The Wild Baron (Baron 1)

They heard Tibolt talking to the man above him—it had to be Theodore Micah. They heard the ladder being hauled up, the scraping of the wooden rungs against the edge of the open tomb.

“What is the damned cup?” Phillip shouted up at him.

Tibolt laughed, an eerie sound, for he was now above them. “Good-bye, Rohan.” Then, louder than a clap of thunder, the stone crashed down.

They were plunged into the blackest pit of hell.

“I really don’t like the dark,” Phillip said. “Even as a boy I hated the dark. Really.”

“Susannah, are you all right?”

“Yes, but I agree with Phillip. I’ve never seen black this black. It’s very frightening.”

“That’s my hand, Rohan, not your wife’s.”

“Oh, sorry. At least we’re all here and alive.”

Susannah said slowly, “He toyed with us. He isn’t sane, Rohan. We must get out of here and find him. We must. We must save the cup.”

He couldn’t see her, but her voice was intense, filled with purpose. “Yes, you’re right. He’s proved that he’s quite mad. Do you feel all right, Susannah?”

She felt his fingertips tracing over her face. She kissed his palm. “Oh, yes, I feel wonderful.”

“Now let’s get out of this place. We’ve been in one direction, and it ended in a wall of skulls. We must go the other way.”

“I don’t suppose I could hoist you up on my shoulders, Rohan, and you could push open the stone?”

“We could try, but I doubt it.”

“If we don’t find another way out,” Susannah said, her fingers still clutching his sleeve, “we can try it. I’m very strong. You’ll see.”

They all held hands, Susannah in the middle. They stayed against one wall. Rohan felt ahead with his free hand. “Damn,” he said after feeling a spider run over his knuckles. “I wish I had my gloves on.”

They walked for what seemed to be forever.

The ground sloped upward. Suddenly Rohan ran straight into a wall of dirt and rock. They searched the surface of that rock with frantic hands. “Nothing,” Phillip said finally. “I fear we are trapped.”

“No,” Susannah said very clearly, “we’re not.”

“I know you’re trying to keep our spirits up, love, but—”

“No,” she said again, her voice as radiant as a blinding light. “Come, we must go back to the wall that screams.”

“But we’ve already been there,” Phillip said. “I think we should position ourselves beneath the abbot’s tomb. Rohan can lift me and I can try to shove it open.”

“No, it is too heavy. Come with me.” She left them. They heard her light footfalls fading down the passageway.

“She’s running?” Phillip said. “But it’s dark.”

“She’ll hurt herself,” Rohan said and hurried after her, stumbling, cursing, but now slowing.

“Susannah! Wait for me!”

But she didn’t. They found her at the other end of the passage. She was leaning against the wall looking toward the skulls.

It was odd, but it wasn’t completely black now.

“Our eyes must have adjusted,” Rohan said slowly. “I can begin to make things out.”