The Emerald Scepter

CHAPTER 14

Waukeen, Vambran pleaded, dazed by the enormity of the creature slithering toward him. What in the bloody Nine Hells is that thing? Shaking off the paralyzing fear that gripped him, the lieutenant went into action, scrambling upward, away from the ranging, reaching tentacles.

The sudden motion only seemed to spur on the monstrosity. Vambran scuttled to the very top of the chamber, thankful that his arcane ability still functioned. Once there, he turned to see if he was out of the thing's reach. To his dismay, the mercenary officer saw that the body of the worm reached halfway across the floor, its head near the altar, and it still hadn't completely cleared the hole from which it had emerged. The tentacles wriggled and quested for him, elongating to span the distance.

"Son of a whore!" Vambran swore, trying to figure a way to escape. He got an idea and pulled forth his holy coin. Uttering a familiar prayer, he conjured a swarming field of coins and sent it flying toward the behemoth below him.

The buzzing swarm of coins did not distract the giant worm as Vambran had hoped. He began to mentally command the glowing, ghostly weapons to attack the creature, and he was relieved to discover their effect on the worm. The coins did nothing against the worm's tough outer skin, but whenever they hit a tentacle, it spasmed and writhed, trying to get away from the source of the pain.

Changing tactics, the worm reared back, withdrawing its tentacles. Vambran got the uneasy feeling that the creature was on the verge of spitting something, and he feared whatever it disgorged could easily reach him. Sure enough, the worm's head darted up toward him and a great gout of liquid burst forth from its mouth, right at Vambran.

The lieutenant had no chance to duck or dodge, so he did the only thing he could-he let go.

He dropped fast, plummeting past the spot targeted by the gout of liquid, which Vambran realized at that moment was the source of the beast's foul odor. The spray of fluid spattered over the stone walls where Vambran had been. The rock surfaces sizzled and popped.

Acid, Vambran concluded. And powerful.

The mercenary's plan was to drop far enough to escape immediate threat and use his magic to slow himself to a stop farther down, but the worm had other ideas. As Vambran slid past, the worm's head darted in his direction, snaking out a tentacle. With deftness that surprised the man, the first tentacle grabbed him around the waist and slowed his descent.

The second one encircled his neck, choking him.

The lieutenant, his air cut off, began flailing. The life was being squeezed from his body. Spots darted in his vision. In his desperate efforts to free himself, Vambran dropped the enchanted sword he had subdued. He heard the blade slide away.

Fool, he cursed himself. Now you'll die with no weapon. A fine soldier you are.

As Vambran struggled to remove the ever-tightening tentacle from his neck, his sight grew dim. He tried to command the swarm of coins to attack the tentacle that ensnared him, but his concentration had been broken while leaping clear of the acid and the coins had dissipated. With his body gripped in the tentacles, he had no way to mouth the words to summon another spell.

The tentacle began pulling him toward the worm's maw. He punched it with his fists, but that resulted in two more tentacles wrapping around his wrists. Vambran's flailing grew panicked. He knew he was going to die there, at the bottom of the ocean, hidden away from all the world. It was a lonely thought.

Vambran? Em here. Horial and Adyan arrived. Rescued Xaphira, kicked Grozier out of the estate, going to unseat Lavant. Know about the plague. What news?

By the gods, Vambran thought, I'm sorry, Em. She'll never know, he realized. He wanted desperately to answer her, to let her know he loved her, but no words could come. It made him furious.

There was movement. He saw a flash of blade, slashing near his head.

The tentacle that held his neck jerked once, then loosened. Vambran yanked at it, working his fingers beneath it, making room for air. He managed to suck in half a lungful. The blade swung into view again, cutting and slashing at the tentacle again. It loosened a bit more.

Vambran could breathe. He tried to talk, to answer his sister, but he only managed to cough and splutter. Beside him, the blade worked, moving furiously, cutting and slashing over and over at the tentacle that held his neck. The thick, rubbery appendage withdrew.

"Em!" Vambran cried out. "I'm here! Can't talk!" He wasn't sure if the message got through.

The magical blade was still at work, hacking and sawing at the next tentacle. But the worm had pulled Vambran close to its mouth, close enough that the scent of its acid breath stung his eyes, made him choke on the fumes. And his arms were still trapped.

"Vambran!"

The shout from Arbeenok came from the side, near the door where the lieutenant had first entered the great round chamber. He managed to steal a quick glance in that direction. "Do something!" he shouted back. "Hurry!"

