The Tiger's Eye (Book 1)

by Robert P. Hansen

  “About fifteen hours,” Ortis said. “We left you alone.”

  “I appreciate that,” Angus said. “Where are the horses?”

  “They’re hobbled near the grain,” Ortis said.

  “Isn’t that risky? Those cat-things aren’t large, but there were quite a few of them.”

  “It doesn’t seem to be,” Ortis said. “They seem to be keeping their distance for now.”

  “You know, I’ve seen healing salves before, but yours is amazing,” Ortis said. “You won’t even have scars. Can you get any more of it? You’re almost out.”

  “I got it from Nargeth,” Angus said. “She runs an inn in Woodwort. Ulrich, a woodsman she knows near there, makes it.”

  “A long trip,” Ortis said. “But it might be worth it.”

  “I doubt it,” Angus said. “He probably won’t let us have any.”

  “He let you.”

  Angus shook his head. “Not me,” he said. “Nargeth. It was hers. She sold it to me.” He frowned. “That’s where the other gold coin went,” he said.

  “Money well spent, I should think,” Ortis said. “That kind of healing rarely comes cheaply.”

  “Indeed,” he agreed. “This is the third time I’ve needed it.”

  “Third?” Ortis repeated, frowning.

  “Yes,” Angus said. “Nargeth used it on my feet when I arrived at her inn. They were blistered, cracked, and infected, and the salve healed them in about two days. Then, at the construction site, I burned my fingers. Compared to what happened here, it was little more than a painful inconvenience.”

  “Maybe we should try to get more of it after all,” Ortis said.

  “Why?”

  “Did you forget the wand incident?” Ortis said. “You may not have been aware of it at the time, but that healer saved your life.”

  “So?”

  Ortis sighed. “Well, Angus, you seem to be accident prone. It might be a good idea for you to carry around a healing salve like this all the time.”

  Angus chuckled and half-smiled—but it quickly drooped to a half-frown when he remembered Billigan’s interruption of the Firecluster spell. If it misfired…. He shook his head and said, “You may be right, Ortis. There are always risks involved in using flame magic.” But I should be controlling them. Why have I made so many mistakes? Voltari taught me better than that.

  “What have you been up to while I slept?” Angus asked.

  “Exploring,” Ortis said. “There doesn’t seem to be any more fishmen—or anything else for that matter. Everywhere we’ve gone is covered in dust.”

  “Is there anything to eat?” Angus asked.

  “Yes,” Ortis said. “I’ll get you some bread and stew.”

  “Bread?” Angus asked.

  Ortis nodded. “That grain is ripe,” he said. “It’s ready for harvest.”

  After eating, Angus took out Teffle’s book and turned to the page with the flying spell. Ortis took his cue and left him to prime the spell. When he finished, he stretched, put on his backpack, and went to find the others.

  It was late afternoon, and there was a trail passing through the room he had torched. He tried not to gag on the stench as he hurried through it to an open hallway he hadn’t noticed before. There were wooden doors on either side of the corridor, and all of them were open or dangled from their hinges. He found Ortis waiting for him near the end of the corridor, a lit torch in his hand.

  Angus walked quickly up to join him. “Where are the others?”

  “There are three other corridors,” he said. “They connect up to form a square. We’ve been searching them for an access point to a hidden chamber. Giorge thinks there is one, but we haven’t found it yet.”

  “Why does he think there is a hidden chamber?”

  “We know there was a way up to the second floor, but it was probably in the part of the temple that collapsed. But when you burned through the ceiling, you opened it up. We’ve already searched through what was up there, but there was nothing but rats and owls. The floor up there was level, and we didn’t find any trapdoors. But there has to be one somewhere; the ceilings of the rooms along the corridor on the other side of the temple are shorter than the rooms in the other three corridors.”

  “By how much?” Angus asked.

  “Take a look at this room,” Ortis said, ushering him through one of the doors. “It’s about a ten foot cube, right? All of the other rooms are the same size, except for the ones on the corridor opposite this one. The ceiling there is only about eight feet high. Giorge thinks there must be a hidden chamber on top of it, one that’s only about a few feet high.”

