“Whoa,” Bevin said, his voice low. “So much for walking together.”
The guard cautiously stepped forward, causing the flames to once more spring to life. He knelt, studying the flames. He rose and stepped back. The flames extinguished.
“The flame is too close to the ground to crawl under it. But there appears to be a small space between each one The shield might be able to protect me.” He practiced shifting the shield from side to side. “Yes, I think it will work.”
“That is great for you, but what am I going to do?”
Bevin peered toward the other end. “I doubt there is a way to stop the flames from that side. Maybe I can slide the shield back to you.”
“Do the flames go all the way to the floor?” Soren asked. “If not, we can use the rope. You can tie it to your ankle and when you are at the other end, attach the shield to it. I can pull it back.”
“Good idea,” Bevin said as he pulled the rope from his pack. He handed one end to Soren and bent and tied the other end around his ankle. He stood and took a deep breath. “Send a prayer to the Gods.”
He rushed through the first flame. He tittered to a stop, switching the shield to the other side. He dashed forward, dragging the rope behind him. He continued the pattern of running and switching the shield until he reached the other side. Bevin cried out in triumph. But sometime during his run, the rope had caught fire. Bevin hurried to untie it from his ankle and fastened it to the shield.
“Pull,” Bevin yelled as he knelt and slid the shield on the floor.
Soren knelt. His hands moved quickly as he pulled the rope. Multiple areas now burned. He prayed it would hold long enough. As the shield slid through fire, he hoped it wouldn’t catch fire too. He worked as fast as he could. The shield was almost in reach. One more pull should do it. He yanked the rope.
It snapped. The end swung toward him, nearly hitting him in the face. Soren dropped the burning rope. He stood, kicking it away. His eyes sought out the shield. It lay on the other side of the first flame. His heart sank. There was no way he would be able to reach it without being burned.
He muttered a curse as he paced. His foot kicked his staff. He watched as it rolled. An idea began to form. He grabbed the staff. His hands trembled, causing him to drop it. He held his fingers until the shaking stopped. He picked up the staff again and laid down on his stomach. He swung the staff along the ground. It barely missed the fire, but it also missed snagging the shield by a few inches. He crept forward. The fire’s heat was intense. Sweat dripped down his face. As he moved even closer, the heat forced him to shut his eyes.
“Soren, what is it?”
“Busy,” he said as he swung the staff along the ground.
The tip grazed the edge of the shield. He crept closer. His fingers were inches from the flame. He swung the staff again, hitting the shield. It moved a few inches away. Soren swore. He tried again. This time the staff caught a rough protrusion on the bark shield. With a flip of his wrist, he slid the shield toward him. It slid within reach. He grabbed it and quickly scooted away from the intense heat.
Sitting up, he rubbed his arm. He could still feel the heat from the fire. The top of the shield burned. Soren grabbed his bag. He quickly pulled out his flask and poured the water over the flame. He poured a little water over his arm, cooling the heated flesh.
“I’m sorry, Dex.”
“It felt as if you were burning.”
“Not quite but my arm was close to the fire.”
“What? What fire? Never mind, you can fill me in later. I didn’t mean to distract you. Are you okay?”
Soren put his hand on his arm. It was still warm. “I’m fine but expect to feel more heat. I have to run through some flames. Hopefully, my shield will keep the fire away.” He slung his pack over his shoulder. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Better. I think your treatment is working.”
“Good.”
Gripping the shield in one hand and the staff in the other, Soren practiced switching the shield from side to side as he had seen Bevin do.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped in front of the first flame. Quickly, he moved past it and shifted the shield before going through the next flame. The air was hot. He coughed as sweat rolled down his face. He shifted the shield again. Unbearably warm, he forced himself to rush through the next flame and the next. There was only one left. He barely heard Bevin yell. He stumbled through the last flame, collapsing to the ground.
“I made it,” he said as he lay on the ground staring at the ceiling.
