Fireblood (Whispers from Mirrowen) (21 page)

The creature shifted immediately toward him and continued its lumbering advance.

Paedrin came at it again, whistle-fast, striking it six times in moments. The staff clattered and clacked, but no amount of force
he used could even slow the creature. A massive arm wheeled at him, and he ducked it easily, but it made his mouth dry thinking what would happen if it managed to catch him only once.

“Paedrin!” Hettie screamed.

“I am all right so far,” he answered, moving around behind it again, drawing it away from the hole. “This creature is massive. It is slow, but very strong. I do not see any treasure here.” The reddish glare of the light revealed nothing but walls.

“There is rope. Yes, over there!” Hettie said. “Get it. I’m going down there.”

“Not yet,” Paedrin said. “Let me see if I can find something further. I am faster than this thing.” He raced around the perimeter of the cave, looking for any irregularity in the walls. There were four insets into the walls, little alcoves. He went from one to another. The final one, the fourth, he discovered not a door but a trapdoor handle. An iron ring set into the stone.

“Aha!” he shouted. “I found something!”

The creature lumbered at him again, and he had to escape to the other side of the room quickly. His heart pounded with excitement.

“What is it?” Annon called down.

“There is a trapdoor handle. It’s fastened to a large slab of stone. I will try and lift it. Hold a moment. Do not come down here yet.”

Paedrin watched the creature advance tirelessly at him and retreated, drawing it again to the far side of the chamber. It changed its speed suddenly, going faster. Paedrin ducked as the massive fist rushed past his head. He jumped away and then sprinted back to the trapdoor. He set down his staff and grabbed the handle tightly and pulled. His muscles groaned with pain. He felt it shift, barely. Clenching his teeth, he lowered himself
down and pulled even more, trying to free the trapdoor lid. The creature was on him even faster now, swinging at him again.

Paedrin let go of the handle and rushed away again. He saw Hettie climbing hand over hand down a rope into the chamber.

“No, I said not yet!” Paedrin barked at her.

The rope suddenly snapped, sending her falling the rest of the way into the chamber.

Annon watched his sister fall. The jolt of seeing her there made his heart spasm with fear. The frayed end of the rope dangled near the lip of the opening.

“Hettie!” he yelled.

She shook her head, trying to move. Blood dribbled down from her forehead, pattering on the stone floor. The massive creature lumbered toward her, its speed increasing now as if each passing moment awoke its fluidity more.

The spirit voice whispering in his mind was cruel and taunting.
The Goule will kill her. It will kill the Vaettir. Claim me, Druidecht. Enter the cavern. I am trapped beneath a trapdoor. You sense me. You sense where I am. Use me, Druidecht. I will destroy your enemies. I will destroy the ones hunting you. Kill the Preachán first. He will betray you.

It was almost impossible concentrating with its voice in his mind. Such a piece of magic should be hidden away. It was powerful—its presence as dark as the cavern below. Annon looked around quickly for another rope to lower himself down. Even though the others could not hear it, their minds would become infected by it just being down there.

Hettie raised her hands, her mouth muttering words in the Vaettir tongue, and the flames gushed from her hands, striking
the stone beast full in the chest. Like a flood, the flames engulfed it, sending waves of heat to fill the room and brightening the walls.

Annon was terrified she would lose control of it again. He had to get down there to save her.

“Grab that rope!” he shouted to Erasmus. “Over there!” The Preachán was already there, grabbing the rope and joining him, quickly tying a knot around the stone where the other one had snapped.

The creature was on her before she realized it. The flames had done nothing to prevent its advance. A fist arced toward her head. Had Paedrin not arrived and shoved her away, it would have crushed her skull. The flames in her hands sputtered out.

There was a scorch mark in the center of its chest; the stone was livid. But despite the trailers of steam and hissing molten stone, it came on again, closing on the fallen Hettie with ruthlessness.

Paedrin struck at it from behind with his staff, harder and harder, trying to draw it back toward him. He yelled at it, but it was blind to him as Hettie scrambled to escape it. Paedrin struck it with all his power and watched in shock as his staff shattered against its broad shoulders, making his hands sting.

“Run!” Paedrin yelled at her.

Annon grabbed the rope, hoping it would hold. The voice was a murky drone in his mind.
I am here. Claim me, Druidecht. Claim my power. Drench me in blood that I might fulfill my power. Blood feeds me. Makes me stronger. You have the fireblood. I can sense it in you. I will obey it.

With blood streaming down her face, Hettie rushed to the nearest wall and started along the edge away from the creature.

Annon landed in the middle of the room, his heart full of fear. He searched quickly for Hettie and Paedrin in the gloom.
“The trapdoor?” He could feel it in the stones, beckoning him. He did not know what form the treasure took, but he imagined it was something crafted by a Paracelsus. Something with a living spirit trapped inside. An evil spirit.

There is no evil. There is no wickedness. There are no laws. There is no blame. I am master over death. Take me, Druidecht. Take me from this prison. Use me.

“Over there!” Paedrin answered, pointing to the gap in the wall. Annon started toward it at the same time as Hettie.

Hettie stumbled over something on the floor and went down, landing with a crash. Paedrin sucked in his breath and vaulted into the air, rising like a bird and swooping over the top of the creature, before coming down hard next to her.

“Will you never listen to me!” he glowered at her, grabbing her around the waist and hauling her to her feet.

“Watch out!” she warned.

The fist of the Goule struck him on the shoulder with a sickening crunch.

