Fireblood (Whispers from Mirrowen 1)

Annon landed in the middle of the room, his heart full of fear. He searched quickly for Hettie and Paedrin in the gloom. “The trapdoor?” He could feel it in the stones, beckoning him. He did not know what form the treasure took, but he imagined it was something crafted by a Paracelsus. Something with a living spirit trapped inside. An evil spirit.

There is no evil. There is no wickedness. There are no laws. There is no blame. I am master over death. Take me, Druidecht. Take me from this prison. Use me.

“Over there!” Paedrin answered, pointing to the gap in the wall. Annon started toward it at the same time as Hettie.

Hettie stumbled over something on the floor and went down, landing with a crash. Paedrin sucked in his breath and vaulted into the air, rising like a bird and swooping over the top of the creature, before coming down hard next to her.

“Will you never listen to me!” he glowered at her, grabbing her around the waist and hauling her to her feet.

“Watch out!” she warned.

The fist of the Goule struck him on the shoulder with a sickening crunch.

Paedrin was flying again, but not because of his breathing. The wall of the cave rushed in, and he smashed against it, losing his sight for a moment in a sudden bloom of pain. Pain had never stopped him, though. Pain was a teacher. The creature was getting faster and faster.

“Both of you!” Paedrin said. “The trapdoor! It will only go for one of us at a time. The others need to open the trapdoor. Pull hard on the ring! I will face it.”

He knew his arm would be useless pulling on the ring. He was the fastest of them all. The one most likely to avoid the creature as its speed increased. He rushed at it like a madman, coming up into the air and kicking at its head-like stump. The blows meant nothing to it. It surged at him again, massive fists swinging multiple times now as its speed increased.

Annon and Hettie rushed for the trapdoor and pulled frantically on the iron ring. Even their combined strength was not enough. The slab weighed more than they both could lift.

“Erasmus!” Paedrin roared. What if the treasure was already stolen? What if they were risking their lives for no end? Why had Tyrus sent them into a death trap?

Think! His mind was trapped in a fog of pain. His shoulder throbbed, but he shoved the thought of his pain aside. He had experienced worse at the temple. The creature was no being of flesh. It was a guardian. It protected the treasure. But surely there had to be a way to stop it? Physical force was obviously not enough. Flame did not hinder it. What else might?

Paedrin saw Erasmus climbing down a fresh rope, hand over hand. He hung from the knotted cord, studying the chamber quickly, his eyes darting this way and that.

“Help Annon and Hettie!” Paedrin said. “Maybe three is what it takes to lift it!”

A rock fist glanced off his temple. He flipped backward, putting more distance between himself and the creature. He was tiring. The relentless pursuit muddled his thinking.

“That’s it!” Erasmus said triumphantly.

“Then get over there!” Paedrin roared.

“No, you have it wrong. The lights on the walls. The orbs. Touch them. Cover them with your hands or a cloak. Quickly, Bhikhu! Cover the one behind you!”

Paedrin thought the Preachán was daft. Cover the orb? But he remembered that the lights had illuminated the room as soon as he touched the ground. As fast as he could, he rushed to the nearest orb and smothered its light with his hands. He gritted his teeth, waiting for a crushing blow to come at him.

The room dimmed. The creature slowed and turned away from Paedrin, coming at Annon and Hettie.

“The other two!” Erasmus called. “Annon! Hettie! Cover the other two!”

Hettie rushed across the room and used her cloak to smother the second one. The creature had turned from her and started across the room, but its movements slowed as the light faded.

“The last one, Annon! Smother it!”

The Druidecht turned, watching the creature approach him ponderously. The chamber was nearly dark. “You do it, Erasmus. You cover it.”

“Why?”

“Because the treasure is under the trapdoor. I can sense it. It will take over your mind if you touch it. Let me find a way to collect it without touching it.”

Paedrin felt a hot surge of jealousy at Annon’s words.

“I will take it,” Hettie said. “The treasure belongs to me. You said you wanted no portion of it.”

“This is a moment you must all trust me, friends,” Annon said. “I can hear it fully right now. It is speaking to each of us. It wants us to fight each other to claim it. Although I can hear it, it does not control me. You must trust me. If we do not work together, this trap will kill us. Erasmus, the final orb.”