Dragonhold (Book 2) (2 page)

Never had Durin felt so helpless and doomed. "And I thought carrying buckets of dirty water was bad."

Shaking his head, Strom continued downward and almost immediately stumbled. Feeling guilty for distracting the smith, Durin cursed himself, but then a grinding sound made him look back. Cold stone closed over the entrance, blotting out the remaining natural light. They were trapped. Or perhaps entombed would be more accurate, Durin thought.

Drawing deep breaths, Strom and Osbourne looked at each other. Durin was afraid to speak. He hoped they would say something to make death less certain. No words came. Continuing into the darkness had been folly before, but now it appeared closer to inescapable madness. Under the shadow of fate and the weight of black stone, they continued.

The lower they climbed, the clearer the danger became. No landings emerged from the darkness. The narrow stair spiraled into the depths as if endless. Protruding from the outer wall, it was all that kept them from being swallowed. Vertigo threatened Durin's sanity, and he clung to the outside wall. Neatly mated stones didn't provide much grip, but it comforted Durin at least in some small measure.

"I need to rest my knee," Strom announced without warning. Durin empathized; his feet felt as if he'd been dropping rocks on them. Sitting next to Osbourne, they pressed themselves against the stone as far from the gaping chasm as possible.

"We don't even know what we've been sent after," Strom said. "How are we supposed to know what to do?"

"Look on the sunny side," Osbourne said. "So far the choices have been few, so chances are we're still on the right track."

The statement failed to make Durin feel any better.

"I wish we had more light," Strom said, an absent-minded note in his voice. Durin jumped when the figurine glowed more brightly in response to Strom's wish. Shielding his eyes against the blinding light, Durin caught a dizzying glimpse of what lay below. Morbid fascination drew him closer to the edge, they were but a fraction of the way down based on what he could see. The dread chasm continued into the darkness for no one knew how far. "Not that much," Strom whispered. Gradually the light dimmed. None of them spoke for some time. "I don't know what just happened there," he finally said.

"You've talents, my friend," Osbourne said. Strom made no response. "You don't have to want gifts to receive them. If Catrin taught me anything, she taught me that."

"Thanks," Strom said. The light shone just a bit brighter.

Osbourne looked thoughtful. "Keeping the light only as bright as we need it is probably a good idea."

"I'll do my best to manage it." Strom half mumbled, seemingly embarrassed by Istra's touch.

"I'm glad you're here, Strom," Durin said, hoping to bolster the man's purpose, if not his confidence. Deeper they moved into the Black Spike.

* * *

"Why concede the upper hold to Allette?" Brother Vaughn asked Catrin as they walked deeper into the hold. Kyrien couldn't fit through some of the more narrow halls and stayed back to guard the entrance to the God's Eye. For a time, they wouldn't have to worry about attacks from behind. The truces were tenuous at best, and Sinjin did what he could to keep up with the rest.

Chase moved to the fore and forced Catrin to stop. "What is it we're after?" he asked. "I know you have reasons for keeping secrets, but it would be nice to at least understand our goal."

"I don't mean to hide things from you," Catrin said. "I want to find Trinda's library and read the passages that caused her to initiate this nightmare."

"And if we run into her and her guards?"

"We do our best to get what we want peacefully. If that fails . . ." Catrin shrugged.

Chase nodded. He and Morif were the only trained soldiers among the group. The rest were poorly armed and wouldn't be much help in a fight. Catrin, though deprived of her power, was still at least a capable fighter. Sinjin shared only some of her prowess. Though not all of them were handy in a fight, some within their group possessed other useful skills. When they reached the first junction, Catrin faltered. Sevellon stepped up to her side and met her eyes. Without saying a word, he looked to the left and nodded. Sinjin wasn't certain his mother would take directions from a known thief, but she surprised him by wordlessly turning left. At several more junctions, Catrin allowed Sevellon to guide the way. Sinjin was beginning to suspect they were hopelessly lost, but then they came upon a hall flanked by guards. Catrin stepped in front of the thief and approached those posted.

With or without her powers, the Herald of Istra knew how to intimidate with nothing more than a walk. She approached the guards with her head held high and steel in her eyes. Stopping before them, she let the silence hang until it became uncomfortable. Just as one of the guards was about to speak, Catrin cut him short. "I wish to see Trinda Hollis."

"She's not present," one of the men managed before Catrin silenced him with a stare.

Chase walked up beside her. "Brennan. Merk," he said, nodding to the men as he did. Both guards just stared at him. Chase pointed to each and silently counted. Then he counted those around him. He shrugged, smiled, and turned back to the younger men. Morif cast the guards a one-eyed grin. Sinjin knew just how disconcerting that could be.

"She ain't here, sir," Merk said.

"Then take us to her," Morif growled, looking as if his patience were nearly exhausted.

