Eye of the Heavens
Copyright© 2026 by Sandra Alek
Chapter 2
The heavy axe pulled at Stan’s arm as he crept through the city streets. He used every shadow for cover, moving forward without looking back at Hiss.
If she wants to live, she’ll keep up, he thought. Beating up two guards was no joke. Even if the court showed mercy and released her on bail, she might not even survive until the trial. How could she be such an idiot—starting a fight with the city watch? And for what? A worthless piece of junk!
He wanted to spit, but he held it in.
When they reached the city wall, he looked back. Hiss was right there, quiet as a mouse. He gestured for her to climb up, cupping his hands to give her a boost.
She climbed up, accidentally catching his ear with her boot. Stan winced but stayed silent. He grabbed the soles of her shoes and shoved her upward. When the end of the rope dropped down, he checked to make sure it was secure, fastened his axe to his back, and climbed up.
They climbed down the other side without any trouble and headed toward the rock. On the way, he told her about his talk with the scholar and how he had gotten the virgin’s blood.
To his surprise, Hiss wasn’t happy that he had saved them money by pleasing the maid.
“You dogs,” she hissed. “You’re ready to stick your pecker into any hole you find!”
“At least that girl didn’t threaten to slit my throat.”
“A man like you doesn’t just need his throat cut—someone should snip off your privates, too! Just to stop you from ruining innocent girls.”
Stan spat. It was useless to argue. You couldn’t win with her; all you’d get was a sore throat.
The sunrise found them at the summit of Lone Rock.
“Thirty minutes’ walk, your old man said?” Hiss grumbled.
Stan shrugged. He sat on a stone, pulled a piece of meat from his pack, and started chewing. She joined him. Time moved slowly. Bored, Stan sharpened his axe. Hiss quietly hummed tavern songs and threw stones at the crows flying by. Finally, when the sun reached its zenith, a long-awaited glint flickered in the East.
“There,” Stan said, standing up.
Hiss stood up, pointedly rubbing her lower back. “Finally. I thought my butt was starting to grow roots into this rock.”
At the top of the right hill, Stan started to drive a stake into the ground, but Hiss stopped him.
“You have nothing better to do? I can tell you where South is right now just by looking at the sun. Those rocks over there point exactly where we need to go.”
He looked up at her. “Are you sure?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Maybe you should’ve studied geography instead of running after tavern girls.”
He chewed his lip for a moment. “Seems like there’s a lot I don’t know about you.”
“You’ll never know,” she snapped and started walking down the hill.
This woman knew how to be a real pain in the ass, but there was something about her that kept him from just leaving her behind. Stan sighed and followed her.
They reached the “horse’s head” by noon the next day. They counted out the paces. Nothing. Just bare ground and a pile of boulders. Hiss looked around, stomped her foot in anger, and threw up her hands.
“Where are the treasures of ancient kings? Where is the magic Eye of the Heavens? Maybe you should’ve screwed that scholar instead of the maid! Maybe then we’d actually find something!”
Stan ignored her and looked around. He started tapping the ground with the handle of his axe. When he hit a flat, moss-covered boulder, he heard a hollow thud. He leaned his shoulder against it and pushed. A narrow hole opened up.
“Holy horse shit!” Hiss stared, her eyes wide. “That old fart wasn’t lying! Get the rope, ‘hero of virgins.’ And you go first!”
The descent was short. Three heartbeats later, Stan was standing in a small cave. It smelled of mold and stagnant water. Glowing moss provided a faint light, just enough to see a massive stone door at the far end. He approached it and looked it over.
The stone was covered in barely visible symbols. He moved his hands cautiously, feeling the surface. His fingers traced smooth, sharp edges. Not a single chip or crack. It was fine craftsmanship, likely the work of ancient masters. The sound of flint and steel cut through the noise of dripping water, and light flared up. A moment later, Hiss joined him, holding a torch high to light up the slab blocking the path.
