“As long as you’re all right,” Anvar told her, “you and the child.”
Aurian looked at him fondly. “We seem to be unscathed, thanks to you three. The question is, what do we do now? We’ve been trapped here by that turd Harihn, If we don’t find something within these tunnels to help us, we’ll starve. Besides, Anvar ...” Her eyes lit up with excitement. “Don’t you realize what this place must be? The crystals, the metal creature immune to magic—it all points to one thing. We’ve found the lost civilization of the Dragonfolk! There must be artifacts here —knowledge, weapons, perhaps even the Sword of Fire itself—that we could use against Miathan!”
Anvar shook his head in exasperation. “You never give up, do you? What if we find more of thosjr spider-monsters? What if there’s worse?”
“After my last experience, do you think I’m not worried about spider-things?” Aurian shrugged. “But to be honest, Anvar, I don’t see any alternative. We certainly can’t go back the way we came. The only way out is through these tunnels.”
Though they all longed for sleep, they decided to press on at once. Food was in short supply, and though the passages of the mountain fastness held little hope for their salvation, there was nothing to be gained in lingering. The only other exit from the long chamber was a huge arched doorway at the far end. A wide ramp sloped in a curve up a broad tunnel whose roof, pointed like the archway, was high above. Shia led the way; the Mages, by unspoken cojisent, followed together, Bohan brought up the rear, his sword drawn. Anvar had returned Aurian’s gear to her, and she was relieved to feel the familiar weight of the sword at her hip once more.
The disquieting red light of the chamber had been replaced by a soft amber glow that emanated from a network of shining veins that webbed the smooth, seamless stone of the passageway. The air whispered softly past their faces without moisture or mustiness, and the walls and floor bore little trace of webs or dust. The irritating hum had faded as they climbed. Aurian found herself relaxing a little. She had not realized how much the high-pitched buzz had bothered her, until it was gone. “You know,” she said to Anvar, “this is like a spiral staircase—only there are no steps. I suppose dragons might have had difficulties with stairs. But if this corridor was built to accommodate them, they must have been even bigger than I thought.”
He nodded glumly. “And more powerful than we thought, if they could create this place, and the metal creature. We should be careful.”
It was easy to lose track of time as the unchanging tunnel wound on and on. After a while, rooms began to appear, leading off from either side. To Aurian’s frustration, some were sealed with great doors of metal or crystal that would yield to neither force nor magic. Other rooms were doorless or open, but whether large or small, all were completely empty, their only illumination coming from the dim stoneglow of the passage that shone through the wide entrances, Shia reported no further signs of magic.
“What kind of ridiculous place is this?” Aurian complained, as they explored yet another abandoned chamber. “What’s the use of it all?” She felt leaden with exhaustion, and her headache had returned.
“How the blazes should I know?” Anvar snapped. He sagged against her, grinding his knuckles into bloodshot eyes. The Mage glanced sharply at his slumped form, noticing for the first time that Bohan looked similarly weary. “How long is it since you’ve slept?”
He groaned. “Days—I don’t remember. Not since you disappeared.”
“Anvar!” Aurian scolded. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Taking his arm, she led him to the rear of the small room and sat him down, propped against the wall. “This place is about as defensible as we can get. We’ll rest here.”
They each took a small sip of water from the dwindling contents of their sack, Anvar pouring some into Aurian’s cupped hands for Shia to lap. The Mage insisted on taking the first watch. “I was doing nothing all the time you poor souls were searching for me,” she told them. “It’s only fair.” No one had the energy to argue.
“Wake me next,” Shia told her. “We can share the watching. I need less rest than you feeble two-legged folk.”
Aurian left them asleep and sat to one side of the entrance, her sword ready to her hand. She began to count time by tapping her dagger on the palm of her hand to mark the seconds and switching hands when each minute had passed, but soon gave it up. The counting lulled her, and she found herself beginning to nod. Instead, she thought about her child. It must be about five months now, though it was hard to work out the time exactly—Magewomen were taught to suppress the monthly cycles that were such a bother for Mortals, They usually became aware of their pregnancy after the second month, and Aurian thought that was about right, She had certainly felt the child’s presence once it had been pointed out to her. Not much longer before my powers vanish entirely, she thought, and what will we do then? If we ever escape from here, that is. What could have prompted Harihn to such treachery? Did I really misjudge him so badly?
The Mage wondered what was happening in Nexis, Miathan would use the powers of the Caldron to enslave the Mortals he despised, with Eliseth, Bragar, and Davorshan as willing accomplices. What had become of her friends? Had Vannor and Parric survived? What of Maya and D’arvan, and her mother? While her powers were crippled by the bracelets, she might have been unaware of any deaths among the Magefolk! She shivered, despite the warm air of the chamber, and longed for Portal’s sturdy old cloak, which had been lost in the shipwreck. Its familiar weight on her shoulders had always been a comfort. But cloak and Forral were gone, and she was cold and alone in this dark place,
Aurian, lost in sorrowful thoughts, was startled by a cold black nose poking into her face. “Thought so,” Shia said. “You’re almost asleep. Time I took over!”
The Mage was quick to agree. It would be a relief to escape for a while into oblivion. She crossed the chamber to where her friends slept, and lay down beside Anvar. As always he seemed to sense her presence, and turned to put an arm around her, murmuring her name in his sleep. Aurian snuggled close, and felt her burden lifting. At least I have Shia and Bohan, she thought, and especially Anvar.
The next day, if day it was, they encountered the trap. After a frugal breakfast that left them with slender rations, indeed, they resumed their weary trudge, winding ever upward round the featureless stone spiral with its empty rooms until their feet dragged with exhaustion. Aurian was close to despair. Had she been wrong in her hope of finding the lost knowledge of the Dragonfolk? Did it really matter? We’re doomed to die here, she thought. This bloody mountain will be our tomb, and that will be that.
Suddenly Shia, stalking ahead as usual, stopped. “Magic!” she growled.
“You’re right,” Anvar said. “Aurian, do you see it?”
A few paces in front of them there was a silvery disturbance in the air, like the illusory shimmer above a stone pavement on a hot day. It stretched across the passage like a curtain, barring their way.
Danger or not, Aurian was glad that something had occurred to break the monotony of the trek. She walked forward cautiously, staff in one hand, the other held up before her, palm foremost. As she reached the roiling, silky distortion, two things happened. The shimmer vanished—and all the light in the tunnel went out. Taken by surprise, Aurian took another step forward, striking a ball of Magelight above her head. As it flared, there was a low, thunderous grinding from above, drawing her eyes upward. Her breath caught in her throat as a huge, squared-off block of the ceiling detached itself and came plummeting toward her.
To Aurian, everything happened in nightmare slow motion. The block seemed to float downward as she plunged forward. One foot slipped and she fell, twisting, facing back in the direction from which she had come.