His gaze swept the lonely enclosure, and he added, “You are wasting our time. Why would anyone choose this bleak, wind-blasted hilltop as a hiding place?”

  Salith went to open his mouth, an angry glint in his eye at the bodyguard’s disapproving manner. Galindra waved him to silence.

  “Have patience, Murdeth. My reasoning is simple. You’ll recall, the portal was unusually large, and mobile. As I mentioned, this is rare and requires an enormous amount of elemental energy.”

  The bearded warrior folded his arms, his eyes mere slits in his sunburned face. “Aye, so you stated. What does that mean?”

  “You are convinced they must still be in the immediate area, isn’t that it?” Salith asked, tossing Murdeth a fierce glare.

  Galindra shot him an appreciative smile. “Indeed, brother-mine. This is the highest point for many leagues.” She gestured toward the crumbling remains of a stone tower. “If nothing else, the castle remnants make an excellent spot from which to survey the surrounding landscape and seek out potential refuges where the unknown practitioner may be hiding.”

  Murdeth stroked his beard. “Why do you not simply transform to dragon and search from above?”

  Galindra glanced away, as if something had caught her attention, then cleared her throat and turned back. She eyed the intimidating warrior and decided she owed him an honest answer if they were to cooperate in finding and rescuing his mistress, her retainer, and Barok.

  “I wish to conserve my elemental energy,” she said, her voice hesitant. “Spending a considerable time in my alt-form can be quite draining. I suspect I will need all my power to confront the mysterious adept we are hunting. I do not want to flush out our quarry, only to learn I am too weak to oppose them.”

  Murdeth seemed surprised at this explanation, as if he had expected her to give him a trite response, or just brush off the question altogether.

  He looked at her for a long moment, his demeanor pensive. “You are not as arrogant as other ForeSenders I have encountered.” He offered her a slight bow. “I appreciate your honesty and humility. In that case, let us make the most of the high ground we now occupy.”

  Murdeth made a placatory gesture with his hand and turned on his heels, calling to the half dozen Histoleth warriors who comprised the remainder of Princess Solein’s escort.

  Once they were alone, Salith leaned closer to Galindra and whispered, “What is your view of him?”

  She dragged her knuckles across her chin. “I am not certain. He seems genuinely concerned for his mistress’s safety and eager to locate and rescue her.”

  “Perhaps. Yet, he could be dissembling. For all we know, he might still turn out to be a traitor, covertly aligned with those of the Histoleth who oppose better relations with King Milesta of Birthon.”

  Galindra opened her mouth to reply. Her eyes grew unfocused, and the words died on her lips.

  “Is something amiss, sister-mine?” Salith asked. Then he gasped, his fingers straying to the foresense gem at his throat.

  She didn’t react for several heartbeats, then said, “I sensed it again just now, a fleeting presence.” She glanced at him. “As did you, I believe.” When Salith nodded, she went on. “It was as if an impenetrable door had cracked ajar for an instant and allowed me to discern a being I had hitherto not been aware of.”

  Galindra let her attention drift across the courtyard. “I had the same experience when I reconnoitered this derelict citadel earlier today.” She narrowed her eyes, her brows scrunched, and gave a frustrated groan. “The sensation has fled. Whatever we sensed, it is gone now.”

  “Even so,” Salith said, “surely it means that we detected our adversary, however fleeting the contact? There is not likely to be another practitioner in this desolate wasteland. Who else can it be, but our mysterious enemy?”

  She gripped his arm. “You are right, brother-mine.” She lifted her hand to attract Murdeth’s attention. “The hostile mage has to be close by, perhaps even within these broken ramparts. Barok and Princess Solein cannot have traveled far. We must comb this forgotten fortress for any sign of them; peer into every darkened corner and crevice.”

  “It’s as bleak as the grave down here.”

  Salith’s muted voice echoed around the vaulted crypt. He had uncovered the weed-encrusted entrance to the subterranean chamber at the base of a ruined tower.

