“We know you brought Lukias,” came the voice, much closer now. He seemed to be approaching steadily from the center of the room. “He is loyal to us.”
Annon bit his lip. The next bier was not far away. With a running start, would he be able to shove it off? Open it enough? If the lid was lying flat, he might. He took several deep breaths.
“I know the Arch-Rike prizes loyalty,” Annon said, drawing up his knees, getting ready to run again. “Does he also punish those who fail him?”
“Most severely, Annon. Quite so. You are surrounded. I have no qualms killing you. But you are worth a great deal if I can bring you to Kenatos alive. You passed the outer defenses. You showed great courage coming to this place. Tell me what Tyrus sent you to find here? What relic do you seek?”
Annon dropped low, planting his fingers on the ground soundlessly. He arched his back, ready to run. “You know I spoke truth, if those black rings truly do not lie. I came for knowledge.”
“Ah, I see. Then you seek Poisonwell. The source of the Plague. It is in the Scourgelands, boy. Only one thing here will help you conquer that place and I wear it around my neck. That land is a maze of madness and disease. We alone hold its powers at bay. It seeks the death of all knowledge. You would unleash it on us again.”
“I would destroy it,” Annon replied. Poisonwell? The name made him shudder. He did not understand why.
“You cannot destroy the Plague,” the man said with a laugh. “Some curses cannot be undone. Will you surrender or do you intend to commit suicide?”
Annon lunged for the nearby bier. Crackles of energy exploded into the place where he had been crouching moments before. He abandoned the plan to shove the lid, knowing instinctively that it would be too heavy. As he slammed into the stone, he saw the damage done to the other bier, the one he had come from. The convergence of energy had cracked open the lid at the corner where he had been crouching. A faint mist crept from the dark void.
He hoped beyond hope.
“Calvariae!” he said again, taking a risk he prayed would work.
There was a blinding flash of light and then groans of pain. Annon crawled on his hands and knees, blinded by the flash. The presence of a spirit touched his mind.
You have freed me, Druidecht, boomed the voice inside his head. In return, I will disarm your enemies.
Annon blinked furiously, trying to see. The sarcophagus lid flung at the Rike who was approaching him, crushing him beneath it. A pillar of light emerged from the gaping maw of the sarcophagus. From all corners of the chamber, brilliant shards of lightning struck at it, but it only made it glow brighter. The being of light began to zigzag through the chamber, faster than a wisp of sunlight, causing grunts and shrieks of terror. It moved so quickly, going from column to column. The knot of light finished its bounding tour and then came back to Annon, revealing itself as a small, gnarled man with a long, hooked nose, gripping a small cudgel. The being nodded to him with wizened eyes then vanished.
Amazed at the reprieve, Annon slowly got to his feet, his knees wobbling. Smoke drifted in the air, clinging to the floor from a spilled brazier. A muffled groan came almost unheard nearby. Annon saw the man pinned beneath the sarcophagus lid, a trickle of blood coming from his mouth. The Druidecht approached him warily.
The man’s eyes were feverish with pain, his lips pulled back in a snarl of agony. His head turned slightly, his gray eyes piercing Annon. “You…will…still…die…”
“Khiara?” Annon called. She emerged from behind a stone pillar, her robes singed. Erasmus poked his head in from the massive stone doors.
Annon crouched by the crumpled Rike. “Where is Poisonwell?” Annon asked him.
“You…will…still…die…”
“Help me lift this off him,” Annon said and the two hurried to him. Together, knees bent, they struggled to raise the lid. Muscles bunched and limbs strained. The lid came off and they dumped it nearby.
The wheezing Rike stiffened with anguish, his neck twitching. Then he fell still.
“Khiara?” Annon asked.
She knelt by him, placing her hand on his broken chest. He was already dead, his eyes fixed blankly at the domed ceiling. A strange jeweled ornament was fashioned around his neck, offset with two deep blue gems. It almost looked like a necklace except it did not connect in a full circle. She looked up at Annon and then nodded toward the other interior doors. “We do not have much time. We know the Arch-Rike can send people quickly through the aether. We should enter Basilides now.”
Annon nodded and motioned for them to follow. The doors they had entered began to groan shut. In a panic, the three charged back to the doors, but they closed solidly behind them. The crossbar landed in place.
