When the three met up with the mass of humanity, Durin went straight to his mother, who was bleeding from a cut on her brow.
"Don't fuss over me," she insisted. "Teach those beasts some manners!"
As if responding to her command, Prios let loose a series of thunderous blasts that shook the mighty pillars supporting the great hall.
"From where did you come?" Morif shouted.
"From the great hearth! The way is still mostly blocked, but we can get through given time."
Durin guessed that Morif would try to direct them back toward the partially blocked hall, but for the moment, he called for a full retreat.
With four demons holding the chains around each of their necks, a pair of giants lumbered to the fore, and no one could stand before them. Those who tried were tossed aside or crushed underfoot. Durin's mother had recovered enough to stand, and she launched her skillet at the nearest giant. It struck the hulking beast in the shin, and it let out a terrible bellow. It shook the hall, dancing on one foot for a moment. Then the giant looked down at the petite woman and charged. Defiant, the tiny woman shook her fist at him. Durin tried to get to her, but someone else grabbed her and pulled her back before the giant could retaliate.
Prios launched balls of shimmering air at the giants' heads, and they exploded with thunderous claps. The giants raised chained arms to cover their ears, dragging the demons holding the chains into the air. Again Prios attacked. Seemingly driven to madness by the massive thunderclaps, the giants turned on their captors. Using the chains that had bound them more in spirit than in body, they swept the demons aside in their attempt to escape Prios.
"Now! To the hearth!" Morif yelled.
Chase, Strom, Morif, and Bradley ushered the crowd toward the halls. Demons still attacked, but they were far less organized, and the group made progress across the giant mosaic that covered the floor of the great hall. Durin found his mother, supported her, and helped her through.
"One at a time!" he shouted after helping his mother. "I'll help you. Just don't push and shove!"
"Do as he says!" Morif barked, and Durin felt a rare moment of pride. It didn't last. The rocks beneath him shifted and moved, and he went tumbling, smacking his head as he fell. Determined, he climbed back up and did what he could to help people through. It was a time-consuming process, which left Prios, Chase, Strom, Morif, and a few others to hold off the demons. From the sounds of the fighting, the demons had regained their strength and were attacking once again in full force, though Durin did not see any giants.
When the last helpless person was through, Durin turned back to those who stood and fought. "They're all through! How are we going to get the rest of you through?"
"Go!" Morif ordered.
Durin hesitated. He could not leave these brave men to die, and he knew they would not be able to get through without someone protecting them. Then Prios turned, his face bloodied and bruised, and with a finger, he issued a single silent command: Go! Durin did as he said, though he lost his balance and slid through to the other side when the booming started. Like the beat of an enormous drum, the thunder rattled Dragonhold to its core. Scrambling, Durin did his best to get clear as more men followed him through.
With each new face, he looked for Chase or Morif or Prios, but only the faces of guards came through. When Kendra and her mother emerged, Durin took a step backward and lowered his eyes, not wanting a confrontation with Kendra. He stopped for a moment and looked again, his gut telling him something was not as it should be. He had no more time to think about it as Chase fell through the hole, and Durin joined the men who moved to pull him free. Morif came moments later, but Prios did not come. The thunder continued and grew more intense. Rocks slid as the vibration caused them to settle into gaps.
Morif would not let the guards pull him free. Instead he climbed back up and stuck his head through the hole. "Now, Prios! Make a run for it! I'll pull you through!"
In the next instant, the thunder stopped, and in its place came the most terrible battle cry Durin had ever heard. Morif jerked upright as he pulled, but then he was thrust forward and began to disappear back into the hole. Durin tried to get to him, but a mass of guards rushed in to grab Morif by the ankles. The guards suddenly flew backward, and Morif came sliding through, bouncing roughly across the stones. "Let go!" he cried. "Let me go!"
The guards released his legs and he climbed, but a single thunderclap, far louder than all that had come before it, sent everyone tumbling backward again. Morif immediately pulled himself up and charged back through the hole. Moments later he reappeared, dragging the still form of Prios. For a moment it seemed they were safe until dark forms filled the gap and the silence shattered.
Chapter 12
The most dangerous mistakes are those you don't realize you've made.
— Enoch Giest
Hot stones. That was what it had finally taken to keep the demons from pulling down the barrier of rubble that stood between them and the only survivors in Dragonhold, at least as far as any of them knew. When Durin returned to the smithy for another shovel load of hot stones, he saw Strom standing to one side, silently watching those who worked in what was usually his smithy.
Seeing his opportunity, Durin approached and spoke before he lost his nerve. "I'm the reason the hold moved."
"What?" Strom asked, looking confused.
Durin saw a couple more adults stop and wait to hear his response. "I didn't want to carry a bucket of almost clean water all the way to the God's Eye, so I dumped it into the glowing rune behind one of the statues. It started steaming and whistling, and when it stopped, the hold moved."
Strom didn't say anything at first. He opened his mouth a few times as if he'd speak, but he still didn't say anything. When he finally did speak, his eyes were far away. "Something so powerful and no idea how to use it." Then his eyes returned to Durin. "Now tell me every detail. I want to know what you heard, what you felt. I want to know how it smelled. Everything. Sit. Talk."
