by Keri Arthur
Luc swept the light around again; across the far side of the cavern, half hidden by a fat, ten-foot-high stalagmite, was a second tunnel. Thick slabs of wood lined its sides and supported the ceiling, which meant the tunnel wasn’t witch made. No Chen worth their salt would ever do work so shoddy that it had to be shored up by timber at a later point.
We walked over. Luc swung the light across the timbers; they were black with age but appeared solid enough. Looks could be deceiving, however, as I’d very recently learned.
I once again pushed the bitter sadness away and studied the tunnel. It was narrow, with rough-hewn walls that dripped with moisture. The dank, earthy smell that had been so evident on Tris very faintly touched the air. Something moved right on the edge of the light; after a moment, I realized what it was. Beetles. There were a number of the damn things crawling up the wall and over the rotting timber.
“Whatever Tris was doing, it’s down there somewhere,” I said. “He was complaining about beetles before he was shot.”
“Then on we go.”
We entered cautiously. The ground was as rough as the walls and wet underfoot, which meant our pace was by necessity slow. What was more dangerous, however, were the creaks and groans coming from both the timber supports and walls around us. It felt like this whole tunnel was in danger of an immediate collapse, although surely if that were even a remote possibility, Tris and whomever he was working with would have done something to stabilize it.
Unless, of course, they’d gotten what they needed last night, and this whole place was now nothing more than one big trap …
I shivered and shoved my imagination back into its box. Tris’s demeanor certainly hadn’t been that of a man who’d successfully found what he’d been looking for. Besides, they couldn’t have known we’d find the address on that notepad and investigate; couldn’t be certain that we’d walk further than the bungalow and find the landslip and tunnel entrance. If there was a trap here, then it hadn’t been set for us but rather anyone who’d stumbled onto this place.
As thoughts went, it didn’t actually do a lot to ease my growing fear.
The deeper we moved underground, the louder the creaking grew and the stronger the smell of fresh, damp earth became. Then, up ahead in the distance, something twinkled.
“What’s that?” Though the question was soft, it echoed loudly in the pressing silence of this place.
“I don’t know.” He shifted the light upward. “I’m more worried about them at the moment.”
The “them” in question were the tunnel’s timber supports. The two immediately ahead had partially broken at their midpoint and now formed a shallow V that was barely holding the earth above in check.
“We’ve only two choices,” I said. “And you already know which one I’ll be voting for.”
“Never let it be said that the De Montfort women have no gumption.”
“I don’t think anyone who has ever met Mo would dare say anything along those lines.”
“Not if they have any sense, anyway.”
He pressed forward, ducking under the broken beams and being ultra careful not to touch the side supports—a somewhat difficult task for someone as broad shouldered and as tall as he. I followed cautiously, watching each step. The last thing we needed right now was me slipping again.
We came out into another cavern, although this one was small and enclosed. There were three more tunnels leading off it—one of them looked like a natural crevice, but the other two were manmade and shored up by rotten-looking timbers. The twinkling was coming from the second—and most dilapidated—one.
We walked over. The twinkle turned out to be a ring—a silver ring that held a deep red stone surrounded by diamonds. Its setting was old-fashioned and masculine in style rather than feminine, and it looked relatively new rather than something that was centuries old.
“How on earth did something like this get here?” I sat on my haunches and held a hand just above the ring. My skin tingled in response. “It’s emitting the faintest caress of magic, but I’m not seeing any strings to suggest it’s active.”
“Neither am I,” Luc said, “but there’s definitely something embedded in the stone—and it’s got the faintest whiff of foulness to it.”
“A dark spell?”
“Possibly.” He shifted slightly and studied the shaft’s opening. “I’m not seeing any sort of trip wire, be it magical or physical.”
“Which doesn’t mean there isn’t something hiding further in.” I studied the tunnel for a second. “I guess I could fly in and check it out—if this is a trap, they’ve likely set it for a human rather than a bird.”
“Not necessarily. Not given the netting across that window.”
“True, but it’s nevertheless worth the risk. Besides, I’m immune to magic, remember.”
He hesitated and then nodded. “But be damned careful. At the first sign of trouble, retreat.”
“I will.”
I briefly touched his arm, drawing strength from the contact, and then stepped back. Once I’d shifted shape, I grabbed the flashlight with my claws and flew in. The tunnel was long and narrow enough that the tips of my wings brushed the sides. The timber supports deeper in were in even worse shape than the ones near the entrance, and several had given way, causing a semi collapse. How Tris or indeed anyone else had gotten in here without bringing half the mountain down on top of them, I had no idea. The tunnel curved slightly to the right and then opened up into what looked and felt like a small antechamber, albeit one made of earth. In the center of the chamber was a freshly dug hole. Several shovels leaned against the wall to the right of this, and Coke cans and plastic wrappers littered the floor. I hovered for a few second longer, looking for any indication of magic, then shifted shape and dropped to the ground.
“You there, Luc?” I called softly.
“Of course I’m here—where else would I be?”
