If Walls Could Talk

“If walls could talk,” my newest victim said, shaking his head as he surveyed the chamber. A charcoal trench coat hid his figure.

“We’ve certainly seen crazier things, haven’t we?” his partner sighed. The short and plump man grimaced, toeing a cracked skull that laid beside his boot. “Although, I'm not sure I wanna know what happened here.”

“Same thing that will happen to us if we’re not careful,” the first man said. He drew a cigarette from a pocket in his coat and brought it to his lips. The shorter man snapped a flame from his lighter and held it out for his friend in an obvious routine. The tiny spark lit the hard lines of the man’s face and a long scar along his cheek.

Both their eyes glimmer with excitement. Greed, my most faithful companion. Greed has brought me so many.

The first man pulls his left boot from the ground, preparing to inch closer to his prize that awaits him down the long corridor—if I had a heart, it would be racing.

The man stops.

He crouches down where he stands and his eyes run over the path before him.

“Rory? What’s the matter?” The shorter man asks, confusion clear in his voice.

Rory.

Rory’s eyes scan from the steps and up to the surface of my face at his left, breathing in every minute detail.

“Damn,” Rory snarls. He pulls the cigarette from his lips and blows a long seamless cloud between his teeth.

His partner looks uneasy. He shuffles back quietly before drawing a revolver from beneath his own coat. In a frantic whisper, he snarls, “What’s wrong? I swear, Rory. If you led us into another goddamn nest…”

“No blood suckers,” Rory says cooly. He drags his hat from his head and runs a scarred hand through his hair. “It’s cursed.”

How?

“Cursed?” His partner’s shoulders droop, the revolver reclining by his side. “Not like that tomb in Peru?” he groans.

“Like that tomb in Peru,” Rory echoes before standing slowly.

“That little worm,” the shorter man barks. “Bobby told us this was a clean job.”

Sliding his hat back onto his head, Rory said, “This is never a clean job, Murph.”

“You got that right. A desk job is sounding sweeter and sweeter. How can you tell it’s cursed? It looks like half the other godforsaken holes you’ve dragged me through.”

Rory looks to me again, tracing my shape with his outstretched fingers, “These runes. They’re used to bind spirits to objects. Old, dark magic.”

Well I’ll be… This one’s not as thick as the others.

“You know I don’t play with this magic stuff, Rory,” Murph warns, sliding further towards the exit.

Rory, ignoring his friend, continues, “Usually, these types of runes are used on weapons or amulets. I’ve certainly never seen a soul sealed to an entire wall. Clever.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“It’s brilliant for whoever is trying to keep us out,” he pulled at his cigarette again, the end flashed brighter, “a goddamn nightmare for us.” Smoke slid from his nostrils in thin tendrils

“Can you get through?”

“Who you talkin’ to?” Rory spat. “Of course I can get through.”

They're always so confident. Confident, then dead.

Seeing the terror on Murph’s pudgy face, I couldn’t help but play along. I made the walls and ceiling shudder and shift. The ancient stone groaned in defiance. Dust and debris showered over them.

Murph nearly sprung from his boots. Shaking, he raised his revolver and frantically waved it around the room, looking for anything he could punch a few holes in. Rory smirked, if he was surprised by my presence he didn’t let it show.

“That won’t do you any good,” Rory said as he pushed Murph’s gun aside.

“No, no it won’t,” I laughed gleefully, finally letting them hear my voice. To them, it sounded like a thousand whispers slithering in from every direction.

Murph’s revolver clattered against the stone floor as he turned and attempted to dart up the stairs he had come.

Rory snatched his collar and snarked, “Hold on there, mate.”

“I. Don’t. Do. Magic!” Murph cried. Rory easily maneuvered his partner away from the entrance.

“Come on now, Murph. I might need you,” Rory said flatly, still studying the runes that kept me tethered to this place.

“Cannibals? No problem,” Murph was talking frantically, his hands doing most of the work now. “Those assassins in Russia? Honestly, that was my pleasure. Even that vampire in Spain? I held the damn cross while you beat the thing bloody! But, after Peru?” He was poking Rory in the chest now, his face ruby red. “What did I tell you after Peru?”

Rory sighed long and slow, before saying, “No magic.”

“No, goddamn magic, Rory,” Murphy said, his hands shaking and his eyes darted around the cavern.

“You’re right, my good man,” Rory raised his hands up in surrender. “I won’t ask you to go a step further.”

With that, Murph pushed Rory aside and began up the stairs again.

I shifted the cavern again, at the end of the path across from them, I revealed their prize. A single object. Gold, like a flickering star, shimmered at the end of the hall.

Murph stopped at the second step and looked back over his shoulder. Greed, my most faithful companion, played its part brilliantly.

“I want eighty,” Murph demanded in a small voice. “Eighty-twenty split.”

Without pulling his eyes from the shimmering artifact, Rory outstretched his hand towards Murph. They shook silently.

“What’s the play?” Murph asked, suddenly confident. He picked up his revolver from the ground and slid it back into its home at his vest.

A rat, scared from its hole amongst the noise and shifting, scurries down the steps and between the two men.

“Lovely,” Murph says in disgust. The rodent crosses over the threshold of my domain. Instantly my runes flash sapphire like lightning. First, the hair of the creature is singed away as it screams. Then, its flesh turns to ash. Only its tiny skeleton remains.

I quiver with delight.

“This is precisely why I don’t do magic,” Murph moaned.

Rory flicks his cigarette into the dark, the embers fade away against the cold stone. “Well, we’re certainly not the first chaps to try, this are we?”