Strom listened with so much interest that Durin's hands and voice trembled. When Martik entered the smithy, Strom called him over and made Durin repeat every word. Martik, an experienced engineer, sat back heavily and stared, open mouthed, at Durin.
"If only Brother Vaughn were here with us," Martik said. "He'd love to know those runes actually do something."
Both Strom and Durin looked away, knowing his absence did not bode well for his safety. Already, Prios had sworn to go back out after Sinjin and any other survivors, but it was uncertain if there was anyone at all still left alive in other parts of the hold. And many felt it better to spend their time reinforcing the barrier and not bringing it down to fight a losing battle.
"Keep building up the barrier," Strom told Martik, and he pulled Durin from the smithy. "Brother Vaughn may have saved us without even knowing it."
Strom wrinkled his nose as he poured a foul mixture into a glowing rune. "What is this?"
"Wine and pickle juice," Durin responded with a shrug. "It's all that was left." But then he fell back. Wisps of steam escaped the rune, then more steam came and the whistling sound grew. An instant later, the whistling abruptly stopped, and the floor trembled. When the trembling stopped, Durin watched the truth settle onto Strom's face by the light of a shaking torch. By pouring liquid into the rune, they had done something that would have wide-reaching consequences. For Durin, it was the second time he'd had one of these realizations, and the second was no better than the first.
"By the gods," Strom said, looking down at the steaming rune then at the now open hall leading into the darkness.
"You said Brother Vaughn called that one respite. That should mean safety, right?" Durin asked, wanting reassurance and knowing that had been Strom's argument for selecting the rune, but screams from above drove them both to move.
"What have I done?" Strom asked aloud as they ran. "What was I thinking?"
"You said it would've taken too long for everyone to agree on what to do, s
o you were making the decision for them."
The screaming and shouting continued, and Strom looked like he might be sick.
"Where in the depths have you been?" Miss Mariss barked when they arrived at the forge.
Strom couldn't find words, and Durin followed his example.
"Idiots. The keep has up and moved again, and by the sound of it, some of the demons are trapped as well. They certainly don't sound happy."
"I know now why the keep moved," Strom said at last, and Miss Mariss stopped. "Durin caused it the first time, and I caused it the second time." Miss Mariss looked as if she would shift from stunned to a full-blown rage, so Strom spoke more quickly. "I wasn't sure it would work. Durin's experience could have been a coincidence, and I knew it would take too long to come to a consensus, and we needed everyone to continue working on the barrier, so I. ."
"You acted like an irresponsible fool and could have killed us all. You should be ashamed of yourselves, both of you. Now the demons are even more determined to break down our barrier."
"Respite," Durin said, looking up at Strom.
"A new corridor has opened," Strom said. "I think Durin and I should explore it and see what new resources we have available to us."
"Or what new dangers we face. You fools. Fine. Go. Just try not to make things worse."
Durin flushed and he could see Strom wasn't faring much better. It made him feel very good that even someone as strong and skilled as Strom could still feel guilt under Miss Mariss's stare. Perhaps there was hope for him yet, Durin thought. Then again, he knew Miss Mariss had not yet realized there were pickles and wine missing.
Strom grabbed more torches and his hammers. Durin looked around for something to arm himself with but found only a rasp. Strom gave him a disapproving look. "You're gonna have a hard time filing your way out of trouble." After what looked like a moment of pure conflict, Strom reached up and grabbed something from the back of the tallest shelf in the smithy. He shoved a cold, black handle into Durin's hand. "I want that back."
"I thought you didn't make weapons?" Durin asked after drawing a gleaming, curved blade from the sheath. The handle felt good in his palm, solid and smooth but with an unusual texture that provided a sure grip. Durin looked in amazement at the finely crosshatched lines that made up the grip. Never before had he seen such precision. The blade itself was black, but the edge gleamed silver and promised blood.
"Knives are not always weapons," Strom said without looking at Durin.
"You don't expect me to believe that you made this for cutting cheese, do you?"
Strom stopped and glared.
"Right. Uh, sorry."
Not far ahead, in a room that had once been a storeroom, despite the glowing runes in the floor, now waited respite-at least Durin hoped that was what awaited them.
The silence was often worse than the hunger or thirst; still it was generally preferable to the sound of Brother Vaughn trying to get information from Trinda. The sullen girl's responses drained the energy from Sinjin, and he wondered how anyone could be so unhappy.
"It needs more," Trinda said, pointing at the herald globe, whose light was fading. Sinjin turned away, not sure how to respond to such an inane statement. It seemed unlikely they could charge the herald globe in the sun without first finding their way out of where they were trapped.
"He doesn't like me," Sinjin heard Trinda say, and he turned toward where she and Brother Vaughn sat.
"I don't think that's true," Brother Vaughn said, and he waved for Sinjin to come closer. "Now that's not true at all, is it?"
"It's not that I dislike you," Sinjin began, but his tone changed under the weight of Brother Vaughn's gaze. "It's just that you are sad a lot, and that makes me feel sad."
"You feel sad because I feel sad?"
"Yeah, that's what I said," Sinjin snapped, earning another glare from Brother Vaughn.
