The door Simon had passed through led to a parapet. All this room seemed to be was a circularly bricked tower with stairs in the middle that criss-crossing upward. After having a look about, he noticed that the brickage was now different. The architecture changed. Instead of the cold, grey slabs as before, this section of the castle was now all smaller, dark orange bricking. This change led Simon to believe that whoever built this place must have changed his mind in mid-construction. The reason seemed to be that these bricks had less wear and tear. They altogether looked like they cracked less, and were more resistant to damage and time.

Upon inspection, the stairs seemed to be clear of any evil creatures. Simon began his climb. He came to a landing with nothing on it. Just another staircase. He was about to put his foot on the first stair when he heard a noise. He froze in his place to strain to hear better. It seemed like metal plates squeaking. It almost sounded like it would get closer, and then it would get farther away. Simon snuck up the stairs and stopped when his head was about level with the landing. He could see a suit of armor. It was slowly walking to the end of the stairs. It turned back and started to come toward Simon. He froze.

From head to toe, the man in the suit was covered. Despite the age of this place and the status of everything else he had seen, this suit was as shiny as the day it had been created. It walked sort of hunched, carrying a spear. Simon’s blood ran cold when he looked into the visor of the being. There was nothing there except blackness. It came to the end of the landing and was about a foot in front of Simon. It then turned without seeming to notice him at all.

A thought came into his head. He had read about some of the creatures in this place in the book the stable boy had given him. There was a short passage about the Count wanting to cover as much ground in his home as possible. So, it had been rumored the Count devised a way to double his guard, with suits of armor which were brought to live. Or rather they were possessed. But these beings didn’t seem to be very perceptive of their surroundings. Simon wasn’t even seen when he stood just below the thing. He proceeded to the landing.

The suit was walking away from Simon, but as soon as he set foot on the landing itself, the suit immediately turned and started walking toward him, spear raised. The sharpened steel head was pointing right as Simon’s heart. He was caught by surprise and stumbled backward. Just as his foot left the landing, the suit stopped and turned back. It continued the walk it had started. Simon could only shake his head at this odd opponent. He didn’t doubt that it could fight, just that it had an unusual way about it.

Deciding that this thing had to be out of his way, Simon grasped his keen knife by the blade took aim. He hurled it at the thing. It went end over end, finally spearing the suit in the back with a metal scraping sound. It didn’t seem to notice at all. It kept on walking toward the far stairs. When it reached the end, Simon drew his short-sword and decided to see how well it could fight. It turned and started stamping toward him, spear raised. Simon leapt at the monster and thrust his sword into its chest. It didn’t seem to notice that either. It backhanded him with a mailed gauntlet. Simon pulled his sword free and jumped in time to be missed by the thing’s spear, which would had been driven into his heart. It continued to follow him.

He stood his ground, waiting. His timing would have to be perfect. The spear was thrust out again, but this time Simon turned his body left and the spear narrowly missed him. He took this time to maneuver himself behind it. He yanked out his dagger, at the same time putting his foot its back. He pushed with all his effort and the armor went off the side, tumbling thirty feet to the ground below. It hit the floor and the armor went everywhere, revealing no one inside. He continued to watch, to see if it really was ‘dead.’ The torso of the armor began to float up to where someone’s torso would be. Each extremity began sliding across the floor and connected accordingly. Even the spear slowly returned to its hand. It stood for a second before beginning to pace the bottom where Simon had entered.

Simon sheathed his dagger and his short-sword. He also now was starting to feel a little hungry.

He seated himself on the landing, cross-legged, and started sorting through his backpack. He pulled out some dried meat and a water flask. As he ate he kept a keen eye on the suit of armor. It traced a line from the door he entered to the stairs. Back and forth it went. It went as such a good ten times or more without pause. Simon finished his dried provision with a sip of water. He put the flask back in his backpack. He was about to toss the bone off this side, when he decided to fire it at the suit of armor. The leg-bone bounced off the helmet. It went up and landed in front of the suit. It kept walking and even stepped on the bone. No reaction. Simon continued on his way.

He reached the top of the stairs paused to have a look around. Just a straight corridor to another door. The only catch to this short room was that the floor had caved in the middle. Simon walked up to the edge and looked down. It fell into untold darkness below. He measured the gap. About seven feet. He walked backward about ten feet and started running, running as fast as he could. He thundered toward the gap… Simon jumped and cleared it by about five inches. He waited for a second as the dust settled. He continued forward toward the door.

A loud grinding of metal gears assaulted Simon’s ears as he reached for the door ring. It was the slow thundering of many gears working together. He opened the door and looked through. His mouth was agape as he watched. There was a row of three spike-covered platforms that were being raised and dropped on the floor. Anyone caught under one of these would suffer multiple impalings by foot long spikes. Even as he watched, the first one raised and there was a corpse meshed in between the teeth. Simon was so focused on these machines that he didn’t see something approaching him.

