Glory and greatness are such abstracts, Ergo mused, until circumstances make them real.
"Lead on," Torquil told his king.
No more deadly surprises waited to greet them. No matter how brightly lit or inviting the intersecting corridors appeared, none swayed Colwyn from his chosen course.
So intent were they on the dangers that might assail them from the side or above, however, that no one noticed the hairline crack in the floor ahead.
It opened noisily and fast, the sound warning them barely in time. Whether their footsteps or an unseen hand had triggered it, none could say. Not that it mattered. The slick, rounded corridor sent them tumbling downward, scrambling for a handhold.
Torquil, Colwyn, and Bardolph barely managed to hold on to the edge of the opening. Colwyn was the first back on his feet, followed by the agile Oswyn, with Torquil a step behind. Together they helped the frantic Bardolph, then all turned to peer into the narrow gap.
There was light below, and not far below, at that.
"Ergo! Titch!" Colwyn shouted downward.
Below, Ergo was already examining their prison. Titch had landed hard and was a little slower to rise. The light was dimmer than in the corridor above, but they could still see clearly.
"We're here," Ergo replied.
"All right?"
"Except for bruises and bumps." He glanced over at Titch. The boy nodded once as he gingerly felt of his backside. "I'd guess we're about ten feet below you." He examined the smooth, curving walls. "I can't find a handhold big enough for a gnat. We're in another tunnel. It's very narrow."
Torquil bent over the gap and yelled down. "You're sure there's no way to climb up?"
"Only for a bird," Ergo told him.
Titch moved to stand closer to his friend, staring upward.
"Throw us a rope," Ergo shouted.
Torquil turned and began rummaging through his rucksack. The coil he produced was thin.
Colwyn eyed it uneasily. "Doesn't look very strong."
"It'll hold them if they come up one at a time." Torquil sounded confident. "I know. I've had occasion to use it when plying my trade. A man should know his tools." He thought a moment, added, "My old trade, of course."
Colwyn turned his face away so that the bandit leader would not see his grin. "I guess even a rope can redeem itself. Hand me the line and brace it."
Torquil nodded, wrapped a section of the rope around his waist, and handed one end to Bardolph while Colwyn played out the other over the edge of the gap. The two thieves steadied themselves.
Ergo's eyes were on the rope, but Titch saw something out of the corner of an eye, shouted a warning. "Slayers!" He pointed up the narrow tunnel.
Colwyn tried to see below, bending over, but the twists and turns in the floor hid the approaching danger. Immediately he looped the rope around his waist, tightened it.
"I'm going down."
"Why risk all we've gained if—" Bardolph began, but Colwyn eyed him so coldly the man went silent.
"I'm going down," Colwyn repeated, "and now! Torquil, be ready to bring us up at the signal."
Torquil leaned backward, clenched his teeth. "Say the word and I'll have you out like a moonbeam."
"Right. Easy now." He stepped over the edge and started to let himself down.
He was suspended halfway between upper and lower passage when a deep rumbling sounded from all around and the gap began to close as quickly and unexpectedly as it had opened. Torquil didn't wait for orders, nor was there time to discuss the matter.
"Up! Pull him up!"
Despite the combined strength, Colwyn's ankles barely cleared the opening before it shut tight beneath them, forming a solid, unbroken floor beneath their feet once more.
Colwyn sat back, staring grimly at the crack that mocked them. Titch and Ergo were trapped somewhere below … with Slayers. He kicked at the surface in frustration. Not even Rell could have pried that mass apart.
A hand touched him and he stared up at Torquil. The thief's expression was set. "They chose. We all chose."
"But the boy…" Colwyn's fingers touched the glaive. But as had happened with Rell, Ynyr's words held him back. If he did not conserve the glaive's power to confront the Beast, all would be wasted.
"They've given what they could," Bardolph added. "Let's be off from here."
Colwyn hesitated, then nodded and climbed to his feet. But he left another part of his soul behind in that corridor.
Ergo had stared helplessly as the ceiling had slammed shut overhead. Now he backed down the corridor, his mind working frantically, his eyes on the two approaching Slayers. There was no telling where the corridor led, perhaps to a dead end, perhaps to the Beast's lair, perhaps nowhere. He leaned around the curving wall, ducked back as a Slayer spear lashed out at him.
It might have been the fear in the boy's face that galvanized him to action, or some hidden reserve of cunning and knowledge. Colwyn had suspected it lay hidden beneath that buffoonish exterior all the time, while Ynyr had doubted it. Whatever the inspiration, Ergo abruptly did what he did best.
He even did it right this time.
A thunderous roar shook the tunnel. The Slayers paused, uncertain, then fired again. But this was no waddling, awkward human flying at them. Instead they confronted a quarter ton of angry, fast-moving tiger.
Titch clung to the wall where the tiger had nudged him and watched with wide eyes. No one knew if the Slayers had emotions. If so, it's certain that two died that day full of surprise.
The peasant looked up from his berry-picking and frowned. The sky was not cloudy, but there was thunder in the air. He rose, leaned on his staff and stared up the long, grassy valley. Beyond the mountains, perhaps, there might be a thunderstorm brewing.
A shape appeared in the air before him. It was very large, but it was not a cloud. He found himself backing away from it instinctively. It grew darker and more solid as he tripped and fell backward.
The Black Fortress sat silent and massive between mountain ridges as the peasant ran madly to warn his village. Its exterior was smooth and unchanged, giving no hint of the turmoil occurring within.
Colwyn held up a restraining hand and his companions slowed behind him. The corridor opened unexpectedly into a large, smooth-walled chamber with a high ceiling arching overhead. In the center stood a hexagonal dome of strange design and faintly threatening construction. It made Colwyn think of the war helmets worn by the fighters of distant Ulrathay. But what was one to make of those dark ridges that gave it support and the internally lit, translucent panels that bulged outward? No human hand had fashioned this place, and no human soul ought to abide within it.
Yet one particularly precious soul was thus trapped. Colwyn could sense it with every fragment of his being. He couldn't take his eyes from the structure. He knew where they were.
"Quietly now," he told them. "We're close to the center."
"The center of what?" Bardolph wanted to know. "Of the Fortress?"
"Of everything," Colwyn assured him.
Following his lead, they filed out of the corridor and spread out to inspect the hexagon of those softly lit panels. Not a man of the three doubted that it was any less solid than the outer walls of the Fortress. And like those outer walls, there was no sign of an entrance.
When they'd completed the brief inspection, Colwyn declared his intentions. "From here I must go on alone."
Torquil tried to see through one of the vitreous panels, fought to imagine the source of the strange inner light. "Go on to where? There's no way in. And if this is what you hint it is, I wouldn't expect some overanxious Slayer to jump out and offer us one. They won't make that mistake again."