"I feel fine," he said.
"That is good to hear," said Taris, "but bear in mind that there are still some who would like to see you dead."
Taris' words had their intended effect. Lannon's excitement slipped away, and his gaze started searching the shadows of the tunnel. He stepped close to Taris, grateful for the sorcerers' presence.
"When Shennen returns," said Furlus, "we will continue on. There are still questions that need answering, and our mission remains unchanged."
After a while, Shennen's lean, shadowy form suddenly stepped into the lantern light, startling the others. He regarded them with emotionless, glittering eyes. "The message has been delivered," he said quietly. "Young Jerret is fine."
For a moment Taris gazed solemnly at the Blue Knight, as if searching for something hidden. Then the sorcerer nodded. "Let us move on, then."
No more enemies came out to greet them, and so they started along the tunnel. Unlike the passageway that led to the Divine Essence, no glowing crystals shone in these walls. This looked like, and had the feel of, the tunnels below Old Keep. The same musty smell was there, the lingering gloom hanging in the shadows. Now and then dark Iracus roots poked out of the stone.
"This tunnel connects to the mines," said Furlus. "It is the only one that hasn't been permanently sealed off. It was left as an escape route, and now our assassin has made good use of it, apparently."
The tunnel sloped downward some and then leveled off. Pillars were hewn from the stone near the walls, lining the passageway. Rusted pieces of chain hung from some of the pillars, and Olrog bones lay scattered here and there. A skeleton, still partially intact, was chained to one of the pillars, its skull lying grinning at its feet.
Furlus paused for a moment and bowed his head, a troubled look on his face. "I am not proud of this sight," he said. "Olrog punishments can be all too harsh at times. These are the bones of miners who were chained here to die, probably for petty crimes. My people have a dark and glorious past, and like all the races, we've done our share of evil."
The others kept quiet, knowing it was best not to agree or disagree, lest they unwittingly provoke the Olrog's quick temper.
They went a little farther and discovered an iron door up ahead. The Knights checked the door and found it unlocked and not trapped. They pulled it open and stepped through into a short, wide hallway that ended at another iron door. At the center of the hallway was a wooden trapdoor with a brass ring at the center.
The Knights gathered before the trapdoor and examined it. Then Taris motioned Lannon forward and placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Very carefully," he said, "turn the Eye below this door. Once you learn what lies down there, do not linger."
Lannon did as he was told, slowly pushing the Eye down past the trapdoor and into the depths below. At first he glimpsed only cold stone leading down about twenty feet, but then a flood of dark images struck him. He saw ancient, sealed tombs, where the restless dead had lain hidden for centuries. He felt crushing strife, countered by fierce pride and determination-the will of the Olrogs. Something terrible had occurred below their feet, represented to Lannon by a creeping shadow that smothered all in its path. Some final battle had been fought amid the tombs below, and a curse laid forth upon that area. Yet something else existed down there as well-a shining scroll bearing some important knowledge that needed to be discovered.
Lannon wanted to probe the scroll further, but he remembered Taris' warning not to linger and drew away from it. Lannon pulled the Eye back to the surface and then partially within him. The others stared at him anxiously.
"It's a bad place," Lannon said. He hesitated, knowing if he told the Knights about the scroll, they would want to go below to retrieve it. But he had to tell them, for that item was very important somehow. "There is a scroll down there," he added. "Something that could be helpful."
"Then we need to go down there and get it," said Furlus.
"It's protected by something evil," said Lannon. "I don't know what it is, but it's very powerful." He realized he was breathing heavily and that his heart was aflutter. The fear was nearly too much to bear, and for an instant, he thought he was going to demand they head back to the surface and let Tenneth Bard escape.
But Lannon never got a chance to say anything. Furlus threw open the trapdoor and said, "So who’s going down there with me?" An iron ladder descended along the stone into the blackness.
Taris glanced about. "I am tempted to leave the Squires up here, but that could be just as dangerous, if not more so, considering what we've faced so far. We shall all go down, that I may keep the Squires near me and protect them. Also, Lannon must use his power to guide us to the scroll."
The ladder led them down twenty feet to another tunnel. Shennen went first, slipping quietly below to make sure all was well. After Shennen gave his signal, Caldrek went next, and then Furlus. The Squires were sent below after that, followed by Taris and Saranna. Darius was left above to guard the trapdoor opening. They knew the wolf would fight to the death before allowing an enemy to pass that way.
When everyone had gathered below, they started along the tunnel. Almost immediately, a stone door was revealed, blocking their way. Strange writings were engraved in the door, beneath a symbol of a crimson battle axe.
Furlus nodded. "As I suspected, the tombs of my ancestors lie beyond this door. That battle axe is the ancient symbol of my race. This is sacred ground and we must treat it as such. Take nothing and disturb nothing."
"We shall tread carefully here," said Taris.
"What does the writing say?" asked Caldrek.
"It reflects my words," Furlus said. Then he read it aloud. "Within this chamber lie the sacred tombs of the honored dead. May the Axe of Tharnin smite whoever disturbs the peace of the dead, and scatter their blood before the altar of Graylius."
Furlus bowed his head. "Graylius was our god in olden times. He was believed to exist in the realm of Tharnin. As you may know, the Olrogs gained power from Tharnin long ago in our war against the Noracks and Birlotes."
"A pagan god, then," whispered Caldrek, shuddering. "Not fit to be worshiped."
"Graylius was the God of the Forge," said Furlus. "He taught my ancestors wondrous knowledge. For that, we remain ever indebted to him. As for our dealings with Tharnin-we have paid for our mistakes."
"Graylius was a servant of Tharnin," said Taris. "A beast similar to the Great Dragons, yet more humanoid in form. There is some evidence to suggest that Graylius was not altogether evil, that he may have dwelt apart from his master. Which, if true, is indeed surprising, considering that Tharnin itself is believed to be purely evil. But the true workings of the Shadow Realm remain mostly a mystery. All of our knowledge comes from ancient and sketchy Olrog accounts and the sometimes vague and twisted insights of our own Dark Watchmen."
"Well, we can't stand around and chat," said Caldrek. "Not down in these wretched tunnels, anyway." With that, the Red Knight stepped forward and reached for the door handle.
Furlus grabbed his wrist, his eyes blazing. "You have much to learn about Olrogs, Caldrek. I will lead the way."
Caldrek pulled his hand back, raising his dark eyebrows. "Alright, then," he said calmly. "I guess you better do it."
"What if it's locked?" Timlin said anxiously, his meek voice sounding strange and forgotten in the stillness of the tunnel.
"I'll take care of that," said Furlus. "I'm not much for lock picking-which is work more suited to thieves and not a fit occupation for an Olrog-but I know Dwarven locks inside and out. If Shennen will pass me some tools, I'll get it open."
The Blue Knight handed his lock picks to Furlus. The Grey Dwarf mumbled something that sounded almost like a short prayer and then tried the door. It came open. "The lock has been broken," Furlus said, examining the other side of the door. "Something or someone of unnatural strength has passed this way, for Olrog locks are very stout." His grey eyes smoldered with rage, and he tossed the lock picks back to Shennen. "The peace of the dead has been disturbed."