Barb Hendee - Through Stone and Sea

The door was unimpressive, unlike the iron panels in the entrance chamber, and doubt dampened his excitement. It could not possibly be a portal into the Stonewalkers' realm.

"Welcome again, Highness," one guard said, and pulled a heavy key ring from his belt. Neither dwarf appeared surprised to see her.

Sau'ilahk again wondered why she chose to go below at night.

The first guard unlocked the door and stepped aside. The duchess and her people passed onward. Sau'ilahk caught only a vague glimpse through the opening.

Light beyond it was brighter than in the end chamber, and the elf pocketed his crystal as he entered. As the last Weardas followed, Sau'ilahk was too far off to spot any passage beyond. The guards pulled the door closed, locking it again, and Sau'ilahk began to panic.

He had not seen enough to blink into that space beyond the door. Even so, he could never emerge in plain sight if the duchess lingered. All he could do was gain the door, prepared to slip through when he was certain no one on the other side would see him.

This left him an obvious dilemma.

How to kill both guards, quickly and quietly, so that no one beyond the door was alerted? If there was another passage—or more than one—he might lose the duchess.

Sau'ilahk glided back up the tunnel and drew his servitors with him.

Rise, he commanded, and the segmented stone worm arched out of the floor.

He snatched its head, squeezing its round mouth shut, and began to conjure something more into its body. Pale yellow vapors leaked from the worm's mouth to escape between his solidified fingers.

Hold, he commanded. Expel only when you smell life before you .

He pulled the worm from the floor, placing it against the side wall. Once it submerged, he pointed to the ceiling directly above. The stone-spider scuttled across the ceiling above his fingertip.

Tap until someone approaches, he instructed. Then open your eye, burning brightly.

And last, Sau'ilahk raised another pool of light-eating darkness. He sank through it, halfway into the wall, until only his cowl's edges remained surfaced as he watched.

The spider's click-click-click began.

"Did you hear that?" one guard asked the other in Dwarvish.

"Hear what? There's nothing …" the other began, and then, "Oh, Eternal's mirth! Some rat sneaked in again!"

The first grumbled. Leaning his iron staff against the wall, he trudged up the curving tunnel. Sau'ilahk remained still, letting him pass along the curve, just beyond sight of the end chamber.

A red glow appeared upon the ceiling.

The dwarf froze, staring upward. Before he uttered a puzzled exclamation, the worm snaked out of the wall near his head. He flinched away, but not far enough.

A soft crackle of grating rock came as the worm's mouth snapped open. Pale yellow vapor erupted in the dwarf's face, and a startled suck of breath did the rest.

The dwarf choked once, never gaining breath to cough. He crumpled in a dull clatter of armor and heavy bulk.

"Guster, what are you doing?" the second called from the end chamber. "Guster? If you cannot find the vermin, stop fooling about!"

No answer came, and the second guard hefted his iron staff. He stepped cautiously up the tunnel, and Sau'ilahk grew anxious.

This was taking too long—long enough that the duchess could be well ahead of him. He had no way to dispose of bodies in this place, though he had hoped to feed on a guard before moving on. He waited only until the second guard stepped through the pocket of banished light.

Nothing but a black silhouette showed against the tunnel's far wall, marking the dwarf's presence.

Sau'ilahk thrust out both hands, and his forearms sank through the thick chest.

He felt the dwarf turn toward him, gagging and shuddering in the pure darkness. Something long and narrow toppled across the light from the spider's eye. The dwarf's grip had loosened on the iron staff. It was falling.

Sau'ilahk whipped his left arm sideways through the dwarf, keeping his right encased. Willing both solid, he snatched the toppling staff as the dwarf stiffened around his forearm. He tried to wrench his hand out, tearing the chest open—but it would not come. What had been easy with humans, such as the city guard of Calm Seatt, was nothing like this—like trying to pull free of half-hardened clay.

The dwarf's hands slapped upon the wall's surface, shoving hard. Sau'ilahk felt himself being dragged out of the wall.

In panic, he struck the staff sharply into the guard's head. At the dull thump, massive weight jerked his arm downward. He quickly released his will, his forearm turning incorporeal.

As the dwarf's body slumped to the passage floor, Sau'ilahk heard the thick blood spatter upon it like sudden rain as it fell through his ghostly arm.

Leaning the staff against the wall, he let his hand become incorporeal, and rushed to the end chamber. He hesitated there, not daring to slip through, but in the silence, he heard the duchess's voice beyond the door. His instant of relief passed quickly.

Sau'ilahk was at a loss as to why she had not moved on.

Reine stepped into the domed chamber and halted as the door closed behind her. She stared at the floor's white metal portal, smoother than a mirror—or a still pond. The last comparison made her feel worse. She rarely thought of water without an anxious twinge, though that old fear had become small compared to others.

She didn't think of the dwarves' honored dead, now at peace in the Stonewalkers' care. Nor did she think of ancient texts heralding sinister days to come—or to come again. She thought only of that strange white metal, and how such simple beauty could seal in torment.

The underworld waited.

Chuillyon came up beside her, following her gaze. At his light touch upon her shoulder, she stepped onward.

"Welcome, Highness," said one thänæ bearing a long-hafted mace. All four about the chamber nodded sharply to her, and Chuillyon went directly to the bell rope.

One long, deafening tone shivered through Reine's flesh—one ring would call Cinder-Shard. When the Âreskynna's tall elven advisor glanced back, his amber eyes filled with concern. Reine didn't acknowledge him. His counsel and care were welcome, but not his pity.

Captain Tristan stood eternally attentive, occasionally eyeing the four thänæ. She didn't know him well, in spite of his years serving the royal family. He rarely spoke except for a question or an order. As a leader of the Weardas, his ability was beyond question. So was his loyalty, considering the secret she'd borne from the day she had married the one man she loved.

Her other two Weardas, Danyel and Saln, stood at attention, awaiting orders. She knew them even less, though they'd been handpicked by Tristan.

A rhythmic grinding began to build inside in the chamber, becoming a vibration in the floor. The white metal portal split along its thin seam, the halves sliding apart, and the lift rose through the opening.

Master Cinder-Shard stood alone upon the platform.

His gray-streaked black hair hung loose, and he wore no hauberk of steel-tipped black scales. In only charcoal-colored breeches and a bulky shirt, he looked much as Ore-Locks had a few nights ago. But his dark eyes were far more challenging.

"My lady," he said in his cracked-gravel voice.

He often avoided either of her titles—one by marriage, and the other she preferred by birth. One he acknowledged; the other he ignored. Titles meant nothing here. No bloodline or royal bond would see her through a night like this. If she saw it through again.

Cinder-Shard took a half step, then paused, and his craggy face tensed. He cocked his head, peering about the domed chamber, as if trying to find something only he heard.