I smiled at the tetchiness in his tone. “I’ve reached the end of the tunnel—they’ve been digging a hole in the middle of what looks to be a natural chamber.”
“Any spells or traps?”
“No.”
“Then I’m coming—”
“Don’t. The tunnel is in a really bad state, and there were a couple of collapsed sections. I doubt you’ll get through them.”
“Tristan and whoever was with him obviously did—”
“Yeah, and maybe them coming out last night is the reason the tunnel is in such a state—Tris did look as if he’d been caught in a slide.”
Luc grunted. It was not a happy sound. “Is there any clue as to what they were looking for?”
“Not immediately.” I propped the flashlight on the nearby pile of rock and earth and then knelt next to it. The hole was quite large—nearly five feet wide and at least three deep. “Given the amount of rock that has been excavated, though, they’ve obviously been at it for a few days.”
“They used shovels?”
“Yes, which is odd. Chens aren’t exactly hard to find or hire, and it would have saved a lot of time and effort.”
It would have galled Tris no end that he—a Chen—was unable to do the one thing his family was renowned for. And it certainly wouldn’t have helped his mood any to be physically digging when his baby brother could have done it with just a flick of his hand.
“Maybe,” Luc commented, “they didn’t want anyone else to see what they were digging up.”
I leaned in and brushed a hand across the dirt and rock fragments lying on the bottom. Energy stung my fingertips, its caress sharp but brief. I jerked them back, my heart racing a million miles an hour. No magical strings followed. No spell rose. I hesitated, then leaned in a second time; once again, energy bit at me. This time, I resisted the urge to pull away and instead studied it. It wasn’t a spell; it was, in fact, pure energy, and its caress reminded me somewhat of the pulse that had come from the sword when I’d gripped it.
“Luc, there’s something here.”
Despite the tension running through me, a smile tugged at my lips. He really didn’t like being kept at a distance. “It’s energy, and it rather feels like the pulse that erupted from the king’s sword.”
“Can you see what’s causing it?”
“No.” I pushed to my feet and walked over to the shovels. “It can’t be too far from the surface though.”
“If it was close to the surface, why would they have left before digging it out?”
I jumped into the hole and shoved the shovel into the ground. It barely dented the surface. I could only hope the item was indeed close to the surface; otherwise, I was going to be here all damn day.
“Maybe they weren’t aware how near they were.”
“Or, given this thing is emitting the same sort of energy as the sword, they simply didn’t have the capacity to feel the pulse.”
“Technically, I shouldn’t be feeling it.”
“Yeah, but you’re also Moscelyne’s granddaughter. I rather suspect you have the same capacity to do things you shouldn’t be able to.”
“If Mo’s to be believed, you’ve got that the wrong way around.”
“She thinks you’re capable of far more than what you currently are?”
“Apparently.”
“Then you should believe her.”
“You haven’t grown up with her. She makes lots of grand statements that aren’t always backed by reality.”
I tossed what was little more than a scraping of soil onto the rock pile and then tried again, this time stepping on the shoulder of the shovel and pressing my full weight onto it. It only went a few millimeters deeper. I swore, took off my jacket, and kept digging. By the time I spotted a thin stick of gold, sweat dripped from my hair and I’d stripped off to my bra.
I dropped to my knees, flicked my knife down into my hand, and carefully picked the bits of soil and rock away from that glimmer of gold. My knife did a far better job than the shovel did and the more it revealed, the more my heart raced.
It was a crown—a very old crown—and one whose image I’d seen only very recently, in an ancient book of fables. The band was thickly threaded gold through which a thin string of blue stone had been woven. A thick, leaf-shaped piece of gold sat in the front of the band, and in the center of this sat an oval-shaped, blue-gray stone. Zigzagged bands of gold surrounded this centerpiece, oddly reminding me of lightning frozen midstrike—albeit the wrong color.
I carefully pressed my fingers under either edge of the crown and eased it free from the soil; power pulsed across my fingers, and jagged light flashed across the surface of the stone.
I gulped and tried to contain my excitement.
“You’re not going to believe this, Luc, but I think I just found the Witch King’s Crown.”
“The stolen one?”
“No. The original.”
His sharp intake of breath echoed. “Why makes you think that?”
“As I said, it has the same pulse of power as the sword.”
“Why the hell would something like that be here, of all places?”
“You tell me. Your lot was supposedly guarding the thing, not us.”
I put the crown to one side and brushed my fingers across the base of the hole. This time there was no response—which didn’t mean there wasn’t anything else here to find, just that there was nothing else holding the power of the crown.
I pushed to my feet and pulled on my jacket. Then I wrapped my sweater around the crown and tied it around my waist. Though I wasn’t entirely sure why, instinct was saying to keep it close but out of sight. After everything that had happened over the last few days, I wasn’t about to gainsay it.
I put the shovel back then checked everything was almost as I’d found it. “Coming out.”
And kept my fingers crossed as I said it; I’d never shifted carrying a gold artifact before and had no idea if it would react the same way to the change as silver—that is, be immune to it.
