by Kay L. Ling
“You’d have to use a different mirkstone.”
“Oh.” Her face fell. “I thought I was onto something, but I guess not.”
Elias jammed his hands into his pockets and scowled at the vault door. The ferocity of his gaze should have melted the metal. “We’ll either have to cut through the stone wall or the iron door—neither will be easy.”
Jules poked his head into the room. “No luck?”
Elias said wearily, “It’s hopeless. Did you find anything?”
“Several dozen gemstones which probably have dark powers. I haven’t looked at the books or scrolls yet. I’d like to do that when we’re not in a hurry.”
Lana was too distracted to care about books and scrolls. The idea of reusing the mirkstone continued to circle in her head, and it felt like she was missing something. Elias had said the password couldn’t be erased. Her thoughts snagged on “erased” and went off on a slightly different track. She looked up. “Jules, did you find any alamaria out there?”
“Yes. Why?”
The more she thought about it, the more hopeful she became. “Would you bring me one? There’s something I’d like to try.”
He returned with the stone.
“Give it to Elias.”
“What do you have in mind, my dear?” Elias asked, holding the alamaria between cupped palms.
“In my world, we have computers that store information. In principle, it’s not so different from a memory stone—only with our data storage devices, you can overwrite the previous information. I know it’s not a perfect analogy, but it made me think. If we can’t erase the password, maybe we can supersede it with a stronger command that overwrites the mirkstone.”
Elias raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. Go on.”
“Alamaria amplifies gem powers, right?”
“Yes.”
“Your telepathic powers are far stronger than mine, so you need to be the one to try this. Hold the alamaria, draw its power, and think of a new password to imprint on the mirkstone. If I’m right, the alamaria will amplify the mirkstone’s receptivity, allowing your password to overwrite the old one. It’s worth a try.”
“It’s a clever idea whether it works or not.” Elias closed his eyes.
Jules shot Lana a hopeful glance, and a moment later they heard the distinctive thunk of moving tumblers.
Lana let out a triumphant whoop, and Jules pulled her into a quick, rib-crushing embrace.
Elias tossed the alamaria aside. “Light!” he demanded impatiently. Lana went to get the lamp.
Elias pulled open the vault door. It squeaked in protest, as if aware that someone other than S had opened it. He bent to look inside.
Hoping the safe wasn’t booby trapped, Lana came up behind him with the lamp.
Shelves full of gems twinkled in the dim light—a diverse collection, some no bigger than a fingernail, some as large as her fist. Lana was awestruck.
Elias said in a trembling voice, “There’s a king’s ransom of powerful gems here.”
Chapter 3
“Good thing you brought spare bags,” Lana told Jules.
“I’ll be out shortly,” came Elias’s muffled voice. “S has jewelry on the top shelves and ornamental valuables in the back.”
A few seconds later, he backed out holding two silver goblets with red gems around the rims. Wearing a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile, he placed them into a bag. “These will take no harm on the bottom, but I’ll need to wrap the jewelry separately, and we’ll need something to hold gems.”
“I found some leather pouches in S’s wardrobe. I’ll get them,” Lana said.
When she returned, Elias was holding a palmful of acorn-size crystalline gems. Lana packed them in a leather pouch while he continued to rummage through the vault.
The next time he emerged, looking inordinately pleased, he held only one gem.
“Aha! Look at this!”
Lana leaned closer. Was this the ommort? No, it couldn’t be or he’d be dancing around the room. She eyed the stone critically. What was so special about this one?
“A twelve carat morgul,” Elias announced with what could only be termed a chortle of glee.
“It’s beautiful, but what’s so great about it?” she asked.
“Any morgul over five carats is rare, and its deep blue color is exceptional.” His eyes shone with excitement. “Sheamathan showed me this gem at lunch, gloating over it. Now it’s mine.”
Well, that explained it. Elias and S had a longstanding rivalry over their gem collections, and it had been impossible for Elias to one-up her.
