“Number one hundred twenty-seven,” the ranger said, handing it over.
“Number one hundred twenty-seven,” Velmoth repeated.
“Excuse me, Master Wolfe,” Finn interrupted, “but I believe this is the crystal we need.” He took a slender amethyst from the shelf and held it out to the mage, whose ears, Colm noticed, were completely back to normal.
“So it is,” Master Velmoth replied. “Thank you, Master Argos.” The ranger cast Finn a piercing look.
Tye Thwodin rubbed his hands together. “Still sure this is the one you want now, Finn? We could always pony up and go tackle that harpies’ hive again.”
“I think this one will do just fine,” Finn replied.
The rogue stepped into the circle of runes, and it immediately erupted in a low ring of purple fire to match the crystal’s hue. The other masters stepped into the circle as well. “Well, come on, then,” Velmoth prodded. “It’s not going to hurt you.”
Colm stepped tentatively into the violet ring, feeling a surge, his hair standing on end. He reached out and took Lena’s left hand, his four fingers interlocking with all five of hers, falling right into the spaces she made for him.
“We simply rode to the castle the first time, Quinn and I,” she whispered anxiously.
“It’s all right,” Colm whispered back. “It’s not that bad. It just feels like your whole world is being torn apart and then slowly pieced back together.”
“Oh. Well. If that’s all.” She held on even tighter. Finn took Colm’s other hand, holding the crystal in his right. Across the circle, both Serene and Quinn had their eyes shut.
“Stay close to me,” Finn said. Then he muttered something under his breath, words that Colm didn’t recognize, just as he had back in the forest outside Felhaven.
The crystal blazed even brighter.
And the regurgitator expelled them, hurtling them out of the castle and into the darkness.
Colm was still holding Lena’s hand when he emerged, or reassembled, or whatever it was called, everything blinking slowly back into focus, the world reshaping itself before him, the purple light receding into the shadows. He still felt dizzy and disoriented, but he had known what to expect this time, at least, and it only took a moment to recover his balance and catch his breath.
There was a sudden burst of light, and Colm looked to see Master Velmoth holding a bright orange globe that hovered above his open palm, casting an enormous umbrella that illuminated the walls around them—the same spell Quinn had failed to cast in the last dungeon Colm had found himself in. Finn and Master Wolfe both lit the torches that they had brought, bathing the whole party in their collective glow.
Lena looked at Colm once and then pulled her hand away, kneeling down and helping Quinn, who was on the floor, doubled over, losing his breakfast.
“There’s always a heaver,” the goblin said, standing over Quinn, shaking his head.
“Give the lad a break,” Master Stormbow said, bending to help Quinn to his feet. “I seem to recall you vomiting all over yourself the first time you used a crystal. And the second.”
The goblin huffed. Colm looked around, first just counting bodies to see if they had all made it. Lena and Quinn and Serene. Masters Velmoth and Stormbow. Thwodin and Bloodclaw. The ranger, of course. And Finn, who was crouched beside a stone pillar, running his finger along a rune that had been etched into it near the bottom.
“Master Wolfe, are you certain this is the mark for dungeon one hundred twenty-seven?” he asked.
Grahm Wolfe begrudgingly eyed the spot on the stone where Finn was pointing. “It must be,” he snipped. “I don’t see any of you traveling halfway across the world to find these places.”
“Grahm’s uncovered more dungeons than any ranger in history. Can’t be expected to remember them all,” Tye Thwodin remarked. “Besides, the only marks that matter are the ones we make on an ogre’s ugly face, am I right?”
Lena nodded eagerly. Serene and Quinn huddled close together. Master Stormbow peered into corners with narrow eyes. The goblin kept sniffing at the air. There were actual monsters in here. Actual traps.
Actual treasure.
Though at first glance it really didn’t look very different from the tunnels beneath the castle. The walls were darker, carved from a different kind of stone, but the floor was just as hard, the ceiling still dripping. The only real difference was the smell. The guild’s underbelly smelled musty—the aroma of damp dirt that isn’t unpleasant so much as old. This dungeon still had that same earthiness, but there was something else underneath, something sour, something rotten.
