“As you wish, Your Grace.” The knight pulled a torch from the wall and descended the steps.
It was dark inside. The stair was narrow and oppressive. Ahead, she could hear the sounds of faint weeping. The same heavy stones that made up the base of the tower formed the dungeon. Here, however, decorations adorned the walls. Nothing recognizable, merely abstract designs carved everywhere. Arista felt she had seen them before—not these exactly, but similar ones.
Then she felt it.
Like the snap of a twig or the crack of an egg, a tremor passed through her body—a sudden disconcerting break.
She looked down. The old man’s hands were gone and she was seeing her own fingers and sleeves revealed in the flickering torchlight.
With his back turned, the knight continued to escort them. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he began to turn, saying, “Your Grace, I—”
Before he was fully around, Hilfred shoved her aside.
He drew his sword just as the knight’s eyes widened. As he drove his blade at the man’s chest, the black armor turned the tip. It skipped off, penetrating the gap between the chest plate and the right pauldron, piercing the man’s shoulder.
The knight cried out.
Hilfred withdrew his sword. The knight staggered backward, struggling to draw his own. Hilfred swung at the knight’s neck. Blood exploded, spraying both of them. The seret made no further noise as he crumpled and fell.
“What happened?” Hilfred asked, picking up the torch.
“The walls,” she said, touching the chiseled symbols. “They have runes on them like in Gutaria Prison. I can’t do magic in here. Do you think anyone heard that?”
“I’m sure the kid fetching water did,” he said. “Will he do anything?”
“I don’t know. We should close the door,” Arista said, picking up the sword with the emerald and looking up the long staircase at the patch of light at the top. What they had covered so casually minutes earlier now appeared so far—so dangerous. “I’ll do it. You find Gaunt.”
“No. I won’t leave your side. There could be more guards. Forget the door. We’ll find him together and get out of here.” He took her left hand and pulled her along. Her right hand held on to the sword.
The hallways were narrow stone corridors without any light except what came from the torch they held. The ceiling arched to a peak not more than a foot above Arista’s head, forcing Hilfred to stoop. Wooden doors, so short they looked more like livestock gates, began appearing on either side.
“Gaunt!” Hilfred yelled.
“Degan Gaunt!” Arista shouted.
They ran down the darkened passageways, pounding on doors, calling his name, and peering inside. The hallway ended at a T-intersection. With only one torch, they had no option to split up, even if Hilfred could be convinced. They turned right and pressed on, finding more doors.
“Degan Gaunt!”
“Stop!” Arista stopped suddenly.
“Wha—”
“Shush!”
Very faintly—“Here!”
They trotted down the next corridor but reached a dead end.
“This place is a maze,” Arista said.
They ran back and took another turn. They called again.
“Here! I’m here!” came the reply, louder now.
Running once more, they again met a solid wall. They retraced their steps, found another corridor that appeared to go in the right direction, and followed it as far as the hallway allowed.
“Degan!” she cried.
“Over here!” called a voice from the last door in the block.
When they reached it, Arista bent down and held up the torch. In the tiny grated window, she saw a pair of eyes. She grabbed the door handle and pulled—locked. She tried the gemstone but nothing happened.
“Damn it!” she cried. “The guard, he must have the key. Oh, how could I be so stupid? I should have searched him before we ran off.”
Hilfred hammered the wooden door with his sword. The hard oak, nearly as solid as stone, gave up only sliver-size chips.
“We’ll never get the door open this way. Your sword isn’t doing anything! We have to go back for the keys.”
Hilfred continued to strike the door.
“We’ll be back, Degan!” Arista said before starting back down the hall, carrying the torch.
“Arista!” Hilfred shouted as he chased after her.
They rounded the corridors, turning left, then right, and then—
“Arista?” Saldur said, stunned, as they nearly ran into the regent. Around him were five Seret Knights with swords drawn and torches held high.
Hilfred pushed Arista back. “Run!” he told her.
Saldur stared at them for a moment, then shook his head. “There is nowhere to run to, dear boy. You’re both quite trapped.”