Free 2012-08-The Twelve-Hour Statue by Unknown Page A

control.
    The powerful half-orc slid down the carved stone ladder from the temple’s foyer to the arched corridor below. He loped toward Xaven, covering the hall’s hundred-foot length with remarkable casualness. But then, he knew that Xaven had disabled all the traps in that section.
    “Of course I’m still here, you idiot! What took you so long?”
    “Aroden’s nostrils! Your shopping list was long.”
    “Start by bringing the water! And hurry, I’m losing my light here.”
    “Coming up.” Hrokon dug out a tiny folded-paper cup and filled it with water from his canteen. He moved slowly now, taking care to avoid coming close enough to touch the pressure plate. Xaven had made Hroken draw a wide circle around the plate with chalk before he left. “And I got more candles too.”
    “Good. Light ‘em up.” The halfling slowly accepted the cup and brought it to his lips to drink. Sensation began to return, first to his tongue and then to his throat. “We’ve gotta get you building the sled right away.”
    “Already done, Xaven. I had a smith put it together for us.”
    “What? You brought someone in?” Xaven almost snorted his precious water out of his nose. “What if he starts asking questions?!”
    Hroken made that strange crackling sound that passed for his laugh. “You really want to concern yourself with that kind of detail right now?” He grinned and began lighting candles, waiting for them to heat up so he could drip their wax and secure them to the floor.
    “No, I guess not,” Xaven admitted after some thought. “But cut me some slack here. I’ve been playing statue for twelve hours!”
    “Easy, little buddy. We’ll get you out of here shortly.” Hrokon cast his gaze up at the ceiling 20 feet above. “Now stay focused. You’ve come this far, I don’t want you bringing the temple down on both of us.
    Xaven steadied himself once more. “Right. Then go get the sled and lay out the rope. Are you sure you understand the layout?”
    “Stop worrying about me for once. Just focus on your part.” Hrokon lit the last of the candles. “I’ll be right back.”
    Xaven concentrated on his breathing while he waited. With four new candles, both his world and his outlook were already brighter. Minutes later he could hear Hrokon steadily working away, uncoiling a pair of thin but hopefully sturdy ropes. Once Hrokon lit a dozen more candles to line the corridor’s length, Xaven could see the ropes dangling from the top of the ladder at the mouth of the temple foyer down to the flagstones of the corridor he was trapped in. From there, Hrokon carefully laid rope all the way back to the edge of the chalk line. The half-orc then made a further trip topside, returning with his final item, a flat rectangular board with four wheels and a handle.
    As he returned he asked, “I still don’t see why the better plan isn’t to just substitute a big rock for your weight on the deathplate.”
    “Believe me, I thought about it,” answered Xaven, “But it won’t work—that split second of too much or too little weight will set the scale off. It’s a crazy risk.”
    Hrokon rolled his eyes. “And this plan of yours is much more sane.”
    Xaven ignored him, squinting his eyes as he appraised the sled. “Have the wheels been oiled like we talked about?”
    “Of course.”
    “Spin ‘em. Let me see.”
    Hrokon patiently spun each wheel for Xaven, one at a time. Xaven had to admit they looked pretty damned good—especially for a custom job made in the middle of the night. If this worked, Xaven would have to give a sizable tip to Hrokon’s smith, and not just to shut him up.
    “Nice work, Hrokon.”
    “Thanks.”
    “You know, for a minute or two there, I kinda thought maybe you weren’t coming back for me. Maybe you just grabbed the altar chest and left.”
    Hrokon let loose with his crackle laugh once more. “Really? I’m hurt.”
    “Never crossed your mind?”
    “Of course it did, but then I thought to