Pitfall (original) (raw)

HU? Why yes!

Pitfall

Devin frowned as he scanned the small chamber. He had come to Japan on his scant personal time, scouted out the path to this centuries-old tomb, and circumvented an unpleasant handful of traps to find the relics reputed to be buried here, but the only thing he saw was a small book resting on a square of dusty silk. Not that he underestimated the worth of a book, especially one in a place such as this, but it wasn't what he had expected. He had been imagining enchanted weapons or talismans or the like, given that this was supposed to be the resting place of a ninja, but a book was no less relevant, he realized.

He examined the floor around the book carefully, with both physical and magical sight, and saw nothing suspicious. Gingerly, he knelt to pick up the cloth square by the corners, cradling the book in it. The cover of the book was blank, giving no indication of its contents, so he gently opened it, using the silk as a barrier between his fingers and the old paper.

One glance at the writing inside brought a scowl to the mage's face. Because of, but completely aside from, his magical studies, he was a skilled linguist, but the script in the book made no sense to him. Japanese was a language he was moderately familiar with, and he could at least recognize the appearance of Chinese and Korean, or any other known related language. This strange script seemed like and unlike Japanese in the same way that Russian seemed like and unlike English; the characters may have shared some common origin, but they were put together differently, and Devin couldn't make heads or tails of it.

Well, it would be a puzzle to muse over in the comfort of his office. He wrapped the book carefully in the silk square and tucked it into his pack, then turned to the exit. He had taken three steps when his left foot sunk through the floor. Caught off-balance, the mage tumbled into the pit-trap, the cloth that had been disguised as part of the packed dirt floor flapping around him as he fell.

He barely had the presence of mind to try to fall towards the side of the pit, suspecting that something unpleasant might be at the bottom. All too soon, his feet hit a hard floor, but the sudden impact kept him off-balance, and the resulting stagger brought his right leg down on a sharp spike.

The mage's painful string of curses split the silence for several moments as he backed away from what was apparently a grid of spikes staggered in the center of the floor. Without much thought, he gestured for a light spell, but the familiar ball of light did not appear.

Suddenly a great deal more concerned than he had been a moment ago, Devin tried the spell again, more deliberately, but the result was the same. He tried to look around with his mage-sight, and saw runes glowing in rows all around the walls of the pit. The dialect was odd, but he recognized the syntax -- it was an anti-magic field, meaning he would have no simple way of getting out of this place.

Muttering a few more choice curses, he rummaged for the small Maglite in his pack and examined his surroundings with the narrow beam of light. The walls of the pit were as smooth as glass, and he seemed to be about twenty feet down. Fortunately, there was an 18" aisle around the bed of bamboo spikes, giving him somewhere to stand safely. Assured that he seemed to be in no further danger, he took the time to examine his wounded leg. The puncture was clean, and considering the fact that he wasn't in excruciating agony and still conscious, he guessed that the spikes were, fortunately, not poisoned. With the somewhat inadequate supplies in his pocket-sized first-aid kit, he cleaned the wound and wrapped it tightly. He had been lucky not to hit an artery, or a bone, he thought grimly. It still hurt like hell, but it could have been far worse.

He heaved a sigh and looked up, wondering how the hell he was going to get out of this. He had a rope and a small grapple, but there was nothing nearby for the hook to catch on, he knew. The fact that he had fallen into such a simple trap had him seething in angry shame. The cloth, painted to look like the floor, had been pulled taut over the mouth of the pit and covered well with a thin layer of dirt, hiding its edges. The pit was placed in the direct path between where the book had been and the only door out of the room -- he had avoided it on the way in by sheer luck as he had cautiously surveyed the room, but in his overconfidence, he had tried to exit the room in the quickest way.

Well, it had been a painful lesson. But unless he got out of this place, it wasn't going to do him a lot of good. Looking for some inspiration, he dug through his pack. He hadn't brought much equipment; this was supposed to be a fairly simple expedition, and he was no professional explorer. Of course, he usually relied on his magic in situations like this, but now he couldn't even do that.

As his rummaging became more agitated in his irritation, his hand brushed over his cellphone. Well, that was an obvious answer: call someone to get him the hell out of here. But this wasn't Shield business, and he would feel highly stupid calling someone out for such a minor bit of nonsense. He might have called Zack immediately if he had been off-duty, but he was with Rhett in Geneva, Devin knew. He'd rather die than ask Quistis for help out of this kind of predicament; and he certainly wasn't going to bother Noah with it. Not to mention, Noah's help might be more trouble than it was worth... But of his usual associates, that left one obvious choice.

Heaving a sigh, Devin pressed the speed dial for Conjure's cell. It would be late at night in San Diego by now, but not midnight yet. Hopefully he would still be awake and about.

