Altair stepped out from behind his cover, and walked toward the malfunctioning mechanical monster, aiming his pistol at the space between the golem's neck and its head. One right after the other, he fired the rest of his clip into that space.
The golem's limbs froze, and electricity rippled between its joints and across its giant metal frame. It gave one final jerk and then fell over, hitting the ground with a metallic bang that made the entire structure vibrate.
Victory at last! But instead of feeling proud and accomplished, Altair felt suddenly exhausted and tired of the whole thing.
"Right, then," he sighed, resting his pistol against his shoulder as he strode lazily forward. "Where is this treasure?"
The door of the abandoned airship hangar hung off its hinges. It had a gigantic gaping hole where the golem had stuck its hand. Altair approached the door and looked inside. It appeared safe, so he stepped through into the cavernous room.
The bombs and the golem were all gone, leaving the room empty of enemies. The enormous space was half-filled by a old, outdated airship. Centuries of oxidation had stained the sides of the ship, casting a multicolored patina that crawled halfway up the walls and curved around the body with long, irregular fingers.
Later, Wil could see what of the ship was worth salvaging and being sold for parts. For now, it was enough just to know it was there; and at the other end of the hanger, Altair could just barely make out what appeared to be a rusted metal chest.
"Thank Faram," Altair breathed. He didn't believe in gods of any type, but his mother had been religious, and Altair had been brought up Pharist. In emotional moments, sometimes remnants of his childhood faith just slipped out.