He could see that the elves were having a difficult time maneuvering into the chamber. They did not have the benefit of his magic. Just hurry, he thought.

The worm's head erupted in a column of flame. Vambran was so close to it that he swore he was being scorched. He turned his face away from the heat.

The worm thrashed madly, jerking Vambran about for a moment, and then suddenly the soldier was free.

And falling again.

He reached out and grabbed at a column on the way down, managed to snare it with his magically enhanced grip. He hung there, breathing hard, as the worm whipped about, crashing into the floor of the building and making the whole chamber shake and groan. Several large chunks of stone fell from above as part of the wall collapsed.

Vambran scrambled to pull himself up onto the top surface of the column, still trying to suck in a full lungful of air. A large block went tumbling past him, slamming into the next column and obliterating it.

Time to get out, the lieutenant decided. He lamented the further destruction of the ancient ruins. He looked to the stone altar, wondering if he still had a chance to open it. I have to try, he decided.

His spider climbing magic was still active, so he scrambled toward the dais as quickly as he could. In the meantime, the worm had recovered from its frantic writhing and was approaching the newcomers. It reared its head back in a familiar way.

"It spits acid!" Vambran shouted, motioning. "Get back!"

Serille nodded and shouted a curt order, and the sea elves tried to retreat back through the doorway.

Not all of them were fast enough.

Vambran turned away as their screams rose in pitch and went silent. He focused his full attention on the box. Make their lives count, he told himself. Get this accursed scepter! He still could see no way to open the box. But Serille said the elves believed the ruler of Naarkolyth had sealed the scepter inside! How?

The lieutenant slapped his forehead, feeling the fool. He focused his arcane energy on the stone, conjuring the magic of opening. There was a heavy click and the top of the box fell away, tumbling to crash into the debris below. Vambran peered over the edge of the huge stone container and looked inside.

A box, crafted of wood and perhaps very fine once, rested canted against one corner. It had broken open and the lid was twisted, one hinge snapped. A cudgel lay there, nestled in a form-fitting depression in the lining of the box. It was made of living things, grapevines and leaves and feathers all wrapped together. The head of the artifact held one of the largest emeralds Vambran had ever seen.

He reached inside, afraid to touch it, terrified it wasn't real, wasn't the right piece of history, would crumble if he disturbed it. He laid a single finger on it, felt its smooth hardness.

The worm loomed into view, its body blotting out all other light in the chamber. Its tentacles darted toward Vambran. The lieutenant grabbed the scepter and lunged away just as the enchanted blade shot past him, slicing into the flesh of the nearest probing appendage. He did not waste time looking back. He clambered across the stone surface of the floor as fast as he could, raced toward the doorway where the rest of his companions awaited him.

"Go!" he shouted. "I'll catch up!"

The elves began to vanish, retreating from the chamber. Arbeenok remained, waiting for Vambran to reach them. Behind him, Vambran could sense the worm moving toward him again, could almost feel the tentacles reaching out, grasping at him.

He scampered faster.

Vambran finally reached the alaghi and together, they departed the great chamber. As they moved, Vambran still climbing the stony surfaces and Arbeenok using a length of kelp rope, Vambran said, "So, please tell me this was the place from your vision."

The alaghi chuckled. "Indeed. It was magnificent once, don't you think?"

A horrific thud on the underside of the stone wall bounced them both. Vambran could only guess what the worm was doing inside.

"What I think is, we'd better hurry."

Out beyond the great hall, the rest of the group was already climbing the canted street, working their way toward the top of the hill. Water was spilling down the slope, runoff from above. Vambran stared at it. "That wasn't happening before," he said.

"The worm's vibrations must have shifted some of the rock," Arbeenok said. "The chamber may be flooding now."

Vambran found himself thinking of the enchanted sword, wondering if it would still defend its home once it was submerged.

The return trip to the cave was uneventful, though Serille seemed pensive for most of the way. When pressed about her mood, she replied, "I lost three today."

Vambran nodded. "I'm sorry," he said. "Who were they?"

Serille looked at him with puzzlement. "Why does it matter to you?"

"I grieve for everyone who falls in battle. It helps me keep the cause of the fight in the forefront of my mind, making sure they never die in vain."

"Ah," the sea elf said. "Then you will be sad to know that Ishuliga was one of the three."

Vambran was surprised at the depth of his own sorrow.

At the cave, the mercenary and the druid gathered their belongings and with a smaller escort, departed for the surface. They were bestowed with the enchanted necklaces as farewell gifts. "For the next time you come to visit me," Serille said with a mischievous look in her eye.

