Although that might be better than what waited for me up ahead.
The air grew heavier, the silence thicker. The floor a death trap of skeletons, the tunnel feeling even tighter. And the ceiling seemed to get lower and lower, eerie shapes gathering in clusters overhead.
Throat dry, I rasped, “What is that?”
If they said bats, I might die.
“Crystals.” Grum raised his torch.
The translucent blue rocks glimmered in the fire’s reflection. They were everywhere now, growing out of the damp earth, dotting the ceiling like stars.
“In its heyday, ’twas an excavation site.” Nemuik grabbed a fallen shard. “All te greatest warriors, all te finest hunters, all te realms was fightin’ for a piece of Moonrock Mine.”
“Why?” My eardrums popped, and the sound of my voice, the tread of our footsteps, rushed at me as if I’d been underwater.
“Mined wit dwarven magic.” He held up the sleek fragment of crystal, twisting it in the firelight. “Then forged into weapons that’ll memorize yer enemies, gainin’ power wit every drop of blood. After two or three brawls they’ll start singin’ when yer foes are nearby.”
He stashed the shard in his pocket.
“So, is the operation on hiatus, or…?”
“Nah, ’tis over. Too much fightin’. Too much lootin’. Too many deaths. Most te mines collapsed in te Loma Prieta eart’quake. This is one of te only shafts that survived. Now we jus’ use it for te ghosts and te prisoners.” He wriggled his bushy brows.
Wonderful. I wondered if I should ask aloud which I was to be.
I bit down on my lip. We treaded on. Around us, light rippled off the crystals and the path finally grew wider.
Voices carried into our corridor, which emptied us into a much larger, much busier chamber—and much, much brighter. Crystals glistened from every spare inch of space, mimicking a clear, cloudless, sky.
My heart leapt: there were a dozen or so offshoots splitting from this main room. One had to lead outside. My arms were now free of the dwarves, I could make a run for it.
That hope immediately died when I noticed they were all patrolled by guards of various species and sizes, all strapped with weapons, decked in spiky leather, and supernaturally still—aside from their heads, which slowly tracked us through the cavern, over the dinged mosaic in the center and to the foot of a black dais.
As we passed a dimly lit tunnel, I met the icy glare of some kind of cave troll. I jerked my eyes away.
Staring is quite rude, Ryder once told me. I hushed that inner voice real quick, but the reality was… I couldn’t help it if I tried. Everywhere I looked there was something terrifying, something magical.
“What is it we ’ave ’ere?” a very displeased being bellowed through the circular room.
It drew my attention forward, to the dwarf sitting on the glossy, onyx throne.
The Wizard. King of the Night Stalkers.
My fingers curled, digging into my palms like claws. After what I’d witnessed at Crescent Rock tonight, I could wring his meaty neck right here.
“Well?” Tapping his knuckles on an elaborate wooden snake head that’d been carved on the stiles, he sized me up with his visible eye. A patch fixed over a tight skull cap covered where his other one might lie. “Ye got somethin’ to say, Nephilim?”
Plenty, but he had more.
My tired gaze roved the dais to the grisly beings fanned around him—at least a dozen dwarves and trolls, creatures with scales and horns—Ryder and Leif missing from the crowd. They must not have made it back yet.
Drawing in a breath, I went to form words, but the bloody scene from the tribunal flashed before my mind. I cringed at the thought of all the battered crimson fur, at what might have happened to my friends, at their solemn howls that’d been echoing through the forest as I ran—like a coward.
The Wizard leaned towards an associate, blue eye narrowing. “Somethin’ wrong wit her?”
“With me?” I didn’t even mean to say it. It just flew out of my mouth between one choppy breath and the next. “The Night Stalkers massacred dozens of innocent people tonight. I know you have no morals, but do you have no laws? No rules?”
Every pair of eyeballs whipped to me. Nothing except the slow drip of the stalactites broke the tense silence. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to flinch at each splash against stone.