Tye Thwodin took a deep breath and rubbed his armor-plated chest like a man about to sit down to a feast. “It has been a while,” he said rather loudly.
Finn put up a finger. “It might be best if we don’t draw the whole family of ogres down upon us immediately. Perhaps we could try to exercise some stealth.”
Tye Thwodin looked at Finn and snorted. Even his snorts seemed to echo. He turned to Lena. “How’d we get thrown in with such a bunch of shadow-stalking, nambsy-pants, limp-daggered momma’s boys? Let ’em come, am I right, girl?”
Lena nodded. Quinn shook his head vigorously. Tye turned back to the rogue. “Have it your way, Master Argos. We will try to be quiet.” He turned and gave Lena a sly wink.
Finn shot a look at Master Wolfe, who took the lead, Master Thwodin right behind. Lena tried to shoulder to the front as well but was told by Master Velmoth to stay back a ways, just in case. She ended up next to Colm, fuming.
“Men,” she snipped.
Bringing up the rear, Sasha Stormbow overheard. “Patience, Lena. Let them be the ones to walk into trouble. I’d like to see the looks on their faces when they step in it all the way up to their knees and have to rely on us to pull them out.”
“Still not sure why I had to be here.” Herren Bloodclaw snorted. “I should be cleaning up the mess you all made in my dungeon. I’ve got scorpion carcasses everywhere.”
“Renny’s not terribly fond of ogres,” Master Velmoth whispered over his shoulder. “Turns out they use goblins as footstools.”
Colm wondered who was terribly fond of ogres. From the descriptions he’d read, there wasn’t a whole lot to like. Giant, hideous beasts with gnarled knob noses and sharp, crooked teeth, feet and hands matted with fur like wild animals. They were known to eat just about anything, bones included. Colm stumbled a step, but Lena reached out to steady him. Toward the back, Quinn muttered something to himself, probably testing to see if Magic Dan’s had vacated his system yet, or maybe he was just trying to get the taste of backward breakfast out of his mouth. Serene fiddled with the charm around her neck, glancing nervously down every hallway.
“There’s something strange about this place,” Lena said, keeping step with Colm.
“You mean besides the fact that it is the home of flesh-eating ogres?”
“No. I meant the quiet. I didn’t expect it to be so quiet. Did you?”
“That’s how rogues like it,” Colm said. Though he knew what she meant. The place seemed deserted. Though maybe that wasn’t a bad thing either.
Up ahead, the ranger had come to a T. He paused and took out the map that Master Fimbly had given him. “This doesn’t make any sense,” he said. “According to the map, we should be standing right in front of the main chamber by now.”
“That map’s twenty years old,” Master Thwodin suggested. “Maybe the ogres have renovated.”
“You’re a bloody ranger,” the goblin snarled. “Isn’t finding your way around supposed to be your job?”
“You’re a bloody goblin,” Master Wolfe replied. “Isn’t falling on the tip of my sword supposed to be yours?”
“Let me take a look,” Finn said, snatching the parchment from Master Wolfe’s hand and studying it for a moment. “I think we go this way.” Finn pressed his torch into the wall of darkness on the right and continued on. Colm noted a quick glance that passed between Grahm Wolfe a
nd Tye Thwodin, the two of them falling in behind the rogue, the rest of the party trailing behind. He noticed Master Stormbow now had a hand on her sword, glancing from side to side.
They came to a much wider corridor than the others, this one big enough for a wagon to roll through, though everyone still clustered close together. Colm could feel Quinn behind him, clutching fistfuls of cloak. Lena was right. There was something out of place here. The quiet, of course, but something else. Like the ceilings, ten feet tall—plenty big enough for Master Thwodin to pass through with Quinn on his shoulders, but ogres stood nine or ten feet on their own. They would skin the tops of their heads coming through the archways. And the smell, even stronger now, even worse than Tyren’s feet.
“This reminds me of the dungeon of Vanom Tarth,” Tye Thwodin mused, the only one in the party who didn’t appear to be on edge. “Remember that one, Grahm? Wasn’t hardly a thing to it until you hit that last chamber and then, fwoosh, those flames spit out at you on all sides. We were positively broiled by the time we crawled out of there.”