  “That makes sense, I suppose,” Angus said. “Of course, the temple builders probably would know that, too. If I were them, I would make it look that way even if there wasn’t one. Or it could have been a building error; they do happen, you know.”

  Ortis nodded. “Giorge thinks the same thing, but he’s checking for a trapdoor anyway, in case it isn’t a deception.”

  “What about the rest of you?” Angus asked. “What are you doing?”

  “We’re looking for it, too, but we’re not as good at finding them as Giorge is. He has a knack for it.”

  “You know, if I had built this temple,” Angus said, “I would have the secret entrance over here, near the ceiling in an adjacent room.”

  “How would you get to it?”

  “A ladder,” Angus said. “Maybe stand on a box or table. It wouldn’t be too difficult. Are there any rooms that are not like the others?”

  “Besides the shorter ones on that corridor?”

  Angus nodded. “Larger, smaller, more furnishings, things like that.”

  “They all look the same to me,” Ortis said. “Why?”

  “The secret entrance probably would be in the high priest’s chamber—unless it was accessible to all of them, in which case it likely wouldn’t have been hidden.”

  “Well, whatever it is, we haven’t found it.”

  “I’ll help look,” Angus said, moving close to the wall and running his eyes and fingers over it. There were no obvious seams or indentations, so he moved to the next one. After getting the same results, he moved on to one room after another with Ortis tagging along holding the torch near the wall. By the time they had finished surveying the second corridor, he was almost convinced there was nothing to be seen, but as he turned to leave the last room, the one at the end of the corridor that connected with the rooms that had the shorter ceilings, he paused.

  “What is it?” Ortis asked.

  “The bed,” Angus said. “It’s in a different corner.”

  “So?”

  “Why?” Angus asked. “All of the rooms I’ve seen so far have had the bed along the wall opposite the door hinge. This one has it on the same side as the hinge.” He acted as if he were pushing the door open and added, “See? Would you want a bed that gets banged by the door every time the door opens? It won’t even open all the way with the bed sitting here.”

  “I hadn’t noticed,” Ortis said.

  “I think the bed was here so they could climb up into the space above the other rooms, and they left it there when they closed the door. See? It isn’t even flush with the wall, like the beds are in all of the other rooms. It’s at an angle.”

  “Wouldn’t they have moved it back when they came out again?” Ortis asked.

  Angus frowned. “Unless they didn’t come back out.”

  “We’ve already searched this room,” Ortis said. “We couldn’t find anything.”

  Angus shrugged. “Maybe it’s the lighting,” he said. “A torch is good enough for most things, but not for seeing fine details.”

  “What choice do we have?” Ortis asked. “Giorge has the lamp, and it doesn’t do much more.”

  Angus half-smiled, reached for the magic around him, tied the quick knot of the Lamplight spell and the orb of light flared to life in his palm. He manipulated it for a brighter intensity and moved his hand close to the wall.
“Better?” he asked, as the spell illuminated the entire room with a steady yellow glow.

  “You had one of those in Hellsbreath’s dungeon, didn’t you?”

  Angus nodded. “It is a very useful spell,” he said.

  “I’ll find a sconce for this torch,” Ortis said. “They have them on the corridor walls.”

  “Unless you need it,” Angus said. “You may as well extinguish it. The spell will last for some time.”

  Ortis left the room as Angus bent to the floor and began examining it. When he returned, Ortis asked, “Why are you looking there? The secret chamber would be in the ceiling, wouldn’t it?”

  “Help me move this out of the way,” Angus said as he tried to lift the bed and it crumbled in his fingers.

  Ortis shrugged and they spent several minutes scooping up bits of the bed and making a pile in the center of the room.

  When they finished, Angus retrieved the Lamplight and knelt on the floor, his face mere inches from the powdery fragments that had fallen as the bed crumbled. He scanned the floor from one end to the next and sat back.

  “Did you find anything?” Ortis asked.

  Angus shook his head. “No,” he admitted. “I thought there would be something, too. Why put the bed here?”

