“It is not much farther,” Lukias said.
Annon glanced back one more time and when they turned the corner, they saw three Rikes standing in a small cluster in front of a massive wooden door. It startled all of them.
“Ah!” Lukias said, raising his hand to hail them. “There you are! There was some trouble with the soldiers crossing the Calcatrix Lair. What a mess that was left. Do you have any more of the light sticks? All of the orbs have been broken.”
“Who are you?” one of them asked, a grizzled fellow with a gray stripe in the front of his beard. “Are you from Kenatos? I didn’t see you—”
Lukias struck the man in the stomach with his fist and then squeezed his inner arm with his fingers, making him yelp with pain. Khiara brought her staff around, dropping the second man before he could move. The third reached for a cylinder in his robes and found Nizeera’s jaws clamped down on his wrist. Then Khiara struck him in the skull as well and he fell to the floor.
Lukias shoved the Rike he had captured into the door. “How many came from Kenatos?” he hissed angrily.
“You traitor!” the other Rike snarled, his eyes livid.
He struggled for a moment, but Lukias slammed him again. “Answer me, or you’ll wish you had.”
“There were fifty, fool. Do you think the Arch-Rike will let you live after this, Lukias? You are the world’s greatest fool.”
Lukias kneed him in the groin and the man collapsed in a whimpering mass on the floor. He brushed his hands and yanked open the door, waving them to join him.
Annon stared at the hateful eyes of the Rike on the floor as he passed him.
They are coming, Nizeera warned. Running.
“Quickly,” Annon said, shutting the door behind them. He glanced around the room. It was not very large. A few stone benches were set against the walls. On the far side was a black onyx platform with silver runes carved into it. It was wide enough for five or so across, no more. In the center of the onyx floor hung a black iron lantern, fixed from a rung in the ceiling on an enormous heavy chain. There were no glass slats on the lantern, only immense stays. In the center of the lantern was a brass cylinder, not unlike the one Annon had seen Tyrus use. It was fastened into the lantern, suspended in the middle. Only by reaching through the slats could people grab it. Annon realized that it also prevented anyone from stealing it.
“It is a Tay al-Ard,” Lukias said, approaching it swiftly. “Only five or six can surround it at a time. Join me on the stone.” He stepped onto the onyx platform and crossed to the center. Khiara glanced at Annon and he nodded and followed himself. Nizeera stared at the door and a low growl sounded from her.
“Nizeera,” Annon beckoned. He strode to the suspended lantern.
“You think about a place you have been,” Lukias said. “As long as you have been there personally, it will take you there. You lead us, Annon. Where do we go?”
Annon looked at Khiara. “Silvandom?”
Lukias shook his head before Khiara did. “The Arch-Rike has been there, remember? You want to go to a place where he cannot immediately follow us. A place of safety. Quickly, Annon. Decide.” He glanced at the door.
Annon reached through the bars and grasped the cylinder. It was scalding hot and he jerked his hand away, banging his fingers on the bars.
“Hot!” he said in amazement.
“No,” Lukias said. “Cold. But your body reacts as if it were heat.” He looked at the door again, his expression quickening to a look of panic. “A Tay al-Ard needs time to rest between uses. If the Arch-Rike brought fifty through here, it is well spent.”
“How long must it rest?” Annon asked.
“We don’t have time,” Lukias said. “Abide the pain. We must leave!”
Annon stared at the cylinder. He had never been burned before. He was not familiar with the sensation. His palm tingled where he had touched it.
“Do this, Annon,” Khiara said, her eyes full of trust. She put her arm on his. Lukias did the same.
The sound of boots echoing down the corridor grew louder. From behind the door, they heard the muffled cries of the Rike they had sprawled on the ground. “In there! Quickly! They are inside!”
Annon stared at the Tay al-Ard. He reached through the bars again, his arm heavy with the added weight of their hands. Nizeera pressed against his leg and he gripped the skin above her neck with his other hand.
Closing his eyes, he clenched the cylinder, experiencing the freezing burn of the Tay al-Ard explode up his arm and thought of a place of safety. A place he longed for more than anywhere else.
