“If the song of these ghosts is anything to go by,” Bodhrán said, “they were sacrifices to the gods and thrown into a crevice.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve come across either in a relic hunt,” Lugh said. “Can you tell how wide the crevice is?”
Bodhrán flattened his hand against the stone. “Ten feet. There appears to be a bridge over it though.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t be trusting that,” Mathi said. “Especially given the journey down this tunnel has been entirely too easy so far.”
I scowled at him. “Andyoushould know better than to put a comment likethatout in the ether.”
Amusement lurked around his lips, but he didn’t otherwise reply.
“The bridge is solid as far as I can ascertain,” Bodhrán said. “The problem will be the slope—it becomes close to vertical about twenty feet this side of the crevice and, with the increasing flow of water at our feet, it will be treacherous.”
“Which is why we have the climbing gear,” Lugh said. “Stop again just before that incline, and you can hammer in an anchor so we can abseil down.”
“Will do,” Bodhrán said.
We continued on, though our pace was by necessity slower now, thanks to the narrow but constant flow of water down the center of the tunnel’s floor and the green slime that lined it on either side. I had good grippy boots on, but even so, kept my gaze down and watched where I was placing my feet.
Five minutes later, we stopped again. Lugh swung off his pack, retrieved an anchoring pin, and handed it to Bodhrán. Once he’d wrapped stone around it, Lugh tied a rope onto the loop at the end, tested the connection by throwing his weight back against it, then tossed the end to Bodhrán. The dark elf tied himself on, then turned and disappeared over the edge.
It reallywassteep.
“Okay,” he said, a few seconds later. “I’m on the other side of the crevice and the bridge is safe.”
“What of the ghosts?” I asked.
“Tried to grab me with filmy hands, but they have no power to pull you over the edge. You’ll be fine.”
I knew I’d be fine. It was more the thought of them touching me, sharing their misery and anger in that brief moment of connection, that I didn’t want. But it wasn’t like I had a choice, given that, no matter what else happened either in the tunnel or the cavern, I was the only one who could actually retrieve the harp. I tied myself onto the rope and repeated Bodhrán’s movements, turning around and slowly lowering myself over the edge. The tunnel’s floor wasn’t vertical, but it was close enoughto it. I rappelled down without problem, then crept along the crevice’s narrow edge to the bridge—which was little more than a stone slab three feet wide—and hurried across, keeping my gaze on Bodhrán rather than what lay below. Ghostly fingers nevertheless rose, grabbing at my feet and calves. But it wasn’t their sorrow that washed through me; it was their dread.
They weren’t trying to pull us into the crevice; they were trying to warn us.
I reached the other side and sucked in a deeper breath. “The ghosts don’t want us going any further.”
“No, they do not.” His reply was grim. “But go on we will, won’t we?”
“We’ve no choice.”
“According to Cynwrig, it wouldn’t matter if you did.”
I half smiled. “I am not as reckless as he makes out.”
“Reckless is not a word he has used to describe you.”
He helped me undo the rope, and then called out to Mathi to come down. I raised my eyebrows. “And what words has he used?”
Amusement tugged at his features. “When a friend tells you something in confidence, you do not betray it.”
“Well, that’s just annoying.”
“Now thatisa word he has used.”
I laughed, a sound that echoed sharply around us. In the distance, something stirred. Something that felt dark and dangerous. I shivered and crossed my arms, watching as Mathi, and then Lugh, came down the rope and ran the gauntlet of those ghostly fingers.
“The slope shallows out from here,” Bodhrán said. “The cavern containing the lake lies about two hundred and fifty meters further on.”
“There’s no more problems?” I asked
