Fifteen
We entered the stone circle. Heidel held her blade with a firm grip, though I noticed a tremor in her hand. The tales of death and evil spirits were hard to ignore as we walked through the pillars.
Kull followed his sister, his blade shining bright silver against the backdrop of snow. The wind howled louder through the stones, so I pulled my hood low over my face, but it did little to lessen the chill.
“What are we looking for?” Kull called over the wind.
I wasn’t sure. I’d seen my godson’s dreamsoul here, but that had been in a vision. With my mortal eyes, I wasn’t sure what to look for or where to look. The place seemed deserted, but I knew that magic could easily be concealing him. “Search for anything unusual. Magical talismans, unusual tracks, anything. If my godson is here, I need to know.”
“I’ll check the far side,” Kull said. “Heidel, you take the stones to the north. Stay within earshot of one another. If you see anything strange, don’t confront it. Regroup, and we’ll take it together,” Kull said.
“I agree,” I said.
We went our separate ways.
Snow crunched underfoot as I made my way through the labyrinth of monoliths. A strange eeriness clung to the ancient stones. The wind quieted. The air held a fragile stillness. I inspected each stone, looking for any clues to my godson’s whereabouts.
As the sun rose higher, I began to doubt my purpose here. I’d circled the area several times and had found nothing. What if Jeremiah weren’t here? What would I do? I had nowhere else to look.
No. I had seen him here. I knew this was the right place. Perhaps I needed to focus on something else.
I scanned the area again, this time searching for a pattern in the stones’ arrangement. I’d presumed there was none, but as I peered closer, I started to see it.
Five tall stones surrounded the rest, and the tallest of all sat at the center. It wasn’t hard to make out the pattern now that I knew what to look for. They formed six points, making the creation appear to be the mjölnir —Thor’s sacred hammer.
If I’d read my history books right, the stone in the center would be the most powerful. I walked to where I estimated the center of the arranged pillars would be. I approached a stone twice the height of Kull.
Runes were etched into the wind-worn surface—Viking runes. Some were too careworn to make out, but others looked well preserved. I removed my gloves. The stone chilled my hands as I ran my fingers over the rough surface.
Kull approached me. “I’ve seen nothing out of the ordinary. Have you?”
“I might have found something.”
Heidel joined us at the stone.
I pointed to the runes and then replaced my gloves. “Do you recognize any of these symbols?”
“These are old markings from the days of the first crossing,” he said. “We don’t use this language anymore.”
“Can you read it?”
He pointed at an X shaped symbol at the top edge of the stone. “This is the symbol for gift. And this,” he moved to an ∑, “means reunite. Or perhaps destroy.”
Heidel raised an eyebrow. “Reunite or destroy? The two words are completely different. How are we to tell which is correct? You should have paid better attention in your studies.”
“You are correct, sister. But remind me, did you ever pass the ancient languages trial?”
She sniffed and looked away. “Ancient languages bore me.”
Kull turned back to the stone, a smug smile on his face. “There’s more. These three symbols together may represent a phrase or a single word. But I’m not sure what it means. Palace or beleaguer. But that makes no sense either.”
“So the first word is gift, and the second is destroy or reunite. The third word must make sense with the first two,” I said.
“The gift of destruction,” Heidel suggested. “Perhaps the third word explains the type of destruction.” She studied the stone. My breath came out in white puffs as I watched Heidel examine the runes.
“I think this may tell us how the spirit killed them,” Heidel answered. She pointed to an M shaped rune. “What is this symbol?”
“Blight,” Kull answered. “Or plague.”
“And this one?” she asked.
“Beneath.”
“And this?” I pointed to a pair of symbols in the center of the stone.
Kull didn’t answer for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was hushed. “Regaymor.”
The wind picked up, whistling with fury through the barren stones.
Heidel backed away from the stone. “It’s an entrance to the catacombs.”
“Are you sure?” Kull asked.
She nodded. “Our first ancestors built extensive catacombs beneath this temple. Hundreds are buried beneath.”
“Should we remove it and look inside?” I asked.
Both warriors stared at me as if I’d lost my mind. Maybe I had.
“You believe your godson’s soul to be in the catacombs?” Kull asked.
“He isn’t up here. It would be the logical place to search next.”
“Are you sure?” Heidel asked. “You’ve seen the inscription on the stone. You must realize what lies beneath. Plague and death. The reason we shouldn’t be here in the first place.”
“But I have to at least look. It’s the only chance I have to find him.”
“And kill us in the process?” she asked.
Kull rested a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Our ancestors will protect us. That and Bloodbane.” He unsheathed his sword. His smile would have seemed charming if it weren’t for the glint of madness in his eyes. “I say we should go.”
“And risk ending up like our ancestors?”
“We’ve faced worse.”
Heidel squared her shoulders. “No. We’ve never faced anything like this. This isn’t some beast you can slaughter. This is magic—the darkest kind. We should leave and count ourselves lucky.”
Kull cocked an eyebrow. “Is that fear I detect in your voice?”
“It’s reason. An attribute you’ve yet to possess.”
“I disagree.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” Heidel answered.
“Perhaps you could stay here,” I interrupted. “We’ll need someone to keep watch.”
Heidel worked her jaw back and forth. “Fine. I will wait for you here.”
“Are you sure?” Kull asked. “You will be alone and exposed. It may be safer to come with us.”
“No. I will not enter the tombs.”
“Very well,” Kull said with a sigh, as if he were used to dealing with his sister’s stubbornness. He turned his attention to the stone. “And now to find our way inside.”
I studied the runes and determined that some of the characters could be a written spell. Most spellcasters never wrote down their spells for fear they could be used against them. But in this case, they may have needed a way to get inside and carved the characters into the stone. It was my best guess, anyway. “It may be spellcasted,” I told him. “I may be able to use a spell and open a gateway or—”
Kull placed his hands on either side of the stone, and his cheeks turned red as he pushed it aside. The grating sound echoed through the ancient pillars, loud enough to wake the dead entombed underground.
“Or you could just push it,” I finished.
A dark, cavernous hole lay beneath, with a ladder stretching to the bottom. Swirls of fog wrapped the metal rungs. Kull replaced his sword in its scabbard and started down the ladder.
Heidel turned to me as her brother descended. “Be cautious,” she said. “There are not many places that our people fear, but the tombs are an exception. There is a reason why we do not travel here. Be cautious.”
I nodded. “I will.”
I followed Kull down the ladder and into the tunnel. My shoulder gave me trouble, but I found that if I climbed without fully extending my arm, I could manage to hold on. The deeper I descended, the less chill there was in the air. I w
ould have felt grateful for the temperature change if I weren’t in complete darkness. The pinprick of light overhead wasn’t enough to illuminate the ground beneath.
“Are you there?” I called to Kull.
“Right below you. I think I’ve found some torches.”
The blackness disoriented me. The ladder’s rungs were my only link to reality. Below me could have been an abyss, and I would’ve never known it. I called on my other senses to make up for my loss of vision. The sound of booted feet on the metal rungs. My fingers grasping the cold metal. The pain throbbing through my shoulder.
A sputtering sound came from below. Flickering orange light glowed beneath me, and soon I descended to the tunnel’s floor.
Kull held two torches and gave one to me. “We’ve made it,” he called up the shaft.
“Very well.” Heidel’s voice sounded miles away.
As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I took in my surroundings. The thin air smelled of dust. A broad corridor lined with black stone stretched before us. Tombs rested inside niches in the rock. Elaborate images of skeletons and winged angels with hollowed-out eyes stared from the wall carvings.
Kull started down the hallway, and I followed. He pointed at the runes engraved in the walls. “This is odd,” he told me. “These markings are written in the modern language.”
“Modern language? How could that be possible?”
Our footsteps filled the silence as he searched for an answer. “The souls who perished here only two decades ago may have been buried in these catacombs.”
“The souls who were slain by the Regaymor?”
“Yes. It is possible that these tombs were in use only two decades ago. The modern language is proof of it.”
“Then let’s keep moving. I suspect that whoever has taken my godson’s soul will be in hiding. We should inspect the older tombs.”
“Agreed.”
The tombs stretched on. I stared in fascination at the elaborate carvings. This was artistry untouched by nature. The history of the Wult belief system sprawled before us like an open encyclopedia. The further we walked, the more the new gods gave way to the old. The image of the sacred mjölnir—Thor’s hammer—became more prevalent with each tomb we passed.
We entered an open chamber with a domed ceiling. Thick pillars lined the outer edges of the room. Firelight from our torches sputtered and flickered, making the pillars cast long shadows across the floor.
Several arched doorways surrounded the room.
“Where should we go from here?” I asked.
Kull walked around the room, inspecting the runes carved above the stone archways. “These are family names, I believe—some of the first families who crossed. Gunter, Brudnik, Mog.”
“I don’t suppose any of them say where my godson’s attacker is hiding?”
“Afraid not.”
I paced around the room, praying I would find something that might lead me to him. “We’ll have to check them all. How far do you think these tunnels go?” I asked him.
“I cannot say.” He turned to me. “But it doesn’t look as if anyone has been in these parts of the catacombs for a very long time. I am not sure what you’re looking for, but I have followed tracks since I was old enough to walk. If someone had been down here recently, we would have seen footprints.” He scuffed his boot. “This dust is thick enough to leave marks.”
I chewed on my lip, hoping Kull was wrong. “We aren’t dealing with the type you’re used to hunting. Spellcasters can erase tracks. Still, we should find evidence of a presence here. Something is down here. Something led me to my godson.”
He nodded. “We’ll meet in this chamber after we’ve searched the corridors.”
“Agreed.”
Kull exited through one of the doorways. As he left, the feeling of being alone sank in. Fear sped my heart. I clenched the torch tightly to keep my hands steady.
Stay calm, Albert Einstein said.
I tried to push away thoughts of the Dreamthief. But in the darkness, walking among the tombs of the dead, the dark magic pulsed even stronger.
I walked into a tunnel. The eyes of the carved angels and skeletons seemed to follow me as I passed by them. This passageway felt narrower than the others. The walls pressed against me.
Inhaling the stale air became a chore the deeper I went, so I focused on my task.
Find Jeremiah. Find his captor. Bring him home.
Tombs rose on either side of me like hulking, living things. I searched each one. Dust covered their gray granite surfaces.
I paused. A blank brick wall marked the end of the tunnel. I’d found nothing—no footprints, no signs of spellcasting, no intruders. But I still felt sure that Jeremiah’s captors had been down here. Why else would I have seen the vision of Jeremiah sitting in the temple ruins?
Either they’d never been down here, or they were very good at hiding.
With quiet footsteps, I walked out of the tunnel. A halo of orange firelight came into view as I entered the circular foyer. Kull waited for me. He stood near a pillar with his torch in hand. “I found nothing. Did you?” His voice echoed through the empty room.
“No.”
“There is one tunnel I have not checked.” He nodded toward the passageway marked Mog. I stepped toward it, though Kull didn’t move. His torch cast shadows under his eyes as he stared at the tunnel.
“Are you coming?” I asked.
He hesitated. “I am not sure if we should enter. Some say the family was cursed.”
“Cursed how?”
“There is a record of the Mog family that many remember, perhaps because they were not well liked. They had many enemies. Some of the family members were killed in a particularly gruesome manner, though no one could find the one responsible. In those early days after the crossing, our ancestors built their homes along the ocean’s shore, so it was most convenient to bury the dead in the sea. But some believed the spirits of the Mog family were restless. In the end, they created these tunnels and buried the bodies down here.”
“So these tunnels were first created for the Mog family?”
“Yes, though it did little good. The few souls who have traveled to this place in more modern times claim to hear their voices. Their footsteps still echo, and their apparitions appear in that passageway.”
“Do you believe in such things?”
“I cannot say.”
“Are they dangerous?”
He hesitated. I couldn’t read his face as he stared with apprehension down the hallway. “There are rumors of bodies being found in those chambers. What is odd is that the bodies were slaughtered in the same manner as the original murdered family members—half mutilated, with their eyes cut out and their lips sewn shut with black thread.”
A chill crept down my spine. “They died the same way?”
He nodded. “Some say that the spirits of the Mog family seek revenge.”
A nervous knot formed in my stomach as I peered down the dark hallway. Was it worth risking our lives? “Then perhaps we should search somewhere else.”
He shook his head. “No, there is nowhere else. Besides, the stories are only rumors. And I’ve brought my broadsword. We will be safe enough.”
Kull and his broadsword. Would he ever shut up about it? What could a broadsword do against a spirit?
He turned, and I followed him into the Mog chambers. Thin ribbons of fog appeared along the floor. As the mist touched my skin, its dampness made me shudder. Where did the fog come from? There was little moisture down here to create it. Was it some form of gas released by the decomposing bodies? Surely not. The souls in this part of the chamber had been dead for hundreds of years.
The tunnel stretched farther than the previous ones. The mist muffled our footsteps and made the silence seem oppressive. I felt grateful when Kull started a conversation.
“You don’t seem as frightened of this place as most people.”
I mulled over his statement. “That may be
true. But I didn’t grow up hearing the stories.”
“Even without the stories, most people would hesitate before entering a crypt. Don’t you fear death?”
He had to mention death in a place like this. I glanced at him, remembering the stories I’d heard of him. “I’ve heard that you do not fear death. Is it true?” I asked him.
“Of course not. Any man would be a fool not to fear death.”
“Let me guess, that’s why you’re still alive?”
“No. I am alive because the gods allow it. I should have died long ago.” He shifted his broadsword. The tunnel turned to the right, and we followed it as the mist thickened around us. The runes above the tombs had been etched off. Only an empty scar remained where the symbols had been.
“You have good instincts,” he went on. “You show bravery in a fight.” He glanced at my shoulder. “But you hide your pain from others, and you hide your fear.”
“How do you know what I fear?”
“Because I am a warrior. I’ve trained my entire life to find my enemies’ weaknesses.”
“Does this mean you’ve found my weaknesses?”
“Yes,” he answered without hesitation.
This conversation was starting to grate on my nerves. “I’m glad I’m so easy to read, just like anyone else you’ve ever battled.”
“No.” He stopped walking. “You are not the same.”
Firelight flickered on the golden strands of his hair. His eyes exuded an intelligent intensity, as if he were staring inside me, trying to see how I ticked. Good luck, buddy. Even I don’t know how my head works.
“Has the sky king ever mentioned anything about your powers?”
“Of course. He trained me.”
“And don’t you find it odd that he should take such an interest in you?”
“I suppose he felt sorry for me.”
“No, I don’t believe so.”
“Then why do you think he trained me?”
He hesitated. “I do not know,” he replied as he walked ahead.
I stared after him. What a strange conversation. I followed him, but the mists gathered so thickly that I couldn’t see the firelight from his torch or hear his footsteps. I walked faster, but a blank wall of fog blocked my view of the tunnel ahead.
“Kull?” I called. My shout sounded more like a whisper in the mist. “Are you there?”
I strained to hear an answer but heard none, as if he’d disappeared.
I took a cautious step forward. “Kull?” I called again, my voice echoing this time. Once again, the darkness enveloped me.
Completely blind, I felt along the wall while debating whether or not to use a spell for light, but down here, using magic seemed like a horribly flawed idea—even for me.
“Kull—” My toe snagged on something, and I almost hit the ground. A human form broke my fall. My elbows landed on his chest. In the mist, I only saw a little of the beard and forehead. Kull. He lay on the ground with his eyes closed, completely motionless. The still-sputtering torch lay next to him, and I grabbed it.
I knelt beside Kull to search for signs of life. Shallow breaths exhaled from his mouth. His chest rose and fell at a rapid pace. What had happened to him? I hadn’t heard him fall. He hadn’t called for help. I hadn’t seen him. It was as if he’d disappeared.
I searched his face and saw his eyelids twitching.
They’d had their eyes cut out.
Cold chills broke out over my skin. Footsteps came from behind me. I rounded, and my heart stopped.
Red eyes peered from a black, shapeless form.
I am here, it whispered in my head.
The mist coiled and swirled in eddies around the phantasm. It licked at my exposed hands with a bone-numbing frostiness.
Kull stirred beside me.
The mist suddenly retreated. I stared into the empty passageway, my heart beating so frantically I feared it might break through my chest.
Kull groaned. I knelt beside him as his eyelids fluttered open. “Olive?” he whispered.
“I’m right here.”
“What—what happened?”
He attempted to sit up. When he moved his arm, I saw an object in his hands that made me gasp.
It looked almost like mine, except it was woven from black string around a loom of the same color. Dark magic poured out of it.
A dream catcher.
Dreamthief Page 20