He turns to face a solid stone wall and sketches a design in the air, and a section of rock slides back to reveal a narrow, shadowy staircase leading up.
“Great. Another tunnel,” Trick mutters. “This journey is hell on my dislike of close spaces.”
Just then, a dozen Zhagarn flood into the rotunda from various doors and staircases, their iron armbands gleaming in the candlelight from the chandelier and sconces.
“Keep everyone company,” Darnen orders them, and they spread out to stand next to my three fallen friends and the Scholar Superior, Bean, and Haven. The scholars all wear remorse and resignation on their faces, but I can’t forgive them for being part of this trap. If my friends don’t survive …
Oh, goddess.Kaelen. Pain sears through me, but I shove it aside.
I need to focus.
“Up the stairs,” the druid orders. “Now.”
“And me?” Elianna asks. “Aren’t you afraid of what I can do to you?”
He winces almost imperceptibly. Good. We have at least one arrow in the quiver—his fear of Elianna.
“The more the merrier,” he says lightly. “My wards should keep you from accessing your magic, as they have since you entered the temple, haven’t they?”
Elianna says nothing, but her face tightens. He takes it as agreement, because he laughs again.
Not quite a cackle, but close. I clench my hands into fists, just in case.
“Now, amulet bearer,” he commands, ice in his voice. “Or I’ll kill your friends.”
I stride to the staircase and take the first step. “Coming?”
We climb and climb the twisting, spiral staircase for so long I realize we must be nearing the summit of the mountain.
“Howmuch farther?” My voice echoes oddly in the stairway. Maybe because of his warding magic.
“Just around the next turn,” he says with barely suppressed excitement. “Finally. After all these years. Corvynne’s reward will be great for her humble servant.”
Despite the danger, I roll my eyes. “Humble?”
“Just keep moving,” he snarls at me.
When I make the next turn, the staircase ends at a large wooden door crossed with metal straps. Darnen pushes past me to open it.
“After you,” he says mockingly.
I raise my chin, grit my teeth, and take a step into the room, only to be flung back against the wall by the force of the wind rushing through the chamber’s open sides. I look around and gasp. The room is indeed at the top of the mountain. Pillars on two open sides and stone walls on the other two hold up a roof that offers only limited protection from the elements.
My teeth chatter so hard I can barely speak. “You wanted to bring us up here so we c-c-can freeze to death?”
“No. I wanted to bring you here so you can retrievethat.”
He points to the center of the room, where a transparent sphere floats over a marble plinth. Next to it, a skeleton lies crumpled on the floor, one hand stretched out, as if the last thing the dying person did was reach for the sphere.
Or the ornate golden key floating inside it.
The amulet rapidly heats so much that even through my shirt it starts to be painful. The key still hidden behind my neck gets hot, too.
That can’t be good.
“What exactly do you want me to do?” I can’t take my eyes off the sphere, especially since I don’t want to look at the skeleton.
“I want you to walk over there and retrieve the key,” the druid says, a sly grin on his face. “Then you’ll give it to me, and I’ll let you all go.”
