Ghleanna nodded pensively. “Perhaps if we all stood outside the chamber, a lightning bolt could break through the thicker ice formations.”
As the two discussed additional possibilities, Kestrel noticed Durwyn shifting impatiently. The warrior concentrated on the icicle nearest him, his fingers absently stroking the haft of his axe.
Corran joined in the mages’ discussion. “If you weaken the ice with your spells, I’m sure Durwyn and I could then—”
“Enough talk. We waste time!” Durwyn raised his battle-axe and swung at the closest icicle. The force of the blow sent a huge crack running along the ice from top to bottom. As it weakened, its center seemed to take on a bluish hue. Durwyn struck again, this time breaking through the formation. Embedded in the jagged layers of ice rested a thin blue shard that twinkled in the torchlight.
They all moved closer for a better look. “Well, I’ll be pickled,” Nottle said. “What do ye suppose that is?”
Jarial furrowed his brow in concentration. “It looks like...” He extended a hand, running his fingers along the crystal’s edge. “It is. This is an ice knife, identical to one Ozama often conjured through spellcasting. Only hers wasn’t blue.”
“Borea’s Blood,” Nottle whispered.
“You’ve heard of it?”
The halfling’s eyes glowed as he regarded the ice sliver almost reverently. “It’s said that Borea’s Blood—” He stopped suddenly, as if remembering himself. His eyes regained their usual mercenary glint, and he shrugged casually. “Jest a blue knife, that’s all. Nothin’ you folks would wanna lug around with ye.” He reached toward it “Here, I’ll jes—”
“I don’t think so.” Kestrel batted away his arm. Obviously the knife had some value if the peddler took interest. “I’m sure lugging this around won’t prove a burden to us at all.” She grabbed the crystal and tugged, expecting it to remain frozen in place. To her surprise, the blue knife slid from the icicle as smoothly as a sword from its scabbard.
The moment Borea’s Blood cleared its icy sheath, every shard of ice in the room immediately disappeared. The large ice formations vanished, while the broken chunks on the floor melted into small puddles. Only the blue crystal remained unchanged, resting coolly in the palm of Kestrel’s hand. Above the rune, the colored lights danced like faeries on Midsummer Night.
“You did it—you unfroze the Rohnglyn,” Durwyn said.
She regarded the fighter. Had he not taken matters into his own hands, they might have wasted an hour debating strategy. She was developing new respect for the quiet but dedicated warrior. “No, it was your no-nonsense approach that found the crystal in the first place.”
At the compliment, the corners of Durwyn’s mouth twisted in a self-conscious half-smile. He appeared unused to praise. “Now that it’s thawed, how do you suppose it works?”
As in the room they’d entered earlier, the far wall of this chamber held a carving of four diamonds stacked right on top of each other, with a small gem—an opal—in the bottom-most point. Kestrel, Ghleanna, and Corran studied the pattern, while Jarial, Durwyn, and Nottle examined the floating golden sphere and the lights.
“Four diamonds, four dungeon levels,” Ghleanna said finally. “I’m guessing the gem in that pattern indicates the current position of the Rohnglyn. The bottom diamond is the bottom level of the dungeon, and so on. Perhaps it’s simply a matter of moving the gem to the level we want to reach.”
“That tells it where we want to travel,” Corran said, “but how do we activate the device?”
“I think that’s what this sphere is for,” Jarial said, poking at the globe. “Maybe once the opal is repositioned, we push or rotate the sphere.”
“We’ll never figure it out just standing here. Let’s give it a try.” Kestrel pulled the gem out of the wall and moved it up to the next vertex. “If Ghleanna’s theory is correct, we should wind up one level above, in the room we entered before.”
They all entered the dancing lights and moved to the center of the rune. Jarial reached toward the globe. “Ready?”
The moment he touched the golden sphere, the lights spun wildly about the perimeter of the rune, circling a half dozen times before returning to their usual state. The party waited expectantly, but nothing more happened.
“Maybe it’s not as easy as we thought,” Durwyn said.
Kestrel went back to study the diamond pattern again. She frowned in concentration. “Perhaps we need to do more than merely reposition the ruby.”
“Ruby?” Ghleanna said. “It was an opal, was it not?”
Kestrel glanced at the sorceress in surprise. “You’re right—the ruby was in the first room.” She turned back to the pattern, now noticing the tiny scratch marks at the bottom of the pattern. “Here are the marks I made trying to pry it out.”
Corran walked to the doorway and peered into the corridor. “Sure enough. We’re back on the third level.”
“Ha! That’s a pretty good trick,” Nottle said. “Gettin’ around the dungeons will be a piece o’cake now.” The halfling fairly skipped toward the door. “I’m gonna check on my wagon. See you folks later.” He nearly exited before turning around once more. “Oh—if ye ever git tired o’ toting around Borea’s Blood, ye know where t’find me.”
They watched him depart. “Let’s get back to the House of Gems,” Corran said.
Kestrel plucked the ruby out of the wall and inserted it in the topmost vertex. She reentered the dancing lights and nodded at Jarial. “Go ahead.”
The wizard touched the golden sphere. This time the lights raced so quickly and flashed so brightly that Kestrel squeezed her eyes shut. She opened them a moment later, expecting to find herself in another identical room.
Not in the belly of a dragon.
CHAPTER SIX
The unpredictable Rohnglyn had landed them in an enormous oval-shaped hall. Elaborate murals and mosaics of dragons covered the walls, some studded with precious stones to depict gem dragons. Small round windows served as the dragons’ eyes, allowing the first sunlight they’d seen in days to spill into the room. The hall’s beams and columns were intricately carved in the same motif. Blue, red, green, and black dragon tails spiraled white pillars, while silver dragon claws cradled glowing orbs at fixed intervals along the walls. On the ceiling, two great wyrms—one red, one gold—were locked in eternal combat.
Corran fixed Kestrel with an annoyed glare. “This isn’t the entrance to the House of Gems. What in blazes did you do?”
“Nothing! I just moved the gem to the top—I’m hardly an expert on this Rohnglyn thing, you know,” she retorted.
“Obviously.”
Durwyn turned in a slow circle, taking in their surprising new surroundings. “Where are we?”
Good question, Kestrel thought. Woven among all the dragon images were mysterious-looking runes and intricate knotwork patterns. The gilded railing along a second-floor balcony featured the most elaborate of these patterns. Similar designs were also set into the floor. Two rows of statues flanked the main walkway. These depicted sorcerers—some human, some elven, some of other races—all of whom appeared powerful, wise, and formidable.
“Wherever we are, this is a place of great magic,” Ghleanna murmured. “Can you feel it surround us?”
After witnessing Emmeric’s brutal death, magic was the last thing Kestrel wished to be surrounded by.
“Clearly, we’ve left the dungeons and are now above ground,” Jarial said. “I wonder if we have stumbled into the Speculum—the old wizards’ guildhall. When Ozama and I first came to Myth Drannor we saw the building perched near the castle in the city’s Heights. It is shaped like a giant dragon curled around an egg. The hall we now stand in is large enough to constitute most of the dragon’s body.”