Strom grabbed more torches and his hammers. Durin looked around for something to arm himself with but found only a rasp. Strom gave him a disapproving look. "You're gonna have a hard time filing your way out of trouble." After what looked like a moment of pure conflict, Strom reached up and grabbed something from the back of the tallest shelf in the smithy. He shoved a cold, black handle into Durin's hand. "I want that back."
"I thought you didn't make weapons?" Durin asked after drawing a gleaming, curved blade from the sheath. The handle felt good in his palm, solid and smooth but with an unusual texture that provided a sure grip. Durin looked in amazement at the finely crosshatched lines that made up the grip. Never before had he seen such precision. The blade itself was black, but the edge gleamed silver and promised blood.
"Knives are not always weapons," Strom said without looking at Durin.
"You don't expect me to believe that you made this for cutting cheese, do you?"
Strom stopped and glared.
"Right. Uh, sorry."
Not far ahead, in a room that had once been a storeroom, despite the glowing runes in the floor, now waited respite-at least Durin hoped that was what awaited them.
The silence was often worse than the hunger or thirst; still it was generally preferable to the sound of Brother Vaughn trying to get information from Trinda. The sullen girl's responses drained the energy from Sinjin, and he wondered how anyone could be so unhappy.
"It needs more," Trinda said, pointing at the herald globe, whose light was fading. Sinjin turned away, not sure how to respond to such an inane statement. It seemed unlikely they could charge the herald globe in the sun without first finding their way out of where they were trapped.
"He doesn't like me," Sinjin heard Trinda say, and he turned toward where she and Brother Vaughn sat.
"I don't think that's true," Brother Vaughn said, and he waved for Sinjin to come closer. "Now that's not true at all, is it?"
"It's not that I dislike you," Sinjin began, but his tone changed under the weight of Brother Vaughn's gaze. "It's just that you are sad a lot, and that makes me feel sad."
"You feel sad because I feel sad?"
"Yeah, that's what I said," Sinjin snapped, earning another glare from Brother Vaughn.
"You should be nice to me."
"Why's that?"
"'Cause someday you're gonna need somethin'."
"And you'll be there to help me?"
Trinda just raised her eyebrows and looked doubtful.
"Perhaps you'll both need something, and wouldn't it be nice if you were there for each other?" Brother Vaughn said.
Sinjin and Trinda both rolled their eyes at him, and in rare moment, Sinjin saw Brother Vaughn's frustration show through the cloak of calmness he usually wore. He took a breath to say something, but then the world began to move. "Hold on to me!" he shouted.
Sinjin grabbed Trinda and pulled her with him, wrapping his arms around her. She didn't struggle and though she was older than he, she seemed but a child, slight and frail, counting on him to save her. It was an odd feeling that bloomed in Sinjin's chest. Dust seeped into the air as the deep grinding reverberated through the keep. Relief flooded through Sinjin as the walls moved, and once again the way they had come in was clear. Still the keep moaned and trembled. Brother Vaughn pulled Sinjin forward, and Sinjin half carried Trinda back toward the main hall, which led between the God's Eye and the great hall. As they neared the junction, Dragonhold returned to rest, and what had become a near-deafening roar suddenly stopped. What remained was far from silence, and it chilled Sinjin's blood. Howls and grunts echoed through the halls, sounding like the cries of tortured animals, and only occasionally did he hear the shouts of people. Sometimes those calls were more frightening than those of the demons, especially when they ended in shrill and strangled cries.
Brother Vaughn stood as still as stone and listened, his head turned one way then another. "May the gods have mercy," he whispered, and he pulled Sinjin and Trinda back the way they had come.
"We can't go back that way," Sinjin said louder than he had intended.
With a sharp look, Brother Vaughn pressed a finger to his lips and pulled them with him. When they reached the part of the hall where they had been trapped, Sinjin nearly shouted in relief. The hall was now clear in both directions, and unexplored darkness lay ahead. Not even slowing, Brother Vaughn kept the group moving at as brisk a pace as the light of his fading herald globe would allow. Soon it would go dark, and they would be lost. Brother Vaughn hadn't said that, but Sinjin knew it; he could read it in the old monk's posture. Still, moving into unexplored parts of the keep piqued his sense of adventure-if only their light would hold.
"So foolish of me not to bring a fully charged herald globe or some other source of light," Brother Vaughn said as their progress continually slowed while the unnatural sounds filling the keep grew louder. Then he drew a sharp breath. Sinjin followed the small circle of light that surrounded the herald globe as Brother Vaughn slowly moved it over bold runes that covered a tile floor.
"It needs more," Trinda complained.
Brother Vaughn ignored her, and Sinjin nearly clamped his hand down over her mouth to keep her quiet. The sound of demons continued to grow. Looking over each rune and mumbling to himself, Brother Vaughn cursed. Holding the herald globe out, he cast soft shadows over doorways cut into an elaborate, multifaceted room, shaped almost as if someone had cut a gemstone away and left this cavity. Stepping forward, he cast out the light to the far doorways, and he stopped suddenly when the tile beneath his boot sank down with a grinding sound followed by a sharp snap. Sinjin looked up as dust fell from above, and it sounded as if the ceiling were collapsing. Indeed the stone above them was moving, but before they could do anything, it stopped.
"This room is a trap," Brother Vaughn said.
"What kind of trap?" Sinjin asked, wondering if they would be crushed.
"I think it's a riddle, but I can't see all of the runes, and I'm not quite sure."
"It needs more," Trinda observed. Sinjin opened his mouth, but she didn't give him a chance to make his snide remark, instead, she snatched the herald globe from Brother Vaughn's hands. "Let me have it. I have some."
Trinda closed her eyes. To Sinjin's amazement, the globe began to glow more brightly through her fingers.
"That's enough," Brother Vaughn urged in a low voice.
Trinda's eyes opened. At first she appeared calm, but then her eyes slowly went wide, the light growing brighter all the while. Brother Vaughn reached for the globe, and power leaped across the open air with a crack. He jerked his hand back. Moments later, Trinda made a popping noise with her lips. She turned and handed Brother Vaughn the now glaring orb. Holding out his hand to shield the light, he accepted it.
Trinda turned to Sinjin, locked eyes with him, and shrugged. "I don't have any more." Then her eyes rolled up into her head, and she collapsed into his arms. Unprepared, he barely caught her and was trying to hoist her onto his shoulder when he heard a low growl-this one not distant. Brother Vaughn turned toward the sound, and the light drove the demon backward, but the growling continued from the shadows.
Brother Vaughn mumbled rapidly while scanning the now brightly illuminated runes. "What's lighter than a feather, worth more than gold, more precious than air, and cannot be seen?"
Silence hung between them for what seemed a long time. The riddle reminded Sinjin of how his mother had explained astral travel, how she said her spirit had flown free of her body and had moved as if it weighed nothing. "A soul," he said. After casting a surprised look, Brother Vaughn stepped onto a new tile in the floor. Nothing happened.