“Sure,”he admitted, “but it’s not enough to cast anything.Without a catalyst, itcan’t reach transmutation potential.”
“Don’tuse them made-up words on me, squire!Speak plain!”
“It’sfine.”He gestured to the corpses at his feet.“It didn’t kill me.It’s not going tokill you, either.It’s trying to scare you away.”
Herpoleaxe was still hefted toward the statue, as if fending off a charge ofcavalry.The fur on her neck was needle straight.All at once, Isaac realizedshe was afraid.Not only was she now facing a giant skull and a sea of bodiesand a fire-breathing statue, but she was still desperate to flee from herformer shipmates, who had every reason to give her a vicious, tortured death,and her only hope of survival lay in the hands of a mage, someone who couldalso kill her with an equal amount of certainty.She had feigned a lot ofconfidence while he was tied and helpless.Now, the reality of her situationwas becoming obvious.
She didnot understand magic.To survive, she would have to trust his word.
But whowas he to her?
Anenemy?
Apowerful, arrogant mage?
Heimagined it might feel like a sailor standing on the deck of a burning ship,getting ready to jump into the waters of an open ocean.She knew she couldn’tswim, but, at the same time, staying with the fire was certain death.Leapinginto the waves was the only choice available.This did not make it easy.
Herealized all of this in a moment, watching her stand there, alone and afraid.
Italmost made him feel guilty.
“Zaria,”he said.“Those eyes are a weak spot.Break them and you’ll break the circuit,keep it from firing.”
“What,I’m supposed to toss my polearm like a javelin?”
“Just,you know—trying to help.”
“You doit, then!”
He heldup his tied hands.“What do you expect me to do?”
Sheshuffled back and forth on her feet, fingers curling around the haft of herweapon.Her tail tucked between her legs.
“Hey,”Isaac said.“It’s alright.You’ll be fine.I promise.”
Shestared at the statue.She looked at the tomb entrance just below it.Sheglanced behind her, where the morning sunlight illuminated the colossal teethand rising dunes.Finally, she looked at him.He nodded, careful to manage hisexpression.
Shewalked forward with the pace and stance of someone ready to leap away at amoment’s notice, following the same path Isaac had taken.It led right over thetrapdoor.He fingered the letter in his sleeve.He hoped the statue wouldfollow its programming.If not, he would rush in to help.
Hedidn’t want her to burn alive.
Zariastepped on the trapdoor.The heads of the shibboleth snapped down to her, itsteeth swirling, a roar of fire cocked in the depths of its throat.She almostjumped away, breathing hard.She looked to him again.Isaac swallowed, a beadof sweat rolling down his face, and beckoned her forward.
Shetook another step.
Thefloor gave way.She had no time to yell.There was a spurt of dust, a viciousshunt of mechanism.Moments later, a loud thud echoed from below.There were afew gasps for air, punctuated with coughing and groans.
Isaacloosed a sigh of relief.Behind him, the shibboleth had already returned to itseternal vigil over the mouth of the skull.Trying not to think about theancient corpses, or how close he might’ve been to joining them, Isaac pacedover to the trapdoor, squatting down at the edge.
A thickcloud of dust drifted up from the open hole, scattering from the fall.Hebatted it away until he could see further in.The pit beneath the trap doorwent twenty or thirty feet down to a bed of rock.Rusted metal bars lined onewall of the pit bottom.He could see, dimly, that parts of the gate had bentinwards from a previous cave-in, the pieces of rock just barely held in place.The complex of pits between the jawbones had likely collapsed sometime in theprevious centuries.
Zariastruggled back to her feet, coughing through the dust.Her mohawk was coated indirt.
“Youalright?”Isaac shouted down.
Shewiped her face with an arm, peering up towards the light.“What happened?”
“I letyou fall into a grave robber’s pit.”