Annon glanced back one more time and when they turned the corner, they saw three Rikes standing in a small cluster in front of a massive wooden door. It startled all of them.
“Ah!” Lukias said, raising his hand to hail them. “There you are! There was some trouble with the soldiers crossing the Calcatrix Lair. What a mess that was left. Do you have any more of the light sticks? All of the orbs have been broken.”
“Who are you?” one of them asked, a grizzled fellow with a gray stripe in the front of his beard. “Are you from Kenatos? I didn’t see you—”
Lukias struck the man in the stomach with his fist and then squeezed his inner arm with his fingers, making him yelp with pain. Khiara brought her staff around, dropping the second man before he could move. The third reached for a cylinder in his robes and found Nizeera’s jaws clamped down on his wrist. Then Khiara struck him in the skull as well and he fell to the floor.
Lukias shoved the Rike he had captured into the door. “How many came from Kenatos?” he hissed angrily.
“You traitor!” the other Rike snarled, his eyes livid.
He struggled for a moment, but Lukias slammed him again. “Answer me, or you’ll wish you had.”
“There were fifty, fool. Do you think the Arch-Rike will let you live after this, Lukias? You are the world’s greatest fool.”
Lukias kneed him in the groin and the man collapsed in a whimpering mass on the floor. He brushed his hands and yanked open the door, waving them to join him.
Annon stared at the hateful eyes of the Rike on the floor as he passed him.
They are coming, Nizeera warned. Running.
“Quickly,” Annon said, shutting the door behind them. He glanced around the room. It was not very large. A few stone benches were set against the walls. On the far side was a black onyx platform with silver runes carved into it. It was wide enough for five or so across, no more. In the center of the onyx floor hung a black iron lantern, fixed from a rung in the ceiling on an enormous heavy chain. There were no glass slats on the lantern, only immense stays. In the center of the lantern was a brass cylinder, not unlike the one Annon had seen Tyrus use. It was fastened into the lantern, suspended in the middle. Only by reaching through the slats could people grab it. Annon realized that it also prevented anyone from stealing it.
“It is a Tay al-Ard,” Lukias said, approaching it swiftly. “Only five or six can surround it at a time. Join me on the stone.” He stepped onto the onyx platform and crossed to the center. Khiara glanced at Annon and he nodded and followed himself. Nizeera stared at the door and a low growl sounded from her.
“Nizeera,” Annon beckoned. He strode to the suspended lantern.
“You think about a place you have been,” Lukias said. “As long as you have been there personally, it will take you there. You lead us, Annon. Where do we go?”
Annon looked at Khiara. “Silvandom?”
Lukias shook his head before Khiara did. “The Arch-Rike has been there, remember? You want to go to a place where he cannot immediately follow us. A place of safety. Quickly, Annon. Decide.” He glanced at the door.
Annon reached through the bars and grasped the cylinder. It was scalding hot and he jerked his hand away, banging his fingers on the bars.
“Hot!” he said in amazement.
“No,” Lukias said. “Cold. But your body reacts as if it were heat.” He looked at the door again, his expression quickening to a look of panic. “A Tay al-Ard needs time to rest between uses. If the Arch-Rike brought fifty through here, it is well spent.”
“How long must it rest?” Annon asked.
“We don’t have time,” Lukias said. “Abide the pain. We must leave!”
Annon stared at the cylinder. He had never been burned before. He was not familiar with the sensation. His palm tingled where he had touched it.
“Do this, Annon,” Khiara said, her eyes full of trust. She put her arm on his. Lukias did the same.
The sound of boots echoing down the corridor grew louder. From behind the door, they heard the muffled cries of the Rike they had sprawled on the ground. “In there! Quickly! They are inside!”
Annon stared at the Tay al-Ard. He reached through the bars again, his arm heavy with the added weight of their hands. Nizeera pressed against his leg and he gripped the skin above her neck with his other hand.
Closing his eyes, he clenched the cylinder, experiencing the freezing burn of the Tay al-Ard explode up his arm and thought of a place of safety. A place he longed for more than anywhere else.