After bidding farewell to Serille and the other sea elves, Vambran and Arbeenok walked up the beach toward the rocks. The last rays of the setting sun were fading in the western sky, and Vambran felt some remorse in parting ways with the elves. But he also felt a keen sense of urgency to return to Reth with the healing power of the scepter.

"Have you figured out what must be done with it?" he asked Arbeenok, who was fondling the object delicately.

"I am becoming attuned to it," the alaghi replied, "but I am also simply enjoying the history of it. Imagine-this was created over fifteen hundred years ago by elves who lived in a forest twice as large as what we know here now. And the landscape wasn't even remotely similar. This might have been uplands, low hills running along a ridge of mountains that no longer exist, for all we know."

Vambran regarded the druid. "You have a knack for seeing things in a grander way than most people. Nature made a good choice in granting you the ability of portents and visions."

When Arbeenok smiled, Vambran thought he could detect a glint in the druid's eye.

"We must hurry, though," the lieutenant said at last, breaking the moment. "People in Reth are dying even as we stand here."

"We will reach her in time," Arbeenok said, understanding Vambran's thoughts without the mercenary needing to voice them. "My slowing magic should still be effective."

"I hope so," Vambran remarked. "The only way we'll reach her in time is to travel into the city the same way we departed. Can you do that?"

Arbeenok nodded and stepped back from his companion in order to have room to transform. He shifted and twisted to become a giant hawk, then the druid lofted himself into the air, reaching out with his talons to grasp Vambran by the shoulders as he had before.

Together, they soared into the sky, gliding their way toward the city and the plague.

It was nightfall by the time they landed in the city street near the villa where they had left Elenthia that morning. As soon as they arrived, Vambran was running into the home, calling to the woman. "Elenthia! Elenthia, we've returned. We found a way to heal you!"

Elenthia was not where Vambran had left her.

Vambran called frantically for a few moments, running from room to room, but the woman was nowhere to be found. He raced back down to the garden, trying to guess what might have happened to her. He jogged through the gate and out into the street, calling to Arbeenok.

The druid was surrounded by mercenaries of the Order of the Silver Raven, many of them holding lanterns aloft. They held crossbows leveled at him.

When Vambran appeared, several more soldiers moved to surround him, though they stayed back far enough that they clearly showed their fear of contracting the plague from the two visitors.

"You will stand very still, or we will kill you on the spot," one of the Silver Ravens said.

"All right," Vambran answered, remaining motionless. "But may I speak?"

"Only to answer our questions," the leader replied. "First, what are you doing here?"

"We've brought a cure for the plague," Vambran said, "and we've returned to this spot because I left a woman here. She had magical healing placed upon her by my druid friend here so she would not get sicker and die."

"A druid? I think not," the man said. "The only thing druids are good for is dying."

Vambran had to clench his teeth to avoid an angry outburst. Instead, he simply said, "My men and yours have been at odds for the last several days, but if you give us a chance, we can show you that I speak the truth. If we can cure the plague, would you want to hinder us?"

The soldier considered Vambran for a moment, then shook his head. "I won't make this decision myself," he said. "We'll leave this up to Captain Havalla." He turned and ordered a runner to fetch the captain, and the young soldier sprinted off to find the officer.

"May I ask if you know what happened to the woman I left here this morning?" Vambran asked. "She was too sick to go very far on her own."

"Someone undoubtedly found her," the soldier said, "and rounded her up into the middle of the city, in the quarantine camp, with all the rest."

Vambran was aghast. "But the plague works so fast!" he said. "Anyone who has it is likely to die and rise as a zombie!"

The man nodded, looking grim. "It's the only way we could control it," he said. "No one has been able to figure out what else to do. We're waiting for healers from Arrabar to arrive, but that could take days."

"Then let us help," Vambran said, feeling desperate. "Let us go to the quarantine camp and see what we can do to cure those people!"

At just that moment, a commotion began behind the soldier who had been speaking with Vambran. A runner appeared and began whispering to the men. When the soldier in charge heard what the runner had to report, he paled.

"What is it?" Vambran asked. "What's happening?"

"Zombies have gotten free of the quarantine area," the man said. "They're moving through the sewers and coming up in other areas of the city. We didn't contain them after all."

Men who had been steady and confident a moment before began milling about in panic, eyeing the sewer openings in the middle of the streets. Others turned and ran, despite shouted orders from others half-heartedly demanding that they stand their ground. Vambran knew that the confusion might be the only chance to escape and employ the scepter, but something told him that their chances were better if they could win over the leader of the Silver Ravens. He stood his ground.