“What does it do?” Jules asked, coming closer for a better look.
Elias tilted it, sending light off its facets. Varying shades of purple flashed from its depths. “Morguls manipulate water. They have many practical uses. For instance, digging a hole after using the gem creates a natural spring.”
Lana said, “That could be useful, especially around here where it’s so dry. I can hardly wait till you start tutoring me. Shadow gems are more interesting and powerful than gems from home.”
“On the whole, that’s true, but Fair Lands gems with healing virtues are superior to our healing gems, and many Fair Lands gems are just as powerful as Shadow gems—in the right hands.”
He went back to emptying the vault, pulling out silver dinner plates with gems around the rims, more goblets, spectacularly ornate jewelry full of gems, and a dizzying array of loose gems in every imaginable size and color. When Elias had packed the last of S’s treasures, Jules said heavily, “No ommort mirkstone.”
“Sadly, no,” Elias said as he closed the vault door, but Lana thought he sounded none too concerned. The sacks of valuables at his feet probably had something to do with that. “Maybe the book’s warning was a bluff and there is no ommort. S has always been a consummate bluffer.”
Jules looked skeptical. “I don’t think she’d bluff about something like that. If I were her, I’d set up wards.”
“To guard against whom?” Elias asked lightly. “You were no threat to her as a wolfhound, and she stopped worrying about me a long time ago.”
Lana hadn’t known S very long, but long enough to know S distrusted anyone with gem powers, even if their powers were far inferior. “I agree with Jules. We’ll probably get blindsided by one of her spells when we least expect it, but we can’t sit around cowering.” She lifted a bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Heigh ho, heigh ho, it’s off to Strathweed we go.” She laughed at her joke, and then realized they wouldn’t get it. The original Snow White story had been written in the mid-1800s, but the familiar song was from a 1930s Disney movie. Both men had been living in Shadow by then.
“Bring the spell book,” Elias said as he hoisted a lumpy bag full of plates and goblets. It clanked as he carried it.
With obvious reluctance, Jules retrieved the bag, and then shouldered a sack of valuables.
Halfway across the room, Lana had an uncomfortable thought. “Do any of the gems have dark powers? If so . . . shouldn’t we leave them here?”
“Some do,” Elias admitted, pausing and turning to her, “but as long as you don’t draw their powers, there’s little to worry about. I’d leave them here, but under the right circumstances, they can be useful. Some actually become beneficial gems when they’re in the Amulet.”
“Really? I knew some gems have different abilities in each world, but I didn’t know a ‘bad gem’ could become a good one.”
“You and I have a lot to learn,” Jules said, coming up beside her. “Elias taught me a few things over the years, but there was only so much I could learn during the full moon when I regained my human mind.”
As the trio walked down the passageway, several guards watched with unconcealed interest, which wasn’t surprising. The bags jingled and clanked, and the bag with the spell book kept jerking defiantly.
Once out of hearing range, Lana said in an undertone, “I’m still amazed you got gnomes to work here with breghlin.”
<
br /> “They don’t like or trust each other,” Jules said, shifting the bag with the spell book to his other hand, “but we haven’t had any problems so far, and I don’t think we will. The breghlin know we have gem powers, so they’re afraid of us and follow our orders.”
Lana grinned. “I wonder what goes on behind your backs?”
“I can only imagine. Breghlin are vicious and aggressive by nature. Especially the males. S rewarded those tendencies, making matters worse. We’ve heard reports of them getting into fights after hours, but during the daytime, under gnome supervision, they behave themselves. We give them menial tasks—things gnomes don’t want to do.”
“I bet that goes over big.”
Jules gave her a puzzled look, and then nodded. Sometimes it took him a minute to get her slang. “This castle has been their home for so long that some didn’t want to leave. They’ll do whatever we tell them if they want to stay. Wasn’t it you who said they could be rehabilitated into useful citizens?”
“Yes, and I still believe that. Eventually they’ll become more like gnomes.”
