We headed up the stairs. Magic crawled across my fingertips as I opened the door to the pit room, its touch stronger and dirtier than before. Either I was becoming more sensitive to magic, or it had changed somehow.
Azriel appeared with the chair remains. I stepped aside, giving him room, and watched as he tossed them into the middle of the dark room. For a second, nothing happened. Then, with a crack, the entire floor dropped. As it hit the cavern floor far below, dust bloomed, making me sneeze.
Azriel drew his sword and squatted near the edge of the hole. Valdis’s flames fanned out, lifting the darkness and revealing the all too familiar pit. It was about ten feet square and smelled of earth and age. But there was something there this time that hadn’t been there the last – wooden stakes.
An over-the-top response to our previous intrusion into the place, no doubt.
“The bitch is getting nasty,” I muttered.
“She has always been nasty,” Azriel commented. “But I believe she is becoming desperate.”
“And desperate people make mistakes.” Or so the saying went. There didn’t seem to be much evidence of it so far. My gaze swept the floor. The stakes had been set in a semicircle that covered the area immediately below the doorway – the place where most people would fall. The other half of the small pit was unencumbered by any additional security measures. Nothing that was so blatantly obvious, anyway.
“Can you jump that far?” Azriel asked.
I nodded. “Just be there to stop me falling back onto the stakes.”
He nodded and rose. After sheaving Valdis, he took several steps back, then ran at the pit and leapt. I watch, heart in mouth, as he dropped down, hit the dirt, and rolled well clear of the stakes.
He rose, dusted off his hands, then glanced up. “Your turn.”
I pushed upright, and tried to ignore the twisting in my stomach as I backed away from the pit. I took a deep, steadying breath, then ran and leapt. I cleared the stakes by several feet, hit the dirt hard, and rolled a little too fast and far. It was only thanks to the fact that Azriel grabbed my arm and yanked me to an abrupt halt that I didn’t smack headfirst into the pit’s wall.
“Thanks.” I climbed to my feet and rotated my shoulder to ease the ache. “The concealed entrance to the tunnels is over here.”
I drew Amaya and walked across to the wall where she’d found the exit for us last time. Flames flickered down her dark steel, sparking brightly off the quartz that lay embedded in the pit’s walls. I ran the tip of her blade along the wall until she hit the exit and disappeared.
“Let me enter first,” Azriel said.
“For once, I am not about to argue.” I stepped back. “The hellhounds, if there are any, are all yours.”
“That is very sensible of you.”
I smiled. “I can be, when I want to be.”
“So it would seem.”
He pushed through the barrier and disappeared. I followed, sword first. As before, it felt like I was walking through molasses – the magic creating the illusion of a solid wall was thick, syrupy, and unclean. I shuddered, my skin crawling with horror as it clung like tendrils to my body, resisting my movements for several seconds before abruptly releasing me into the tunnel. It was a tight fit – there was little more than an inch between my shoulders and the tunnel’s walls. Azriel, several inches taller than I am, not only had to stoop but stand slightly sideways.
“Which way?” Valdis was ablaze in his hand, and her fire lent the dark stones around us a bluish glow.
“The transport stones Jak and I found were to the right, so we need to head left.” I eyed that end of the tunnel warily. The last time I’d been here, I’d had a sense of something waiting down that end, something that was inherently evil. Given the hellhounds had more than likely come from that direction, my senses had been right. While I wasn’t getting a similar sensation right now, something still didn’t feel right.
“No,” Azriel agreed. “There is magic down there. Dark magic.”
My gaze shot to his. “As in demons lying in wait to munch us up, or something else?”
He half smiled. “Something else. And demons hardly munch. They rend and tear, or swallow whole.”
“Oh, that’s so comforting,” I muttered, and lightly pushed him forward. “After you.”
With the twin blazes of the two swords lighting the way, we crept forward. The tunnel continued to narrow, forcing me to go sideways. Azriel, already sideways, was in worse shape, the rocks and debris in the soil tearing across his shoulders and back. The scent of blood stung the air, an aroma that would call to any demons who might wait ahead.
“They don’t,” he commented. “Whatever magic lies ahead, it has not the feel of either hell’s creatures or something living.”
“Meaning the sorceress isn’t here.”
“Or that she’s already gone through the gate, if that is the magic we sense.”