha and finished her coffee.
She asked for another cup before she was led towards the hole where the professor stood.
“Trisha!” greeted the professor, his eyes shone in the early morning, “Can you believe this?
There is a chamber below us! A previously undiscovered chamber!”
The aide stood for a moment in blank amazement, with that she drank from her cup and
asked, “I must still be asleep. Just repeat that sir?”
“A chamber, girl! We have an intact Celtic room below us! Well hopefully intact, especially after
the digger fell into it.”
She looked at the hole which had been enlarged and supports were being lowered into it and
asked “So what happens now?”
“Now we wait for them to finish that hole, and we get to work. Though anything we find belongs
to the state, as it were. But we get the credit for the find!”
“I think we need to tell the others as well.”
“Yes. Call a morning meeting, good, good.” the professor replied, somewhat distracted. Trisha
moved off to get the other students up and ready for a morning meeting. “Thirty minutes Trisha!
The meeting is in thirty minutes!” called the professor after her. She moved with a sigh to the
pavilion to get Johnny and Samantha to help her, plus she wanted to at least look more human
and less zombified. Thirty minutes later all the students had been assembled, though some
were still trying to wake up.
“Ok people. First off, Joshua is going to be alright.” the professor started, “But he will need
surgery and time. He has multiple fractures and three serious breaks. But all things considered,
he is rather lucky.” A the students looked relieved at the news.
“But we have more important news!” the professor carried on gleefully, “Joshua’s digging and
subsequent accident uncovered a chamber below us. A completely unexplored Celtic chamber!”
Murmurs of wonder filtered through the students, one of them raised a hand.
“Yes... Mark?”
“Well sir, what happens now? Don’t the local authorities or something come to do the work?”
“Well so far we still have permission to dig here and since one of our students... Your
colleague... Found the site, we have first rights to it.” replied the professor. As his news sunk
in, the professor saw that the students were now listening eagerly, “So from now we will have
proper work schedule.”

Golems Prt1

So a friend gave me a story line and said I must craft a full short story around  it.
This is the tag line I was given to try and make something from:

... For thousands of years they had stood in darkness and silence. Until one day torch light and
sound filtered down a dark corridor leading to the golem chamber. Someone was coming...

The first time I crafted a story set in the Egyptian empire and it was a fairly short draft; bear in mind this was one of the first real stories I tried to write. So it started out alright and ended badly. Then recently I took the story tag line again and re-did it from scratch, but I re-did the setting and made it into a Celtic inspired story this time. This second attempt was far longer than the first and ended at twenty three pages. Here is the first part :-) oh and if I can I will try find the original one for a comparison. Unless I find it so horrible my eyes start bleeding and I have to lock it away for the good of all man-kind.

Golems

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Ages past in the South West of Ireland the Mad king of the Iverni clan had his sorcerers make
him an army; but not an army of men or women but of the elements, of rock and stone. So they
gathered slaves from all over the Isles, the Iverni even raided the main land of Europe and
captured a few tribes of the fierce Gauls. None could stand in the way of the Mad King and
his armies, which swelled each season with more recruits, the armies of defeated kings and
mercenaries from over the great sea, their dark skins a contrast to the white of the Northerners.
But news of this new army got out; the last remaining tribes and kingdoms knew they had to do
something. But they did not have enough men to fight an all out war. In the West of Ireland a
shaman of the Connachta clan learnt of this army of stone from the spirits that cried out in pain
went to his king and said that a small group could get in and destroy the work of the sorcerers.
He succeeded in convincing his king and so nine of the mightiest heroes were chosen; four
from the Connachta themselves, three from the neighbouring Kingdom of Breifne, one out of
the North East, the Magh Luirg and one who said he was descended from the old race of fey
folk, the Tuatha de Dannan themselves. The Shaman of the Connachta was also part of the
group, as he put it “I am the only one with brains not in his sword arm or pants, so I had better
go with to see it succeeds.” Each warrior was also given a mighty weapon of bronze and iron,
and each was enchanted by old magic and blessed by the different clans’ shamans and holy
seers. On the eve of the stone army’s completion, the heroes made it to the deep barrow where
the golems were kept. There the Nine killed the guards and after a fight managed to kill the
sorcerers responsible for the army, but not before losing two of their own. Inside the barrow
more enemies and the stone army waited.