  Ortis grew distant for a few seconds and then said, “Giorge has an idea; he’s coming to take a look.”

  “What’s his idea?” Angus asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ortis said. “He didn’t tell me.”

  Angus picked up the Lamplight, stood up, and held it above him, checking the wall and ceiling for a trapdoor. By the time Giorge arrived, he had finished looking at the ceiling along the wall where the bed had been. Giorge blinked when he walked in, turned his eyes away from the Lamplight, and handed his torch to Ortis.

  “Well, Giorge, what’s your idea?” Angus asked.

  Giorge grinned and said, “I think they moved the bed over there to delay pursuit.” He moved to the opposite wall and asked, “Can you bring that thing over here?”

  Angus followed with him as he scanned the ceiling and upper portion of the wall. Then he turned to the floor. After only a few seconds, he dropped down to his knees and tilted his head sideways, almost level with the floor. He grinned, and snapped up, clapping his hand. “There it is!” he cried. “Can you see it?”

  Angus and Ortis both shook their heads.

  “It’s a very thin seam,” Giorge said, tracing it with his fingertip. “You can barely see it. It’s as if dwarves had carved the cap. Their stonework is so precise that they can make it fit perfectly.”

  “Can you open it?” Ortis asked.

  Giorge shook his head. “There aren’t any handholds,” he said. “There has to be some kind of release mechanism. A panel, lever, lock—it could be a lot of things.”

  “How thick do you think the stone is?” Ortis asked. “Could Hobart break through it?”

  “No way to tell,” Giorge said. “But I’d rather find the release mechanism. If there’s a lot of treasure down there, we may have to leave some of it behind and make a return trip. Breaking through the door will leave it exposed.”

  “So,” Ortis asked, “where’s the release mechanism?”

  “It has to be nearby,” Giorge said. “Boltholes like this need to be accessible. If it isn’t in this room, it will be in the one adjacent to that wall or in the corridor opposite this one. Either of those would be close to this corner. Further away than that, and the mechanics become far more complicated. There’s also a chance that it won’t work after all this time.”

  “Tell us what to look for,” Ortis said. “I’m with Hobart in the other room and out in the corridor.”

  “All right,” Giorge said. “It could be a panel in the wall; if it is, all you’ll have to do is push on it. It could be a keyhole; if it is, it will probably be in this room or the corridor, and it’s likely to be small. Don’t be surprised if there’s a panel covering it.”

  “How small?” Ortis asked.

  “As small as an inch,” Giorge said. “Maybe even less. Don’t leave any part of the wall untouched.”

  “We may have trouble reaching up to the ceiling in here,” Angus said.

  “It won’t be up that high,” Giorge said. “It needs to be reached in a hurry. Check from a foot above eye level to a foot below it, first. It’s the easiest place to reach when you’re in a hurry. I’ll check this spot and—”

  “You said it could be a lever, right?” Ortis interrupted. “There’s a sconce in the corridor along this wall, but it isn’t large enough to hold a torch. I tried to put mine in it, and it wouldn’t fit.”

  “Outside this wall?” Giorge asked, pointing to the wall in front of him. When Ortis nodded, he sprang to his feet and hurried out of the room. As he went, he called, “Kneel by the trapdoor and tell me if you hear anything. Not too close, though; it may spring upward.”

  Angus moved close to the trapdoor and turned his head to listen. About ten minutes later, there was a soft click, and the trapdoor rose about three inches, just enough for a handhold to appear. “That’s it!” Angus cried, reaching for the handhold—and stopping himself from opening it.

  What if it’s trapped?

  He shook his head. Why would they trap their escape route?

  He reached for the handhold again—but stopped again. To keep out their pursuers.

  By the time he stood and stepped back, Giorge was in the room. “What?” he said, grinning. “You didn’t take a peek?” He knelt before the trapdoor and flung it open.

  “What is it?” Angus asked.

  “A tunnel,” Giorge said. “It runs under the floor along this wall.” He stuck his head through the trapdoor for a moment, and then brought it back up. “It’s a crawlspace. I couldn’t see very far. Give me a torch—” he paused and gestured at the Lamplight glowing in Angus’s hand. “Can I use that thing?”

