"There are no Slayers here," Colwyn murmured. "This is the place of something else. But there must be a way in." He began backing a few steps away from the hexagon, studying it intently and paying but slight attention to his friends' movements. Torquil and the others moved to stand well behind him.
"There's nothing for it," the bandit leader announced. "That place is as solid as—" He caught himself as he saw Colwyn remove the strange, five-armed weapon from its holding loop. Colwyn's eyes were slightly glazed and he seemed to be concentrating on something beyond their range of vision.
"Get behind him," Torquil suddenly ordered his men.
"Why? What's he going to do with that?"
"Get behind, Oswyn, and you too, Bardolph. And be ready." His hand went to his war ax.
"Ready for what?" Oswyn drew his own weapon, watched as Colwyn held the glaive out in front of his chest.
"I don't know," Torquil replied irritably, his concentration on Colwyn, "but be ready for it."
Suddenly five blades appeared on the glaive, one at the terminus of each golden arm. Colwyn brought it back, then flung it hard toward the hexagon. It whizzed toward the nearest section of wall… and struck.
A thunderous chiming rang through the chamber. Oswyn put his hands to his ears while the others winced, wondering how so small a device could generate so violent a reaction.
The blades had failed to scratch the hexagon's walls and the glaive returned to Colwyn's waiting hand. Oblivious to the astonishment on the faces of his companions, he threw it a second time, striking the same spot as before with uncanny accuracy. This time a huge chunk of wall was blasted away. Again he threw the glaive, and again, ignoring the overlapping echoes that had forced his friends to their knees.
"He doesn't act like he hears the noise!" Oswyn shouted. "He doesn't act like he hears anything!"
"What?" Torquil asked. He had his hands over his own ears, trying to shut out the deafening echoes.
"I SAID, I DON'T THINK HE CAN HEAR THE SOUNDS!"
"I DON'T EITHER!" Torquil agreed.
Colwyn advanced toward the dome like a wraith through a dream, methodically catching and throwing the glaive, hewing a passage through the wall. Sweat poured off his face, and his muscles quivered with the effort. Throw, catch, throw, catch, and throw again. The blades of the glaive became nicked and dulled but the weapon itself remained as solid as the day he'd stolen it from its fiery vault. Shattered fragments of dome flew everywhere, striking walls and floor and ceiling impartially and forcing his men to dodge quickly. The only place in the chamber free of flying debris was the section of floor occupied by the slowly advancing Colwyn.
Someone else heard that steady ringing, muted though it was inside the dome. Lyssa backed away from the intensifying noise. Such announcements of destruction could herald many things, but she doubted the Beast's imminent arrival was among them. He had already revealed his noiseless entryway to the sanctuary.
That implied the presence of another party that sought to fashion its own entrance. The mere thought filled her with more hope than she'd dare allow herself since the day of her abduction. She divided her attention between the section of wall where the approaching sounds rang loudest and the dark hollow that had earlier produced the Beast.
The ringing in the chamber subsided somewhat as Colwyn dug his way deeper into the dome. Torquil removed his hands from his ears. The noise was bearable.
He turned to the other two. "Colwyn works difficult magic and we stand around like hogs waiting for'our butchers. The noise is bound to draw Slayers. Colwyn has enough to work without having to worry about such distractions. Let's scout around this object. Surely we can provide a warm welcome for any black-eyed curiosity seekers."
Oswyn swung his mace. "I hope some of them do come. We'll satisfy their curiosity, all right. I owe poor Ergo a dozen dead souls at least."
"Not if I get to them first," Bardolph said tersely, testing the edge of his own weapon.
"I'm sure there will be plenty of killing to satisfy all of you," Torquil said. "Come on."
They started off to their left, intending to complete another circumnavigation of the dome. Bardolph followed for a moment, then paused.
"We ought to split up here in case they try to take us from behind. We can meet on the far side."
Torquil nodded approvingly. "A good idea, if there were more than three of us. I don't want anyone going off by himself. But we can at least spread out a little."
Torquil took the center, Bardolph the outside, and Oswyn crept along the wall of the glowing dome. Bardolph felt his way cautiously along the chamber wall, walking parallel to his companions.
And then the wall wasn't there anymore to support him, and yet its ghost was. His hand sank through the wall. There was no time to catch his balance, only time enough to shout.
"Torquil!"
Then he was gone, the wall having swallowed him up as neatly as quicksand had taken poor Menno. Torquil and Oswyn arrived an instant too late to help. They pushed and probed the wall, testing, searching for an opening. It was as solid as the floor under their feet.
For another second. Then it had vanished and both men tumbled forward. Torquil had silently cursed Bardolph for his clumsiness. There was no reason for a good thief to be caught so badly off balance, even by a trick wall. But as he stumbled inward, he apologized mentally to his friend, for it was as if they fell downward instead of just sideways, as though the wall turned everything inside out.
They fell into a small room. Bardolph was just getting to his feet. Torauil immediatelv regained his balance and ran at the wall behind them, only to discover that it had become a real wall once more, solid as granite.
"I leaned against it and suddenly everything was upside down," Bardolph told them,
"I know. It did the same thing to us. Idiots!" He slapped at his forehead. "Now we've gone and left Colwyn's retreat unprotected, and he may not even realize we've left."
Turning a slow circle, he took stock of their prison, a ten-by twenty-foot rectangle with no visible openings. There wasn't even an air vent, yet the atmosphere was thick and warm, if a touch musty:
The walls bristled with metal stakes and he knew they hadn't been placed there for decoration. He'd seen similar rooms in use in some of the less enlightened kingdoms and knew well their function.
He cut at the wall they'd tumbled through with his sword, barely scratching the material. "Search! Check the other end. We've got to get back!" Oswyn and Bardolph rushed to inspect the opposite end of the cell.
So far their prison was silent and still. Torquil did not expect it to remain that way for long. Something was toying with them, perhaps enjoying their anxiety. Soon it would become tired, or bored, or indifferent.
He wondered how many minutes they had left.
Lyssa backed away from the imploding wall. Shards of glassy material flew past her and dust stung her face. She ignored them, her gaze locked on the trembling surface. A crack appeared, was quickly enlarged by another blow from behind. A third strike blew a ten-foot-tall gap in the barrier.
Then a figure stepped through, clutching a strange, battered weapon, and she was running forward even before he saw her.
"Lyssa!" Colwyn opened his arms to her.
"I knew you'd come," she sobbed. "I knew that if any man could find me here it would be you!"
"I'd have cut a trail through the center of Krull itself to reach you." He pulled away from her kiss. "You don't look injured."
"My body is unharmed. It was my mind that had begun to worry me. I do not think I could have kept up hope forever." She spared a bitter glance for her prison. "It doesn't take long for the absence of light to kill a flower."