We had followed the party for about 20 miles that day. They moved at an amazing pace, despite the gear they toted, each carried a shovel and great pack on their back. Sweat was dripping down my face, pouring from my brow like a small river. The heat was unbearable. Even through the dense canopy of dark green leaves, the sun beat down on us. The last two days had been hot, but this was too much. Just as my legs began to give out beneath me, Brent motioned for us to stop. Relieved, I collapsed onto the ground, my back against a tree. Brent looked at me and shook his head, a frown of disapproval on his face. I couldn't understand it, the heat hardly seemed to phase him. But then, nothing did. He motioned for us to follow him under a bush to get a better view of our prey. Hidden in the shrubs, we saw them stopped in a small clearing, gathered in a group. They talked amongst themselves, but when the one man began to speak, all the others were silent. As he pointed this way and that, the men spread out and began unpacking. Tents were pitched and fires kindled. Soon, the sweet smell of cooking meat found us. Still in the brush, the smell was overwhelming. I hadn't eaten since earlier that morning. All we had now was a few small sandwiches and wild berries. Hungrily, I devoured my portion and laid down to sleep. Despite the cold ground and wet leaves brushing against my face, I was sound asleep in minutes, the smell still overpowering my mind.
I was shaken from dreams of home and tables laden with stuffed turkey and cherry pie by my friend and companion Brent. Brent was slightly taller than I was, and he had light brown hair which he always wore back in a pony tail. He was a gentle man, but seeing him looming over me startled me.
"Aaah . . ." I started. He quickly muffled my voice with my hand.
"Sssh! There leaving," he whispered.
Groggily, I stood up and packed my sleeping bag. It was even more damp than when I had laid down the night before, soaked with dew. Picking up my few belongings, we were on our way. Brent led the way as we followed the men, and Ryan followed me. Ryan was the brawn of our group. He could pick up two full-grown men and throw them aside. I had seen him in a fight once. The man ran around Ryan and hit him from the left. Ryan turned to grab him, only to be hit in the right. The fight went on like this for some time, until the man made a mistake. He jabbed Ryan in the back with a left and them a right. Usually, Ryan had turned around after other similar attacks. But this time, he stood up and tried to think. The man danced around Ryan, right into his arms. Bam! It was all over. One hit. Ryan wasn't the fastest or the smartest man, but I sure was glad to have him on my side.
"They didn't break camp today," I commented. "We must be almost there."
"They only took their tools with them. Today should be the day," answered Brent.
"And exactly what have we been following these men for?" I asked.
"For the two-hundredth time," Brent answered with the patience of a father driving a car, "They are heading to the old runes. Legend has it that there are artifacts there that possess great powers."
"What kind of powers?" asked Ryan with a childish anxiety in his voice.
"No one is really sure. The power to turn people to stone maybe. Or the power to fly. One legend has it that there is a golden mask. Anyone wearing this mask has the power to lead an army of 15 men against the world. If these men get it, there may be nothing anyone can do to stop them!"
"So, if they do get the mask and they have all this power, how are we going to take it from them? And if we do get it, what will we do with it?" I ask, a queasy feeling growing in my stomach.
"We'll just have to take it from them before they use it. And when we do get it," he stressed the when, "we have to destroy it. The world cannot survive with that much power in it," Brent finished the conversation.
A short while later the trees started thinning. Up ahead, we could see the group moving about, axes and shovels in hand. Finding a well-covered spot, we crouched and watched. A tall man who wore army green pants and a matching tank top pointed to one man. "You start digging over there," and to another, "Start breaking open those water basins, the bloody thing has to be around here somewhere!" Even though I had not gotten a clear view the night before, I knew this was the same man who had silenced his companions last night. There was something about him, the way he held himself and the way others reacted to him. It screamed that he was a powerful man, a man to be respected, and feared. Sending the last man on his way, he looked around, then kicked some dust up in front of him. At the top of his black boots, I could see the hilt of a blade sticking out. A little farther up his leg, the bulge of a small gun came into sight. He wandered around for most of the day, yelling orders and threatening anyone who stopped. Every once in a while, someone would yell out, "I found something!" and the man would come running over, gun in hand.
"What is it?"
"I'm not sure, it's all dusty and . . ."
