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*THIS IS A ROUGH DRAFT, CRITICIZE AS YOU SEE FIT*
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Olivier shuffled away from the sword soldier. The sword soldier removed his sword. It was shorter than when it had gone into the portal. He swung his reduced sword sideways through the fiery portal. It wisped away. Olvier picked up his shuffling pace. He peeked over his shoulder. Goblet crossed behind him. He looked back to see the stone soldiers closing in. Oliver held up his staff. It radianted another holy glow. He slammed it down. The whole staff exploded into a sun. The pursuing soldiers stopped and turned to Olivier.
Goblet broke through the exit of the vault. He turned around. Olivier was pale, sweating through his robe, and visibly shaking. “Mage!” he called. “Let’s go!” He waved his hand toward himself.
The stone soldiers looked at Goblet. They did not charge him. They maneuvered their body between him and Olivier. “They’re not going to cross.” Olivier said.
“How do you know?”
“Magical seals running through the room.” He pointed to the etchings and markings in the stonework. “That part does not matter. No one else should be able to access what this room has to offer.”
“Yeah, we know you hate the king and all, but solving this death is priority.”
“I cannot solve the death. I do not think I will be able to make it out of the room. Go!” He waved his staff in the direction of the exit. Olivier then began to chant a collection of words.THe runes along his staff lit up with a frozen glow. He tapped the base of his staff against the floor. A slick layer of ice spread out like a puddle.
Goblet took a step toward the vault. His foot grazed the ice. It sent an unnatural chill through the balls of his feet up through his leg and to his shoulders. He couldn’t help but shutter at the feeling. His body leaned back as a solid wall of ice shot from the frozen puddle. It arched upward and jammed itself into the ceiling just outside the vault entrance. “What?” Goblet murmured. “What!?” He ineffectively punched the wall. He opened his hand. The balled up leaves floated to the ground. He grabbed his axe with both hands. He arched it as far back as he could. His muscles bulged down his back. He tightened his grip, then whipped forward. His axe chunked into the wall with a loud thunk! He pulled back and repeated the process with another chop, and another. His blade went deeper into the wall, yet he remained distant from the other side. He shuffled back. Let out a loud, “Aaarrrggh!” He ran forward, axe raised. He swung deep into the ice. It penetrated the thick layer. Cracks began to spread out like a spider’s web. He yanked the blade free. The cut was no deeper than his first.
Goblet sighed. He laid his axe down then placed his hands along the wall. The stinging cold blasted through his veins and to his back. He shook it off, nodded, gave another ineffectual punch, scooped up his axe and squeezed back through the secret passageway.