“Wynn—light!” Chuillyon shouted.
Wynn understood without seeing, for she had to. She was exhausted and in pain, and hoped Chane had done as she asked.
Something damp and long pushed in under her free hand and licked it.
—I am still here and will grip the staff to do what I can—
Wynn felt the staff jostle and jerk slightly, and she gripped it with both hands, hoping whatever Chap did might help.
“Wynn!” Chuillyon shouted.
She whispered the words aloud, hoping that would help.
“Mên Rúhk el-När ... mênajil il’Núr’u mên’Hkâ’ät.”
Chap twisted his head to one side and bit down on the staff. He did not wait for Wynn to begin, and once again called upon all Elements, ending with his own Spirit.
He heard Wynn’s whisper, and the staff lit up with the strength of the sun. He shut his eyes tight against the glare.
Leesil flinched as the glare washed over him. He had to duck his head and squint as he looked down, and just before he saw, he heard stone crack again.
The branch’s roots expanded and punched into the cavern’s floor. As stone cracked, he heard the hiss become a wail, tearing at his ears. Those tendrils from the branch coiled and snaked into fractured openings in stone.
Silence fell so suddenly that every muscle in his body clenched.
“Less!” Chuillyon shouted, and then lowered his voice. “Too much, Wynn, too much light.”
Chap appeared at Leesil’s side before the light began to soften, bit by bit, and then he realized the next problem. Wynn could not hold the crystal lit forever.
—She ... will not ... need ... to do so—
Leesil looked aside, but Chap was only staring at the branch. Other than rooting by the base and tendrils, it looked much the same. Was it truly still alive? Would it grow to something more that would end everything that started here?
And exactly how did Chap think the staff’s crystal could go on without Wynn?
Chap turned and was almost blinded by the staff’s crystal. Only Wynn’s eyes were fully open, for she would never see what was done here. For an instant, this pained him more than he could bear, but she was not the one he needed now. Chap dropped his head, half closing his eyes, as he stepped around behind Wynn.
When he had line of sight to Ore-Locks, the dwarf had one hand raised, shielding his eyes.
—Can you ... plant ... the staff ... into stone?—
Ore-Locks’s black-pellet eyes shifted to fix on Chap.
—The staff ... must touch ... the branch ... forever—
Then he looked to Wynn, who was always so much easier to speak to.
—Let Ore-Locks lead you by the staff, but do not let go until I tell you—
That Ore-Locks—or any stonewalker—was here at all was blind luck. Then again, how much else of what had led them to this moment seemed that way? The dwarf had been gifted an orb by the flesh descendants of “that which consumes” and befriended by one of the Enemy’s tools, an undead. And a half-blood had been given a descendant of “that which nourishes.”
There were some things even a Fay-descended would never know.
There were some things he could only hope would work now and forever.
Ore-Locks carefully led Wynn closer to the branch. Leesil shifted where he knelt but kept his grip as he squinted at Chap. As Ore-Locks knelt and slid his grip on the staff down to its bottom end, Chap looked to Leesil again.
—Branch ... and ... staff ... together—
Leesil took a loose hold on Wynn’s staff as Ore-Locks set its base against the branch. He watched as the young stonewalker, a guardian of the dead, sank one broad hand into stone along with the staff’s base. Ore-Locks withdrew his hand with an audible sigh.
Leesil waited, half looking up with barely open eyes, though he did not look as far as the crystal. Instead, he looked to Wynn’s grip.
Chap huffed once—and Wynn let go.
The crystal’s light dimmed to a softer glow and held steady.
No one said a word. Everything was too quiet until ...
“And that is that,” Chuillyon half whispered.
Leesil wasn’t certain he believed this.
“What about the orbs?” Wynn asked.
Twisting about, Leesil looked toward the cavern’s entrance and barely made out the nearest chest. Closer still were the bodies of Brot’an and Ghassan, and somewhere beyond those chests, Chane must have hidden himself in the dark.
Leesil looked back to Ore-Locks.
“Can you sink the orbs as well? Hide them in stone?”
Ore-Locks’s eyes widened. He looked down at the branch resting against the staff, and then up again. He nodded once. “Yes.”
“Not all of them,” Wynn said. “One ... you know the one ... should be placed next to the branch, Spirit trapped forever with Spirit.”
Leesil didn’t understand that and was suspicious for a moment. Then again, he didn’t really care. So long as the other four couldn’t ever be used again, the one would be close to worthless, and no undead would ever reach it beneath the ignited staff.
“Then I’m guessing Chuillyon can get us out of here the same way you came in,” he said.
Chap answered first, before Wynn could speak.
—Yes ... he left his ... sprout ... with ... Osha and Wayfarer—
“We’ll need to throw a cloak over the sun crystal long enough to get Chane out first,” Leesil said.
No one answered him.
He rose, looked all around, and listened. Now there was no other sound in this place but his own slow breaths and those of the others. It was too quiet and still after so much and so long. He looked everywhere again for the shadow of a serpent or dragon in the air, but there was nothing.
All he wanted was to reach Magiere and never see this place again.
Chapter Twenty
Chane resurfaced at the base of the mountain with Ore-Locks still gripping his arm. After such a long pass through stone, he instinctively gagged and gasped, though he did not need air. His final exit from the cavern had not gone quite as planned, and his mind was churning with all that had happened there.
Back when he had first fled the cavern and down the tunnel at Wynn’s insistence, the following moments had been his longest in memory. Fretful for the others’ possible failure, he had done one more thing once out of sight of the cavern.
He took the orb of Spirit from its chest and carried it all the way to the chasm’s edge. As a result, his hunger vanished, and the beast inside him whimpered back into hiding.
In this way, if whatever was to happen did not work after Wynn lit her staff, and he had to return, he would not have to retrieve that one orb. All he needed to do was shove it over the edge into the deepest depths.
When Leesil came looking for him, obviously he had found one empty chest in passing. He was coldly furious and panicked, though Ore-Locks had harassed him along the way, trying to assure him that Chane would not take an orb without good reason. It was not until Chane led them to the chasm’s edge and the orb that Leesil realized and accepted the truth that Chane had been trying to separate the orb of Spirit from the Enemy.
In turn, Chane did not blame him for the need to take it back once Wynn’s plan for it had been explained. Ore-Locks had already buried the other four orbs in stone where they could never be found or reached. The three of them returned the last orb to the cavern. A cloak had been thrown over the sun crystal so that its light shone downward. Chane was not burned so long as he kept his distance.