“Aren’t you curious what’s there?”
Slow clapping startles us.
By Atos, will I ever know a moment of peace in my life?
The mercenary steps out of the shadows, his chainmail and golden rings shimmering in the moonlight. Was the bastard hiding there the whole time, waiting for us to finish the dirty job?
Gale squeezes my shoulders reassuringly, still holding that ridiculous chair leg.
“Excellent job, kids! I must say I am impressed. I’d have probably done the same, but this quick thinking and teamwork was just—” He touches his lips in recognition. Me and Gale look at each other in confusion.
Then he slowly lifts a rusty ax he has retrieved from Elders know where his expression impassive.
“Unfortunately, there can be only one winner of these cursed Trials. Nothing personal, but I need only one of you to guide me to the relic. And I choose the pretty girl.”
Without warning, he swings at Gale, who surprises me yet again. He grabs a handful of dust and throws it in the eyes of the mercenary, then swiftly rolls away from harm’s way.
Without saying a word, Gale grabs me by the back of my doublet, lifts me with a superhuman strength, and throws me into the darkness beyond the trapdoor.
Agony pierces my joints, and I hear the mercenary curses in the background when I hit the bottom of the stairs. Then some slashing sounds that sound so odd, and something tumbles down the stairs, landing next to me.
I cup my mouth with shaky fingers to muffle my scream. The lifeless eyes of the mercenary stare at me in the scarce light filtering from above. His head, cut off clean, landed at my feet.
Then the trapdoor above me closes, and I am alone in the darkness.
Talysse
The Golden Cage
“G
ale?”
My voice echoes down some unseen corridors. The darkness around me is so thick that it’s nearly palpable. A distant dripping of water is the only sound around.
The Shadowfeeders prefer spawning in the Wastelands, but they won’t shy away from a meal trapped in stonework, too. My bruised legs protest when I stand up and summon a tiny shimmering hallo.
Elders, what is this place?
The steep stairs open to a surprisingly wide passageway. The ceiling is concealed in shadows. The green mosaic floor looks like grass dotted with colorful flowers. Paintings hang on the walls, showing a beautiful woman with long black hair and wide brown eyes. She is dressed like a queen and smiling, but there’s sadness in the curl of her lips. Seems like the pounds of golden jewelry and the diamonds couldn’t make it up for something.
Could that be the concubine of Ornatus? The bards are still singing about her legendary beauty and her black hair, draping to the floor. Ornatus was once a powerful mage and a holy man who took a vow of celibacy before Seuta. But he couldn’t resist the great beauty of Soraya the Songstress and took her as his own, the legend says. To keep up appearances, he hid his lover away from the world, and she was never seen again.
The colors on the paintings are still vivid: there is Soraya, holding hands with a man with a shaved head and tall brow. Ornatus was not very handsome, and now the resemblance to the dead monstrosity above is very obvious.
So, he had found some dark, twisted way to keep guarding his home and his concubine centuries after the city fell to the shadows.
If that was him, then this—
These are the secret chambers where he kept her.
Or her tomb.
The thought makes me shudder. Elders know what dwells here, and all I have is a pocket full of rocks.
Looking around for a weapon, I march down the corridor, followed by my timid light spell. Doors gape on the walls, leading to chambers, untouched by time, save for the layers of dust and the delicate veils of spiderwebs. A peek into the first one nearly gives me a heart attack. A bloodied face with wide, feverish eyes and messy hair stares at me. I immediately throw a rock, and it dissipates into a shimmering net.
It was a stupid mirror.
