A large rune was drawn over the door with fresh red paint. "What in Tchazzar's hells is this?" Phoros demanded. He stepped forward to jerk the door out of the way.
Aeron darted forward and caught his arm. "No! It's a sign of sealing. You'd better let me deal with it."
Raedel pulled his arm away resentfully, but fell back a few steps. Aeron knelt over the hatch, examining the rune carefully. When he'd studied at the college, he'd learned a little of the marking of runes and seals, but as he examined Master Crow's handiwork Aeron realized that the sorcerer had derived an entirely new system of magical markings, one designed specifically to channel and contain shadow-magic. The rune matched the ancient cipher he'd found in the Chants of Arcainasyr, the twisted Imaskari invocations Aeron had found hidden in the library years ago.
"Is it trouble, Aeron?" Eriale asked, watching him study the rune. She'd used their brief pause to string her bow and move her quiver to ride low on her hip.
Aeron rocked back on his heels. "Crow's more knowledgeable than I expected," he said. "I think I can neutralize this rune, though. Stand back." He carefully wove an enchantment of erasure, deftly drawing the mark from the wood and dissipating the magical energy stored within until nothing remained but a faded outline on the weathered wood. "There, that should do it."
Phoros Raedel nodded at the trap door. "You first."
Aeron set his hand on the iron ring, waited a moment to catch any signs that the rune was still present while his companions shifted nervously, and then pulled the door open. Stale, musty air gusted out from a narrow earthen tunnel. He reached into his pouch and produced a slim wand of ashwood that shone with a bright yellow radiance, a simple spell that gave strong light without heat or fuel. The tunnel stretched into the darkness as far as they could see. "I'll lead if you like, Raedel, but you know the way," he said.
"Fine," the nobleman snapped. He drew his heavy longsword and pushed past Aeron, turning his shoulders to fit into the narrow passage. Aeron dropped in behind him, Baillegh at his heel, and Eriale and Kestrel brought up the rear, pulling the trapdoor closed behind them. Old timbers framed the passageway at intervals of six or seven feet, and the air was surprisingly warm and dry. Raedel wasted no time waiting for them, but set off at once for the castle, trailing one hand on the wall.
"Where will this emerge?" Aeron asked quietly.
"In the back of a linen closet adjacent to my chambers."
"Do you expect anyone there?"
Phoros shrugged. "Unless Master Crow's decided to commandeer my quarters, no one should be there. But you'll have to douse that light before we open the door."
The tunnel ran a little farther and took a sharp right turn into an arch of dressed fieldstone. From that point on, a steep, narrow stairwell of dressed stone spiraled up into blackness. Aeron counted almost a hundred steps before the passage ended in a small landing. Raedel turned back and motioned to him; the wizard returned his light-wand to the pouch, leaving them in total darkness. Ahead, he heard a small click, and a narrow wedge of brightness appeared. Phoros moved in front, peered out, and opened the door enough to slip into the chamber beyond. Aeron quickly followed, Kestrel and Eriale a step behind.
They stood in a spartan chamber of dressed stone, illuminated by a double-arched window. A few pieces of utilitarian furniture, a sword-and-shield display, and a cold hearth were the sum of its decoration. Raedel looked around, a fierce grin on his face. "Good. Nothing's been disturbed."
"He must know you're gone," Eriale said. "It's been more than three days now."
"Indeed, the count's absence did not escape my attention," drawled a voice from the chamber's doorway. Aeron and his companions whirled to face the entrance to the room. Master Crow stepped out into the open as if emerging from a solid shadow. His sallow features seemed as dead and malleable as wax in the dim light of the empty royal quarters. "I had hoped you would rejoin us, my lord Raedel. But I must admit I did not think that you would actually bring Aeron as well. Fortune smiles on me."
Phoros snarled and started forward, but Aeron quickly caught his arm. "Wait," he said. "He's not stupid. He wouldn't confront you without being certain that you were no threat."
"Listen to Aeron, Raedel. He possesses no small amount of wisdom," Crow said with a feral grin. He made a casual gesture with his left hand. Beside Aeron, Baillegh bared her teeth and growled, crouching for a spring. In each corner of the room, a dark pillar seemed to coalesce from the air, gradually condensing into tattered shapes of skeletal soldiers in mail. Their faces were blank and awful, with cold yellow light glimmering in their unseeing eyes, and they stank of death. On each warrior's stained surcoat the emblem of House Raedel was embroidered. "I've taken the liberty of improving on your guardsmen, my lord," Crow said.
Phoros shook off Aeron's hand and took another half-step forward, but the two skeletal warriors standing nearest to Master Crow straightened and advanced to bar his path, cold gleaming swords in their yellowed hands. The count ground his teeth in frustration, but his common sense won out over his anger. He halted just out of reach of the skeletons' weapons. "Damn you, Crow! Assuran curse the day I let you into my keep."
Master Crow waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. "My lord count, I am truly sorry to hear you say that. After all, you brought me here to defend you against Aeron, and have I not done that? The Storm Walker has not troubled you once since I've become your advisor." He looked past Raedel to take in Aeron, Kestrel, and Eriale. "Now, I'll ask you to lay down your arms. Aeron, you are to keep your hands in plain sight. I'll order my warriors to attack at the first sign you're casting a spell."
No one moved. Aeron glanced around the room, weighing the enchantments that bound spirit to the armor-clad corpses that surrounded them. These were not mindless husks called back to a semblance of animation through Crow's sorcery. These creatures were far more formidable, each driven by a malicious spirit bound to Crow's will.
"Aeron, what do we do?" hissed Eriale.
Aeron hesitated, unwilling to take the first move. He was afraid of what Crow might be capable of, given Sarim's knowledge and strength. He stalled for time. "What do you want with us, Crow?"
The sorcerer shrugged. "Your friends I could care less about, Aeron. Raedel I'll keep at my side to rule this land . . . although I'm inclined to work a spell or two to render him more amenable to my advice, you might say. As for those two-" he nodded at Kestrel and Eriale, who waited with their weapons ready-"they may prove valuable in ensuring your cooperation."
"Why am I so important to you?" Aeron demanded.
Crow stepped closer, ignoring the others to direct his fevered gaze directly at the mage. "You started something five years ago that you never finished. I came here to conclude your pact with the Shadow Stone. I know you've sensed the changes in magic we've wrought over the last month or so, Aeron. This is only the first step. If you join us, if you finish the road you started down, you will become more powerful than you can ever imagine. You will be a king among wizards, a lord whose least wish can be fulfilled with the power at your command."
Aeron narrowed his eyes. "And you'll destroy me if I refuse?"
Crow laughed loudly, a brash and abrasive sound. "No, of course not. You are a mage of power, Aeron. You are far too valuable to destroy. If we cannot rally you to our cause, then there is another purpose you can serve. We can use your magic to fuel our spells." He stopped laughing and his voice grew cold. "But I'll offer you this advice, Aeron. You would be much better off as a lord among wizards than you would as our slave."