"There's something else," the soldier said, shaking his head in dismay. "Something seems to be controlling the zombies, coordinating their movements and actions. They're actually attacking our lines."

"There's no time to waste, then," Vambran said. "You must let us help these people and destroy this plague. Otherwise, the city will be overwhelmed and no one will remain alive inside its walls. We can't wait for your captain to make this decision. You have to let Arbeenok and me defeat this disease."

The soldier hesitated, obviously unpracticed at making monumental decisions, but he nodded at last and ordered his men to lower their weapons. "What do you need us to do?" he asked.

Vambran sighed in relief. "Arbeenok?" he asked, hoping the druid understood the scepter's powers well enough to employ it. "Do you have it mastered?"

Arbeenok nodded. "I think so," he said. "I can wield it when I get close enough to see its effect. But Vambran," he said pointedly, "you must go to the palace."

Vambran looked at his companion, quizzical. "Why?" he asked.

"You must stop the source of this madness, and that source lies at the heart of seven great towers." The alaghi pointed. "There."

Vambran turned and looked at the highest structure in the city and saw but one tower-the tower of the Palace of the Seven.

"I'll never get there with the city blockaded and swarming with zombies," he said. "Can you become a hawk once more and take me there before you activate the scepter?"

"One time more," the druid said. "It will benefit us both." The alaghi shifted and took the shape of the dire hawk again, the emerald scepter safely tucked inside his form.

As Arbeenok pushed off and began to beat his powerful wings, Vambran gave a quick salute to the soldier who had been wise enough to let them go. "Don't worry," the lieutenant said, "you're doing the right thing. Tell Captain Havalla I want to meet with him once this is over."

The druid reached down and grabbed Vambran by the shoulders, as before. They launched into the air, soaring into the night sky and swooping over the fires and the clashing forces of men and undead below. After seeing firsthand the masses fighting and the devastation they were leaving in their wake, Vambran was even more thankful for his companion's assistance. I'd never have gotten through, he decided.

Arbeenok glided low toward a protected courtyard along one side of the palace, one that was screened off from the rest of the city by low walls. Vambran wasn't sure if the druid could sense the same thing he did, but a palpable feeling of malevolence hung in the air, making the mercenary feel unclean. It seemed to radiate from the palace and it was particularly strong at some point below ground level, near the plaza the druid had selected for landing.

Arbeenok drew up and released Vambran before alighting on the stones beside him. The druid cocked his avian head to one side, regarding the lieutenant.

"Good luck," the mercenary said to his companion.

Arbeenok replied with a single screech and a nod, then he pushed off and began winging his way toward the city's center.

Vambran turned in place, eyeing the courtyard. The sick, evil sensation bubbled up from below him. A door provided egress from the enclosed plaza, but Vambran could sense that the most direct route to his quarry was straight down, through the rain grate. He yanked the heavy grille aside, muttered a quick prayer to Waukeen in order to light his holy coin, and dropped down into the darkness.

House Talricci seemed abandoned when Emriana and her aunt approached.

They had decided to wait until nightfall to proceed, for they knew that barging onto the property, as they had done at their own home, would not work. Besides the issues of trespassing, Grozier and Bartimus undoubtedly expected the two women to hunt them down, and had most likely prepared a few magical surprises for them. Thus, Xaphira had unpacked a few additional scrolls from her collection, magic that she claimed would help her spy any dangerous traps or magical threats to the two of them.

"I don't want another case of ringing bells giving us away," she had said to Emriana.

While waiting for darkness, Emriana had at last made an effort to contact Vambran, to apprise him of the state of things in Arrabar. And to find out if he's still alive, she had thought, fearing the worst. Hearing the news from the Darowdryn House wizards that Vambran had encountered the plague in Reth had made the girl's stomach turn flip-flops.

Her brother had not answered.

"He can take care of himself," Xaphira had insisted, but Emriana had seen the hint of fear in the older woman's eyes. "And we can't do anything for him right now, anyway," her aunt had admonished. "Focus on Obiron and Quindy. They need us."

Once evening had arrived, they departed the Matrell estate by themselves, asking Steelfists Darowdryn to stay behind and protect their family, especially in case they didn't return. The huge man had agreed, though Emriana could tell by the look in the fellow's eyes that he was spoiling for a confrontation with Talricci and his wizard almost as much as she and her aunt were.

