‘What’s this now?’ Narach said, his whiny voice creaking down the stairs and echoing down the hall. ‘This door was locked last night.’
Annev heard the other man – it was Brayan, the quartermaster – laugh. ‘With the amount of honeywine you drank, I’m amazed you can remember.’
The echoing stamp of boots sounded more like a fist of avatars than a pair of men, and Annev knew his fears were about to be realised. A moment later, Narach led the group into the hallway, his torch guttering as he waved it about. He saw Myjun’s light immediately.
‘You see!’ the Master of Secrets said, shaking a ring full of keys. ‘There is someone here.’
Fyn came next, carrying the phoenix lantern, and Kenton followed, carrying Mercy and the silver harp from Janak’s study. Brayan brought up the rear, and they all looked stunned to see Annev. Kenton visibly paled.
‘Blood and hell, it’s Master Ainnevog! Are you a ghost? These boys just told me you were killed in a fire … or some other nonsense.’ Narach took a step closer, squinting beneath Myjun’s torchlight. ‘Myjun? What are you doing down here? Did your father send you?’
Kenton’s expression shifted from shock to hatred as he saw Myjun, and his dark eyes caught the glint of her promise ring.
‘Myjun,’ he said, choking on her name. ‘Why are you down here with him?’
‘Annev! How did you escape?’ Fyn said at the same time.
The green-eyed witgirl glanced at Annev, a question in her eyes, but turned her attention to Narach.
‘Master Narach, I brought Master Ainnevog to the Vault of Damnation as he has an artifact to catalogue.’
‘Does he?’ Narach said, his sour face softening. ‘Did you take the Rod of Compulsion after all? These boys said it was stolen. Don’t tell me you got it and beat them both back here?’
‘And without a horse, too!’ Brayan was delighted. ‘I can’t wait to tell Titus. This’ll be one for the books – four artifacts retrieved in one night by our three newest masters!’ He clapped his thick hands together, ignoring the looks from the others.
As the group approached, Annev eyed the two boys, resentful that they had abandoned him, yet realising they might have given him the leverage he needed to buy their silence. In surrendering his artifacts to the Vault, they had no doubt asserted both items were from Janak’s collection, which meant Annev would never have to explain how he’d come to possess them.
I can make this work, he thought. I’ll give Master Narach the brass lamp, persuade Narach to let me into the Vault with him, and slip away to search for a prosthetic …
‘Master Narach, may I help you catalogue the artifacts? I have questions about this magic oil lamp, and I thought you’d be the most knowledgeable person to ask.’
Narach blinked, taken aback by the boy’s interest, then he smiled, exposing a mouth of half-rotten teeth. ‘Why … yes, of course, Master Annev.’
Myjun looked at him with disappointment and a little revulsion. ‘Annev, don’t go in there – it’s the Vault of Damnation. You don’t want that taint on you. Leave that cursed item with Master Narach and come with me.’
Annev wished he could. He had hoped Myjun wouldn’t enter the Vault but had not anticipated her asking him to leave with her.
‘Myjun,’ Annev started, ‘I’d love to—’ He watched her smile falter, hope fading from her eyes, and his tongue suddenly felt like a stone in his mouth. He wanted to spend the morning with her, to begin their future together … but he couldn’t. Unless he entered that Vault, he had no future. He steeled himself, trying to think of any reason Myjun would accept.
‘I’d love to,’ Annev said again, ‘but it’s my duty, as a Master, to see this safely locked away before I report to your father.’
Myjun studied him, her eyes boring into his as if she sensed there was more, disappointment etching her soft features. ‘I understand.’
‘Thank you,’ Annev whispered. He looked up to see Fyn and Kenton watching him and he met their gazes, staring each one down.
That’s right, he thought grimly. We’re all in this together. They shared a secret now, and Annev doubted either would sacrifice their becoming Masters by admitting they’d stolen their artifacts from Annev and not Janak.
Then there were the darker secrets Kenton and Annev shared … They were both cursed with magic, and Kenton had attempted to kill him. He expected the scarred boy to keep his silence for now, but Annev knew he’d need to address that betrayal eventually.
‘Avatar Fyn, Avatar Kenton, I’ll find you once I’ve assisted Master Narach with the artifacts and we can report to Elder Tosan together.’ That earned Annev a glare from them both. ‘I wouldn’t want my report to jeopardise your earning your master titles.’
Fyn blinked then gave the barest nod of his head. ‘I look forward to our discussion … Master Annev.’ He handed the phoenix lantern to Narach then nodded to Brayan. ‘I’m going back up. Pretty sure I can find my way without getting killed.’
‘I’ll come with you all the same,’ Brayan said, hurrying to catch up.
Kenton came closer to Annev, Mercy in his traitorous hands, ignoring Narach but sparing a sidelong glance at Myjun.
‘How did you escape?’ he hissed.
Annev smiled, released Myjun’s hand, and pretended to scratch his chest, then leaned close to Kenton, as if he were about to whisper some great secret. When the boy leaned in, Annev waved his hand in front of the avatar’s face, snapped his fingers, and made an iron ring appear in the palm of his hand.
‘Magic,’ Annev said, flipping the once-forgotten promise ring at the boy’s face. Kenton caught it, staring at the twisted piece of metal.
‘No, you picked the lock. But I didn’t see …’ He glanced at Annev’s gloved hand, studying the blue ribbon that tied the garment to his biceps. ‘You’re lying,’ he said, eyes sparkling. ‘And you’re hiding something …’ Kenton reached for the glove and Myjun slapped his hand away.
‘Kenton,’ she whispered, ‘stop humiliating yourself!’ The boy lowered his eyes and she whipped her head towards Annev, her brown curls bouncing around her face.
‘Ignore him, Annev. He’s just jealous you beat him back here – not to mention a fool for thinking you dead.’ She kissed him lightly on the cheek. ‘Find me after you speak with my father,’ she whispered.
Annev nodded, still stunned from his near miss and thanking the gods anew for sending Myjun to him that night. She squeezed his palm … and they both froze. Annev’s heart skipped a beat and they both looked in horror at the straw-filled glove, which had come away in Myjun’s hand. She stared at his torchlit stump.
Don’t let her scream, he thought. Please, don’t let her scream!
He was so close … and maybe the others hadn’t seen? Maybe Myjun would let him explain.
‘Myjun …’ He tried to find the words.
She screamed then, loud and piercing, the sound echoing down the hall and throughout the catacombs.