Paedrin was flying again, but not because of his breathing. The wall of the cave rushed in, and he smashed against it, losing his sight for a moment in a sudden bloom of pain. Pain had never stopped him, though. Pain was a teacher. The creature was getting faster and faster.

“Both of you!” Paedrin said. “The trapdoor! It will only go for one of us at a time. The others need to open the trapdoor. Pull hard on the ring! I will face it.”

He knew his arm would be useless pulling on the ring. He was the fastest of them all. The one most likely to avoid the creature as its speed increased. He rushed at it like a madman,
coming up into the air and kicking at its head-like stump. The blows meant nothing to it. It surged at him again, massive fists swinging multiple times now as its speed increased.

Annon and Hettie rushed for the trapdoor and pulled frantically on the iron ring. Even their combined strength was not enough. The slab weighed more than they both could lift.

“Erasmus!” Paedrin roared. What if the treasure was already stolen? What if they were risking their lives for no end? Why had Tyrus sent them into a death trap?

Think!
His mind was trapped in a fog of pain. His shoulder throbbed, but he shoved the thought of his pain aside. He had experienced worse at the temple. The creature was no being of flesh. It was a guardian. It protected the treasure. But surely there had to be a way to stop it? Physical force was obviously not enough. Flame did not hinder it. What else might?

Paedrin saw Erasmus climbing down a fresh rope, hand over hand. He hung from the knotted cord, studying the chamber quickly, his eyes darting this way and that.

“Help Annon and Hettie!” Paedrin said. “Maybe three is what it takes to lift it!”

A rock fist glanced off his temple. He flipped backward, putting more distance between himself and the creature. He was tiring. The relentless pursuit muddled his thinking.

“That’s it!” Erasmus said triumphantly.

“Then get over there!” Paedrin roared.

“No, you have it wrong. The lights on the walls. The orbs. Touch them. Cover them with your hands or a cloak. Quickly, Bhikhu! Cover the one behind you!”

Paedrin thought the Preachán was daft. Cover the orb? But he remembered that the lights had illuminated the room as soon as he touched the ground. As fast as he could, he rushed to the
nearest orb and smothered its light with his hands. He gritted his teeth, waiting for a crushing blow to come at him.

The room dimmed. The creature slowed and turned away from Paedrin, coming at Annon and Hettie.

“The other two!” Erasmus called. “Annon! Hettie! Cover the other two!”

Hettie rushed across the room and used her cloak to smother the second one. The creature had turned from her and started across the room, but its movements slowed as the light faded.

“The last one, Annon! Smother it!”

The Druidecht turned, watching the creature approach him ponderously. The chamber was nearly dark. “You do it, Erasmus. You cover it.”

“Why?”

“Because the treasure is under the trapdoor. I can sense it. It will take over your mind if you touch it. Let me find a way to collect it without touching it.”

Paedrin felt a hot surge of jealousy at Annon’s words.

“I will take it,” Hettie said. “The treasure belongs to me. You said you wanted no portion of it.”

“This is a moment you must all trust me, friends,” Annon said. “I can hear it fully right now. It is speaking to each of us. It wants us to fight each other to claim it. Although I can hear it, it does not control me. You must trust me. If we do not work together, this trap will kill us. Erasmus, the final orb.”

The Preachán came the rest of the way down. As soon as his boots touched the floor, the creature shifted and started at him with slow, shuddering movements. Erasmus covered the final orb, plunging the chamber in darkness.

The creature stopped.

Paedrin breathed out, releasing the pent-up frustration and panic. He felt strange, his emotions jumbled. He wanted to kiss
Hettie. He wanted to kill Annon. He wanted to drown Erasmus in the waterfall. The feelings were violent and went against every aspect of Bhikhu precepts. He struggled with his feelings, trying to control his breathing.

“Annon?” Hettie whimpered. “I feel sick…”

Paedrin heard the grunt in the darkness, then a muffled voice muttering, “It is too heavy.”

“Quickly, Druidecht,” Erasmus said, his voice sounding pained.

Annon’s voice rang out sharply. “Goule. Obey me. Open the trap door.”

The creature shuddered again and slowly returned to the alcove. There was a grating, grinding noise as the lid was dragged away. A hiss emerged in the room. There was light in the alcove, and Paedrin saw Annon’s face bathed in the silvery light. He stared at the dark space, his eyes wide with surprise. Then he reached inside his belt pouch, uncinched the drawstrings, and withdrew a set of sturdy gloves. After tugging them on, he reached gingerly into the pit.

The feelings intensified within Paedrin. Thoughts and images rushed through his mind that shocked him with their intensity and depravity. He trembled against the rush of feelings the images produced.

Annon lifted a silver dagger from the depths of the pit. There was a white stone embedded in the blade guard, one that glowed with a ghostlike light. Annon stared at it in awe and fear, his eyes widening with horror. Then slowly, deliberately, he withdrew a sheath from the pit and slid the blade inside.

The three glass orbs cracked, leaking a glowing reddish mist that dissipated, stealing the light slowly as the mist began to disperse.

There was a release of the emotions as the blade snicked inside the sheath. Its control vanished. The images in Paedrin’s mind disappeared. He breathed a sigh of relief. Never before had thoughts such as those tormented him. He had not been able to control the surge of them.

The reddish glow was replaced by the blackness of the chamber. The only source of light was the gaping hole in the ceiling. It too dimmed. There was a shadow on the floor below—an obstruction in the light from the world above.