The two women climbed over a wall into one of the gardens. Unlike the lush green places that filled most of the estates throughout Arrabar, the gardens of Talricci's abode were wild and overgrown, thick with weeds and swarming insects, and nearly impossible to pass through. In other circumstances, Emriana would not have cared much for the place, but because of the covert nature of their arrival, being able to slip over a wall behind a screen of impenetrable flora held a decided benefit.

"Stay close," Xaphira said, creeping through the thick vegetation, trying to keep from rustling the plants. Cattails around a pond ahead of them grew so tall that Emriana doubted she would be able to reach their tops even if she stood straight up on tiptoes and stretched her hands upward. She listened for telltale sounds of House guards nearby, the usual low laughter from a coarse joke or scuffing of boots on paving stones as they walked. But the grounds of the estate were eerily quiet.

The two women reached open lawn then, and Emriana peered over Xaphira's shoulder toward the back of the house at the top of the slope. There were no lights burning inside that she could see. "Where is everyone?" she whispered, peering intently to try to detect some movement, perhaps a darker shadow hiding at the base of a tree or in a window.

"I don't know," Xaphira said. "Maybe they took the twins and went somewhere else, hoping we wouldn't be able to follow."

"Well," Emriana replied, "we can't, can we?"

"Which is why we're going in anyway," Xaphira explained. "To make sure. I don't want to go back to Marga empty-handed."

Neither do I, Emriana thought. "Do you see anything?" she asked, wondering what Xaphira's magically enhanced senses were telling the older woman.

"No," Xaphira replied, sounding a bit surprised. "There's nothing. No spells, no traps, nothing." After a few moments more, she said, "Let's go in."

Together, the Matrell women darted across the lawn toward the house. When they reached the porch, Emriana scampered up the steps and went to one side of a large set of glassed double doors, pressing herself against the stone. As Xaphira moved to the opposite side, Emriana held her breath, listening for any sounds from within. There were no footfalls, no creaks of doors, no noises at all.

Tentatively, Xaphira reached over and tried the door. It was not locked. "It's almost like they want us to come inside," she said, hesitating.

"I don't care," Emriana said. "Quindy and Obiron could be…" She left the thought hanging, but it seemed enough to convince Xaphira to keep to the plan.

Xaphira pulled the door open and Emriana waited a couple of silent counts, just to make sure no trap was sprung by the motion. Then she barely angled her head around the corner of the frame, trying to see if anyone stood within. When she was satisfied that the chamber beyond the doors was empty, she glided silently inside.

The girl found herself in a tall open hall, with stairs running up to the second floor of the estate along either wall, meeting again at the top where a balcony led to several other passages. On the ground floor, numerous doorways and halls led out from the central chamber. The house was dark and silent.

Xaphira moved in beside Emriana, breathing slowly. "Still no traps," she said, "and no magical emanations anywhere."

Emriana nodded. "If you were expecting uninvited guests," she said, "would you possibly hold back your defenses until they were deep inside, perhaps lulled into a false sense of security?"

"Perhaps," Xaphira answered.

"And where would you wait for those uninvited guests to arrive?"

Xaphira didn't say anything for a long moment, then she replied, "The basement."

"That's what I was thinking, too," Emriana said. "Let's see if we can find our way down."

"If we get separated for some reason," Xaphira said, pulling a glowing coin from a pouch at her waist and handing it to Emriana, "use your necklace to call to me." She removed a second lit coin, which she kept. "And if you think you hear something, slip that into a pocket and hide."

"I will," Emriana said. And with that, they started forward. The girl crept along, rolling the balls of her feet to be as silent as possible as she roamed toward the nearest doorway. Inside, she saw an open chamber with several dark figures standing still, waiting for her.

She nearly yelped out loud before she realized they were suits of armor, assembled on stands. It was something of a trophy room with numerous treasures displayed on shelves, in cases, and hanging from the walls. There weren't any other visible exits from the room, and she didn't see the point in checking for concealed passages until they had exhausted all the other possibilities.

The girl turned back to try a different doorway and saw motion from deeper in the house. She swallowed hard and slipped the coin into her pocket, dousing the illumination and peering into the darkness. It had not been Xaphira, for Emriana could easily see her across the way by the glow of her coin, moving about in a dining room. Whatever had moved, it had been hidden in the near-darkness on the edge of Emriana's vision.

I need the eyes of a dwarf, the girl thought, frustrated. They can creep around without any light at all and see just fine.

