The clearing was wide and littered with abandoned campfires. Trees had been hacked down and used for fuel. Broken fragments of stone and branches littered the ground. Paedrin moved ahead quickly, for there was a dome-shaped rock in the center of the clearing. It was likely a boulder, probably up to his waist in height, and smoothed around the edges from the elements. All around it were broken hammers, pickaxes, shovels, and crowbars. The ground was pockmarked with indentations, but on quick observation, showed a layer of stone, of solid rock. A few scraggly bushes had sprouted up amidst the debris. The wood from the spade handles showed their age and sharp spurs jutted from the lengths.
Hettie wandered to the other side, searching the ground for signs of motion. Paedrin watched her from the corner of his eye as she bent low to the earth and touched broken fragments of rock. Her eyes flicked this way and that, studying the scene.
“It’s the dome of rock,” Erasmus said, sniffing loudly. “In case you hadn’t figured it out, sheep-brains.”
“No one has been here in some time,” Hettie muttered. “These tools are well rusted. The wood has rotted. There are signs of at least five or six different camps that have stayed here.” She rose and walked around the base of the dome. “They tried many different ways to pry the rock.”
Erasmus hawked and spat. “It would require a steel beam and fulcrum to pry it loose. The beam would be too heavy for any horse or two horses, let alone making it safely down the trail. Twenty men might be able to lift one down here, over a matter of weeks. When Tyrus showed me this place, I told him that no one man would be able to open the dome.” He jammed his walking stick into the solid ground. “No digging to the treasure either. As I said. You need a key to open it.”
Paedrin rested his foot against the stone and pressed his full weight against it. It was unyielding.
Annon approached and rubbed his hand over the face of the stone. “Many have tried to move it.”
“And failed,” said Erasmus.
In Annon’s mind, he could almost hear the ghosts of the dead. The air was thick with memories. A hammer lay nearby, pitted with rust. He grabbed it and hefted it. The handle held firm. The head did not wobble. He looked at it as a remnant of the efforts of many men. The hammer represented failure.
Paedrin straightened, watching the Druidecht.
Annon breathed out softly, then inhaled the dusty air. “Tyrus said that only a keyword will open the entrance. He taught it to me.” He closed his eyes. “Vickensatham. Restimos. Alloray morir.”
It was the Vaettir tongue, and it surprised Paedrin that he knew it. Spoken a bit haltingly, but the words were correct. Awaken from your sleep. Rise from the dust. Open the gateway to death.
The domed rock shuddered. Annon and Paedrin stepped back as the enormous mass of stone separated from the earth, trailing dirt and flecks of debris. The boulder rose, hovering in the air, casting a shadow over the gaping circular hole now uncovered.
“Well, well,” Erasmus muttered, smiling with chagrin. He approached and waved his hand beneath the stone, through the empty air. “I suppose that explains why it never opened for me.”
Annon stared into the black depths, his eyes widening. “It will hover here for a time and then it will close. It will not open again until the next dawn.”
“What is it?” Hettie asked, looking at his face. “You look worried.”
Annon wiped his mouth, his eyes intent. “It is speaking to me.”
“Another spirit?” Paedrin asked, scoffing.
“Yes. There is one trapped down there. I can hear it.”
“What is it saying?” Hettie asked intensely.
Annon looked at her, his eyes widening. “It whispers that I must kill you all.”
“I have great respect for the cunning of the Paracelsus order. I was tempted to join it myself, but I lack the willpower it demands in addition to the physical capacities. Complete abstinence is easier than perfect moderation. While the Archivists record the lessons of the present to be useful to future generations, the Paracelsus order rediscovers the wisdom of the past to be used in the present. These are cunning men. They spend their time feasting on the runes and symbols that have long been forgotten, and they uncover various magics which are useful to mankind. There is a great deal of study regarding heat, power, energy, force, and the properties of various gemstones. They protect their craft with elegant and sophisticated traps. Some Paracelsus have been known to unlock secrets of power that they should not have. It is wise that the order is kept under the close scrutiny of the Arch-Rike of Kenatos.”
– Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos