by Ted Neill
“I think that one was right,” Mortimer said.
“Dameon, what did you do?” Gabriella asked.
“The pattern. Three types of numbers, primes, sequence numbers, and regular numbers. Primes can touch primes but not sequence numbers. Sequence numbers can touch sequence numbers but not primes. A regular number between them. Some numbers at certain interstices have to be both sequence and prime, like 13.” He bit down on his lip so hard that it turned white as he rocked against the table.
“What do you mean ‘sequence number’?” Gabriella asked. Dameon looked at her blankly.
“I think those are the numbers we were just following through the maze,” Adamantus said.
“Yes.” Dameon nodded.
“Can you tell the differences?” Gabriella asked.
“Yes,” he said, nodding again. He examined more bones. One by one he slipped them into the holes. Clicks and squeaks would follow as invisible machinery adjusted itself after centuries of stillness. A few times there were loud bangs that startled them, but no more traps came sweeping their way. When a quarter of the tabletop had bones in place, they heard a sliding sound from behind the steel doors.
“What was that?” the sisters shouted in unison, whirling their wands around in the direction of the sound.
“Sounded like one of the locks slipping out of place. You are doing well, Dameon,” Adamantus said.
Dameon took a deep breath and blew hair off his forehead. Gabriella hated to take her attention away from her brother, but she took a moment to check Adamantus’ wound. She dared not ask Sybil or Libys to bring their wands’ light closer so she could examine it. Instead she touched the fur. Her hand came away wet and warm. She slipped off her outer jerkin, balled it up, and pressed it into the wound. The elk shuddered, his muscles shaking beneath his skin, but he leaned his weight towards her, increasing the pressure. Blood soaked through the fabric, but eventually the flow slowed.
Dameon made no sign that he noticed any of them. He was absorbed, fixed on his task. It was dawning on Gabriella that her brother actually enjoyed this. With that realization came a deep sense of failure that she and her family had not fully realized Dameon’s abilities, so busy they were with their own shame and labels for him. But had not the signs been there, staring at her all the time, his counting, his calculations, even his obsessive nature?
I’ve been a fool, Gabriella thought.
They all became comfortable with the clicks and groans of machinery. Dameon continued to sort through the bone pieces and slip them into their places. When the bones were halfway finished there was another grinding noise from behind the doors: a second lock opening. Mortimer wiped his palms on his trouser legs. The sisters were clapping their hands and whispering to each other.
Then the floor gave way.
Gabriella and Mortimer were the only ones standing far enough back to fall. Mortimer swung his arms wildly and caught himself on the edge. Gabriella felt herself sliding away until Adamantus snatched the edge of her trousers in his teeth. Her fall stopped abruptly; she hung upside down. She heard the gears of the machinery clicking invisibly in the darkness. It was the same mechanism as they had seen in the maze. Cold air from below rushed past her. She pictured a mouth of stone breathing an icy blast.
Mortimer pulled himself to safety. He braced Adamantus as the elk dragged Gabriella up. Adamantus put her down, and, shaking, she walked over to Dameon.
He was looking at her across the table with wide eyes.
“I’m fine, Dameon, but are you sure about that last piece?” He shook his head no. Gabriella realized her brother had been concentrating for more than an hour. “Are you tired?”
Dameon nodded.
“Let’s take a break, all right?” He nodded. She settled down on the floor, and he lay down with his head in her lap. She began to sing softly to him. The first song that came to mind was the same tune she had sung on the Elawn to the wyvern egg. Self-conscious with so many listeners, her voice was unsteady and weak at first. But as she heard her own notes echoing back to her from the walls of the chamber, she gained confidence. She lifted her voice so that it filled the emptiness around them. Soon even the darkest corners were echoing with the bittersweet melody. She wondered if the sisters might grow impatient, but quite the opposite . . . they both sat with rapt attention, each swaying in slow cadence with the other.