  Now he stood at the bottom of a set of cracked stone steps, a lighted brand raised high above his head. Galindra paused as she came to join him and gripped his arm. “I believe we are getting closer. The sense of a presence seems stronger here.”

  “You believe, or are certain?”

  She turned as Murdeth tramped down the steps, grit grating beneath his boots.

  Galindra gave him a wan smile. “I cannot be conclusive, warrior of the Histoleth. The sensation is vague, yet I perceive we are nearer to its source down here than in the fallen battlements and fortifications over our heads.”

  “Good enough for me,” Salith said, glaring at Murdeth. “Let us split up and investigate this gloomy enclave.” He motioned to Chasela and Wreylock, each of whom also bore flaming torches.

  Murdeth grunted and signaled to a fighter who waited at the top of the steps. “Notify the others where we are and then return. They are to continue hunting through the ruins. I shall remain down here, just in case the ForeSender is onto something.”

  Galindra lofted an eyebrow but made no comment. Salith approached and murmured, “His ebullient faith in your abilities is heartwarming. He must be such a joy at birthday celebrations!”

  She shook her head, a sigh escaping her lips, and strode down the center of a broad passageway. Sarcophaguses lined each wall of the murky vault, the cobwebbed corners wrought in midnight. Flickering yellow light from the torches threw dancing shadows across the flagstones as she began exploring the sepulchral space.

  As a dragon alt-form, Galindra’s eyesight was keener than typical humans, and she rejected Wreylock’s offer to provide her with a burning torch. He inclined his head. “There must be at least two dozen stone coffins here, my lady. The former lords of this stronghold, I warrant.”

  Each sarcophagus was decorated with ornate carvings and topped with a sculpted effigy of its occupant. Some were more elaborate and imposing than others, the carven images almost lifelike, as if the occupants were merely resting, preparing to spring out at them without warning.

  The wide chamber echoed to the stomp of their footsteps and the occasional whispered utterance as Galindra and the rest made their way through the low-ceilinged room, poking into grimy corners and examining the exterior of each tomb.

  At the far end, Salith discovered an open doorway opening to a spacious storeroom, its shelves lined with tall, spiderweb-shrouded ceramic jars.

  With some effort, using the tip of his dagger, he extracted the wax-sealed cork from a receptacle, finding it filled with a thick, dark liquid. He wrinkled his nose at the odor, still pungent despite the apparent age of the containers.

  “Doubtless some ointment or other fluid used to prepare the dead for their eternal slumber,” Galindra muttered from where she lingered at the threshold.

  “This is pointless,” grated a strident male voice. “There is nothing here but moldering corpses and cold stone.”

  Galindra turned away and marched to where Murdeth stood at the foot of a sarcophagus, a frustrated grimace distorting his face.

  “Admit it, ForeSender, your senses led you astray,” he added. “We should rejoin the others and complete our search of the ruins. The afternoon draws on, and we are no closer to discovering the whereabouts of my mistress, her maid, and your comrade.”

  Galindra stifled a barbed response, certain that they were missing something. She was convinced the sensation she had detected, a presence, was somewhere close at hand. Her eyes alighted on the tomb behind Murdeth.

  Her brows drew down, and she walked past the warrior without comment, squinting at the sculpted form atop the waist-high stone casket.

  “What is it, sister-mine?” Salith asked. “Have you found a clue?”

  She flicked her fingers. “Perhaps. I am not sure.”

  She stepped back and turned to face Salith and Murdeth. “Do you not find it odd that the figure and plinth are almost entirely dust free? Every other sarcophagus is coated in dust and cobwebs. But not this one. Curious.”

  “What does it matter?” Murdeth said, a note of impatience in his voice. “There’s probably a crevice in the wall or ceiling through which a stiff breeze occasionally blows, keeping the coffin unsullied by grime and other detritus.”

  Salith licked his index finger and lifted it high. “I don’t detect any breeze.”

  Murdeth clenched his jaw. “It’s a calm day, no disturbance to generate air flow down here at present.”

  “There is another possibility.”

  Both men looked at Galindra. She moved closer to the sarcophagus and began pacing all around it, her head lowered and gaze intense.