"Don't know where she is, sir."

"Then go find out," Morif said.

Merk looked at Brennan, an apology in his eyes. Brennan just shook his head. "She'll have your hide for leaving your post."

"I knew this time would come," Merk said, his head hung. Then he met Brennan's eyes. "I stand with Catrin."

Knowing there were still loyal folks within the hold renewed Sinjin's faith. Seeing Merk rush deeper into the hold made him question the truth of that loyalty, which made him feel ashamed. He did his best to trust Merk and the rest of his people. He dared to hope. It was always a risk since every time hopes were dashed, they were even more difficult to rebuild.

"What are you guarding there, Brennan?" Morif asked, taking a step forward. Chase matched his stride. To his credit, Brennan stepped in front of the men and used his spear to bar their path.

"Bend your knees," Morif told him. Brennan did as he was told, his face flushing. Sinjin guessed he'd heard it before during drills. "Keep your eyes on my hips, remember," Morif said, a gleam in his eye. "I might try to fake you out with my head and arm movements."

Brennan took a step back, a wild look in his eyes. He knew he was more than overmatched. Sinjin watched the debate unfold in Brennan's mind. He might be able to take down one or two of them with his spear. He seemed to be considering dropping the spear and drawing his sword. Morif and Chase both put their hands on hilts and Brennan swallowed. "It's a library," he said, laying his spear on the stone. He did clear his sword from the scabbard but only to place it next to the spear.

After collecting the weapons, Chase pushed Brennan into the library. What waited was beyond anything Sinjin had ever heard of. He'd seen extensive collections, but this place was like a city of books, scrolls, and stack after stack of parchments and tablets. The library consisted of multiple levels, with each getting larger the higher they went. Walkways lined each level, giving access to the multitude of racks and shelves. There were more words here than anyone could read in a lifetime. Overwhelmed, Sinjin knew the answers they needed must lie within the pages found here, but he also knew it might take a lifetime to find them. Given the current circumstances, time was not a luxury they possessed. No one knew exactly how long it would take the Fifth Magic to fully charge and activate, and they had to assume it could happen at any time. Such realizations made solace impossible to find. The pressure was constant and relentless.

Chase seemed more interested in some of the other items within the room, whereas Catrin and Brother Vaughn were drawn to the books. Chase caressed the handle of a tall, edged weapon that gleamed when the layer of dust was cleared. Multiple metals had been used to fashion a weapon that was strong and functional but also a work of art.

Sinjin worried they would waste too much time sifting through all the information they didn't currently need to find what they so desperately sought. It would be so easy for all of them to become lost in the revelations such a place could provide, but his worries were cut short when a breathless Merk returned. "The lady would like to see you," he gasped.

Chapter 2

Determination is the fire within. Burn brightly.

--Barabas the druid

* * *

While trying to memorize the path they followed, so he could find his way back to the library, Sinjin allowed Kendra to pull him to the back of the group. "I don't like this," she whispered.

"I stopped liking this situation the moment we arrived," Sinjin responded.

"There's got to be a way out."

"I agree," Sinjin said. "That's what my mom's trying to find. We just need to help her. She's vulnerable in here."

"Seems like she's vulnerable everywhere now, but in here at least, she's not a threat to the whole world."

"What are you saying?" Sinjin asked, soon regretting the edge in his voice.

"I'm just saying your mom was clearly overwhelmed by the energy of Istra's direct light. You remember that part, right?"

Grudgingly, Sinjin nodded.

"We need someone on the outside. How did Brother Vaughn escape the hold? And what about the portal to the mountaintop? Surely there's some way to get out of here."

It took a while for Sinjin to respond. His wife was a practical woman, and she made a solid point, but Sinjin didn't want more blood on his hands. They'd seen what happened to a dragon when flying through the barrier, and he had no reason to expect a kinder fate for anyone else who tried. "There's no guarantee a person could escape the keep with their lives."

"Staying within Dragonhold is almost certainly a death sentence."

Sinjin made no response. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again after more thought. Kendra glared at him, but neither got the chance to continue the conversation since they had reached their apparent destination: Trinda's apartments. Sinjin wasn't the only one uncomfortable about entering. Sevellon looked as if doing so might violate some kind of personal rule.

"M'lady," Merk said, preceding them into the child queen's presence and gesturing for them to follow.

Catrin strode into the room as if she owned it. Some would argue she still did, but Trinda paid her no mind. The diminutive child queen's form hunched on deep carpeting amid a storm of parchments, scrolls, tapestries, and even pottery. Each piece had a story to tell, but amid such disarray, Catrin couldn't imagine finding any useful information.

Finally Trinda looked up and said, "You're back."

Catrin stared in response.

"Yes. Right," Trinda said. "And the Black Queen holds the outer hold?"

"You don't need me to tell you that," Catrin snapped.