“It was warm,” Master Wolfe said, putting his hands against the wall as he took slow, calculated, catlike steps.
“Warm? My rump was roasted that day. You could have shoveled it straight into Fungus’s stew. And all for what? Seven sacks of silver and a sword as dull as Velmo’s sense of humor.”
Master Velmoth sneered and was clearly about to say something in return when Master Wolfe raised one hand, the other dropping to the hilt of one of his swords. Then he lowered his hand and crouched down. “It’s all right. Just a spider.”
“We should let Frostfoot squish it,” the goblin said. “It might be as close as he gets to slaying anything today.”
“Don’t you dare,” Serene said, rushing forward and scanning the ground around everyone’s feet. “Where is it? Let me have it.” The ranger bent over and quickly snatched something from the dungeon floor, holding it out. It was probably twice the size of Mr. Tickletoes, but still nothing like the giant spiders Fimbly had warned them about.
“You’re not a scary monster, are you, Mr. Wigglelegs? No, you’re not.” Serene petted the hairy back of the spider with one finger.
“This is an odd group,” Master Velmoth remarked.
Quinn squirmed his way up between Colm and Lena, whose smile had turned to a tight grimace. The goblin tossed out that maybe they should go back and explore some of the side tunnels they’d passed, that perhaps they were leaving treasure behind. That’s when Wolfe said he could see something just ahead.
A door. Finally. Thick rusted iron, and warded with a simple lock.
“This is it, then?” Master Stormbow asked, tightening her grip.
“You can almost taste it, can’t you?” Tye Thwodin said, unhooking Smashy Two from the strap on his back and hoisting it to his shoulder.
“Finally.” Lena pulled her own sword free. Quinn muttered some incantations, staring earnestly at his hands, but again nothing happened.
Wolfe quickly stepped up to the door and started eyeing the lock, but Master Thwodin pulled him back. He looked at Finn. “This is what I pay him for, remember?”
Finn stepped past Master Wolfe and inspected the lock with his torch. “Tricky, but far from the worst I’ve ever seen. It might be beneficial to let our junior rogue have a go,” he said. “This is a learning experience, after all.” Finn motioned for Colm to come up beside him. “Just like I taught you,” he said.
“You can do it, Colm,” Lena whispered behind him. “Just get me inside, and I’ll handle the rest!”
Colm removed his set of picks from his bag and studied the small opening in the iron door. It looked complicated, but no more so than any of the ones in the tens or twenties he’d already mastered. He pressed his hand to the lock, feeling for the resonance of enchantment, but didn’t sense anything out of the ordinary. Colm held up a pick and the rogue nodded; then he carefully inched it into the keyhole. He could feel Finn behind him, draped over him like a second cloak. Lena passed her sword from one hand to the next. She was nearly dancing.
“Just look at her, Grahm,” Tye Thwodin remarked. “I think she might explode. Reminds me of you a little.”
But Master Wolfe didn’t seem to be listening. He was pacing around, running his hands along the stone walls, as if their rough faces were speaking to him. Behind Colm, Finn inched even closer. Colm felt one tumbler drop. Then another. A yelp from behind distracted him, and he turned to see Serene shaking her hand.
“What happened?” Lena asked.
“Mr. Wigglelegs bit me,” she said, dropping the spider and sticking her finger into her mouth. A third tumbler dropped.
“I f-feel f-funny,” Quinn said, holding his head in both hands.
“Concentrate,” Finn urged. “Focus.” Colm could feel the rogue’s breath on his ear.
“Something’s not right here,” Master Wolfe said. “These markings aren’t the work of ogres. Am I right, Renny?” Colm turned to see the ranger pointing to the wall.
“No ogres I’ve ever seen. They look like orc markings to me.”
“Really. I f-f-feel a l-little d-d-dizzy,” Quinn said, leaning up against Lena.
Grahm Wolfe pressed his ear to the wall, then shook his head. “No. Something’s not right at all.”
The last tumbler fell and Colm heard a sound, but it wasn’t coming from the door. It was coming from all around them. It was, in fact, vibrating through the walls. A low, rumbling thunder of footfalls on stone.
Hundreds of them.
The ranger drew both of his swords.
