“Hettie!” he yelled.
She shook her head, trying to move. Blood dribbled down from her forehead, pattering on the stone floor. The massive creature lumbered toward her, its speed increasing now as if each passing moment awoke its fluidity more.
The spirit voice whispering in his mind was cruel and taunting. The Goule will kill her. It will kill the Vaettir. Claim me, Druidecht. Enter the cavern. I am trapped beneath a trapdoor. You sense me. You sense where I am. Use me, Druidecht. I will destroy your enemies. I will destroy the ones hunting you. Kill the Preachán first. He will betray you.
It was almost impossible concentrating with its voice in his mind. Such a piece of magic should be hidden away. It was powerful—its presence as dark as the cavern below. Annon looked around quickly for another rope to lower himself down. Even though the others could not hear it, their minds would become infected by it just being down there.
Hettie raised her hands, her mouth muttering words in the Vaettir tongue, and the flames gushed from her hands, striking the stone beast full in the chest. Like a flood, the flames engulfed it, sending waves of heat to fill the room and brightening the walls.
Annon was terrified she would lose control of it again. He had to get down there to save her.
“Grab that rope!” he shouted to Erasmus. “Over there!” The Preachán was already there, grabbing the rope and joining him, quickly tying a knot around the stone where the other one had snapped.
The creature was on her before she realized it. The flames had done nothing to prevent its advance. A fist arced toward her head. Had Paedrin not arrived and shoved her away, it would have crushed her skull. The flames in her hands sputtered out.
There was a scorch mark in the center of its chest; the stone was livid. But despite the trailers of steam and hissing molten stone, it came on again, closing on the fallen Hettie with ruthlessness.
Paedrin struck at it from behind with his staff, harder and harder, trying to draw it back toward him. He yelled at it, but it was blind to him as Hettie scrambled to escape it. Paedrin struck it with all his power and watched in shock as his staff shattered against its broad shoulders, making his hands sting.
“Run!” Paedrin yelled at her.
Annon grabbed the rope, hoping it would hold. The voice was a murky drone in his mind. I am here. Claim me, Druidecht. Claim my power. Drench me in blood that I might fulfill my power. Blood feeds me. Makes me stronger. You have the fireblood. I can sense it in you. I will obey it.
With blood streaming down her face, Hettie rushed to the nearest wall and started along the edge away from the creature.
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.