"Give it to me!" there was always a tone in his voice that let the person know his finger was on the trigger. Every time, he would look at the artifact, and then throw it back at the person who had found it. "That's not it, you idiot! Now back to work." He would spin around. "All of you, back to work." The crowd would disperse back to their jobs.
Every time someone yelled out, we tensed up and listened. Was this it? I secretly hoped it was, all the while hoping it wasn't. If it were never found, I really wouldn't care. But if it was found, we could be in a world of hurt. I just wished it was over.
As the day wore on, it seemed like the mask would never be found. Still, we kept a watchful eye out. One group of men had finished breaking open the stone basins hours ago. Now they were digging in an area about 100 yards to the left. Another small group was digging around the base of a primitive house. By a small table they had set up, the man in charge was looking at a map and drinking some water from a canteen. Behind him some ways were some small buildings the men were busy ransacking. As I watched those men, one stuck his head out of a doorway. His long, black hair hung down, covering half of his face. Still, it was not enough to hide his nose. Even from a distance, it looked like he had been hit by a Mack truck. He looked toward his boss as if to yell, but instead, he slipped a bag into his pants. Then his head disappeared back into the house.
"Did you see that?" I whispered to Brent.
"See what?"
"That man just put something in his pants!"
"What was it?"
"I'm not sure, it looked like a cloth bag. But it had something in it." This was too much. I could hardly contain myself. If that was the mask, we might be able to get it from him. I just hoped he wouldn't use it.
The rest of the day wore on, and the calls kept the leader busy. Every time, I just knew that it was the mask, that we were all doomed. But every time, the artifact was thrown back at the person who had found it. Finally, the sun neared the tree tops and the man called everyone back. Before heading back to camp, he promised that if they didn't work twice as hard tomorrow, he would personally shoot them all. There was a wave of grumbles from the men, but they were silenced as the man reached for his gun. "You were saying?" he asked as he slid his hand into his pocket. After that, they all turned and headed back to camp. Brent, Ryan, and I crouched lower, as they passed by us. Through the shrubs, I could see their shoes passing by us. Last of all, there was a pair of black boots. They paused momentarily, and then went on.
"Too close. Too close for comfort," said Ryan after they had passed.
We followed them at a distance, and then circled to the other side of their camp. After settling in, we started planning what we needed to do.
"So, all we need to do is sneak in and take the bag from that man. Then we just put the mask on and beat the heck out of everybody. Right?" I theorized.
"NO!" said Brent in a whisper loud enough to make us uneasy of being caught. "We cannot put the mask on. Legend also has it that the mask has power over the man who wears it. It will not allow them to take it off until they have conquered the entire world. If one of us put it on, they will become more evil than the man who is searching for it now. Anyway, we aren't even sure if the man has the mask. Maybe he just stole some gold for his family."
"We can't take that chance," I insisted. "If it is just gold, then we can leave it. But if it's the mask, then we will have it and could destroy it. If we don't check, we may not know until it is too late!"
"I see your point!" Brent conceded. "So tonight, you sneak in and see what the man had in the bag."
"Why me?"
"Why, because you know what the man looked like. Neither of us do. And secondly, Ryan and I are going to try and make it a little harder for them to follow us."
"Booby traps?" asked Ryan, a huge smile spreading across his face.
"Yes, booby traps. Well, it's getting darker. Ryan and I will go start. When everyone is asleep, sneak in and get that bag. We will meet you at the edge of the clearing on this side of the camp." As they left, I felt the night close in around me. It seemed to get darker when they left, and even darker as the last rays of sunlight disappeared. I sat there shivering, watching, until the last of the campfires burned out. Slowly, I started creeping toward the camp. To my surprise, there was no night watch set up. 'Strange,' I thought to myself. 'They always have a guard in the movies.' Despite the oddity, this made searching the camp much easier. Loud snoring and jumbled sentences could be heard as I approached a row of tents. There were two rows of five, and then the boss's tent off by itself. I quietly stuck my head in the first tent. The odor of sweat and mud almost knocked me out. Quickly, I drew back to get a breath of fresh air. When my head stopped spinning, I ventured back in, this time prepared with a full set of lungs. 'Nope, not him.' I concluded. On to the next tent. 'Not him either.'