The phone rang twice. "What is it?" the ninja asked bluntly.

Devin swallowed his pride, hating to admit his foul-up. "I'm... er. I'm kind of in a fix."

"A fix? Got people after you?"

"Heh, no." That sounded more like the kind of "fix" Conjure might find himself in, but Devin wasn't quite so well-known. "I'm..." The mage sighed in vexation. "I'm in a pit trap, and the damn thing's got an anti-magic field in it."

There was a long silence, during which Devin imagined first Conjure's blank surprise, then a slow smirk. "What the hell were you doing?"

"Looking for something. Look, can you get me out of here?" Devin finally asked, running a hand through his hair. "I've got a nice hole in my leg about the size of a quarter that should probably be stitched up or something."

"Where are you? And send me a picture." Conjure could teleport anywhere within quite a long distance, but he would need an image to move into such a small enclosed space.

"Japan, the northern end of Honshu -- Hakkoudasan. Picture's coming, but it's kind of dark in here." The mage fumbled with his flashlight and the phone's camera for a moment, trying to capture an image that showed the wall, the clear aisle, and the spikes.

"The hell you doing up there? Give me a second, that's two jumps." The distance between California and this remote part of Japan was too great for the ninja to cover in one teleportation, but it was doable in two.

Devin stood well back from the spot he had photographed, keeping out of Conjure's way. Sure enough, in a few moments the gene-x appeared, immediately checking his distance from the floor spikes.

"Nice going," he commented, looking around the pit curiously. His gaze rested on the bloody tear on Devin's pant leg for a moment before looking up at the mage. "You ready?"

Well, that was more courteous than usual; most of the time, Conjure just took hold of him and jumped. Maybe he was deferring to Devin's injury. "Yeah." He shouldered his pack, wincing slightly at the added weight on his leg.

Conjure gripped his shoulder, and suddenly they were up in the inner chamber of the tomb again, a few feet away from the pit. Devin looked around alertly for other traps; the ninja was likewise taking in their surroundings, with as much curiosity as wariness.

"What were you looking for here?" he asked.

Devin suspected that Conjure knew the nature of this place, but he couldn't tell if the man was offended by his exploring the place or not. "Artifacts," he replied with a shrug.

"Find anything?"

"A book."

The ninja rolled his eyes slightly; Devin pursued books like a big game hunter. "Are you done here, then?"

"Yeah. You might want--" He was going to suggest teleporting directly outside, instead of having to deal with any more possible traps, but Conjure had the same idea in mind, and in a blink, they were out in the late afternoon sunshine, in the shadow of Mt. Hakkouda. Devin's rented motorcycle was visible several hundred yards away.

The mage sighed, glad to be outside again, but still feeling fairly stupid. "... Thanks," he said a little sheepishly. "Sorry to call you on a day off."

"I'll bill you -- at my overtime rate," Conjure said with a smirk.

Devin was about to retort when he remembered the book he had found. "Actually, I might be able to pay you now." He unslung his pack and pulled out the wrapped bundle, handing it to the skeptical ninja.

"I don't take payment in books," he scoffed, reaching to pass the thing back to Devin.

"At least look at the damn thing," the mage growled. Given the nature of some of the ninja magic and secret ways he had seen before, he was curious if Conjure would be able to read the strange language within.

His every move showing that he was just humoring Devin, the ninja unwrapped the book, glanced at its blank cover, and opened it to a random page. He frowned slightly at the apparent gibberish, looked at it for a long moment, and then started flipping through the pages, eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"Careful," Devin muttered, eyeing the aged pages. "Can you read it?"

"Yes." By now, Conjure had turned back to the first page, and was reading the text from the beginning, his look of concentration showing that the script wasn't exactly simple for him, either.

"What is it?"

The other man smirked, realizing then that Devin had, quite literally, no idea what the book was. "Ninja secrets."

Well, Devin had already figured as much. He sighed and waved dismissively. "Right. It's yours."

Conjure raised an eyebrow, apparently surprised at his willingness to give up a book, then shrugged. "Gonna go get that taken care of?" he asked, nodding at Devin's wounded leg.

"Might not need to, now." The mage knelt on his good knee and pulled up the leg of his pants, unwrapping the bandages to take a clear look at the wound. Gingerly, he placed one hand over the puncture and murmured a basic healing spell, then grimaced as his flesh began to knit. He had never learned how to use that spell painlessly, but that was why he wasn't a healer, he supposed.

"Heh. Well, if you're set now, then..."

Devin nodded. "Thanks," he started to say again, but before he had half of the syllable out, Conjure was gone, taking his new book with him.

Fin.