Bevin stood above him. He offered his hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
Soren groaned. “Can’t I have a minute to celebrate?”
Bevin chuckled as he pulled Soren to his feet. Soren’s legs trembled. The cool air from the outside felt wonderful. He urged to rush forward, away from the heat. Bevin placed a hand on his chest as his eyes traveled over the opening.
“There could be another trap.”
“You think so?” Soren gestured to the fire. “You think he expected someone to make it through that?”
Bevin shrugged. “Maybe if that person had magic…or a shield.”
Soren grinned. “Okay. I take back my comments about the shield. It was a good idea.”
“Good? We would still be on the other side without it.” Bevin picked it up. “I say we rush out before we accidentally set off another trigger.”
Soren nodded. He wanted to get out of the heat. A cool paradise was only three feet away and beyond that the door to the fortress. Bevin yelled go and they ran out the entrance. No gate clanged down behind them.
“Hmmm…I expected a gate or something,” Bevin said as he glanced back at the corridor opening. He turned to the wooden front door. “No doorknob.” He fingered the black iron ring on the door. “Opens outward.”
“Trap?” Soren said, as he stood.
“Let’s find out.”
Bevin pulled the ring. The door swung open with ease. Bevin held out his hand for Soren’s staff. He used it to probe the small inside chamber. The walls were grey stone. An unlit torch hung upon the wall next to another wooden door. This one had a black iron bar with a huge lock securing it.
“It seems fine,” Bevin said.
Together, they stepped into the chamber. The door slammed behind them, casting them into the dark.
“Not fine,” Soren said.
He heard Bevin fumbling with something and then there was light as Bevin lit some fire starter from his pouch. Soren grabbed the torch from its display and lit it.
Bevin ran his hand across the door to the outside. “No knob on this side either.” He pushed the door, but it didn’t budge. “No way back out.”
“Then we must go this way,” Soren said, gesturing at the other door.
“Look,” Bevin exclaimed. There’s a key in the lock.” He tried it. “It doesn’t work.”
“Let me see.” Soren handed him the torch and examined the lock. “It is a trick lock. Old man Rinker used to make these.”
“A trick lock? What’s that?”
Soren ran his fingers over the metal. “You can only open it with the key after certain things are in place like this,” he said as he pressed in a small bump on the devise's back. He turned the key. Nothing happened. “Must be more to it.”
“Can you figure it out?”
“It’s been a while.”
“Hurry. This chamber seems air tight.”
Soren glanced back at Bevin with a scowl. “No pressure, huh?”
Bevin smiled. “Just a little motivation.”
“I’m working as fast as I can.”
Soren knelt and continued trying different things. He pushed the button on the back. He rotated the flap normally covering the keyhole to different positions. He returned everything to the way it had been when they found it and started over. No combination opened the lock.
Soren huffed in frustration. “This key could be a dummy. Do you see another key?”
&nb
sp; Bevin held up the torch, lighting the corners of the room. “I don’t see anything.” He turned in a circle. “There is nowhere else to hide one. The only thing here is the metal ring where the torch was.”
Soren stood. “What about the torch?”
Bevin held it out. The base was wood with a thin metal band securing the end. Soren took it, rotating it to examine the base. A metal medallion covered the bottom. He picked at it with his fingernail. It moved. He continued to work at it and pulled at a bit of metal. He grabbed it with his fingers and drew out another key.
“Great,” Bevin said. “This torch seems ready to go out. Hurry and try it.”
Soren knelt before the lock. He inserted the key and turned it. Nothing. He began retrying everything he had tried with the other key again with the new key in its place. Bevin stood beside him fidgeting.
“This has to work,” Bevin muttered. “Does it feel like there is less air in here?”
Soren didn’t answer as he tried another sequence. Push in the button, turn the tab half way and try the key. Nothing. Using his fingernails, he pulled the button out as far as possible, turned the tab to a different location and tried the key again. Click. Soren froze, unsure if he had really heard the soft noise. He pulled on the lock. It opened. He quickly removed it from the bar and pushed open the door. Without another thought, he rushed through it and into the hall.