"You should be nice to me."
"Why's that?"
"'Cause someday you're gonna need somethin'."
"And you'll be there to help me?"
Trinda just raised her eyebrows and looked doubtful.
"Perhaps you'll both need something, and wouldn't it be nice if you were there for each other?" Brother Vaughn said.
Sinjin and Trinda both rolled their eyes at him, and in rare moment, Sinjin saw Brother Vaughn's frustration show through the cloak of calmness he usually wore. He took a breath to say something, but then the world began to move. "Hold on to me!" he shouted.
Sinjin grabbed Trinda and pulled her with him, wrapping his arms around her. She didn't struggle and though she was older than he, she seemed but a child, slight and frail, counting on him to save her. It was an odd feeling that bloomed in Sinjin's chest. Dust seeped into the air as the deep grinding reverberated through the keep. Relief flooded through Sinjin as the walls moved, and once again the way they had come in was clear. Still the keep moaned and trembled. Brother Vaughn pulled Sinjin forward, and Sinjin half carried Trinda back toward the main hall, which led between the God's Eye and the great hall. As they neared the junction, Dragonhold returned to rest, and what had become a near-deafening roar suddenly stopped. What remained was far from silence, and it chilled Sinjin's blood. Howls and grunts echoed through the halls, sounding like the cries of tortured animals, and only occasionally did he hear the shouts of people. Sometimes those calls were more frightening than those of the demons, especially when they ended in shrill and strangled cries.
Brother Vaughn stood as still as stone and listened, his head turned one way then another. "May the gods have mercy," he whispered, and he pulled Sinjin and Trinda back the way they had come.
"We can't go back that way," Sinjin said louder than he had intended.
With a sharp look, Brother Vaughn pressed a finger to his lips and pulled them with him. When they reached the part of the hall where they had been trapped, Sinjin nearly shouted in relief. The hall was now clear in both directions, and unexplored darkness lay ahead. Not even slowing, Brother Vaughn kept the group moving at as brisk a pace as the light of his fading herald globe would allow. Soon it would go dark, and they would be lost. Brother Vaughn hadn't said that, but Sinjin knew it; he could read it in the old monk's posture. Still, moving into unexplored parts of the keep piqued his sense of adventure-if only their light would hold.
"So foolish of me not to bring a fully charged herald globe or some other source of light," Brother Vaughn said as their progress continually slowed while the unnatural sounds filling the keep grew louder. Then he drew a sharp breath. Sinjin followed the small circle of light that surrounded the herald globe as Brother Vaughn slowly moved it over bold runes that covered a tile floor.
"It needs more," Trinda complained.
Brother Vaughn ignored her, and Sinjin nearly clamped his hand down over her mouth to keep her quiet. The sound of demons continued to grow. Looking over each rune and mumbling to himself, Brother Vaughn cursed. Holding the herald globe out, he cast soft shadows over doorways cut into an elaborate, multifaceted room, shaped almost as if someone had cut a gemstone away and left this cavity. Stepping forward, he cast out the light to the far doorways, and he stopped suddenly when the tile beneath his boot sank down with a grinding sound followed by a sharp snap. Sinjin looked up as dust fell from above, and it sounded as if the ceiling were collapsing. Indeed the stone above them was moving, but before they could do anything, it stopped.
"This room is a trap," Brother Vaughn said.
"What kind of trap?" Sinjin asked, wondering if they would be crushed.
"I think it's a riddle, but I can't see all of the runes, and I'm not quite sure."
"It needs more," Trinda observed. Sinjin opened his mouth, but she didn't give him a chance to make his snide remark, instead, she snatched the herald globe from Brother Vaughn's hands. "Let me have it. I have some."
Trinda closed her eyes. To Sinjin's amazement, the globe began to glow more brightly through her fingers.
"That's enough,
" Brother Vaughn urged in a low voice.
Trinda's eyes opened. At first she appeared calm, but then her eyes slowly went wide, the light growing brighter all the while. Brother Vaughn reached for the globe, and power leaped across the open air with a crack. He jerked his hand back. Moments later, Trinda made a popping noise with her lips. She turned and handed Brother Vaughn the now glaring orb. Holding out his hand to shield the light, he accepted it.
Trinda turned to Sinjin, locked eyes with him, and shrugged. "I don't have any more." Then her eyes rolled up into her head, and she collapsed into his arms. Unprepared, he barely caught her and was trying to hoist her onto his shoulder when he heard a low growl-this one not distant. Brother Vaughn turned toward the sound, and the light drove the demon backward, but the growling continued from the shadows.
Brother Vaughn mumbled rapidly while scanning the now brightly illuminated runes. "What's lighter than a feather, worth more than gold, more precious than air, and cannot be seen?"
Silence hung between them for what seemed a long time. The riddle reminded Sinjin of how his mother had explained astral travel, how she said her spirit had flown free of her body and had moved as if it weighed nothing. "A soul," he said. After casting a surprised look, Brother Vaughn stepped onto a new tile in the floor. Nothing happened.
"Excellent," Brother Vaughn said, already scanning more tiles. "What never stops moving but is always in the same place?"
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