“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.
“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.