“Dammit shaman! This had better be the right chamber.” said Daig the hero of the Magh Luirg, “I
don’t want to enter another store room!”
“Relax, I have it Daig.” replied the shaman, as he examined the door in front of him, glowing
runes fighting against his manipulation.
“You weren’t complaining when we hit the ale room.” the surviving Breifne warrior chuckled.
“Ah shut it Damhan!” You’re the bloody ox who had to sit and eat the whole suckling pig!” Daig
said, referring to Damhan’s huge body which, though big, did not have an ounce of fat on it. He
was a huge warrior of similarly huge appetites.
“Quiet, patrol.” hissed Ehir, the scout of the group.
The warriors ducked into dark alcoves and doorways, vanishing in an instant, even the shaman
cloaked his form in shadow.
The scout peered around the corner and motioned it was clear. An instant later the shaman
gave a small sound of satisfaction and the door before him slid open, the runes now dull and
lifeless. The group hurried into the chamber and stopped dead. It was nothing more than a
bedroom and this one appeared to belong to one of the dead sorcerers. Swearing to himself the
shaman threw his staff down onto the ground.
“Ha! Shaman, you were wrong again!” laughed Lugh, the one who was said to be descended
from the Tuatha De Dannan, “Worry not we shall find these merry men of stone!”
The shaman glared at the tall man and said “You do better, Lugh Long-Man.” And spat at the
warrior’s feet. Lugh was uncommonly tall for an Irishman. Looking around Lugh frowned slightly
and approached a seemingly blank wall. “Maybe you were right.” he said as he ran his hands
across the wall. The tall man put his ear to the wall and knocked on it twice, then nodded to
himself. With that he made his way to a chest, reached behind it; felt a small indentation in the
wood and pushed it. With barely a rumble of stone the blank wall lifted and revealed a dark
staircase winding down into the earth. Lugh clapped the shaman on the shoulder and said “You
were right holy man, have faith in the Dagda.” With a smile he lit a torch and led the way down
into the dark.

The way was quiet, so quiet in fact that all the warriors heard was their own footsteps and the
rustle and clink of their armour as they brushed the tunnel walls. After a long walk the tunnel
opened up suddenly into a vast underground cavern. What had been a natural cavern was now
a hollow remade by the hands of men. All along the walls glyphs and runes of power glowed
softly illuminating the room in an eldritch glow. But what really caught the group’s eyes were the
rows upon rows of what appeared to be giant stone statues. Each one was the same, standing
nine feet tall with the look of some half formed giant, a blocky representation of a man. The
arms were thick and half carved with a semblance of musculature; at the end of each thick arm
was a huge hand curled into a motionless fist. The legs were great tree trunks of rock. The
faces were basic with a slash for a mouth and deep set cavernous eyes that seemed to draw in
the meagre light.
“Well I’ll be buttered and put into the fire for a Midsummer’s feast,” said one of the Connachta
warriors, “If this is the army then we’re in trouble.”
“I know you’ll just ruin the feast, Cairbre.” his brother, Ockey, replied; the two of them were twins
and many believed that they shared an almost mystic bond. The shaman thought they did it to
annoy people, or in his words “They bloody piss me off!”
“Quiet you two,” snapped the shaman as he looked past the stone men, “Aah, that is what we
need.”
The party made its nervous way through the stone men to a raised platform, though the
shadows jumped at their passing, the room stayed quiet. On the platform a stone plinth sat with
a tablet lying on top of it. The shaman carefully reached for the tablet, and paused, his hand just
above the glyphs on its surface. The old man pulled his hand back and licked his lips. He shook
out his nervous hands and laughed, he snatched the tablet up, “Foolish sorcerers, any shaman
of the Emerald Isle would have had a trap there. Hah! Arrogant fools!”
“Well Shaman, can you use that oversized dinner plate?” asked Taranis, the leader of the Nine.
“Now, now my boy, give me a few minutes.”
Taranis motioned for his men to keep their eyes open. They all knew that this was where things
got difficult. All the fighting, losing their two brothers and the long journey had lead to this.
The shaman cleared his throat and started chanting in a low, rough voice. He reached into the
earth and pulled the language of stone to him. The glyphs and sigils in the walls glowed brighter
for a moment then dimmed.

