Deep-Root’s eyes locked on something that was wrong in this place—or was wrong to him. A great gash showed in the hall’s far end—exactly like the one Wynn had found. But he hesitated, stiffening, as if he had never seen it before.
“I am coming for you!” he threatened, walking slowly, watchfully, toward the gash. “I will tear you out of my head.”
And I have been waiting ... since I came for you.
Wynn didn’t want him to go anywhere near that gash. Something inside there was trying to use this murderous traitor for its own purpose. One malevolent force was manipulating another in this place, and she could do nothing to change it.
Deep-Root leaned through the gash, looking up and down the tunnel beyond it.
A heavy footfall echoed through the chamber, and he began to turn.
“Hiding among the Fallen?” someone shouted. “Running to your own ... you traitor!”
The pound of their boots echoed like war drums. Three stonewalkers charged down the hall between the great basalt coffins.
Deep-Root fled into the gash, at first turning left. But something there glowed in the dark, like coals heating up under a harsh breath. He whirled and ran the other way down the raw tunnel—the direction that Wynn had gone herself.
She heard the footfalls and shouts of the others now in the tunnel. Deep-Root halted, listening to them coming nearer. He took a step toward the rough sidewall.
A soft, red glow rose in the tunnel’s distance behind him.
Wynn heard a crack like breaking stone echo down the tunnel. Again and again it came, faster and faster, as it drowned out the pounding echoes of heavy boots. Three silhouettes of stonewalkers up the tunnel halted and looked back.
A hissing roar hammered Wynn’s—Deep-Root’s—ears and made the stone vibrate. Deep-Root sucked a breath as flame erupted up the tunnel.
It engulfed those three silhouettes before he could shield his eyes against the glare. Screams rose and were quickly smothered by crackling fire, and then the roar faded. Wynn saw one broad form aflame throw itself at the wall. It didn’t pass through but toppled back, crumpling like the other two. She watched them come apart like cinders under a hot blaze.
The blast died away, and the only light left came from burning bodies and the scant flickering flames clinging to the floor, walls, and ceiling, as if they’d been splashed with oil. Beyond the dwindling flames, something came striding forward. The tunnel shuddered under its heavy, rhythmic steps.
Its head appeared, its jaws widening slightly.
Deep-Root looked up into the black orb eyes of a gí’uyllæ, an all-eater.
This was the all-but-forgotten word of his people for these winged reptiles. Wynn had other names for it, equally little known among other races, like ...
Wêurm ... thuvan ... ta’nên ... dragon.
This one was so much larger than the one Wynn had faced. Its back scraped the ceiling, grinding off bits of rock. Deep-Root reached for the tunnel wall as he lunged.
No, not this time.
His hand rammed painfully into stone and did not pass through. He didn’t look back, but ran down the tunnel, away from the burning remains and deeper into the dark.
Wynn hadn’t expected this place to be so similar to what she’d found, no matter that this beast was even more futile to fight. A part of her wanted it to catch her—to catch him—even if this was only a memory. Whatever happened, it would change nothing.
But if it did catch him, it wouldn’t know of her. If he died would she die with him while locked in this memory?
Deep-Root slammed hard against stone in the dark. Wynn lost all feeling from his body for an instant. When awareness returned, he groaned upon the tunnel floor, reaching for his face. Touching his head only brought more pain.
Frail red light slowly lit the tunnel’s dead end.
Deep-Root rolled over, scrambling up as he drew both daggers. Wynn didn’t need to feel anything from him to know how much fear filled him now.
There was the dragon, filling the whole tunnel as its spittle dripped flames upon the stone floor. It just stood there, watching her—watching Deep-Root—as the chaos of the gale whispers grew to a storm.
Listen!
That leaf-wing crackle barely lessened the gale. At first, Wynn heard nothing, and Deep-Root wouldn’t turn his back on the creature. Even if he were foolish enough to attack, his blades could do nothing to it.
They come. Listen ... hear them and know ... all here are lost.
The voice took away the gale’s edge, making its cacophony of whispers grow distant, as if pushed back beyond the rough walls. Wynn felt a vibration beneath her feet.
Deep-Root hesitantly crouched, keeping his eyes on the dragon. He laid down one blade and flattened his hand on the stone. That vibration grew stronger, echoing through him. To Wynn, it was like listening to stone crack under some tool; it kept cracking and breaking and tearing without pause.
Something was coming up through the earth below the seatt.
She had seen the madness spreading here, but if enemy forces outside had blocked all entrances, why dig underneath, and why so fast? Surely they could hold this place until everyone within perished.
Yes, all will be lost. This is written in stone. But in death, what might come if you can kill me?
Deep-Root stared into the dragon’s eyes, glistening with fire flickers like polished obsidian orbs. His blades were but slivers against an enemy of such size. The beast let out a rumble that made Wynn want to cover her ears. Deep-Root rose and backed against the dead end.
The dragon began retreating up the tunnel, its bulk too wide to turn about.
Stay here in the dark, listening and unseen at your end ... or follow me. Either way, you will die, as written in the stone of your bones. But what purpose will death be remembered for, one day to come? Choose.
Its spittle no longer flickered with small flames, and the tunnel grew dark. Only the sound of the creature’s steady retreat marked that it was still there, until it backed over the charred remains of stonewalkers. Blackened bones crackled under its clawed feet.
Wynn didn’t know what she would’ve done in Deep-Root’s place.
He took one hesitant step and then another as he followed. Once the dragon backed up to the breach into the Chamber of the Fallen, it turned about, heading up the dark tunnel’s other way.
There were too many turns in the dark where unseen side ways could be felt in the walls. Wynn had long past lost track of where she was. But each time the way branched, Deep-Root followed the scrape of the beast’s movement against the tunnel’s stone, until he stopped at the sight of flame flickering in its maw.
It turned into a wide passage that sloped steeply downward. Again he followed. A long way down, it emptied into a vast cave, and the air of the place choked him. Wynn felt suffocated, as well, for the stench rose from a large, long pool of viscous fluids that filled most of the cave’s bottom.
Soft light flickered red-orange. To one side of the cave, on a slope of rock, the dragon dripped ignited spittle that burned there well away from the large pool.
Sheath your weapons. Do not create even one spark in this place, or we perish to no purpose.
“What is this place?” Deep-Root choked out. “What is in that pool?”
I have eaten and disgorged all of this, weakening myself without true sustenance since my arrival. I am now prepared to die, if you can kill me. First, listen ... and hear them.
The dragon lifted its head, looking to the cave’s distant rear wall.
Deep-Root hesitated, but the beast merely stood waiting. He sheathed his blades and crept around the pool, never taking his eyes off the dragon. It watched him in turn. When he reached the cave’s wall, he placed a hand on its stone.