“What?” said Hweilan.
The disciple cradling Maaqua’s head in her lap looked up. “She encountered something and …”
“It caught her,” said Elret.
“Caught her?” said Buureg. “What-?”
“If we need something sliced or stabbed, I will call for you,” said Elret. “Until then, hold your jaw. If half of what this girl said is true, she knows our enemy better than anyone. She may be Maaqua’s only chance.”
Hweilan looked down at Maaqua. The old crone had seemed ancient the first time Hweilan had seen her, but now she appeared absolutely frail. Her skin had the look of wet parchment. She spared Buureg a glance, then put her full attention on Elret. “I can’t help your queen,” she said. “But I know someone who can.”
Elret’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Is there a portal here in the fortress?”
Palpable tension ran through the group, and Hweilan did not miss the warning glance Elret cast the others.
“Do you want your queen to live or not?”
As soon as the words left her mouth, Hweilan realized the danger. Hobgoblins generally attained positions of high status by defeating their predecessor. If Maaqua were to die …
“Yes, there’s a portal,” said Buureg.
Elret cast the warchief a murderous glance, but the magic swirling around her fist dimmed. “I’ll have your head for this, warchief.”
“If Maaqua dies,” said Buureg, “I’ll eat your heart.”
Hweilan looked at Elret. “Well …?”
“Below the temple,” said Elret. “In the queen’s private chambers. Few know of it.”
“If you want your queen to see the dawn, you have to take us there. Now. But I have a few demands of my own.”
“You dare?” Buureg roared. “I’ll kill you where you stand!”
“And your queen will die!” said Hweilan.
Buureg looked down at Maaqua, and Hweilan wondered what the story was there. Surely not love. Maaqua was at least twice the warchief’s age. Perhaps more. But there was no mistaking the loyalty in his gaze that bordered on zealotry.
“What are your demands?” said Buureg.
“First,” said Hweilan, “I want your oath that no harm will come to Mandan until we return. And I want those three idiots brought out of their hole, set beside a warm fire, and given a good meal.”
“The one you call Mandan is not mine to protect,” said Buureg. “His life belongs to Ruuket and her children. The rest shall be done.”
“Mandan lives or your queen dies.”
“His life is not mine to give!”
Hweilan pointed at Maaqua with her dagger. “Her life is mine to save. Or not.”
Buureg growled. “I will send warriors to speak to Ruuket and explain to her what is happening. I will have them beg her in my name to do your friend no harm until you can speak to her. This is the best I can do.”
Hweilan thought on it for a bit, then nodded. “Done. Now let’s move.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
By the time they left the tower, the only remaining ravens were dead, and the wolves gave no more resistance, fleeing back the way they had come. All but one.
As Hweilan walked out the tower door, Uncle padded out of the darkness. Blood dripped from his muzzle.
The hobgoblin warriors cried out, and the archers among them raised their bows.
“Stop!” said Hweilan.
“Do as she says,” said Buureg as he walked out behind her. He looked to Hweilan. “Your wolf will do us no harm?”
“Not unless you try to harm him. Or me.”
Four warriors bore Maaqua on a litter deep into the heart of the fortress. One could have easily carried the frail old hobgoblin, but Elret insisted that the queen be treated as gently as the finest crystal. It occurred to Hweilan that any gods watching her this night must be laughing. She had decided to forsake her friends to kill Jagun Ghen, and here she was risking her life to save the one person within a thousand leagues that she would love to see dead.
Buureg and two warriors led the way, Hweilan and Uncle just behind them, and Maaqua’s other acolytes following. Green and blue witchlights lit their way, flying soundlessly around them as they walked.
As someone who had grown up in a land where most of the moisture fell as snow, Hweilan was truly awed by the size of the hobgoblins’ cistern deep under the mountain. The cavern ceiling hung low over the water. Some of the stone columns actually descended into the water itself. And the glow of the witchlights could not reach to the far side. One could have easily drowned an entire herd of swiftstags in the lake and left not so much as a ripple on the shore.
Once they passed the lake and went into the underground caverns, Elret stepped forward so that she could “set the wards to sleep,” as she put it. Still wearing her bone mask, Hweilan occasionally caught glimpses of the auras, but she had no idea what they were. It was like reading a book written in a language she couldn’t speak, much less read.
They crossed passages of absolute darkness that caused the witchlights to dim. And the smell emanating from them made Hweilan’s gorge rise. In one she distinctly heard something moving.
They crossed a chamber more than twice the size of the temple sanctuary in Highwatch and stopped before a set of double doors. To Hweilan they looked like plain wooden doors, but she could feel the magic radiating off them like heat from an open oven.
Elret turned to them. “Buureg, your warriors can come no farther. We will take the queen from here.”
Buureg nodded to his warriors, and they carefully handed the litter over to the acolytes.
“Wait here until we return,” Buureg told the warriors.
“And if you don’t return?”
“Don’t be foolish!” said Elret. She turned to the only acolyte not holding a corner of the litter. “Stay here and see that they do nothing stupid.”
The acolyte bowed.
Elret turned to the door, threw her head back, and spread both her arms. Hweilan knew the Goblin tongue well, but she could not understand a word of Elret’s chant. When she stopped, everyone was so still that the only sound was Maaqua’s labored breathing. Elret clapped her hands suddenly and the hobgoblin warriors jumped. Then she spoke a final incantation and traced an intricate pattern on the door. Hweilan saw an after-image behind her finger’s trail, an angry red light that faded slowly, and with it the aura of power emanating from the door.
Elret turned and fixed her gaze on Hweilan. “If you ever speak outside these walls of what you see beyond this door, your life is forfeit.”
Hweilan kept the anger from her voice. “Lead on.”
Beyond the door they walked a short while in darkness, for the witchlights did not follow. Hweilan could feel the closeness of the air, and the sounds of their footfalls came back to her ears sharp and fast. They were in a tunnel. Hweilan counted just under fifty steps before they emerged into light again.
It was another chamber, even larger than the last. At first, Hweilan thought it was open to the sky, but no, the ceiling was simply far, far overhead, and hundreds of thousands of lights sparkled there, all swimming in a miasma of sickly purple. A wide stone stairway wound up the wall and ended at a cave over halfway to the ceiling. More cave entrances pierced the wall in a dozen places-some with no paths so that only bats could have reached them.
“Follow closely,” Elret told Buureg and Hweilan. “Do not trust your eyes.”
She walked off to the left. The acolytes bearing Maaqua followed, with Hweilan, Uncle, and Buureg coming behind. Hweilan noticed that, despite the light overhead, none of them cast a shadow on the floor.
Elret took a step and her foot disappeared into the floor. Another two and she had seemingly sunk to her knees in the stone.
“An illusion,” she said. “After the first step, you will see your way.”