“No, certainly not,” I cackle out loud for them to hear again. They flinch as the whispers wash over them. When the runes along my face flashed, the cavern’s contents were fully revealed to them. The corridor is lined with bones—too many to count.

“How do you propose we get past that?” Murph asked tightly.

Something’s working quickly behind Rory’s eyes, as if he is replaying the whole scene over and over in his mind.

“When the runes flashed, it revealed three distinct sections along the path,” Rory said matter of factly. “The runes are Anglo-Saxon. Or rather, from a culture that inspired the saxons.”

“So?”

“I think we’re dealing with a witch, my good man,” Rory says with a smirk. I can’t help but cackle again. “And witches are pretentious little buggers.”

“And?” Murph gestures for him to continue.

“They always have to be the smartest person in the room,” Rory raises a brow at his partner.

“Well you two have that in common, don’t ya? Quit speaking in riddles, Rory,” Murph rolls his eyes.

“No. I believe the riddles are only about to begin,” Rory steps forward. From beneath his wide hat he says, “Ready when you are. That’s how this works, yes? I simply must ask?”

“What breaks but never falls, what falls but never breaks?” I hiss.

Murph scrunches his face in confusion.

“Day breaks. Night falls,” Rory says casually. I groan.

The runes at my first section flash crimson, then fade to black. Without hesitation Rory steps onto the path, shuffling past bones that clatter around his boots.

“Hell, Rory,” Murph snickers, impressed. He follows after his compatriot.

“I’m ready for the second question, mah lady,” Rory announces.

“You think yourself clever, don’t you?” I say whimsically.

“If that’s the second question, the answer is, ‘Yes’,” Rory shrugs and pretends to step forward.

“Don’t taunt the talking wall,” Murph scolds Rory, staying close behind him.

“I’m going to enjoy adding you to my collection,” I laugh.

Rory makes a scene of pulling out a stopwatch from his coat and leisurely checking the time. I can’t help but like this one.

“Thousands lay gold within this house, but no man built it,” I leer. “Thousands of spears guard this house, but no man wards it.”

“Maybe, a, um,” Murph began, but Rory cut him off with a slash of his hand.

“Do not give an answer unless you’re absolutely sure,” Rory warns. “I don’t imagine our friend here is all that gracious with trial guesses.” Murph nods his understanding.

“Thousands lay gold,” Rory repeats quietly to himself. “Thousands of spears. No men built it. What built it? A force of nature or a creature? A creature.” He pauses, holds up a finger, looks up at the wall and declares, “A bee hive.”

The runes of the second section flash ruby, then fall away into nothing. I growl.

Less bones are kicked aside as few have made it this far.

“Well done, Rory,” Murph sighs in relief as he shakes his head. “Never would have gotten that one on my own.”

“We all have our strengths, Murph,” Rory winks at his friend.

“So confident. So sure,” I cackle loud and proud, shaking the tomb. Their tomb.

“Ask away, witch,” Rory demands.

“I learned this one from a rather pesky dwarf,” I tell them. “It’s my favorite. What gets bigger when more is taken away?”

Rory’s head tilts to the side. I’ve got him now.

After a long, tedious moment of silence, Murph leans in and whispers, “I’ve got a guess—”

Rory bats his hand in the air dismissively at him. “Let me think,” he closes his eyes, reaches into his coat and reveals a fresh cigarette. He draws it to his lips, and with a snap, Murph has a flame dancing at the edge of his lighter. The portly man presents it to Rory who leans in.

His eyes flick open. He stops.

“Murph, you’re a genius,” Rory says, the cigarette hanging limply from his open lips. “Well done, my good man. Well done.” Murph looks as flabbergasted as I feel.

Staring at the tiny flame in Murph’s hand, Rory declares, “Fire. What gets bigger when more is taken away? Fire.”

There’s a terrible pause.

Then my laugh is high, malicious, and prickled with pride.

“So confident!” I snap! “So sure! So dead!” Sapphire runes flash all around the foolish man. The first to go is his gaudy hat, followed by his coat. In a single breath, his flesh disintegrates and his bones fall dryly to the floor.

My fit of laughter can’t be contained. Murph stands frozen, glaring down at his partner’s remains.

Oh how I love my wit. It’s cold and sharp like a butcher's blade.

Quietly, the man squats down and takes the unlit cigarette from the jaw bone. He stands again, lights the cigarette for himself and says, “You need some new riddles. He almost got that one.”

Finally, my laughing ceases. I shift the walls uneasily.

“Oh, please,” I hiss. “He was as dense as you are. No go and fetch me another.”

“Ya, ya, ya,” Murph rolls his eyes as he begins exiting the corridor, playfully kicking bones aside as he walks. “I’m picking someone that ain’t so clingy next time. That nutcase dragged me half across the world before he trusted me enough to bring him here. How many more of these idiots do you need until you give me that thing?” Murph grumbles as he jerks a thumb back at the artifact displayed at the end of the long hall.

“Oh, just one more, dearest,” I say sweetly.

“You said that last time,” Murph spits. He’s on the first step now, his back to me. “Fire really wasn’t the answer, huh?”

“No, you greedy boy,” I snicker. Greed, my most faithful companion, played its part brilliantly.

“Made sense to me,” he shrugs, taking another step. “What gets bigger when more is taken away? Things get eaten up, the flames get bigger. But that’s what I hate about this magic crap—always a loophole.”

He stops, turns slowly, and repeats, “loophole... A hole.”