As Gill watched, he realised the Spurriers were quality. Although one or two had paled considerably when faced with what they had to do, they went about their preparations silently, precisely, and without hesitation. Vachon, now fully armoured and looking every part the warlord, approached Gill.
“Anything you want to tell me before we go down there?” he said. “One old soldier to another.”
Gill finally realised why he found the man’s face familiar. “We’ve met before, haven’t we?”
“Aye, we have,” Vachon said.
“Rencarneau? Was it?”
Vachon nodded. “Your memory’s better than I gave you credit for. I was with Endraville’s Heavy Foot.”
“Ah,” Gill said. He recalled Endraville’s Heavy Foot leading the advance on the left flank, where he’d also been stationed, with the Royal Guard. Vachon’s fellows had been massacred by lunchtime, with no more than a dozen survivors. “A bad day.”
Vachon shrugged. “It wasn’t the only one in that campaign. The Royal Guard gave a good account of themselves that day. Until Rencarneau, I always thought your lot were a bunch of ponces. Feathered hats, fine swords, jelly for spines.”
Gill laughed. “You aren’t the only one.”
“As few of us as made it off the field that day, there’d have been none if the Guard hadn’t advanced when they did.”
“What else could we have done?” Gill said, feeling a pang of sadness that they were enemies now.
“I’m asking you for the same today. Anything that’ll help me bring all these folk home, still breathing.”
“The Cup’s already given you more than I can. The rest is a combination of luck and effort.”
Looking unconvinced, Vachon nodded slowly. “We’ll be taking you down there with us.”
“With my hands tied and no armour?” Vachon shrugged. Guillot continued, “That’s mighty generous of you.”
“It’s in your interest to make sure we can do what we came to do, or you’re as dead as the rest of us.”
“Well,” Gill said. “When you put it like that. This one’s a boy dragon, and he particularly likes it when you tickle his—”
Vachon’s fist smashed into Gill’s face. Guillot flopped back on the ground, head ringing. He checked over his teeth, which were all present, and was surprised by how resilient they were proving to be. He struggled back up to a sitting position.
“I’d save your strength,” he said. “You’re going to need it.” He flashed Vachon a toothy smile, realising it might be the last one he ever gave. His teeth could hold out for only so long.
Vachon turned back to his people and started giving more orders, in a whisper. Gill suddenly got the sickening feeling that he might be used as bait. He wondered if he’d be able to talk the dragon out of eating him a second time. His guard returned, fully armoured now like the rest of his fellows, and hauled Gill to his feet. Making no effort to assist, Guillot forced the man to haul his dead weight up. Once he was standing, the Spurrier shoved him toward the hole.
As Gill got closer, he could see an array of fine carvings below. Even from above, the big space was impressive. Amazing to think it had lain here, entirely unknown, for who only knew how long, like the hidden, long-forgotten chamber underneath his old family home. He wondered how long ago this place had been covered up, and by whom.
The Spurriers had moved out around the hole and were doing their best to get an idea of what awaited them down there. Satisfied that there was no immediate danger, Vachon ordered that lines be thrown down, and one after another, they started to drop into the hole. Gill was shoved forward and handed a rope. Although he went to great pains to show how awkward it would be to climb down with his hands bound, when he started, he found it wasn’t all that difficult, and he was soon at the bottom. The stone flags below his feet were covered with a mixture of soil, grass, and old splinters of wood—the remains of whatever had covered it, Gill reckoned.
Once they had all assembled on the stone floor, the Spurriers drew their swords and looked around. Gill had already spotted the large opening leading down and the hint of light at the far end. He wondered how long it would be before Vachon saw it. Like everyone else, the Spurriers’ leader seemed transfixed by the intricate carvings covering the walls.
Solène jumped at the thunderous commotion from the antechamber. She took cover behind the altar, and peered out to see what was going on. It couldn’t be Olivier, could it? Her ability to conceal herself was negated by the fact that she had created the large globe of light that hovered in the centre of the room. She thought about trying to dismiss it, but reckoned it was already too late for that. If someone was coming after her, they already knew she was here.
She didn’t know what to do. There were two other exits from the chamber, but she had no idea where either led or if the passages were clear or had become filled in over the years. She was tempted to run but remembered her responsibilities, that there might be secrets in that place which the Prince Bishop could use to further his aims. She couldn’t stand by and allow that to happen, but was this the right time and place to fight that battle?
Solène froze at the sight of an enormous red dragon lumbering down the ramp she had used, followed by a golden one. Her shock subsided quickly, but before she could move, she saw its great orbs of eyes fix on her. It halted, crouched, and snarled at her. Solène wasn’t sure what to do. She dropped into the low, balanced position the fencing master at the Priory had taught her, but felt ridiculous—she wasn’t holding a sword.
Though the idea of doing it still frightened her, she opened her mind to the Fount anyway—better to be killed by it, than eaten by a dragon, she thought.
The dragon blinked. It was an alarmingly human gesture; Solène paused before trying to unleash every bit of magical power she could in the dragon’s direction.
“What brings you to the temple?” it said.
Solène’s jaw dropped. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts enough to respond. “You can talk?” She frowned, realising she should have spent a little longer gathering.
“That would appear self-evident,” the dragon said. “What are you doing here?”
“I … I’m looking for something.”
The dragon nodded and seemed to relax a little as it looked around the temple. The golden one shuffled out from behind it but remained silent.
“Have you found it?” the red one said.
“I don’t know.”
“Be at ease,” the dragon said. “I can see no reason for us to fight, unless that is what you wish.”
“No,” Solène said, standing straight. “I’d prefer not to.”
“Excellent,” the dragon said. “Then I suggest you leave.” Before she could move, its pupils narrowed to slits. It cocked its head and gave a long sniff.
“Wait,” it said. It edged toward her and gave another long sniff. “Well, you are different, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Most of your kind have to be led to magic, but some are born to it. You are one of those, aren’t you?”
“I…”