Annon bit his lip. The next bier was not far away. With a running start, would he be able to shove it off? Open it enough? If the lid was lying flat, he might. He took several deep breaths.
“I know the Arch-Rike prizes loyalty,” Annon said, drawing up his knees, getting ready to run again. “Does he also punish those who fail him?”
“Most severely, Annon. Quite so. You are surrounded. I have no qualms killing you. But you are worth a great deal if I can bring you to Kenatos alive. You passed the outer defenses. You showed great courage coming to this place. Tell me what Tyrus sent you to find here? What relic do you seek?”
Annon dropped low, planting his fingers on the ground soundlessly. He arched his back, ready to run. “You know I spoke truth, if those black rings truly do not lie. I came for knowledge.”
“Ah, I see. Then you seek Poisonwell. The source of the Plague. It is in the Scourgelands, boy. Only one thing here will help you conquer that place and I wear it around my neck. That land is a maze of madness and disease. We alone hold its powers at bay. It seeks the death of all knowledge. You would unleash it on us again.”
“I would destroy it,” Annon replied. Poisonwell? The name made him shudder. He did not understand why.
“You cannot destroy the Plague,” the man said with a laugh. “Some curses cannot be undone. Will you surrender or do you intend to commit suicide?”
Annon lunged for the nearby bier. Crackles of energy exploded into the place where he had been crouching moments before. He abandoned the plan to shove the lid, knowing instinctively that it would be too heavy. As he slammed into the stone, he saw the damage done to the other bier, the one he had come from. The convergence of energy had cracked open the lid at the corner where he had been crouching. A faint mist crept from the dark void.
He hoped beyond hope.
“Calvariae!” he said again, taking a risk he prayed would work.
There was a blinding flash of light and then groans of pain. Annon crawled on his hands and knees, blinded by the flash. The presence of a spirit touched his mind.
You have freed me, Druidecht, boomed the voice inside his head. In return, I will disarm your enemies.
Annon blinked furiously, trying to see. The sarcophagus lid flung at the Rike who was approaching him, crushing him beneath it. A pillar of light emerged from the gaping maw of the sarcophagus. From all corners of the chamber, brilliant shards of lightning struck at it, but it only made it glow brighter. The being of light began to zigzag through the chamber, faster than a wisp of sunlight, causing grunts and shrieks of terror. It moved so quickly, going from column to column. The knot of light finished its bounding tour and then came back to Annon, revealing itself as a small, gnarled man with a long, hooked nose, gripping a small cudgel. The being nodded to him with wizened eyes then vanished.
Amazed at the reprieve, Annon slowly got to his feet, his knees wobbling. Smoke drifted in the air, clinging to the floor from a spilled brazier. A muffled groan came almost unheard nearby. Annon saw the man pinned beneath the sarcophagus lid, a trickle of blood coming from his mouth. The Druidecht approached him warily.
The man’s eyes were feverish with pain, his lips pulled back in a snarl of agony. His head turned slightly, his gray eyes piercing Annon. “You…will…still…die…”
“Khiara?” Annon called. She emerged from behind a stone pillar, her robes singed. Erasmus poked his head in from the massive stone doors.
Annon crouched by the crumpled Rike. “Where is Poisonwell?” Annon asked him.
“You…will…still…die…”
“Help me lift this off him,” Annon said and the two hurried to him. Together, knees bent, they struggled to raise the lid. Muscles bunched and limbs strained. The lid came off and they dumped it nearby.
The wheezing Rike stiffened with anguish, his neck twitching. Then he fell still.
“Khiara?” Annon asked.
She knelt by him, placing her hand on his broken chest. He was already dead, his eyes fixed blankly at the domed ceiling. A strange jeweled ornament was fashioned around his neck, offset with two deep blue gems. It almost looked like a necklace except it did not connect in a full circle. She looked up at Annon and then nodded toward the other interior doors. “We do not have much time. We know the Arch-Rike can send people quickly through the aether. We should enter Basilides now.”
Annon nodded and motioned for them to follow. The doors they had entered began to groan shut. In a panic, the three charged back to the doors, but they closed solidly behind them. The crossbar landed in place.
