“Less chatter, more walking,” Royce interrupted, pointing at the tunnel. “You lead. And you’re not my friend.”
Traveling forward, they entered into a new world. The walls were smooth and seamless, as if cut by the flow of water. The glossy surface magnified the light from Royce’s lantern, making the curved interior surprisingly bright.
“So where are we?” Hadrian asked.
“Under the bank, not far below where we were standing before entering the water,” Magnus told him. “The tunnel here corkscrews down.”
“Incredible,” Hadrian said, looking about him in amazement at the sparkling walls. “It’s as though we’re on the inside of a diamond.”
Just as the dwarf had predicted, the tunnel curved around and around, sloping down. Right about the time Hadrian lost all sense of direction, it stopped spinning and ran straight. It was not long before they could hear and feel the thunder of the falls. It vibrated through the stone. Here the ceiling and walls seeped water. A thousand years of neglect had allowed stalactites of crystal to form on the ceiling, and jagged mounds of mineral deposits on the floor.
“This is a bit disturbing,” Hadrian remarked, noticing a buildup of water on the floor that was getting deeper as they moved forward.
“Bah!” Magnus muttered, but failed to add anything more.
They slogged through the water, dodging stone spikes. Examining the walls, Hadrian noticed designs carved into them. Etchings of geometric shapes and patterns lined the corridor. Some of the more delicate lines were faded, missing, perhaps lost to the erosion of a billion water droplets. No words were visible and there were no recognizable symbols. The etching appeared to be nothing more than decorative. Above, almost lost in the growing stone, were brackets for what might have once been banner poles, and on the side walls he spotted mountings for lamps. Hadrian tried to imagine how the tunnel looked before the time of Novron, when multicolored banners and rows of bright lamps might have illuminated the causeway. It was not long before the tunnel pitched upward again and they could all see a faint light.
The tunnel ended at a stairway going up. The steps curved and were wide enough for them to take two strides before climbing the next step. When they reached the top, the star-filled sky was above them once more, and before long, they stood aboveground on the outcropping of rock that made up the base of the citadel. A strong wind met them. The gale was damp, filled with a wet mist. They stood at the end of a short stone bridge spanning a narrow crevasse, beyond which stood the spires of the monolithic tower. It loomed above them so high it was impossible to see the top.
More stairs awaited them on the far side and they moved at a slow but even pace, staying single file, even though the stairs were wide enough for two, or even three, to walk abreast. They climbed five sets of steps, zigzagging in a half circle around the outside of the tower. As they started their sixth flight, Royce waited until they had moved to the lee of the citadel, then called a halt for them to catch their breath. Below, the roar of the falls boomed, but from their perch, protected from the wind, the night seemed still. There were no sounds, no crickets or owls, just the deep voice of the river and the howl of the wind.
“This is ridiculous,” Royce shouted over the roar. “Where’s the damn door? I don’t like being so exposed.”
“It’s just up ahead, not too much farther,” Esrahaddon replied.
“How long do we have?” Hadrian asked, looking at the wizard, who shrugged in reply.
“Does it return here directly after killing, or does it enjoy the night?” Royce inquired. “I should think having been locked up in this tower for nine hundred years, it would want to spend some time flying about.”
“It isn’t a person, or an animal. It’s a conjuration, a mystic embodiment of power. It mimics life and understands threats to its existence, certainly, but I doubt it has any concept of pleasure or freedom. Like I said, it’s not alive.”
“Then why does it eat?” Royce asked.
“It doesn’t.”
“Then why is it killing a person or two a night?”
“I’ve wondered that myself. It should attempt to fulfill its last instructions, and that was clearly to kill the emperor. It is possible that not finding its target, and not able to travel far from this tower—conjurations are often limited to a specific distance from their creator or point of origin—it might be trying to lure him here. It could have deduced that the emperor would not tolerate the slaughter of his people and would come to aid the village.”
“Regardless, we’d better be quick,” Hadrian concluded.
The wind resumed as they circled around. It whistled in their ears and buffeted their steps. The damp clothes chilled them despite the hard work of the march. Above, the spires still rose far into the night sky, and they all felt a grim sense of drudgery when they reached yet another short bridge, which ended abruptly at a solid wall.