“Well? Is it time for the virgin’s blood?” she asked.
“Yes,” Stan replied, continuing his inspection. “Shine the light here.”
Surprisingly, she listened without complaining. In the center of the slab, the “River” rune clearly appeared, surrounded by dozens of others.
He took out the vial, dipped his finger into the red liquid, and carefully painted the symbol.
It was as if a silent thunder shook the cave. The air whistled out of his chest, and a painful pressure hit his ears. Dust fell from the ceiling. Hiss cursed under her breath.
Stan pushed the door, and it gave way easily.
“Walrus tusk!” Hiss cried out. “The blood worked. Fine, I forgive you for the girl. What are you waiting for? Move it!”
He took the torch from her and stepped forward.
The ceiling was high, as if built for giants. The stone walls were covered in runes and drawings of strange machines, maps, and diagrams. High on both sides, bronze bowls—clearly oil lamps—dimly reflected the light. Stone grit crunched under their feet.
The passage ended in a large room. The floor was made of big, multicolored tiles with patterns. Stan stopped to study the designs. Hiss stepped forward and tested a light-gray rectangle with her foot.
“Seems fine. Solid enough.”
As soon as she finished speaking, a loud boom echoed behind them. He turned and cursed—a flat stone had blocked the entrance. Stan jumped toward it and shoved it with his shoulder, but it was useless. He tried to find a gap to use his axe as a lever. No luck. He looked back at the room, realizing the only way out was forward. A quiet grinding sound and stone dust falling from above made him look up.
The ceiling was slowly lowering.
“Damn it!” Hiss screamed. “It’s coming down!”
“I see it,” Stan replied, studying the floor. “It’s a trap. We need to figure out how to get to the other side.”
She brushed a pebble off her head and turned to him. “Gray, white, and black. We have to figure out which ones are safe. Look, there’s a white diagonal line going straight across. I’m trying it.”
She stepped onto a tile, and it dropped away. Stan caught her by the hair and pulled her back.
“Hey! You almost ripped my head off!”
The grinding of the stone was becoming more irritating. The ceiling was lowering slowly but steadily. It felt like the air was running out, making it harder to breathe.
“Check the black and gray ones. I’ll hold you.”
The attempts failed. Time was being wasted. Stan turned to her. “If you take off your armor, I might be able to throw you across.”
“What about you?”
“Don’t waste time. There’s no point in both of us dying.”
She just nodded and, with his help, quickly stripped naked. The ceiling was already only a forearm’s length above Stan’s head. Without wasting time on explanations, he grabbed her and threw her forward like a sack.
She flew across the room, hit the floor on her knees, and growled. “A little warning next time!”
He didn’t waste breath on words. He threw her armor, weapons, the food bag, and the torch to her. Now he had to crouch to keep from hitting his head on the stone. He moved to the mosaic and started testing every tile one by one. Hiss kept her eyes on him, urging him on.
“Faster, Stan, faster!”
There was no need to shout—he wasn’t losing a single second. But every tile fell through. He was forced to stand bent over now. Stan unclipped his coin purse and tossed it to the woman.
“There’s another gold piece and a couple of silver in there.”
She picked up the purse. Tears were streaming down her face. “Stan,” she said in a trembling voice. “If it still matters ... I forgive you.”
He threw her his battle-axe. “It’s worth a lot. Don’t sell it for less than three gold.”
She wiped her eyes, looked at him, and her face suddenly changed. She screamed, “I’ve got it! Don’t look at the colors—look at the runes!”
Hiss grabbed the torch and lit up the floor. “There’s the River. We opened the door with the River. Maybe we have to pick that one here, too?”
Already resigned to the end, Stan shook his head while kneeling. “The River tile dropped. I already tried that stone.”
“Then ... then...” she muttered frantically, “could it be the Island?”
Stan threw up his hands. “I don’t know that rune. Goodbye, Hiss.”
“There it is!” the woman shouted, pointing to a tile.