As Emriana stared at the blackness ahead of her, trying to spot whatever had caught her attention without being exposed herself, she heard the rustle of cloth and a single footstep brushing softly across a stone floor.

"Xaphira!" Emriana cried out, yanking the coin free of her pocket and throwing it in the direction of the sounds. "Hurry!"

The coin bounced and rolled into the hallway, lighting the passage enough as it traveled that Emriana could clearly see Bartimus standing in a doorway several paces away. Even her suspicion that someone was present didn't help Emriana contain her fear, and she shrieked slightly when the wizard's face came into view.

Bartimus seemed just as startled as the girl, for he jumped when the coin came at him, his eyes wide with apprehension. He took one look at Emriana, then turned and ran, his robes swishing behind him.

"Come back here," Emriana yelled just as Aunt Xaphira came running out of the dining room. Emriana took off after the wizard, determined not to let him get away.

"Em, wait!" Aunt Xaphira called, hustling to keep up with the girl. "Don't get foolish!"

Emriana stopped to pick up her coin before she continued, allowing her aunt to catch up to her. "It's the wizard," she said, charging through the doorway where Bartimus had disappeared. "He's escaping!"

Bartimus was no sneak and Emriana could easily hear him huffing and puffing as he tried to evade her and her aunt. He ducked around a corner and Emriana spotted him a moment later at the far end of a hall. He had stopped and was gesturing toward her. She froze on the spot, knowing he was about to launch some arcane force at her, and she couldn't make her legs move to get out of the way. Xaphira grabbed at the girl and jerked her sideways into a sitting room, just as a burst of flame came roaring down the hall. The blast of heat that cascaded over Emriana's face from the searing jets of flame was enough to help her regain her caution.

"All right," Xaphira said once the fiery blast faded away, "I've got something for him, now," and she stepped back into the hallway, holding her holy coin in front of her. "Come here, you little worm," she said, and went trotting down the hall, her light receding with her.

Emriana started out the door to follow her, but a sound caught her attention from the other direction. She paused, keeping her coin in her pocket for a moment, and just listened. Someone was in the next room over!

Quietly feeling her way with her hand on the wall, Emriana moved in the opposite direction her aunt had gone. Xaphira had vanished quickly, for when Emriana glanced back once, wondering if she should let her know what she had heard, the woman and her light were both already gone. For a moment, Emriana fingered her opal pendant.

No, she decided. Can't give away my presence even with a whisper.

Emriana bolstered her courage with a single deep breath and proceeded. The noises from the next room continued, and it sounded to Emriana as though someone were shifting crates around. She used the wall to guide herself, and when she found the frame of the door, she stopped, listening again.

Someone was definitely on the other side of the door. She felt for the handle and pulled the slightest bit, hoping to get a peek inside before anyone noticed she was there. It was dark in the room, but the sounds continued. Emriana listened for a moment longer, keeping the door open only a crack. It still sounded as if someone were stacking crates.

How odd, she thought, preparing to swing the door wide and toss the coin inside for a better view. Then she grew suspicious. Can wizards make magic that sounds like someone moving around? she wondered. Probably, she decided. Wants me to just walk in.

Instead, she took a length of rope that she carried-in case we need to do any serious climbing or tie someone up, she had told Xaphira-and very carefully tied one end of it to the pull handle of the door. She uncoiled the rope as she walked backward, away from the portal, perhaps ten paces. Then she yanked the door open.

An audible click sounded in the hall and a whoosh of air was released from inside the room. A blink of an eye later, something loud popped on the far side of the hall.

Despite her preparations, Emriana jumped at the sound. Then she stood stark still, waiting to see if anything else happened. When it did not, she carefully moved back to the wide-open door and listened. The sound of crates being stacked was still in evidence, and in fact, hadn't changed at all.

Knowing that such noises couldn't be natural, Emriana pulled her coin out of her pocket, blinking in its brightness. The room was no more than a storage closet, but mounted on a stand in the center, aimed right for the door, was a small ballista. A bit of twine ran from the trigger mechanism to the door. Turning, Emriana found the remains of the large bolt that had been fired. It was as long as her leg and as thick as her thumb.

It would have skewered me, she thought unhappily.

The sounds of crate-stacking continued, but Emriana realized they were merely a trick of magic, some sort of prestidigitation Bartimus likely conjured to draw her or her aunt into opening the door.

Aunt Xaphira!

Emriana turned around, ready to grab her pendant and call to her aunt when a face loomed into view just inside the girl's circle of light.

It was Denrick, smiling at her.