Dameon fell into a relaxed doze, his breathing slow and regular. Gabriella kept singing. She would let him sleep as long as he liked. He had brought them this far. It was the least she could do. The least I can do for having been so ignorant of his potential all this time. The mix of feelings she was experiencing added emotion to her voice, and the notes began to waver.
“Stop,” Mortimer said, raising his hand. Gabriella went silent. “I heard something.”
The elk twisted his ears. Gabriella did not like the wary expression that flashed across his face. Adamantus whispered, “Mortimer is right, there is something moving. Whatever it is it is still on the other side of the chasm, but it seems to be coming this way.”
“How far?” Gabriella asked. Before the elk could answer, a strange cry echoed through the mountain. It sounded like a bird of prey but different, something that Gabriella could not place, perhaps a woman’s scream of pain. The sisters wrapped their arms about one another. Mortimer drew his sword.
“What is that?” the trapper asked. “Some kind of bat, right?”
Not even Adamantus knew. Gabriella woke Dameon, clutching him with hands that were sticky with Adamantus’ blood. “Dameon, I’m sorry. You need to finish the puzzle now.”
He rubbed his eyes and stood up. She could tell he was still weary. The sharpness had yet to return to his gaze. They all closed in on the table. The eerie voice echoed through the chambers again. Dameon looked up. “What was that?”
“We think it is a bat,” Gabriella said. “You just keep working on the numbers. We’ll watch out for traps.”
Dameon removed the last peg he had placed, and the floor slowly ground back to level. Gabriella almost wished it had not for now there was a clear path from the door to the table again, and whatever was stalking them was moving closer. Her eyes searched the darkness beyond the doorway for any movement. There were shuffling noises and even a soft breathing, as if something was following their scent. It could be many rooms away or it could be around the corner. Mortimer held his sword at the ready, the blade flashing in the light from the sisters’ wands. Then the sound stopped abruptly. Whatever it was, it was listening to them.
At the table, Dameon dropped bones into place. The clicks behind the locked doors sounded off again. Gabriella heard a hiss from the doorway behind them. Their pursuer had crossed the bridge. By following their scent, it was able to navigate the maze of rooms without setting off traps.
Or it knew where the traps were, Gabriella thought.
“Adamantus, could it just be a big rat?” Mortimer asked.
“There is no telling what kind of creatures might have made this place their home over the centuries. The roots of these mountains go deep.”
“Hurry, Dameon.” Gabriella kept her voice low in an effort not to give them away, but it was useless. As soon as she spoke, the howl sounded again and the shuffling footsteps increased. Dameon dropped in another bone. The board was three-quarters covered now, the tiles filling up from the sides inwards. With fewer bones to sort through, Dameon was getting faster. His hands hovered over the holes, his nose just inches from the table.
The noise was closer. There was a cry as if their follower had just struck a fresh scent. Sybil and Libys readied their wands. For once Gabriella was glad they were armed. There was a loud bang and a rain of dust fell from the edges of the door. All the bones were in place. The doors were sliding open. Dameon closed his hands tightly on the edge of the table, but there was no joy in his face, only exhaustion. He looked as if he would drop over asleep.
“Hurry,” Mortimer urged. Gabriella grabbed Daemon, and t
hey scrambled for the next room, only to come to a full stop. This room was identical to the last. Two solid doors on the opposite wall blocked their way. But in the center of the room, instead of a table, a pillar held a crystal globe.
“Damnation!” Mortimer spat. “What is this one?”
Sybil moved close to the globe, the light of her wand illuminating it. The globe lit up from the inside with a blue-gray glow. Sybil made a sour face. “I know this. It is a magic device. My father paid a great price for one that he placed at the doorway of our armory. It reads the intentions of the one who touches it.”
“A seeing stone,” Adamantus said. “They are very dangerous.”
“Yes,” Sybil said. “My father said that anyone who wanted to enter the armory had to touch it. As long as they were loyal and wished to get weapons to protect themselves and others, it would open the door for them. If there was even the slightest bit of treachery in their hearts, they would die.”
Gabriella looked at the elk. “Is it true?”
Adamantus nodded.
“Can your wand break it?” Mortimer asked.