"No," Trinda admitted. "But it's nice to get a firsthand account of events. It helps me to make certain I haven't been lied to."

Merk flushed.

"Allette holds the Great Hall," Catrin said.

Trinda smirked. "Nice of you to confirm that."

"Enough of this!" Catrin said, stepping on ancient parchments to reach Trinda. The child queen gasped and squealed but could not scurry away from Catrin's wrath. The Herald of Istra might be without the powers the goddess granted her, but she was not without the internal fortitude her father and Benjin had helped her to build. "Tell me what you know. How do we stop this thing?"

"You're standing on part of the answer. Please do not turn your heel."

"Show me," Catrin said.

Sinjin wondered at the truth of Trinda's words. So much of what she had shown him in the past was false, he couldn't help but feel he was being told a series of well-crafted lies. His mother looked no more convinced.

"Von of the Elsics detested the use of Istra's power," Trinda reminded them, quite unnecessarily, which made Catrin grind her teeth. It was a warning sign Sinjin recognized but of which Trinda was oblivious. "He built the Fifth Magic as a way to create a place to isolate what he considered an abomination."

"We know that part," Catrin said.

"It was later, when he was stricken with madness, that Von redesigned the keep to serve as a prison, trap, and eventual extermination device. He planned to hold peace talks within the hold and then spring his trap. Von died before his work was completed, based on what I've recently learned, but someone carried on his work and completed the construction."

"Have you learned anything that might actually be useful, or are you just in it for the history lesson?"

Trinda sighed. "Patience has never been your strong point, Catrin Volker. My research has taught me the Fifth Magic includes no failsafe mechanisms or path of reversal. In order to stop it, we'll have to destroy it or circumvent it in some way. Is that information useful enough for you?"

It wasn't something any of them wanted to hear, but it was important. At least they knew not to search for a simple solution to the problem. Von and his successors had gone out of their way to make certain there were no easy ways out. Perhaps Kendra was right, he thought, and she cast him a knowing glance, though it was clear she took no joy in doing so. Sinjin, and he guessed everyone else, would be thrilled to be proven wrong. Instead, all the worst possible cases were being proven true.

"Brother Vaughn once escaped from the hold," Kendra said. All eyes turned to her, and she shrank under their scrutiny. Sinjin empathized. "It's possible the shield doesn't penetrate the water and that we could escape."

"Possible." Kenward spoke the word as if it were a snake.

"There's no way to know," Kendra admitted.

"I nearly died under normal conditions," Brother Vaughn said. "Getting out puts you under water for a long time. I don't know if I could do it again."

"What about Logan the diver?" Sinjin asked, surprising even himself. Those around him considered the possibility without immediately rejecting it. "I'd hate to ask it of him. He's already risked so much to help us."

"I'll do it." Everyone turned to the slight figure who'd been nearly invisible, so well did he blend in with stone walls. "I've violated the trust of just about everyone present," Sevellon said. "Perhaps this is my chance to regain what I've lost."

Kendra swallowed hard. Sinjin knew his wife. For all her bravado, she considered the consequences of her words. Sevellon's fate was now in her hands. If he died, it would be her fault. Sinjin did not stand in judgment; he simply read the emotions on her face. Sliding closer, he gave her arm a squeeze. When she didn't pull away, he knew he'd been right. It was also nice that experience finally told him when the wisest thing to say was nothing at all.

Trinda also appeared concerned about Sevellon's decision. If Sinjin was any judge of emotion, she wanted to object, but she remained silent.

"Perhaps it would be best to wait until we know more," Brother Vaughn suggested.

"We don't know how long we've got until the hold destroys itself," Kendra said, regaining her strength. She pulled away from Sinjin's grip. "If Sevellon makes it out, he'll need time to get word to any of the people who might be able to help us."

Sinjin doubted there was much anyone could do to help. In his mind, all Sevellon needed to do was prove it could be done, and all of them could escape in the same fashion. Learning the opposite would be devastating, no matter Sevellon's transgressions.

"How will we know?" Brother Vaughn asked.

The question left everyone in silence for some time as they contemplated.

"We can see into the Pinook Valley from the Great Hall," Kenward said.

"Which is held by the Black Queen, who may or may not be cooperative," Chase observed. "I vote we leave her out of this if possible." Morif stood behind him, nodding his agreement.

"The source of the river must be to the north of the hold, yes?" Sevellon asked, once again proving he possessed a sharp mind. Chase nodded. "There should be a lot of apples on the ground at this time of year."

"There's a chance whatever signal we choose will just float on past or get stuck," Morif said. "This underground river is only a small part of what continues on above ground. We also need a way to acknowledge receipt of the message. That way, if he doesn't receive our response, he can send another."

"Mushrooms," Kendra said.