Finn reached over and pulled the handle on the door, pushing Colm through the opening just as both sidewalls of the corridor crumbled away behind them, revealing a dozen more doors, through which peered a hundred red-and-yellow eyes. Colm saw the look on Lena’s face, both terror and determination, as she pushed Quinn behind her. Saw an arc of blue light burst from Master Velmoth’s fingertips. Heard the harsh whisper of Anywhere and Anytime crossed and the cry of the first orc as it came bursting into the tunnel to meet the face of Tye Thwodin’s hammer.
And the door slamming shut, with Colm on the wrong side of it.
Colm turned and pulled, kicked and pounded, but the door wouldn’t budge. Somehow it had been locked again. He reached for his bag, for his lockpick set, then realized it was on the other side of the door as well, on the ground where he’d dropped it. Through the keyhole he could hear sounds. Weapons clashing. Grunts. Curses. He heard an explosion, and then another, the sound of a giant hammer slamming against the door, followed by Thwodin’s booming voice, commanding Finn to “hurry up and open the blasted thing!” Colm turned to the rogue, who had taken a few steps back. He just stood there. As if he was in a trance. A man possessed.
“What are you doing?” Colm demanded. “We have to open this door!”
Finn reached into his pack. Colm hoped he was going for his own set of picks, but instead the rogue removed the purple crystal that had brought them here. “I’m afraid not.”
Colm shook his head and pounded on the iron door. He could hear more muffled shouts from the other side. He pulled desperately on the handle.
“Help me!” he shouted. He felt Finn’s hand clamp down on his arm.
“I am helping you,” the rogue said. Then he hissed an unfamiliar phrase. The crystal in his other hand began to glow. Colm heard Lena call his name.
And felt his whole world come apart.
16
A BROKEN PROMISE
The first thing he felt when he pulled himself back together was the knife in his back.
He immediately reached for Scratch, but it was too late. The scabbard was empty. The sword lay on the ground, out of reach. The circle of purple light that had once held ten dungeoneers now held only two. Colm was on one knee, and Finn was standing behind him. He could feel the point of the dagger nudging him, just below his neck, between his shoulders.
“Take a deep breath,” Finn said. “You’re a very smart bo
y. Smart enough to know that a rogue standing behind you with a blade in his hand is a reason to be cooperative.”
Colm glanced again at his sword, then felt the tip of Finn’s dagger press a little deeper, piercing the thick fabric of Colm’s cloak, now scratching at the surface of his skin.
“Use your good sense. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Colm bit down hard on his lip. That would have been much easier to believe ten minutes ago, before the door slammed shut and Colm had found himself back in Thwodin’s castle, leaving his friends stranded in an orc-infested dungeon. On his knees with a blade biting into his back. “What’s going on? Why are you doing this?”
“I have a promise to keep,” Finn said. “And I need your help to do it. But first you need to move. Come on. Up on your feet.” Colm felt Finn’s hand under his arm, dragging him up, the other still holding the dagger against him.
Colm felt dizzy, but he managed to stand with Finn’s help. “What about the others? You took the crystal. What if they can’t find a way out?” He thought of Lena calling to him through the door, of the terrified look on Quinn’s face as the walls crumbled and the orcs started tumbling through. “We have to help them!”
“Help them?” Finn laughed. “The last thing they remember of you was you shutting the door on them. Tye Thwodin will kill you if he sees you, except he won’t be able to, because the orcs will get you first.”
“We can’t just leave them there!” Colm shouted.
“I know you feel that way,” Finn said calmly. “I knew you would find this part difficult. That’s the trouble with this whole guild business. You get attached. You lose sight of what’s important. You start to believe you owe them something, but you don’t, Colm. None of them. What’s yours is yours. Besides, there’s nothing you can do for them now. As you said, I’ve got the crystal, and there’s no way I’m going back there. I’m not going back into any dungeon. Not now. Not ever.”
Finn leaned in close, his chin on Colm’s shoulder, lips to his ear. “Now move.”
Colm considered his options. Finn had taught him plenty about locks and traps, enough that Colm might be able to hold his own against the rogue. But in a physical struggle, it was no contest. Even if he had Scratch in his hand, there was no way he could overcome Finn and get the crystal back.
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