THE LAST
ADVENTURE: A
short story
Chell
peered
down
into
the
dark
abyss
of
the
ancient
well.
There
were
no
footholds,
and
certainly
no
ladder.
She
would
have
to
descend
by
rope.
Looking
around,
she
sighed
in
disbelief.
It
couldn’t
be
here.
The
holy
grail,
the
most
sought
after
relic
in
history,
chased
down
through
Europe,
Asia,
and
Africa,
was
sitting
in
a
well
in
the
highlands
of
the
Andes
mountains
in
South
America.
She
eyed
the
design
of
the
well,
the
stones
weren’t
fit
together
very
well,
obviously
older
then
the
common
Incan
architecture
in
these
parts.
She
noticed
the
numerous
chisel
marks
on
rocks.
Strange;
iron
wasn’t
introduced
to
the
Americas
until
the
15th
century.
But
carbon
dating
revealed
that
this
well
was
at
least
two
centuries
older.
Chell
made
sure
her
harness
was
secured
properly,
and
hooked
the
karabiner
of
a
climbing
rope
into
a
stake
she
drilled
into
a
boulder.
“Well…”
Chell
muttered,
“here
goes
nothing.”
She
began
the
slow
descent
into
the
well.
Almost
a
quarter
of
a
mile
down,
much
deeper
than
she
had
anticipated,
her
feet
hit
the
sandy
floor.
She
detached
herself
from
the
rope
and
tugged
it
to
make
sure
it
was
secure.
Flicking
on
her
headlight,
she
looked
around.
These
walls
were
smooth,
cut
right
out
of
solid
stone.
They
were
covered
in
all
sorts
of
writing.
Chell
could
identify
Sanskrit,
Hieroglyphics,
ancient
Arabic,
old
English,
Incan,
Mayan,
Mandarin.
It
has
if
a
thousand
cultures
had
manifested
themselves
here
over
a
thousand
years
ago.
The
round
wall
of
the
well
gave
way
to
a
sloping
corridor
that
slipped
down
further
into
the
void.
She
followed
the
eerie
path
down
to
a
foggy
catacomb.
There
were
several
skeletons
all
along
the
room.
One
wore
a
Norman
maille
Hauberk,
probably
from
the
Holy
Roman
Empire.
One
wore
banded
armor
from
the
Roman
era.
One
dressed
in
Arabian
garb
typical
of
the
Byzantines.
One
wore
traditional
Incan
ceremonial
armor.
They
were
all
neatly
laid
to
rest
on
beds
with
their
weapons
all
clasped
to
their
chest.
All
except
one.
The
last
guardian.
The
one
who
had
no
heir
to
lay
him
to
rest.
He
lay
huddled
in
the
corner,
holding
a
weathered
Spanish
bible.
The
eye
sockets
of
the
skull
seemed
sad,
but
accepting
the
fact
that
there
were
no
more
guardians,
and
the
well
was
merely
a
myth.
Shell
continued
on
to
the
next
room,
a
wet
cave
filled
with
small
waterfalls
and
growing
vines.
On
an
obelisk
in
the
center
of
a
small
pond,
lit
by
a
single
shaft
of
brilliant
light,
was
the
Holy
Grail.
Such
a
humble
vessel,
it
was
dented
and
worn
bronze;
hardly
the
thing
the
son
of
god
would
drink
out
of.
Chell
picked
it
up
carefully.
Fame,
fortune,
history.
None
of
it
seemed
to
matter
any
more.
She
thought
about
the
thousands
of
adventurers
who
had
devoted
their
lives
to
finding
this.
She
thought
about
the
hundreds
who
had
died
in
dark
caves
and
Nazi
camps
trying
to
learn
of
its
existence.
Chell
put
the
grail
back
on
the
pedestal.
If
she
brought
this
chalice
fro