The next thing he knew, he was on the ground, pinned under a wickedly grinning skeleton. It opened its mouth and hissed right in Simon’s face. It stood and placed its bony foot on Simon’s chest, keeping him pinned to the ground with incredible strength. It raised its hands high above its head, raising a sword… Simon had been so stunned just by looking at this thing. It was a fully-intact skeleton moving all on its own. He was then under his own control and proceeded to bash the leg-bone with the meaty part of his forearm. The leg went flying off on it’s own. The skeleton tried to keep its balance and was flailing its arms as a result. Simon side-kicked it in the ribs and it fell to the floor, shattered.

He continued to watch. For as much as he knew, it was going to get back up and try for seconds. It didn’t move. Simon waited, seeing if it was a ploy. He pretended to walk past, looking ahead… He turned swiftly to see the skeleton and all its part were still on the floor, still not moving. Just as a precaution, he picked up the skull and tossed it under one of the slamming spike traps. He heard a crunch and the skull had a new home.

Simon then noticed his back was wet. His first thought was that he had been stabbed by a sharp rock or debris and not noticed under his struggle until now. He turned his torso, to examine his lower back.

It was wet all right, but not moist by blood, it was moistened by water. He opened up his pack at the same time he realized it must have been his holy water. One of the small flasks had cracked and some water had leaked out. Simon pulled it out and a drop fell on the ground…

Blue flame leapt up about knee height directly in front of Simon. He panicked and then came to realize that the torch happened as a result of the blessed liquid touching any part of the castle. Even as he watched, he put his hand in the flame. It was slightly cold. And the drop was sizzling as if it were on a blacksmith’s forge. Apparently, the castle was doing its part to fight back by boiling the holy water so its exposure was only minimal. The flame died down.

There was a fist-sized circle where the reaction had happened that was now clean. Instead of the dreary dust, soot or moss covering the floors usually had, this spot was completely clean. It stuck out in all this decay like a rare flower. Seeing how some water could be used as such a weapon gave Simon renewed hope in his endeavor. His odds just got better. He tied it to his belt and since it was right side up, it wouldn’t leak any more. Simon turned to study the spike traps that were his next obstacle.

They were as wide as the narrow hall, so there was no way around them. These traps were about as big as a large table with spikes facing downward. A chain was attached to the back. They seemed to rise about eight feet, slowly, and fall quickly. And there was a space large enough in between each trap for an average man to stand, but not comfortably. ‘Hmmm…,’ Simon thought… ‘Maybe if I just watch these go, maybe there’s a pattern.’ Simon’s eyes went up and down, tracing the guillotine-like repetitiveness. After about a minute, he decided he was ready.

Just as the first trap slammed on the ground and started raising itself, Simon did a roll under the trap. He held his breath even though he had time to spare. Simon stood in between the first and second trap, inhaling to make himself more narrow. The trap slammed behind him, sending a breeze against his powerful legs. He sighed in relief. The trap in front of him was coming down now. It banged on the floor, temporarily deafening Simon. He proceeded to roll under the second trap. When he landed and was standing, the third trap was about two and a half feet above ground and on its way up. Simon crouched and walked hunched over. The trap was about two feet above his head, when he heard the chain go slack and it started to fall. Simon could only clench up and wait for the killing blow. It stopped an inch above his head.

Apparently, this third one was meant to deceive anyone fool enough to trust the set pattern of the first two. Anyone seeing it going up would just assume that it would react as the first two. And since it only went half way down, it could slam down a lot faster and maybe catch the odd adventurer off guard, pinning his head to the bottom of the spikes. Simon kept walking crouched, hoping that the trap won’t choose this very second to break it’s pattern and give him several extra breathing holes. The only reward for surviving untimely death was another set of stairs. Simon walked up this once ornate and sturdy staircase.

Simon entered a sparsely-lit room long and wide enough to comfortably fit a small army. Apparently it had been used as such because of the long rows of rusted weapons that decorated the left wall. There were racks which contained rows of spears, swords, cudgels, rapiers, hand axes, pole-arms of various length and shape. All of these were made of iron and were for the most part, totally unusable. The wind blowing in the well-spaced windows tended to blow out the candles, yet they seemed content to re-light themselves. Simon could see out one of these windows and could see nothing but the long, dark expanse of the ocean, decorated only by a rippling reflection of the full moon.