The shifting wave swept over my body and, thankfully, encased the wrapped crown as easily as it did the backpack. In blackbird form, I grabbed the flashlight and then carefully made my way through the tunnel, moving back into human form when I neared the entrance. My foot slipped as I landed. I stumbled and would have fallen had Luc not jumped forward and caught me.
“Thanks,” I said but didn’t immediately pull free. His body was warm and hard against mine, and his arms held me so very tenderly. He felt too damn good … and too damn right.
“A more suspicious man would think you did that deliberately.” The roughness in his voice spoke of desire. “But I’ve learned you’re very straightforward when it comes to stating what you want.”
“For the little good it’s done me so far.”
I forced myself to pull free and then stopped, an odd feeling of dread suddenly clutching at my innards. The ring at our feet now pulsed, sending a bloodred light spinning across the darkness.
“I’m thinking that’s not a good sign.” All trace of desire had fled Luc’s voice. “Let’s get out of here.”
He caught my hand and we raced across the cavern, the flashlight’s beam dancing erratically across the walls, catching the tiny flecks of dirt falling from the roof.
The pulses of red grew sharper, brighter, and were now accompanied by a surge of energy. Dark energy. Angry energy. We’d obviously tripped whatever spell lay deep in the heart of that ring, and though I wondered how, I really had no time to do anything more than concentrate on keeping up with Luc.
We swept into the next tunnel. The shower of earth was more noticeable here, and all too swiftly became a constant rain that poured all around us. A tremor ran through the earth, and a deep rumbling began, a sound that chased us through the tunnel, growing ever louder as it drew closer and closer. As a thick cloud of dust overtook us, all but cutting out the flashlight’s beam, I realized what it was.
The tunnel was collapsing.
“Gwen, fly—get the fuck out of here.”
“We both get out of here or we both get buried. There is no other option.”
“The crown is far more important—”
“Not to me, it’s not, so shut up and run, Blackbird.”
He swore but obeyed. We pounded through the dark and disintegrating tunnel, pummeled by dirt and rocks and chunks of wood as the tunnel’s support beams gave way under the force of the pulsing energy. As the rumbling grew louder and stronger, the ground rose like a wave under our feet and threatened to sweep us away. Slabs of stone and wood fell all around us, hitting with enough force to bruise. We crashed through growing slopes of debris, fighting to get free of the tunnel and the danger it represented.
Finally, from up ahead, came a distant flicker of light. Sunlight, somehow filtering through the jagged entry point.
We were so damn close …
With a gigantic whoomp, the tunnel collapsed. Somehow, in the midst of it, Luc spun, grabbed my waist, and threw me forward. I flew through the air, the shifter magic sweeping my body as the survival instinct kicked in. The light grew closer, nearer; escape was close, so damn close.
Then a weight hit my back and I was tumbling, falling, through the air. I hit the ground hard and fell into darkness.
Eleven
Waking was a painful experience. For too many minutes, I fought it, not wanting to deal with reality, not wanting to know just how bad my situation had become.
But consciousness would not be denied.
Without opening my eyes, I began a check. My fingers and toes all moved, so that was at least something. It felt like a hundred horrible little men were gleefully banging drums inside my head, and the warmth trickling down my cheek suggested I’d either split my forehead or my scalp open. There was a secondary ache in my left thigh, and something hard and circular biting into my spine.
The crown … and it was still very much intact by the feel of things.
> I forced my eyes open and saw the stalactites high above. I’d made it as far as the first cavern … but had Luc?
There was no sound, no indication of movement, from the tunnel that now lay behind me. Dust still rolled out of the entrance, which meant I hadn’t been unconscious for all that long. The ground had stopped quivering, and the dark energy no longer pulsed.
I tried to move but there was a weight on my lower body pinning me down. I lifted my head—which only set off the bastards with the drums—and saw that half an old beam and a good chunk of earth lay across my stomach and legs. I pushed upright as far as the muck would allow and then, using my knife, began to shovel the loose soil away from the beam. Luck had obviously been with me—it was one of the older, semi-rotten timbers and held none of the weight of the more intact ones. Had one of them hit me, I might not now be moving at all.
Once the beam was as exposed as I could make it, I shoved my knife back into its hilt and then reached for the jagged end of the beam. With a grunt of effort, I lifted the thing, then shoved it sideways and released it. One jagged side edge caught my right leg as it thumped back down, tearing through jeans and skin alike. Pain rolled up my body, another heated ache in what seemed to be a growing mountain of them. I took several deep, quivering breaths and then pulled my feet from under the loose soil.
I was free. Bloody, but free.
But the task—and the danger—was far from over yet.
I rolled onto my hands and knees, remaining there for several seconds as fresh aches erupted across my body and the idiot drummers intensified their efforts.
Then, slowly but steadily, I climbed to my feet. I didn’t fall back down in a dead faint, which I considered a win. After a deep, steadying breath, I looked around for the flashlight and spotted it a few yards away. Nothing happened when I pressed the button, but after a few shakes, the light came back on, even if a little half-heartedly. It was good enough.
