Barb Hendee - Through Stone and Sea

"From what you described," he said, "I do not know if we can get through the doors."

"We'll get through," she answered flatly. "Leesil never let a door stop him. Neither will I."

Mention of her old companion raised quick resentment in Chane. Whenever she spoke of either Magiere or Leesil, he wondered if she would have preferred them here in his place.

Shade took a left, picked up the pace, and then veered down a slant. As she reached another corner, she slowed and huffed softly. Wynn bolted down the slope to the dog.

"Here!" she called.

Chane jogged around them, his hand dropping to his sword as he looked down the next passage. There in the side wall was an archway with deep-set iron doors surrounded by frame stones. He saw no other opening along the corridor, up to where it ended in a left turn a ways down.

Wynn rushed blindly on, skidding to a halt before the arch. She leaned her staff against the frame stones and ran her hand over the metal as Shade sniffed the portal's base.

"Here's the separation," she whispered.

Shade backed up and sat at the passage's other side as Wynn traced the seam with her index finger.

Chane came up behind her, studying the flat panels. He saw no handles or latches, not even a lock or empty brackets for a bar. Wynn fingered her way around the left door's outer edge, inch by inch along the groove where it disappeared into stone.

"What are you looking for?" he asked.

"Trip mechanisms, catches … anything," she answered. "I can't reach the top, so you start there. Feel every spot carefully for anything abnormal."

Frowning, Chane stepped in beside her. He probed slowly along the top but found only smooth iron all the way to where the door slipped deep into a groove in the stone. He worked toward the other side, but Wynn finished more quickly.

Chane wished there were something to be found, but he had doubted it from the start. When he finished, he saw no resignation in Wynn's expression. She continued to study the doors, undaunted.

"All right, we start on the walls," she said. "Last night, Shade heard a grinding sound from beyond the doors. Someone opened them from inside, and Cinder-Shard wasn't in the passage. So there has to be a way through, some hidden access he used."

Chane shook his head. "Why not take the others the same way? Why bother opening the doors at all?"

"Maybe the other access was too small for the litter, and these main doors aren't used unless necessary."

"Then would not the access be blocked as well?" he countered.

Wynn ignored him and sidestepped left along the passage, inspecting the stone wall beyond the arch.

Chane found her stubborn certainty unsettling. He finally turned to inspect the wall on the arch's other side. Together, they went over every speck of stone, going farther down the passage than Chane thought reasonable. Only then did Wynn's certainty begin fracturing.

"It has to be here!" she insisted, her words rolling along the stone passage. "How else could Cinder-Shard get inside?"

At Wynn's too-loud voice, Shade lifted her head where she lay. Wynn did not even notice as she stared at the seam between the doors.

"Get out your sword."

Chane shook his head in disbelief. "You cannot be ser—"

"I'm not walking away. Not when we're this close. Seven hells, Chane! You're undead. Put your strength to use."

Wynn's recent penchant for cursing was another sign that much had changed in her.

"This doorway was built by dwarves," he argued. "Rationally, it can withstand them. So why do you think I would fare any better?"

"Try to pry it open," she urged, "at least enough to peek inside. I know I heard grinding in Shade's memory after the doors were closed. We need to know what caused it."

Chane looked at the narrow seam. He wanted to agree with her, especially for as little as they had uncovered. But as he drew his long sword and set its point to the seam, he had no confidence in the effort.

"This will leave marks on the doors," he said.

"I don't care."

Chane gripped the hilt with one hand, keeping the blade in place, and stepped back as far as his reach allowed. He lunged sharply forward with all his mass, slamming his free hand's palm against the cross guard.

The sword's tip pierced the seam with a metallic shriek that echoed along the passage.

He peered closer. The point had sunk two fingers' width, more than expected, but the seam had widened only to the blade's thickness. It was not enough to peek through.

"Step back," he ordered. "Have your crystal ready. If the doors part, I do not know how long I can hold them."

Wynn backed up, joining Shade, and Chane shifted to the right of his embedded sword. He pulled up his cloak's hem and wrapped the fabric around the blade. With one hand gripping near the hilt, and the other nearer the tip, he began to push.

The blade flexed slightly, but the doors did not budge.

Chane released his pressure and turned sideways, facing the doors. He reached out his right foot, braced it against the arch's inner stones, and pushed again. This time, he let hunger come.

It flooded his dead flesh, and all his senses came alive as they opened fully. The crystal's light upon the iron was brighter to his eyes, almost uncomfortable. A faint sound rose from somewhere inside the walls.

Like a pinch of sand spilled upon stone.

He would not have heard it without his senses heightened. Then he felt a slight vibration through his sword. He redoubled his efforts.

"Keep going," Wynn urged.

Chane began trying to shift the sword's point deeper as he levered it, and the seam began to part.

"Now!" he rasped.

Wynn rushed in beneath the blade.

Before she even raised the crystal to the seam, Chane saw it was futile, and he heard Wynn sigh in frustration. Through the space parted by the sword, they both saw another set of iron doors tightly shut behind the first.

Chane closed his eyes in resignation. He could not possibly keep the first pair open and lever the second. The instant he released any pressure to move the sword's point to the inner doors' seam, the first set would slam closed around the blade. And he could not lever both sets at once.

Wynn slumped, leaning her forehead upon the iron.

A soft clank reached Chane's heightened hearing. He felt a dull and muted vibration shiver through the doors and into his sword.

"Get back!" he ordered.

Wynn shoved off, retreating with a stumble, as Chane pulled his foot off the arch's side. A thunderous crack shuddered through the whole passage, as if coming from inside its walls.

The doors snapped closed.

A ping of steel pierced Chane's ears. All resistance in his sword failed.

His blade tore free as something sharp and cold grazed his neck, but he was already tumbling along the doors. He hit the archway's far side, spun off, and fell into the passage as a clatter of steel rang in his ears. Wynn came to him before he could sit up.

"Chane?" she asked in alarm, touching his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

He sat up, staring at the soundly shut doors. Something had forced them closed again.

"What happened?" she asked, following his gaze.

Chane shook his head, uncertain. "Some latent countermeasure," he answered.

"You're … cut."

Only then did he feel a trickle of wetness at the side of his shirt collar. He reached up, touching his throat just above the old scar around his neck, and his fingertips came away stained.

Not red with the blood of the living but viscous black.

"It is nothing," he said. "The wound will shortly close on its own. The sword must have grazed me when forced out."

The sword was still in his hands, still wrapped in the cloak, though the fabric had slid down across its tip. Chane got up, frustrated by that one moment of false hope when the doors had parted. He swept back his cloak, lifting the blade to sheathe it.