Four tents later, I found him. His tent smelled just as bad as the others, but I had grown accustomed to it by then. The man tossed in his sleep, turning his entire face toward me. His nose was bent this way and that. Above it, there was one huge eyebrow that was almost as tangled as his beard. His hair fell about him, like Medusa's snakes. 'Woh, if he did take the mask, I should let him keep it. He is so ugly.' I turned my eyes away from him, and looked for his backpack. Finding it, I started rummaging through it. A dirty shirt, dirty socks, dirty . . . ewe, yuck, I tossed them to the side. Beneath the underwear, I found what I was looking for. It was a small, grey, cloth sack. It edges were frayed and it was still caked with earth. Slowly, I opened it. Through the darkness shone a dim light. As I gazed into the bag, I felt my mind being drawn out of me and into the bag. A senseless mutter from the man quickly snapped my mind back into place. I quickly shut the bag and turned to leave. Bu t as I closed the bag, some of the caked dirt fell and hit the man in the face. He mumbled again and brushed his face with his hand. Everything would have been fine, but I panicked. I was sure he had caught me. As I fumbled around in the darkness to find the door, I stepped on his hand. That woke him up. His yell woke the rest of the camp. I tripped through the door and started running for the woods. At the edge, I could see my two friends waiting. Behind me, tent flaps tore open and angry men stormed out, intent to find why their dreams had been disturbed. They closed in on the man's tent, before seeing me. There was a shout, and the chase was on.
When I met up with Brent and Ryan, we had a fairly large lead on the men, but it was closing fast. "Keep right behind me!" instructed Brent. "I don't want you falling into one of our traps."
I took off after him, trying my best to keep up as he wove through the trees. The sound of the other men rushing through the forest echoed behind us. This was shortly broken by the helpless scream of two of them, apparently victims of our first trap. "We got one!" Ryan yelled. He sounded so excited I thought I could see the edges of his smile from behind him. "We got one!"
That did not stop them for long, though. Nor did the next two or three traps. They kept after us. Suddenly, Brent dove into the brush and hid. Ryan and I followed him. "Stay low," he whispered. As I lay there, I could hear feet pounding past us. They continued on for a while, and then stopped. At the same time, there was a huge commotion and they all began cursing and yelling. I looked at Brent and then Ryan. A big smile spread across each of their faces.
"That one was Ryan's idea," Brent said.
Ryan was just brimming with pride. "Yup! That was mine."
We got up and ran until we were sure they were far behind us. "Wow, we made it. Now, tell me. Did we do all that running for a good reason?" asked Brent. "Did you get the mask, or did you just get caught?"
Now it was my turn to smile. "I got both of them!"
"All right, now we have to destroy it." Brent said as he took an ax from his pack. "Set it there on that tree stump."
I took it out of the bag and set it on the stump. The pale gold glittered through the dust that covered it. In the dim morning light, I could see the intricate designs covering the mask. Small lines curved across the face, before spiraling into the eyes. But the pattern did not stop at the eyes. It seemed to continue on, deep into the oval holes which formed the eyes. Even the slightest movement would send the lines running, flashing across the mask in a dusted rainbow of color. "It's beautiful, isn't it." I could feel the same pull on my mind, but even stronger than before. "Can't we just keep it?"
"No, that would be asking for trouble. Greed has a way of getting you into trouble. What happens if someone steals it from us? Then all this will have been in vain. We must destroy it." He walked toward the stump and raised the ax over his head.
"Mike," came a voice from a distance.
"What, who's that?" I spun about.
"Dinner's ready!" the voice finished.
"Already? Sorry guys, I have to go," I said as apologetically as I could.
Brent set the stick he held above his head down on the stump in front of him. He picked the chunk of bark off the stump and threw it back into the small grove of trees that made up the boundaries of my yard. "Man, we never get to finish. Well, I'll see you guys tomorrow."
"Yeah," said Ryan as he took off his backpack and emptied some rocks out of it. "I'll see ya."
I watched them until they disappeared behind the third house down the street. Then I picked up the sword that lay across the stump. "Well," I said to my trusty steed as I grabbed it by the reins, "I guess it is up to you and me now,"
and we started toward the castle. Back to main writing page Back to my Homepage