“Not the one on Foyle Island. I tried.” Sybil looked glum.
“Well, our friend is getting closer,” Mortimer said. The noises had grown louder, a hissing and a pitter-patter of feet, a scraping of stone. Something tapped at the stone floor just outside of the previous room.
Adamantus turned to Gabriella. “Gabriella, it must be you.”
Somehow she had expected this.
“I can’t,” she protested. “There is no question. My heart is not pure.” She was aware of the bitterness and loathing she felt for Mortimer and the sisters. For an instance the sight of Ghede disappearing in a swirl of light flashed in her mind, then Omanuju clutching the arrow in his side. She trembled with the anger she still bore for all of them.
“I hate all of you,” she said, savoring the moment to vent her fury. “There is no chance.”
“Gabriella, it is our only chance,” the elk said. “Nicomedes would not have required the stone to examine whether or not someone held grudges or righteous anger. Good people harbor many passions. What the seeing stone will require is that whoever wants to enter the treasure chamber wishes to use the treasure for good, not for evil—for the good of others, not for selfish gain.” The elk was as frank as she had been, his words a naked reproach to their companions.
“Why can’t you do it?” Gabriella asked. “You are more patient and wise than me.”
Adamantus bent a knee and clicked a hoof on the ground. “The seeing stone is made for a human hand.”
She knew there was no time to waste. The creature following them sounded as if it were in the very same room. She spun around. It was best to get the ordeal over with. She reached out her hand, still stained with blood from Adamantus’ wound. For a moment, her hand hovered there over the globe. Her palm tingled. She looked at her brother, just in case it was the last time. It reminded her how much she missed her parents, how much she imagined Dameon missed them as well. She remembered that she had promised to get Dameon home.
She lowered her hand onto the stone’s surface.
The seeing stone was hot. The heat traveled through her body so that she felt as if she were slipping into a tub of warm cream. The warmth traveled up from her chest to her neck and into her head. She shuddered as it crossed her face. Then it entered her mind. It was like nothing she had ever experienced. It was as if hot feathers sifted through her skull. The sensation became overwhelming, as if her own senses would kill her.
Then it was gone. She opened her eyes. The chamber was thundering with noise as the final doors opened. The chamber beyond was lit almost as bright as day. She saw a façade, carved with columns, statues, windows, lanterns, and a stairway leading to doors, open doors.
Libys shrieked and fired a blast of light at the doorway behind them. “I saw it,” she shouted. “I saw something move. Teeth, horns, hideous eyes! Right behind us!”
Her sister shot a ball of flaming light as well. The spells exploded in the previous chamber. The figure wailed and shuffled off into the darkness. Whatever had been following them had retreated. Mortimer was the first to turn back around and look at what awaited them in the next chamber.
“Perfection,” he said. “Absolute perfection.”
Chapter 18
The Treasure House
It was less a building staring down at them than a façade, a single wall. The façade did not even reach the ceiling, but the intricacy of the carvings, the symmetry of columns, the balance of metal and glass in the windows, and the artistic fashioning of the lanterns, was far more beautiful than any building Gabriella had ever seen. Even in the dusty light, it was magnificent. The light came from a great dome overhead, which was also breathtaking—not just for the size, but for the materials used to build it: glass bricks. Gabriella remembered how the sunlight filtered through the river and skylight in Nicomedes’ secret workshop. He had shown a penchant for bringing sunlight underground there, but that skylight was but a mere crack. This feat of engineering shone like the face of the moon.
“A fitting place for a treasure house,” Mortimer said.
They crossed the chamber and started up steps that led to the open doors awaiting them. Just before they crossed the threshold, Mortimer stopped and turned to Adamantus. “You don’t believe there are any more traps, do you?”
The elk shook his head. “After the seeing stone, I cannot imagine the reason. And these doors are open, I assume, as a sign of welcome.”
Mortimer smiled, threw his shoulders back, and opened his arms wide. “A welcome from Nicomedes himself.” He offered an arm each to Sybil and Libys, who placed their hands daintily in the crooks of his elbows. “Let us go forward and claim our treasure together, the court of the new House of Foyle.”