  Angus nodded and attached the Lamplight to Giorge’s shoulder.

  Giorge laughed as the Lamplight followed him through the trapdoor. The tunnel was short, and the top of his head was still above the floor. Then he paused and turned back to Angus. “This is the spell you cast on me in Wyrmwood, isn’t it?”

  Angus nodded. “Yes,” he admitted. “But I attached it to your forehead that time.”

  Giorge poked it with his finger—which passed through the glowing orb—and shook his head. “It’s not as hot.”

  Angus half-smiled and asked, “Would you like it to be?”

  Giorge shook his head and dipped down below the lip of the trapdoor, and the room suddenly grew much darker.

  “I’ll get the torch,” Ortis said as he stepped out of the room.

  Angus moved to the trapdoor and dropped down into it. The crawlspace was barely four feet high and less than that wide. It seemed to run straight for quite some distance, but he couldn’t tell how far; Giorge was in his way. There were no side tunnels that he could see, and he stayed crouched at the entrance until Giorge stopped.

  “What is it?” Angus called when Giorge hadn’t moved for nearly a minute.

  Giorge looked back and waved him forward. When Angus was almost up to him, Giorge turned sideways and said, “There’s another trapdoor. It’s stuck.”

  “Are you sure?” Angus asked.

  Giorge took hold of the handle and pulled. It didn’t budge. “I think it’s barred from the other side.”

  “Let me try,” Angus said, squeezing past him. He pulled on the handle but the trap door didn’t budge.

  “See?” Giorge said. “We need Hobart down here. He might be able to do it. But I wouldn’t count on it.”

  “It must not be a wooden bar,” Angus said. “If it was, it would have crumbled when we pulled at it.”

  Giorge nodded. “Iron, most likely. If it’s rusted, Hobart might be able to snap it.”

  “Let’s find out,” Angus said, turning down the tunnel.

  “I’ll check the rest of the tunnel,” Giorge said from behind him, movi
ng down the corridor.

  “Don’t go too far,” Angus called.

  12

  With a mighty heave, Hobart wrenched the trapdoor open.

  Then he banged his head on the ceiling and cursed for five minutes.

  13

  “What did you find at the other end of the corridor?” Angus asked.

  “Another trapdoor,” Giorge said. “It opened in the room at the end of the other corridor. They must have had two bolthole entrances, and they both led to here.”

  “We’re going to need our gear,” Hobart said. “The floor is too far down for jumping.”

  “Let me take a look,” Giorge said.

  After Hobart moved back a bit—a difficult thing to do for him; the tunnel was scarcely wide enough for his broad, armored shoulders—Giorge put his hands to either side of the trapdoor opening and shoved his head into it. After a few seconds, he lifted it again and said, “You can lower me down. It’s only about twenty feet.”

  “It’s too far—”

  “No,” Giorge said. “I’ve fallen further before.”

  “Let’s just wait for the rope,” Hobart said, crossing his arms.

  Giorge sighed, sat back on his heels, and waited.

  “What did you see?” Angus asked from behind Hobart.

  “It’s a big room supported by pillars,” Giorge said. “There are about a dozen or so skeletons scattered on the floor and some kind of pit in the center. It looks like there’s a stairwell leading down, but I can’t be sure.”

  When Ortis brought the rope, Hobart held onto it while Giorge slid down into the chamber they had discovered. When he let go of the rope, Hobart handed the rope to Angus and crawled to the other side of the trapdoor. He repositioned himself to face Angus by lying down, rolling over, and then sitting back up.

  “Toss me the rope,” he said. “I’ll hold it while you and Ortis climb down. See if there is anything down there that we can use to prop the trapdoor open. If you find something, we can anchor the rope to the handle on the trapdoor. If there isn’t anything, I’ll find something up here after the rest of you get down there.”

  It was, as Giorge said, about a twenty foot drop. There had been a ladder, but it had long since disintegrated, leaving behind a pile of sawdust at the bottom of the drop.