“Do you feel it?” Robin asked, turning to his men, staring them each in the eye.
“If by feeling it ye mean the eeriness of the place, then aye.” Maurice shuddered. “I feel it. Feels worse than traveling through the haunted forest.”
“No.” The fact that the pools were far from inviting didn’t bother Robin nearly as much as the fact that there was most definitely something, or someone, watching them. “I mean the eyes.”
All heads turned up, staring into the thick branches of the shrouded tree above them.
They all four stood there for a moment, peering silently through the forest, as if trying to will whatever it was out into the open. But apart from a murder of crows resting on the branches above, there was nothing.
“And what exactly is it we’ve come in search of, then?” Thrane asked, his gravelly voice almost booming in the silence.
“A prize that will make all our years of toil be a thing of the past.”
“And is it waiting for us in the fields?” John asked, getting back to his question of earlier.
Nodding, Robin turned back to stare at the pools. “I suspect so, yes. That’s where the pull is strongest. There can be no ambush waiting for me there, so I’ll need you three to remain behind and keep a close watch, and once I get it, we’ll be leaving immediately.”
“Do you expect an ambush?” John’s nostrils flared.
Robin rubbed the back of his neck. “Not necessarily. We’re being watched, though by what or whom, I couldn’t tell you.”
Withdrawing a wickedly curved saber, John jerked his chin in the direction of the pools. “Then be well, mate, and trust your men to keep a close watch.”
Not sparing his men another glance, Robin squared his shoulders and stepped into the glaring heat of the noonday sun. It was like he was being led by an invisible string. a nagging tug compelled him forward to a smallish pool some fifty yards away.
Trusting that his men would call should they spot the “eyes,” Robin knelt and ran his fingers through the grainy red dirt. The tug was now gone.
The serum had done its job: it’d led him to the spot where the lamp rested. Unfortunately, the lamp was either in the pool or buried beneath the earth. Either way, recovering it wouldn’t be easy.
With a soft mutter, he called his magic to him, peeling back what was seen to reveal what was unseen, looking beneath the surface to what lay below.
The colors of the world shifted from normal to an infrared glow, the colors determined not by what the objects were, but by the heat markers they left behind.
“Bloody hell,” he sighed.
The waters were now a roiling red, the earth a pale blue. He could make out a few objects—likely rocks, since they were black in color through and through—below. But nothing lamp-shaped.
Jaws clenching, he wondered whether the serum had been defective and he’d pinned all his hopes on yet another fruitless endeavor, but just as he shifted on the balls of his feet he saw a wavering image, like a wet mirage on hot sand.
Heart skipping a beat, he shifted slightly to the left and this time released a shouting whoop of relief.
“You’ve found it?” John called from a distance.
Wiping the sweat off his brow, Robin nodded. “Aye, but it’s buried beneath several layers of dirt and hidden within a mirage.”
Trotting back to the men, Robin reached for his pack. He’d brought along shovels and pickaxes for the trip, not sure if he’d need them.
Twirling one of the shovels in his palm, Robin grinned. “We’re almost home, boys. We’re almost home.”
The brothers smiled in tandem, though John did not. There was a look in his dark eyes that made Robin think he worried.
Clapping his friend on the shoulder, he nodded. “All will be well, Little John, you’ll see.”
“I hope so.”
Just the thought of home, of reclaiming what was rightfully his, lent Robin strength. Returning back to the pool, he attacked the earth with a vengeance, scooping up shovelful after shovelful. The progress was slow, but his determination was strong.
After thirty minutes, he paused only long enough to toss aside his sweat and dirt-stained shirt and resumed his digging.
Repeating the same motion over and over again.
Dig. Pull. Throw.
Dig. Pull. Throw.
On and on and on.
Lost in the monotony of his task, he didn’t stop until a burning thirst gripped him.
“John. Water.” He glanced up, leaning on the tip of the shovel, only just realizing how far down he was.
He could barely see the world above without having to lean on his toes. He was easily six feet down, if not a little more.
A canteen was thrust at him.
“How much farther, mate?” John’s voice was a scratchy burr.
“I’m standing within the mirage now,” Robin said as he glanced at his feet. Tilting his head a little to the left, he spotted the lamp. “I’d say another fifteen minutes or so should see me out of here.”