Gabriella curled her nails into her palms in frustration as the trio skipped into the chamber beyond the doors. She wished that Adamantus had been wrong and that one final, lethal trap awaited them. She envisioned a scimitar sweeping out and separating each at the waist or a hammer pulping their brains out their ears, but no such help delivered her, Dameon, and Adamantus from their predicament. The three entered unscathed, and Gabriella could hear gasps and cries of excitement as the sisters discovered the treasures of Nicomedes. The sound of coins pouring onto the floor, accompanied by Mortimer’s wild exclamations, echoed in the outer chamber, their voices obscene with greed.
Gabriella slumped against the wall. The joyous sounds defeated her. Her sense that she had betrayed Nicomedes was as great as the respect she had developed for the inventor. She did not even want to see the treasure. Instead she looked back at the way they had entered the treasure house. From where she sat, she could see a narrow doorway barred by an iron gate across the chamber. They had all passed by without noticing it in their rush to find the treasure.
Her curiosity got the best of her, and she got up and walked over to the doorway. Gabriella pushed the unlocked gate inward. It opened into a dim passage that made a sharp turn. She could see light beyond the turn that seemed to beckon her. She followed the passage, her footsteps soft and hesitant as she entered a small, brightly lit chamber.
The stone making up the walls, the floor, and ceiling was sand colored. The room was lined with small benches above which were carvings. On the far wall was a stone sarcophagus. It was surprisingly simple and plain. The markings on the sarcophagus were in a language Gabriella could not read, but the characters were somewhat similar to that of the Oceanic tongue. She could make out enough to know the name written there: “Nicomedes.”
On either side of the tomb stood black iron candle stands. The candles had melted away into nothingness centuries before, but the etched glass that had held them still remained. Sunlight shot through gaps in the ceiling, reflected off tiny glittering mirrors. It was Nicomdes’ last, and to Gabriella, most touching feat of engineering—a tomb with lights that would always shine at his grave.
“
A simple but elegant tomb for a great man,” Adamantus said. Gabriella jumped, only now realizing that the elk and her brother had followed her into the tomb.
“How disappointed he would be,” Gabriella said.
“Don’t say that,” the elk said. “Seeing stones use ancient and powerful magic. They are said to be bound eternally to the will and a piece of the soul of those who place them. Be sure that not only did the seeing stone let you pass, but Nicomedes did, too, even with the knowledge of your companions, which would also have been plain to the seeing stone through your own consciousness.” The elk touched his soft nose to her neck. “You passed because you wish to help your people, your family—and your brother. And I imagine Nicomedes wants you to succeed. Don’t abandon your quest now. Then you would be unworthy of his trust. It is up to you that some of this treasure is not misused.”
Gabriella touched the tomb again and let her hand linger. She noticed that the carvings that lined the room at eye level were pictures of Nicomedes’ different inventions: aqueducts, navigational equipment on ships, and machinery for moving heavy goods. All were pictured with the people using them, and Gabriella understood what had been most important to Nicomedes: service to others. She thought of all those people on Harkness who did not want the tower to be ceded to the Servior.
Lost in thought, Gabriella was startled when her brother moved closer to her. His eyes were sunken and tired, his clothes were filthy, and he smelled worse than a pigsty. Gabriella knelt down in front of him. His eyes did not meet hers, but his hand moved upwards to grab Adamantus’ fur and twirl it between his fingers.
“Dameon, you did a wonderful job helping us. You made me very, very happy.”
He moved his head side to side. “Are we going home soon?”
“As soon as possible. Adamantus and I must think of a plan to get us out of here. Stay close to me. Stay away from the others.”
His face registered no response, but his hand balled into a fist in Adamantus’ fur. She took his other hand. He did not resist, and the three of them left the tomb and walked towards the entrance of the treasure house. The silhouette of the wyvern circled overhead, visible through the dome. As they moved down the corridor, the light from the glass bricks faded.