“Right, I think,” he said, throwing off his cloak. “That will put me on its left; maybe it’s right-handed. I’ll try to keep it busy as long as possible, but we’ll see how fast it is. I’m going to try to sneak to the right corner and get as far in as possible before I draw its attention, so wait for me to yell. With luck, you’ll have an open field to run across.”
“You’re doing it now?” The princess’s head was shaking even faster.
Hadrian leaned against the wall and stretched his legs, then jogged in place for a few seconds. “No sense putting it off.”
“Please,” Arista begged in little more than a whisper. Taking a step toward Hadrian, she reached out and then stopped.
Royce approached Magnus, who took a step back. The thief reached into his cloak and pulled out Alverstone, still in its sheath. He held it out to the dwarf. “I was wondering if you could watch after this for me.”
“Are you serious?” the dwarf asked.
Royce nodded.
Slowly, warily, Magnus touched the weapon gingerly with both hands, cradling it like a newborn.
“You’re really going to do this?” the dwarf asked, nodding at the Vault of Days.
“It’s all that’s left to try.”
“I—I could go,” Magnus said, still looking at the dagger. “I could take a lantern—”
“With your little legs?” Royce laughed. “You’d just get Hadrian killed.”
Magnus looked up, his brows running together, his lips shifting as if he were chewing something. “I should be the last person…” The dwarf stopped.
“Let’s just say recent events have made me realize I’ve done a number of things I shouldn’t have. Bad things. Worse, I suppose, than what you’ve done. Right now, hating you seems… stupid.” Royce smiled.
The dwarf nodded. “I’ll—I’ll hold on to it for you, take good care of it, but just until you need it again.”
Royce nodded and moved to the door. He reached up and drew back the seals. “Shall we, partner?”
“See you on the other side, pal.”
Hadrian threw his arms around the thief and, surprisingly, felt Royce hug him back. With one final smile, Royce pushed open the door and disappeared into the darkness of the Vault of Days.
Hadrian waited at the doorway. He could not see anything, nor could he hear a sound, but he did not expect to.
“Do you want the lantern?” Myron whispered.
“No,” Hadrian replied. “I’ll run faster without it, but maybe the princess could stand here and make her robe bright when I start to run.” He said this without turning, without looking at her.
“Of… course,” he heard her say, her voice strained, stalling in her throat.
They all waited, staring into the black room, listening carefully. Hadrian peered into the dark, trying to guess where it was, where either of them was.
“Hadrian, I—” Arista began in a whisper and he felt a light hand on the small of his back.
“Over here, monster!” Royce shouted, his voice booming across the great darkened expanse, echoing off the distant walls. “Come get me before I find the sword with your name on it and drive it through your foul excuse for a heart!”
Royce watched as Arista’s robe lit up, throwing white light in the room, at the sound of his voice. It was not nearly as bright as before, but enough to reveal the far wall, the open door, and the great beast in the middle of the room.
The Gilarabrywn was looking right at him. Royce braced himself, trying to decide whether it would strike with its mouth or a taloned foot.
How fast is it? How quickly can it cover the distance between us? Royce was far enough away that even as big as it was, the beast would have to take at least ten steps to reach him. He wondered if it would lumber due to its size. He reminded himself it was not a real creature; it was magic and perhaps the same rules might not apply. It was possible that it could sprint like a tiny lizard or lash out like a snake. He stayed on the balls of his feet, shifting his weight back and forth, waiting for the lunge.
“Come on,” he shouted. “I’m in your lousy room. You know you want me.”
The beast took a slow step toward him, then another.
“Go!” Royce shouted.
Hadrian ran out the door. He had cleared only five strides when the monster whirled on him. Hadrian dug in his heels and slid to the ground as the giant head snapped around with amazing speed.
“Get back!” Arista screamed.
Royce ran forward. “Over here! You stupid thing,” he shouted, waving his hands over his head.
The Gilarabrywn ignored Royce and charged Hadrian, who scrambled back toward the light of Arista’s robe, which once more brightened.
“Gilarabrywn!” Royce called. The beast stopped its pursuit. “Over here, you stupid thing! What? Don’t you like me? Am I too thin?” The beast looked toward Royce but did not move away from the door.
“By Mar!” Royce exclaimed in frustration.
“Minith Dar,” the Gilarabrywn said, and its voice rumbled the chamber like thunder.
“It spoke,” Royce said, stunned.
“That’s right. They talk in Old Speech.” He heard Arista.
“What did it say?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t know the language well. I think he said, ‘Comprehension is missing,’ but I don’t know,” she shouted.