“You’re an idealist, my dear,” Elias said. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that . . . except it can lead to disappointment.”
“You turned your life around,” she said pointedly. “You gave up dark gem powers and turned against Sheamathan. You even risked your life to defeat her.”
Elias gave her a sober look. “Still, I don’t delude myself. I will always struggle with my darker impulses.”
The group turned into a connecting passageway that would take them to the main stairway. Lana stopped short. A gigantic, roach-like beetle dropped from the wall to the floor, skittered down the passageway, and flew off. Unlike the bees, this was no illusion. She shuddered. “While I was in the dungeon, I killed one of those.”
“I remember the story,” Elias said. “The dungeon’s air passages were infested with beetles. The breghlin helped us get rid of them a couple days ago. I think they got most of them.”
“Good!” Lana said. “How’d they get rid of them?”
“I activated light gems, and the breghlin crawled through the passages with the gems. Beetles hate light.”
“You got breghlin to handle gems?” she asked in surprise.
“Yes. Once we convinced them lightgems wouldn’t hurt them,” he explained. “The beetles fled toward the dungeon vent holes and dropped into the cellblocks, and the breghlin killed them and had a feast with the prisoners.”
“What?” Lana cried, horrified. “They ate them?”
“Breghlin consider the bugs a delicacy,” Elias said with a shrug.
Lana nearly gagged at the thought.
“So, you see,” Elias went on, “the breghlin have already proven useful.”
“What kind of life will they have? The ones who went back to their clans?” she asked.
“The majority will be miners,” Elias told her. “S trained some to be carpenters, tanners, smiths, and such. They’ll bring their goods here as they’ve always done.”
“What about housing and land? I can’t imagine S let them own anything.”
“Well, I wouldn’t call it ownership. More like tenant farming. In exchange for labor, S gave them marginally tillable land and standing deadwood to build a communal dwelling. The structures I’ve seen are little more than a roof held up by two-by-fours covered with boards.
“Breghlin farther from Shadowglade live a hunter-gatherer lifestyle,” he went on. “Their sole occupation is mischief and violence. Until now, they’ve hunted gnomes for sport and then turned them over to S for slaves. She rewarded them, of course. It’s little wonder that—” Elias broke off, and his sharp intake of breath alerted Lana that something was wrong.
“Stay back,” ordered Jules. Dropping the bag with the spell book, he drew his knife.
A giant winged serpent, coiled around a pillar at the head of the stairs, looked down with intelligent yellow eyes. The first time Lana had come to Shadowglade she’d been carrying Jules’s knife, and she’d seen this pythanium, or one like it, in this same spot.
Two sets of wings lay folded along its green-and-gray scaled body. It unfolded its upper wings, spreading them slowly, and a pair of short, muscular legs with clawed feet appeared beneath the upper wings.
“Troublemakerssss and thievessss,” it hissed. “What do they have in their sssacksss?”
“None of your business,” Jules said, in a surprisingly steady voice. He held up his knife, and the blade began to glow.
Lana tightened her grip on her bag of valuables, praying the creature would let them pass. Before, she had threatened to make a pair of shoes from its hide, and it had seemed frightened of her and the knife.
The pythanium hissed and wound its way up the column, as if retreating to a safer distance. Lana felt increasingly certain that this was the same pythanium. Dozens lived in the rocky wastelands near Shadowglade, but if she was right, this one had been Sheamathan’s spy and advisor as well as a pet. Lana watched it with narrowed eyes. They had the Challenger’s blade and gem powers. Hopefully, that would be enough.
The sack with the spell book lurched, bumping a few paces along the floor. “Save me! Save me! They mean to steal me!”
Lana grabbed the bag. The book twisted violently, nearly wrenching free of her grasp.
The serpent spread its upper wings and beat them forcefully, creating a sound like canvas flapping in the wind. Lana’s hair swirled around her face. The wall-mounted torches within twenty feet flickered wildly and went out.
Now, Jules’s glowing blade was the only light.