Then he started reading the tablet.

The glyphs flared into brightness and a rumble passed through the cavern and dislodged a few
stones from the ceiling; dust rained on the party.
“Was that it?” said Damhan as the rumbling passed.
“Peace, Damhan.” replied Lugh quietly as he eyed the stone men that stood passively all
around the cavern, “We shall...” The tall warrior never finished his sentence as a groaning filled
their ears. The stone men were waking up. Slowly the giants moved like men waking up after a
fever, their movements stiff and slow.
“All right lads! At them!” roared Taranis and drew his own sword. The warrior leapt from the
raised platform and attacked one of the moving stone men, the enchanted blade hewed chunks
out of the golem’s leg. With a cry the six warriors threw themselves from the platform following
their leader, they hacked and slashed; stabbed and hewed at the stone men, and when the
statues fell the warriors attacked the heads until the light that was growing in the black eyes was
gone for good.
“Bloody hurry it up old man!” shouted Daig as he thrust his sword into the neck of a stone man,
trying to lever its head off. The shaman still read the tablet not even bothering to reply the fiery
warrior. He looked up and saw the stone men were now starting to fight back, slowly, but it
would not be long before they were fully awake. As he saw this the old man uttered the last
syllables; he stopped to draw breath. Now he knew he had to work fast. The stone men were
fully awake and were reacting to the attacks, thirty of them had already been destroyed by the
warriors but many more remained. The shaman wiped sweat from his hand and reached in to
the tablet itself, the hand seemed to melt into it. That done the shaman realigned the runes and
glyphs. A body flew past him into the wall, its bones breaking on impact. It was Ockey. With
a cry of grief his brother, Cairbre, launched himself at another golem hacking with his axe. As
the giant toppled three other golems surrounded the man and beat him to a bloody pulp. Lugh
appeared next to the shaman, “Come along holy man, we need to get out of here.” The shaman
nodded still concentrating at rearranging the tablet as the tall warrior led him towards where
they had entered. Taranis appeared at his other side hacking at a questing stone hand.
“To me lads! We’re getting out of here!”
Ehir ducked and dodged the massive hands and fists, and each time he thrust his spear into the
back of a knee or at the point of a wrist, the join immobilised by the surgical strikes. Across from
him Daig stabbed and hacked but a backhand he did not see from behind broke his body and
left him dead on the stone. Damhan made it to the retreating group but he limped and held his
left side, which was bloody from some blow. “Damn, we won’t make it.” hissed Taranis, “Lugh,
take up the shaman, we have to run.” As he said this he took Damhan’s good arm around his
shoulders and half carried the warrior; Lugh picked up the shaman, who did not look pleased
but knew time was critical. They redoubled their already frantic pace and made for the narrow
tunnel. As the four stumbled into the tunnel they found Ehir leaning against his spear “Took you
all long enough.” he said as Taranis and Lugh laid down their companions.
“Help would have been appreciated.” said Damhan with a heavy breath.
“How do you think you even made it this far?”
But the Breifne warrior was not listening to the scout’s reply; his head was leaning against
the wall, his eyes closed against the pain in his battered body. Taranis looked back into the
chamber and saw that the golems’ had surrounded the entrance.
“Ehir, since you seem to be rather unscathed. See if the way is clear to the entrance, we need a
moment.”
The scout nodded at the order and set off back up the tunnel at a jog. That done Taranis
motioned to Lugh to tend to Damhan and turned to the shaman.
“Well Shaman, anything you can do?”
The old man grunted in reply; turned his attention from the tablet and said “Well I have
somehow unlocked it and can now make small changes.” He put his hand up to stall the
leader’s questions, and carried on, “Don’t ask me what I did, Taranis. I somehow got it during
that last run here, purely by accident I might add.”
He nodded down at the tablet “But I can stop them, I just cannot destroy them.”

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Well that is the first part.
Keep at it.