“A pet has to have a name, doesn’t it? Later I’m planning to teach it fetch and roll over, but for now, dig and sic ’em will do.”
Another loud collision of stone rattled the floor and shook dirt from the ceiling, causing all of them to flinch. A thick cloud billowed out of the tunnel.
“Loosens the teeth when he really gets going like that,” Royce said. “Wait here while I check on his progress.”
The thief stood, wrapped his scarf around his face, and walked into the dark cloud. The ground continued to shudder and the sound was frightening, as if gods were holding a war in the next room.
“How is it fitting through the corridor?” Myron asked.
“I’m pretty sure it’s making a whole new one,” Magnus replied.
“Better pack up,” Royce told them when he emerged. “Gilly has got a rhythm going, so it won’t be long.”
They gathered their things and returned to the tomb, where Arista placed the horn in her pack. They replaced the lids on Novron’s coffin and Gaunt, Mauvin, and Magnus picked up a few small treasures, which they called souvenirs. Royce, much to Hadrian’s surprise, did not touch a thing, not even a handful of gold coins. He merely waited for the rest of them. They all bid one last farewell to Alric before heading back to the tunnel.
Hadrian was the last out of the tomb, and as he was leaving, he caught sight of something small lying on the floor just before Arista’s light faded. Picking it up, he stuffed it into his pack before trotting out to join the others.
The dust had settled by the time Royce led them through the tunnel. It was no longer a corridor, but a gaping passage like something a monstrous rabbit might burrow. It was round and at least fifty feet in width. The walls were compact rock and stone held together by weight and pressure. The passage ran level for several feet, then angled upward. There was no sign of the Gilarabrywn, but ahead they heard the familiar beat of drums.
“Ghazel—how nice,” Hadrian said miserably. “They waited.”
The tunnel ended at the great wide hallway with suits of armor and sculptured walls that they had passed through on the way in. While large enough for the Gilarabrywn to walk through, there was no sign of it.
“Where’s your pet, Royce?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps I need to get him a leash.”
“What did you tell him to do?” Mauvin asked.
“Well, that’s the thing… I don’t know exactly. I hope I told it to clear the way of all debris and danger up to the square outside the palace, but who knows what I really said? I might have told it to clear the world of all decency and rangers up to the lair outside the ballast.”
Magnus and Mauvin both chuckled; even Hadrian smiled. Then Myron spoke up. “He’s not joking. That’s actually what he said the first time he repeated the phrase back to me. And of course we’re assuming I got it right to begin with.”
The sounds of yelps and cries cut through the empty hallway. Hadrian and Mauvin drew their swords. They waited a moment but there was only silence.
Royce shrugged and led them onward, always several dozen feet in front. His head turned from side to side. Royce always reminded Hadrian of a squirrel when he had his ears up. He had the same twitchy behavior.
They passed by the doorway to the throne room, the ornate entrance still closed. Royce halted, raising a hand and tilting his head. The rest of them heard it too. A horn, drums, shouts, cries, it all came from ahead of them—faint and muffled.
“Blood,” Royce mentioned, pointing up ahead.
As Arista approached, they could see a disturbing splatter that sprayed across the far wall, creating a ghastly painting that still dripped. A dozen arrows lay widely scattered like fallen branches after a storm.
They proceeded until they reached the end of the corridor, where another Gilarabrywn-sized tunnel ran upward. Through it, they felt fresh salt air and began climbing. They reached the end and Royce poked his head out first before waving for the rest to follow. They stood in the square between the Cenzarium and what Arista had left of the Teshlor guildhall. In the center, where the fountain used to be, the Gilarabrywn lay on a shallow lake of blood, its tail shifting lazily from side to side, hitting the ground with moist slaps. Bodies of Ghazel littered the square, forming mounds like shadowy snowdrifts running out beyond the range of Arista’s light. Swords, bows, headdresses, arms, clawed hands, and heads speckled the stone in a macabre collage of death.
“There must be hundreds of bodies,” Mauvin whispered.
“And those are the ones it didn’t eat,” Magnus added.
“Is it safe?” Hadrian asked Royce, looking at the Gilarabrywn.
“Should be.”
“Should be?”
Royce gave him a sinister grin.
“If it wasn’t, we’d already be dead,” Arista pointed out.
“What she said,” Royce told him.