Click.
Too late he realized he had triggered something else. He swung around to see the ground underneath Bevin crumble away. The man let go of the torch as he tried to grab on to something to prevent his fall. Soren dashed forward as a wooden panel slid from the ceiling. It crashed to the ground, blocking the doorway.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Soren pounded on the panel, calling Bevin’s name. He pressed his ear to the wood. He heard nothing, no movement or cries for help. He knelt, running his fingers along the bottom but there was no way to lift the panel. He glanced around for something to help him, thankful for the series of thin windows that let in some light. There was a door to his right and a spiral staircase to his left. But nothing in sight to help him.
“Dex?”
“Soren? What is it?”
“Bevin fell into a pit. There is a door blocking my way, and I can’t hear him. Are you close enough to talk to him?”
There was a long pause.
“No, he is too far away.”
Soren sighed. Or dead. He didn’t want to think about that. He leaned against the wall for a moment. Then he rose, running his hand over the wall, searching for some sort of trigger to raise the wooden panel. Nothing. He grabbed his staff and used it to check for traps as he made his way to the door. He carefully reached out and turned the knob. Locked. His eyes went to the stairs. He guessed it made sense to go up. If old tales held any truth, wizards often worked in lonely towers.
“Soren, are you okay?”
Dex’s voice reassured him. “Yes, Dex. I can’t get to Bevin. I'm going to check out Drachen’s tower.”
“Be careful.”
“I will.” Soren said as he walked over to the stairs and tapped on the first one with his staff.
Nothing happened. He continued this slow progression of checking the steps as he climbed. He glanced out each window, noting he saw the sea out the first few and then a cliff out the next. He knew he had gone in a circle when he saw the top of the death corridor. He went around one and a half times again before the stairs ended at an archway. Inside he could see bookcases lined one wall. A table filled with vials and bowls was pushed against another wall. Soren waved the staff through the archway. Nothing happened. His eyes traveled along the edge of the arch. He noticed a small sign between the arch and the closest window. The letters were faded. He squinted at it and swore.
“Dex, I have a problem. I am at Drachen’s workroom. There is a sign. I can’t enter.”
“Why not?”
“The sign says ‘Beware. Death to those who enter without magic.’ I have no magic.”
“You have dragon blood.”
“So?”
“Dragons are creatures of magic.”
“Does that count?”
“I don’t know. I would think so.”
“You think so?” Soren paced in front of the arch. “You want me to risk my life on the chance that a small trace of magic in my blood will be enough?”
“What else can you do?”
He laughed. “Turn around and tell Cane I couldn’t find it.”
“Soren, I don’t want you to die, but we need that box. I wouldn’t tell you to do it if I didn’t think it would work. Remember, your grandfather was a dragon rider. You have magic from his Blood Bond too.”
He continued to pace in front of the arch. Perhaps the sign was there to deter anyone who made it this far. He thought back over the traps – the pit in the floor, the trick lock, the death corridor, the arrows, and the Shadow Stalker. Even Ivar had been there to deter people from entering the fortress. And if someone had made it passed him, they would surely have perished when the Shadow Stalker attacked. Someone with magic would have been able to make it this far. And maybe that is what Drachen expected. Soren didn’t know much about the wizard. But he probably was the type that would only respect someone with magic. That meant this trap was real.
Soren stopped pacing. He looked through the arch into Drachen’s workroom. He held his breath as he stuck his hand out. He slowly moved toward the opening. His hand trembled as he stuck it into the workroom. Nothing happened. He pulled out his hand and inched closer. He stuck the front part of his boot in and then his whole foot. When nothing happened, he entered slowly. He patted his chest and glanced at his body. He felt all right.
“I’m in, Dex.”