As he proceeded down this longer hall, a strange feeling started to grip Simon. He suddenly felt like he was being watched. Watched by something hungry. He looked about and the only thing he could see that was out of the ordinary was a white statue at the end of the hall. The fluctuating candlelight couldn’t penetrate far enough to make out exactly what it was. Simon continued down the silent corridor, slowly drawing his axe. The statue slowly started taking shape. It was a skull. Make that two skulls. One on top of the other. Not just ordinary skulls, but ones the size of a man’s torso. They were a sickly whitish-gray and had an extended face, giving them the look almost like that of a dragon. They sat on a circular base. The entire thing was about five feet tall.

Not really understanding why, this statue seemed to be staring right at Simon. Even though there were no eyes, the dark sockets seemed to have a life of their own. They peered right through him, right to his soul. He didn’t like the feeling one bit. The statue was blocking his way. As he approached the thing, the top skull’s eyes began to light up. There was fire and smoke coming out of the nostril hole. Just then there was gout of flame that burst out of its open mouth. Not judging his distance well, Simon’s left arm was caught in the blaze. He cursed loudly, holding his scalded limb. The statue growled deep and bassy, eyeing him hungrily.

When he calmed down enough, Simon then realized that there was no way for him to get close enough to strike the monstrosity. The only way to kill this thing without getting burned horribly was to hit it from a distance. Simon backed up. He untied the cracked flask of holy water and decided that it was best just to douse the whole statue. He gave it a might toss and it shattered all over it. The skull’s jaws parted and it screamed as if in the most horrible pain. Blue flame roared from the floor and engulfed the beast. It burned until there was nothing left in the blaze. The fire still continued to burn. Simon passed through it, and as before it felt slightly cold. He looked over his burned limb. It wasn’t torched as bad as he had thought. There was a foot-long sear from his wrist to his elbow, but it seemed to hurt worse than it appeared.

Simon glanced back, as the fire settled. There was a huge spot where the fire had burned a clean spot on the cursed floor. He smirked as his boots pounded the circular stairs, leading upward. They turned slightly left. He rounded the stairs and ended up staring down a long corridor that had sections of wall that were missing. He could even see the glaring moon peeking behind dark clouds, as one whole part of the wall was missing from ceiling to floor. The rest of the hall was a large expanse that passed into shadow. There were peculiar statues lining the walls and support pillars every so often. Simon scanned the room with a keen eye. There were three skeletons lying in a heap just inside the candle’s reach, down the hall. They seemed to be armored, wearing winged helms, body plating and had swords. Their positioning suggested they died fighting each other, yet their armor and swords were whole and even shiny.

He walked the length of the hall, keeping a keen eye on the skeletons lying up ahead. He still managed to glance quickly at each statue and hole while still focusing on the heap of dead soldiers.

Even as he drew nearer to the heap, they seemed to gather darkness around them, as to obscure any deceitful activity they were planning. There was a voice screaming in Simon’s head that they were waiting for him to approach. When he slowly walked to within five feet of the pile, he stood and watched for any malice in these centuries-dead warriors. Not a whisp of dust moved. He squinted. Deciding not to take chances, Simon made a wide circle of the dead, making sure not to make any noise. ‘It’s no use,’ he though, ‘If they are going to try something, they know I’m here.’ Simon looked back at them as he kept walking. Nothing moved. ‘Most likely like the one downstairs I had seen before.’ Simon then began to look at his surroundings.

This place must once have been a gallery. There were tattered and faded artwork of varying size and composition. Even on the ceiling, there was a huge painting. Not even on a canvas, but on the stone ceiling itself. It was of a man in one of those flattering poses that favored his good side. He wore fine clothing and his hair was slicked back, and yet the face had seen the most wear and tear of the centuries, as it had the most cracks and flakes. To compliment the walls covered with art, there were grey statues a foot from the walls. They were at four-foot intervals. Some were fully intact, just like they day they had been created. While others were covered in dust, dirt and had moss to decorate them. Some were knights, poised with strength, while others were simply busts. There was a particularly odd statue to the right. It was of a man, and yet for a statue, retained a piercing gaze that seemed to pass right through Simon. There was no mistaking of whom this statue was. The Lord of the manor. Complete with cape and a fang protruding from his mouth. He couldn’t help but stare back at the representation. Even as he passed it, his neck craned right and even started looking behind him to track the statue when he noticed something standing right behind him.

The three skeletons that he had passed were stalking him not a foot behind him. They were crouched over and not making a sound. Simon had enough time to gasp and draw his whip. The lead skeleton charged him, shield-bashing the whip right out of his hand. Simon continued to back up, all the while fiddling with the cord tied around his flask of holy water. He fearfully clawed at the cord until he had the vial in his hand. He unscrewed the top as the three bore down on him. He made an arc with the flask and a wall of blue flame leapt to his defense. The three skeletons stood behind the wall, unable to move. Their evilly socketed, dark skulls howled in rage at Simon, while they threw up bony hands to shield their eyes. He took his chance to leap through the wall and dropkick the first bony creature. It shattered on the floor, spreading bones and iron plating everywhere.