  Salith followed her without a word, holding the flaming torch aloft.

  Murdeth pulled at a strand of his thick beard, observing Galindra, his eyes barely blinking.

  She completed her circuit, Salith at her heels, and suppressed a curse, her lips turned down. “Nothing. I could have sworn…”

  “Now can we leave this grim chamber?” Murdeth asked, folding his arms. “The atmosphere is oppressive.”

  Galindra was forced to conclude that she’d been mistaken. She raised her hand in acknowledgement, casting a last glance at the sarcophagus.

  She began pacing along the passageway, making for the exit, then halted in mid-stride. “Wait.” Her senses pricked, and she narrowed her eyes, mentally reviewing what she had just seen. Something was out of place, but what?

  Turning around, she jogged back to the tomb, Salith close behind, while Murdeth stood with his arms still crossed, his features formed into a scowl.

  “Bring the torch near,” Galindra said, beckoning to Salith. “The additional light will aid my careful scrutiny.” She leaned over the carved form of a warrior clasping a broadsword to his chest, her face almost touching the smooth surface.

  “Most intriguing.” She rubbed her hand on the stone sword and brought her fingers to her eyes. “Traces of soil of some sort, as if from the ground above.”

  “How did dirt find its way down here?”

  “A good question, brother-mine,” Galindra replied.

  She stared at the statue, her enhanced eyesight enabling her to pick out every line and facet of the sculpture. “And why does the brown earth cling but to the blade’s hilt, not the entire figure?”

  Now curious, Murdeth let his arms fall by his side and took several steps nearer, his forehead furrowed.

  “I wonder.” Galindra stooped over the molded weapon and fingered the prominent pommel. It was shaped like a gem, and the sculptor, doubtless long deceased, had recreated the angular, ridged edges of the precious object in precise detail.

  “Have you—” Murdeth started to say.

  There was a sharp click, sounding like the crack of a whip in the clinging stillness of the crypt, as Galindra pushed down on the angled knob.

  Salith cursed and bounded back. With the sound of stone scraping against stone, the rear of the sarcophagus swung out and up, splitting into two sections to reveal an assemblage of worn steps leading down into a pitch-black interior.

  A fresh gust of air flowed up from the sarcophagus’s hollow center, causing the torch Salith carried to gutter. “There’s your breeze,” he remarked, flicking his gaze to Murdeth.

  The Histoleth warrior merely tightened his lips in silence, his eyes fixed on the secret entrance.

  “This could be where our undeclared foe is holding their captives.” Galindra resisted the impulse to manifest her fiery lance. She didn’t want to employ elemental energy until the need was great, unwilling to drain her power too soon or alert the enemy to their presence.

  Wreylock and Chasela came rushing over. Murdeth, meanwhile, sent his subordinate dashing from the crypt to summon the rest of the retinue.

  Galindra placed her foot on the first of the steps and gestured to the crepuscular stairwell. “Shall we?” Her countenance somber, she tapped her knuckles against the side of the sarcophagus. “We must be wary. Who knows what menace awaits us below?”

  13

  Labyrinth

  Robed in silence, they descended for several minutes, Galindra in the lead. She’d insisted that her sharp vision would enable her to spot hidden traps or enemies before the others. After some debate, Salith had agreed, though insisting that his wolf-enhanced eyesight was just as keen as hers.

  Murdeth had watched without comment as the siblings argued, then grunted and said he would wait for his warriors before leading them into the secret entrance.

  When they reached a cramped landing, Galindra raised a fist. The smooth stone steps continued straight on down, leading farther into the bowels of the hill. A low, narrow archway stood on the other side of the platform.

  Salith sniffed the air and cocked his head. “I believe I detect water,” he whispered, stepping closer to the opening. “A well or cistern, perhaps? The castle would have needed a secure supply of fresh water in time of siege.”

  “Or possibly an underground river,” Galindra offered. “If so, I wonder where it opens out?”

  Salith shrugged. “Which way? There are too few of us properly to search in both directions. Or we could wait for Murdeth and his fighters to catch up and then divide our forces.”