“I told you it would work. Do you see the box?”
His eyes scanned the room. One wall held a huge bookcase. To his right was a table filled with bowls and vials. Small shelves filled with bottles and candles lined the wall above the table. The curious thing was there was no dust in a room that had been closed for decades. Magic, he supposed. He wandered around the room, using the staff to check for any hidden traps in the floor but found nothing. He crossed to the door to the left of the archway. He looked out the window to the balcony. His hand reached for the doorknob. He hesitated, wondering if Drachen had protected it with magic too. Taking a deep breath, he opened it. Nothing happened. He stuck his head out. The balcony was small and empty. Stairs to the right lead up. Soren closed the door, propping his staff against the wall next to it.
He wandered around the room, stopping in front of the books. His eyes traveled over the titles. Some were written in a language he didn’t recognize. Others were clearly magic books.
He moved to examine the shelves over the table. Bottles, some small and thin and some larger ones of various colors of glass, were mixed in with bowls, candles, and other tools. A center display held a canvas of a wolf howling at the moon. His mind flashed back to the stone carved wolf above the death corridor entrance. Drachen must like the creatures. Soren also recalled the trick lock. The wizard liked puzzles and hiding clues. Soren ran his fingers around the edge of the canvas. He felt a small catch on the side and pressed it. The canvas swung away from the wall.
Inside was a cabinet with two shelves. The top held a thin leather-bound book and a golden ring. On the bottom was an ornate wooden box. Soren pulled out the drawing Cane had given him. It was the same box. He wanted nothing more than to grab the box and put it in his bag. But first he peered all around it, making sure doing so would not set off any a trap. He reached out to touch it but pulled his hand back. Instead, he took the ring and book and dropped them in his bag. Carefully, he lifted the wooden box.
He heard a faint hiss. A white mist sprayed from a hole in the wall below the canvas. Soren coughed as he shoved the box in his bag. His eyes began to water. The room spun. He stumbled for the balcony. He pushed open the doors and burst into the fresh air, gasping. Stumbling, he ran up the s
tairs.
“Dex, I need you.”
“Where are you?”
“Almost to the top of the tower closest to the sea.”
Soren rounded the top of the stairs. It ended at a flat open area with a black iron railing around the edge. There would barely be enough room for Dex to land. He hated he had to call the dragon while he was injured. Then they would have to find out what happened to Bevin. Soren groaned, feeling bad that he had left the guard. He heard the flapping of wings, and turned around, surprised Dex was here already. And even more surprised when he saw Bevin sitting on the dragon’s back.
“What? How?”
“You are my second rescue,” Dex said as he landed. “Bevin called me first.”
Soren noticed Bevin’s leg was bleeding as he climbed onto Dex’s back. “Are you okay?”
“Great,” Bevin grumbled.
Soren frowned as another wave of regret washed over him for leaving the guard as he had. But now was not the time to talk. There would be time for that when they were back in their camp. He settled into his spot and attached the fastener to his belt.
“I’m ready,” he said as he patted the dragon’s side. “I thought you were too far away to communicate with Bevin.”
“He got closer.” Dex leapt into the air. “I picked him up near the gorge.”
“Is he alright? Are you? I am sorry to call you. You should be resting."
“I feel better. I don’t know what happened to Bevin. You called as soon as I got him. His leg and shoulder are injured. He had trouble walking.”
“I shouldn’t have left him.”
“It wasn’t like you had a choice,” Dex reminded him.
His mind flashed back to the closed panel and how he had tried to lift it. Dex was right, but it did little to resolve his guilt. It was his fault they had been separated. He had been in too much of a hurry. He only hoped Bevin wouldn’t hold a grudge. It was a short flight back to their camp, and before he knew it, Dex was settling down by the fire. Soren slid to the ground. He helped Bevin down. The man grunted as he tried to put weight on his leg. In the end, Soren helped support most of his weight as he guided him to a log by the fire pit.
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