The other two still seemed to be stunned at the flame wall. Seeing this, Simon took this opportunity to head-butt the one to his left. The head flew off cleanly. He turned quickly and side-kicked the whole lower body of the second. Its bony appendages flew out from under it, leaving the torso to fall to the floor and spread everywhere. Simon half turned his head to see a headless skeleton raising it’s sword behind him. He spun and kicked out, hitting the flat of the sword and sending it sliding across the floor, along with a skeletal hand that held it. The torso seemed to turn slightly, as though there was a head to follow the sliding weapon. The headless monstrosity took no hesitation in grabbing Simon by the throat with its remaining hand. He gasped at its considerable strength. The freezing claws were digging into his neck. He felt his windpipe being crushed at the thing’s deathly grip… Simon worked his hand around the

sharp thumb, snapping it off. The hand lost its hold and Simon yanked his neck free. He grabbed a hold of the front plate in the armor and heaved the undead ten feet back down the hall. Armor and bones danced on the floor and slid in all directions.

Simon passed a hand over his throat and coughed once, then twice. He could feel the slight blood the fine scratched had produced. After picking up his whip, he continued down the hall, more disturbed than injured. Statues continued to line the hall, and they seemed to get more degraded and moss covered as he approached a circular room at the end. This well-lit room held one solitary statue. It was one of a roman centurion, complete with sword in hand. In the other, it held a circular object. As he approached, he could see that the statue held a decapitated head. Not just any decapitated head, but an unusual one that had multiple protrusions coming off the top and sides. Snakes. This was a statue of the man who had slain Medusa and was holding her head as verification to his adventure. He approached this hideous thing with contempt at any artist who would carve such an abomination. At least he felt like giving credit, though. It was the best statue he had seen yet. With such attention to detail.

Bright silver light poured down from the ceiling. At this particular time, the circular hole in the roof was designed to capture the moonlight. The moon was almost directly in the middle of the opening. He looked behind the statue at his destination, a staircase leading to an old wooden and reinforced door. He passed directly before that evil head of medusa. As he passed, Simon could have sworn he had seen the darkly shadowed eyes following his movements. Cold stone eyes. With a glance back, one of the snakes coiled up and reared its head in his direction. Yet, when he stopped and turned, it was still as a statue.

The last rays of the passing moon crept across the last few coils, leaving the head in darkness.

Simon heard a hissing coming from five feet ahead, just where the head was positioned. His eyes quickly adjusted to the night, and he could see the head slowly turning toward him, the coils rearing their fangs.

It sounded like the cement was grinding, turning and crumbling off. The head was now facing him, eyes closed. Simon drew his whip, ready for anything.

The head proceeded to float out of the hand of the centurion. Simon’s arms lowered in horror as he watched a disembodied head floating not six feet in front of him. It’s eyes opened and a sickly green light poured out of them. Almost feeling paralyzed by the unholy radiance, he could only stare as the head approached him. He was torn between believing that this medusa was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, so much so he almost wept, yet… on the other hand, he was almost pushed to the point of vomiting at it’s cruel horror. With both of these powerful emotions constantly tearing Simon back and forth, he thought for sure that he was going to be feasted on by unholy beasts this second. He only wished he had a chance to die fighting the master, not some centuries-decapitated head.

The head bobbed up and down slightly as it closed in on Simon. Feeling it was close to another feast, the head started salivating, and not just a trickle. It could smell this man’s flesh as it were tasting it.

A long, coiled tongue rolled out of its mouth and wet it’s parched lips… Simon proceeded to do the only thing he was physically able to do, which was close his eyes. He still felt that he couldn’t move, and yet the feeling of love and disgust that had been assaulting him subsided slightly. Now he could at least picture himself being eaten by this head… And not even getting to see the master. Not being able to let the man know just how much Simon hated him… He felt his insides burn with hatred. Not being able to repay the man for the pain and suffering which has been so readily placed on his family, on his town, on his region, on him. He could hear a loud hissing, as the head parted it’s jaws, ready to bear down on him…

Simon opened his eyes, unaffected by the medusa’s stomach churning aura. Faster than the eyes of the medusa could track, Simon whipped out his sword and in a clean motion, made a strike. The head

paused, slightly confused. Both halves of the head fell apart and landed on the floor, already stone before they cracked loudly on the stone floor. He felt like vomiting even after the head was defeated. So strong was the vile power it possessed. Instead, he walked up the stairs and pushed on the sturdy door, which opened easily.