“Dirty thievesss!” the creature cried. “You have the sssspell book!”
Lana clutched the bag to her chest. Even though the book was heavy, the serpent could grab it in its talons and fly away.
“Why should you care?” Jules taunted. “Your mistress is a beetle now. She doesn’t need a spell book.”
“Do not ssspeak ill of my missstresss. Ssshe will ssstrike you down. Ssshe is all-powerful.”
“All-powerful!” Jules gave a derisive snort. “Is that what she told you?”
Elias leaned close to Lana and said under his breath, “Protect the book and the valuables. Go now. We’ll be right behind you.” When she hesitated, he said through clenched teeth, “Go!”
Shaking off her paralysis, she did as he asked, and it wasn’t easy negotiating the curving staircase in the dark. The torches in the lower passageway were too far away to do much good, so she had to feel for each step. She winced as plates and goblets clanked in the bag hanging over her shoulder. It seemed to take forever to reach the bottom, and when she finally stepped onto the stone floor, she sagged against the wall, trembling with relief.
A deafening screech from above made her look back.
The men had made their move. They were hurrying down the stairs, using Jules’s knife to light their way. The pythanium had spread all three sets of wings, and was about to launch itself after them. Its form, lit from below by the glow of Jules’s knife, was terrifying.
“It’s coming after you!” she screamed. It had begun beating its wings again, and the sound nearly drowned out her voice.
Jules and Elias threw themselves against the stairwell wall. The pythanium passed over them and hurtled toward Lana. She ducked, her bag of treasure clanking against the wall. The tip of one wing missed her by mere inches, and the creature landed several yards ahead with an impact that shook the floor. The torches flickered but did not go out. The serpent folded its wings, coiling itself on the floor and effectively blocking the passageway.
The spell book began struggling again. “Save me!”
“Bring me the ssspell book,” the pythanium demanded. “I am not afraid of you. Your puny knife isss no threat.” It eyed them warily despite its claim of being unafraid.
Jules said, “Stay here,” as he and Elias passed by. Lana was more than happy to oblige. Jules’s knife looked awfully small as he and Elias approached the winged ser
pent. Then, as Lana had seen before, the blade’s light intensified and began to pulse.
The serpent let out a long hiss, its eyes drawn to the blade.
At first the light seemed to have no effect, but then the creature lifted its upper body and began to sway in time with the pulses. Good. The day Raenihel had faced the pythanium, the knife had behaved the same way. It had lulled the creature into a stupor so he could kill it. Maybe history would repeat itself. She held her breath.
Jules inched closer.
The creature stopped moving. It seemed to be in a trancelike state. Frightened or not, Lana found herself creeping forward. She wanted to see the horrible thing die.
Jules moved into striking distance and then stood perfectly still, perhaps assessing whether the creature was really hypnotized. When Lana thought she could bear the tension no longer, he lunged forward and thrust the blade into the creature under its head where it had no protective scales.
For an instant, the blade glowed through the pythanium’s flesh. Then, dark red blood spewed out, splattering Jules’s face and clothing. The wound sizzled and blackened around the blade.
The pythanium’s head dropped to the floor and its eyes went dull.
“You haven’t lost your touch,” Elias said with a shaky laugh. Lana realized she had been holding her breath and let it out in a rush. No one was hurt, and the spell book and treasure were safe. Tension drained out of her, leaving her lightheaded.
The spell book gave a violent jerk, and this time it wrenched free, landing on the floor with a thump. It flopped a couple times like a fish caught in a net before she managed to grab it. “Where do you think you’re going?” Back to the throne room, apparently, on the doomed hope that S would someday return to power. It jerked once more, as if registering its protest, and then went still.
Still rattled, but starting to feel more her old self, Lana turned her attention back to the pythanium. It was hard to believe Sheamathan’s pet was really dead. She studied the creature critically. Its green-and-gray scales were beautiful.
“It must weigh a ton,” Jules said. “Good luck getting it out of here.”