  Galindra fanned her hand. “No. There isn’t enough time. We will continue to follow the main stairwell. But if it proves fruitless, we shall return and see where this second passageway leads.” She motioned to Wreylock. “I want you to remain here for Murdeth and his team. Else, they won’t know which path we took.”

  Wreylock nodded, though he looked unhappy about staying behind, even if for a brief time.

  Galindra eyed Salith and Chasela. “We should proceed with increased caution. I sense a presence below. It’s impossible to be sure if it is the being who created the portal, but we should assume so until we learn otherwise.”

  “I discern a faint gleam of light lower down. Let’s leave the torches here, lest we alert any enemies to our arrival,” Salith said. Galindra flicked her fingers in agreement, so he and Chasela placed their fiery brands in wall brackets and followed her as she beckoned to them, the trio resuming their downward trek.

  “What is this place?”

  Galindra crouched near an open archway. She craned her neck to peer into a corridor, lit by flaming torches, then ducked back, wary of being spotted even though she had not seen an adversary.

  She turned to Salith and whispered, “I suspect it is a labyrinth, brother-mine. A veritable underground maze of tunnels and chambers stretching beneath the hill.”

  “Do you think it was built by the same people who constructed the old fort above our heads?” he asked.

  “Most likely, at least in part. Perhaps as a refuge should the castle be taken?” Galindra stroked her chin. “There is an archway a short distance ahead, with a closed, steel-banded door. No guards in sight, which is curious.”

  Salith caught her gaze. “We have no choice but to force our way in, but should do so with as much stealth as possible. Let’s not surrender the element of surprise until necessary.”

  “I concur,” Galindra said. She got to her feet. “Stand back.”

  Her fingers grazed the amethyst-flecked gem at her throat, mentally calling on her connection to the source of elemental energy. She flexed her wrists, causing the dragon staff to spring to life in her hands.

  She advanced on the heavy door and sucked in a quiet breath. One foot placed in front of the other, Galindra brought the tip of the fiery weapon down, slicing into the lock.

  The reek of tortured metal filled the alcove and sparks shot up. She adjusted her grip, thrusting the staff into the mangled mechanism. Molten iron streamed down the thick, ancient door panels and pooled on the flagstones.

  She stepped away and motioned to Salith.

  “My pleasure,” he murmured, pacing forward and putting his ear to the wood, being careful to avoid the puddle of silvery metallic liquid cooling near his foot.

  “I can’t detect any sounds of alarm. It may be no one has noticed as yet.” He braced himself and leaned in, transferring his weight to his leg closest to the entryway. “Ready?” he whispered.

  Chasela raised her sword, her free hand hovering over the hilt of the dagger at her waist.

  Galindra gripped her dragon staff. “Do it. Let us discover what dangers lurk within.”

  Salith nodded and pressed down on the handle. For a heartbeat, the barrier resisted, its bulk refusing to budge. But with the lock reduced to melted sludge on the floor, there was nothing to hold it in place.

  The door swung inward, flecks of molten iron dripping off its tortured surface. Salith charged through the archway, his blade poised. And came to an abrupt stop. Galindra and Chasela followed, likewise halting at the threshold.

  Before them stretched a spacious gallery, its far end lost in inky obscurity. Broad, round, stone columns were spaced at intervals throughout the vast, vaulted chamber, the occasional torch flickering in a wall sconce embedded in their smooth, lavishly decorated facades.

  Nothing stirred and the only noise was from the blazing brands, whose flames guttered and danced in the sudden breeze gusting through the entrance.

  “It seems our welcoming committee is a tad tardy,” Salith whispered. “We appear to have this section of the labyrinth to ourselves.”

  Galindra shot him a sideways glance. “If only we could be so fortunate. However, I still sense something. I don’t believe we are alone down here.”

  “So, it’s a trap. Is that what you’re suggesting?”

  “Without a doubt, brother-mine.”

  He rolled his shoulders. “Good. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Let’s find our friends and give their captor a lesson they’ll never forget.”

 

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