Chapter 4 #2
“Not toward the lake,” Rylana said, brushing aside thoughts that this might have been an escape tunnel built under the castle long ago, back when Tranquility had been little more than a fishing village populated by trolls.
They, ogres, orcs, and even wyverns had claimed much of the north before humans had migrated from the equatorial kingdoms where their civilizations had been born.
During the centuries when these lands had been contested, sieges had been common. “Deeper into the bluff.”
Since the glow was coming from farther up the tunnel, Rylana and Sylin headed that way, the passage wide enough for them to walk shoulder-to-shoulder.
It extended under the courtyard but not much farther before opening up into a chamber.
The intensity of the blue light made it difficult to see details, and Rylana bumped into something hard with the toe of her shoe. She paused, crouching to examine it.
“Also not a dog toy,” she murmured.
“This doesn’t seem a likely place for a game of fetch,” Sylin said.
A stone statuette about a foot high lay on its side.
Rylana hesitated, then touched it, half-expecting magic to zap her.
There was a warmth to the stone that suggested it was ensorcelled, but she was able to turn it over to reveal a carved face with a broad jaw, flat nose, and a hint of shaggy hair hanging over its eyes.
“A troll?” Rylana asked.
“It looks like an idol of one of the troll gods. Gox, I think. Nox has curly hair.”
A moan came from the center of the chamber. This time, it did sound human, and Rylana touched her knife again.
“Vormalt?” she asked uncertainly.
Sylin walked around the perimeter of the chamber.
Leaving the statue—the idol—Rylana went the other way, pausing to eye paintings and also carvings in the stone walls.
Worn by time, they featured trolls, the broad figures carrying spears over their shoulders as they hunted great horned rams and other dangerous prey that originated in the Icefang Mountains east of the city.
But weren’t the rams believed to be extinct these days? When had this chamber been built?
“I have a feeling this place is older than the castle,” she murmured.
“I think it’s a temple,” Sylin said. “There are carvings of the troll gods over here.”
Squinting at the ongoing brightness, Rylana continued along the wall until she reached an alcove opposite the tunnel entrance. It was the source of the glow, which was so intense now that she couldn’t look straight into it.
To her left, a figure in dark clothes lay on the ground, not moving.
She stepped toward it—toward Vormalt?—but a thrum of power pulsed out of the alcove.
It passed over her, making her body tingle with alarm.
Goosebumps rose on her skin as her heartbeat sped up.
She didn’t know if this was indeed a temple, or something darker, but her instincts promised it represented danger.
She sensed as much as she saw another idol, this one twice the size of the first. It was lying on its side on a flat stone pedestal. Was that an offering table? And did those two large carvings behind it depict the troll gods, their hands spread, as if inviting something to be deposited?
A compulsion came over Rylana, and she caught herself stepping into the alcove and reaching for the idol before she’d decided to do so. When her hands wrapped around it, the surface was warm, as if it had been lying in the sun all day. She lifted it, setting it back into an upright position.
Abruptly, the brilliant light diminished until only the idol glowed, a faint blue much less intense than before.
Its eyes also glowed, a deep red that did nothing to comfort Rylana.
She drew her hands back, blinking to adjust her own eyes to the darkness.
She’d left her lantern on the library floor next to Sylin’s, unwisely, she realized belatedly.
“Your semi-conscious intruder is on the floor,” Sylin said from a few steps away. “It looks like he was knocked out, but he’s stirring.”
Rylana stepped back out of the alcove, the fainter glow of the idol making it easier to see details than before.
Yes, those were carvings of the two troll gods behind the offering pedestal, one broad face having straight hair that hung over its eyes and the other’s face framed by the curly hair that Sylin had mentioned.
Their hands were disproportionally large compared to their bodies and open, inviting one to leave a gift.
The inhuman moans had stopped, the magic less intense, but something about the expectant looks of the gods made Rylana think she hadn’t resolved the issue yet. Whatever the issue was. More than a glowing castle, she feared.
“Is Vormalt awake?” Rylana turned toward where Sylin knelt next to his supine form. “I have questions.”
Vormalt’s gray eyes opened, and he looked up at Sylin. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he rasped.
“He’s awake,” Sylin said.
“Apparently,” Rylana said.
“Are you real?” Vormalt whispered, sounding groggy and dazed. His gray-flecked hair was tousled, and was that the start of a bruise darkening his stubbled jaw? “Are you the one who will help me reveal the secrets of the city to those who’ve been duped all this time?”
“Doubtful,” Sylin said.
Vormalt lifted a hand toward her face. “You’re so beautiful.”
Sylin caught his wrist before he could touch her, then held her knife up so he could see it. He groaned, his head rolling to the side and his eyes closing.
Rylana sighed. “So much for my questions.”
“I didn’t know he was so faint of heart that the mere sight of a knife would cause him to pass out.” Sylin stood and sheathed her blade again.
“I’m sure the magic knocked him on his ass and confused him.” Rylana looked warily toward the idol on the pedestal, hoping it wouldn’t do the same to her. She also wondered if the thing had been down here, its red eyes glowing, all through her childhood. “The creepy magic,” she added.
“We should leave him down here with the trapdoor locked.” Sylin looked around the chamber and back toward the tunnel. “I don’t see any other way out.”
“So you want to entomb him alive?”
“It will give him an opportunity to study whatever interested him.” Sylin waved toward the idol.
“He would die eventually without food or water. As much of a pain in the bukok as he is, I don’t think he deserves that fate.
I’m not carrying him out up that ladder though.
” Rylana supposed she might be able to manage it with Sylin’s help, but Vormalt did deserve to spend the night on a cold stone floor with red troll eyes staring at him.
When he woke up in the morning, he could explain all this. Rylana would have Sylin wave her knife around to make sure that he did.