Trinda looked incredulous. "Miss Mariss would lose her mind," she said. It was the closest thing Sinjin had seen to her being afraid of someone. The fact that it was Miss Mariss was a sign the enigmatic woman did have some sense.

"So if I live, I'm to go north, gather apples, and throw them all into the river at once. And then I'm to come back south to look for mushrooms. Is that right?" No one contradicted him. "And then what?"

Sinjin thought about the situation and finally overcame his distrust of Trinda. She wasn't in a position to do much with the information, and it might just save his mother's life. His mother's and Kendra's safety were his highest priorities. "Find a way to get to Lankland," Sinjin said. "Go to Jharmin Kyte, and tell him we urgently need the blanket he once lent me."

Catrin turned with surprise. It felt good to contribute, and Sinjin savored the moment. Jharmin Kyte had once hidden Sinjin from the ferals--and his mother--and judging by her expression, she'd made the connection. That same blanket might be just what Catrin needed. If he was right, the blanket had concealed him by cutting him off from Istra's light, which would explain why he'd found it so hard to breathe when under it.

Kendra also understood the blanket's effects, but Trinda obviously did not. She stared at him as if trying to read the thoughts in his head. "I believe it might be able to lessen the effects of Istra's light on my mother." This was intended to give Trinda just enough information to satisfy her curiosity without telling her everything. It also didn't hurt to remind the child queen that Catrin was his mother; whether to instill fear or to evoke compassion, Sinjin didn't really care.

"If you don't see mushrooms downstream," Chase said, "try lighting a signal fire in the Chinawpa Valley within sight of Dragonhold's rear entrance, but I wouldn't stick around. Allette has forces outside the hold, and I wouldn't trust them, truce or not. For the same reason, I'd avoid the Pinook Valley no matter what."

"He'll need coin, preserved food in a waxed pack, and one herald globe," Trinda said. A look at Bernerd sent him scrambling to gather the items. Sinjin wanted to follow, to find out where Trinda had hidden the herald globes. He wondered if Merk knew where she'd stashed them and resolved to get the younger man alone soon. Sevellon looked to be having similar thoughts, but Brother Vaughn and Catrin were inspecting his clothes for anything they could do to increase his chances of survival. The best they were able to suggest was tying off a pair of breeches and using them to hold air. He could use them for flotation and a few precious extra breaths.

"You'll want all the air you can get," Brother Vaughn said with haunted eyes. "And take lots of deep breaths before you go under. This should also help."

Sevellon looked as if he had made the choice between a quick and slow death. There was no joy in it, only relief. When the guard returned with a full pack, the thief wore a sad smile. "I'm ready."

* * *

Descending into darkness for what seemed an eternity, Durin wondered if the infernal stairway might continue all the way to the center of Godsland. Memories of his lessons regarding the underworld conjured frightening images he did his best to banish. The three men climbed in near silence, any words echoing harshly within the well. Though living in such a place was unimaginable to Durin, Catrin had done so, and he imagined all kinds of creatures who might also live there. No matter how hard he tried to change the direction of his thoughts, each step took him closer to madness.

"I don't like this place one bit," Osbourne said. Strom cast him an accusing glare as his words echoed. "You don't really think we can sneak in here unnoticed, do you?"

Discarding stealth felt unnatural even if Osbourne was right.

"No sense announcing our arrival, either," Strom said in a whisper. "No matter how hopeless this may seem, I've no intention of dying today."

Osbourne quieted and they climbed once again enveloped in naught but silence and a small bubble of amber light. The statuette was warm, and Durin took comfort from its light. Each of them had held the figurine for a time, but Strom alone could control the light with his mind. The figurine had been left there for them; that much was certain. The wind had guided them to the softly glowing statuette; it hadn't been a chance wind. Dragons had brought them here for reasons all their own, but it added up to their being guided toward some greater purpose. He just hoped the hand guiding them was one he could trust.

Any comfort was welcome in the pervasive darkness, and for a brief time, Durin was unafraid. The monotonous climb also dulled his senses. When the stairway ended, his anxiety returned in full force, making his heart race and his knees tremble. Already his legs and calves ached from the climb, leaving him unsteady on his feet. Strom and Osbourne slowed and stopped on the final stair, as if about to step into another realm from which they might never return. The fact that this wasn't an unreasonable expectation set Durin's guts to churning.

Without a word, Strom caused the figurine to glow more brightly, illuminating a dragon's head, jaws agape. Light danced over carved black stone, making it look alive and momentarily startling them. To proceed, one must willingly walk into a dragon's jaws. Durin swallowed hard. Strom placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder. Together three men entered the underworld. None was completely surprised when the jaws closed behind them. Durin realized there was a limit to how much fear he could experience. This journey had only gotten worse over time, yet he hadn't been reduced to a quivering pile of mush. This, at least, gave him some measure of pride even if the slightest noise still made him jump.