Chapter 38
“Another bandit camp,” Finnian comments.
At least there aren’t any fomorians in this chamber.
Rodent-nibbled bedrolls lie around a stone fire pit with a spit balanced over it.
Each rock is covered in a fine layer of dust. Smashed urns and lockpicks litter the dirt ground, more signs of the raiders who were here long ago.
Two draugr corpses are slumped against the rock wall, their shriveled heads a few steps away.
Desmond halts before the two diverging tunnels. Auri holds a finger to her lips, and the three of us wait as he turns until he’s made a full circle.
The vigilant pounding of my heart drowns out the silence. There’s something different about this tomb. I feel it in the air. Something older, darker, more violent.
Movement above us catches my gaze. I look up, and a shriek claws out of my throat.
Spiders lurk in webs stretched across the chamber ceiling, bearing the same teal mark as the ones in the corridor.
These aren’t tiny. They’re at least five feet wide, their twitching pedipalps as big as my hand.
One crawls directly above me, its eight shiny eyes reflecting our torchlight.
My hand trembles as I slowly unsheathe my dagger.
Finnian glances up and wobbles, his face paling so quickly I think he might faint.
“Oh, I forgot to mention them,” Auri blithely says.
A spider in the corner spits venom. Desmond dodges just in time. The venom splats on the draugr corpse and melts its desiccated flesh.
“Holy Danu!” Finnian yelps. “You forgot to mention giant spiders?”
Auri sighs. Lightning streaks from her fingertips, striking each of the spiders. An acrid scent fills the chamber as they drop. One lands on Finnian. He screams, shoving it off him.
For several heartbeats, silence reigns. Then Desmond clears his throat. “Are we ready to go?” he asks, as though the spiders didn’t faze him.
I examine the chamber. Old Avedoran is engraved across the stone walls.
There are divots where I assume precious stones were inlaid, only to be pried out by thieves.
It’s a shame we weren’t here first. I read the words and laugh under my breath.
There’s some nonsense about a curse that can siphon magic from the land, and within it is a familiar rune.
“Mallacht,” I whisper. It was written in the underwater barrow, too.
“You can read Old Avedoran?” Desmond asks me. He sounds impressed.
“Of course I can. Solving riddles has saved me from a trap or two.” With our lone torch, I illuminate each of the two branching pathways. Old Avedoran is engraved on the wall between them. “It says something about two doors opening one.”
“Two doors that must open stand before the one,” Desmond clarifies.
I roll my eyes. Show off.
“We have to split up,” Desmond says.
I clear my throat. “I’ll go with Desmond.”
He freezes. A second passes, and he raises a brow. “You would rather test your luck with me than a lightning-wielder?”
“Stuck in close quarters, Auri may not be able to wield her Gift,” I point out. She could just as easily kill us all. Count me out.
Finnian snickers. “Does that decision have any other reasons?”
“If you and I take the same tunnel, I might be persuaded to let the draugr have you,” I retort.
He sidles up next to Auri. “Suppose it’s you and me, then.” Then he stares down the left tunnel. A low creak echoes. Finnian lets out a sound between a squeak and a laugh. “Ladies first.”
“Usually the archer takes the rear, but I don’t bother arguing with cowards,” Auri says with a vicious grin. “Runners don’t make good meat shields.”
“I’m not a runner,” Finnian argues. He holds his pack in front of him like a shield as lightning crackles in Auri’s palms, illuminating their way.
They head down the tunnel, leaving Desmond and me alone.
He unsheathes his sword. I indulgently imagine his arms flexing underneath his gambeson. “Please don’t insist on going first again,” he says. “I won’t let anything harm you.”
The sound of please on his lips makes my knees weak. So does his protectiveness, but this isn’t the time to relish it. With how quickly he can incapacitate his enemies, I’m not sure I’ll keep arguing to go ahead of him, anyway.
I step back to let him pass me, and yelp as my foot slides against stray rubble. I trip, flailing my arms out as I fall backward.
He’s there in a blink, catching me. He holds his sword high over my body, out of harm’s way.
Slowly, I look up at him.
“Are you alright?” he asks me, his soft curls hanging to frame his gorgeous face.
I swallow. “Uh-huh.” Smooth, Cynthia.
He rights me, but his hand drifts down to the dip of my back and stays. “Be on your guard.” Then he finally pulls away.
As I follow him down the tunnel, I levitate the torch beside me.
The tunnel curves until it brings us into a circular chamber, unsettlingly empty apart from two sets of large stone wheels set into the walls on opposite ends of the room.
A magic glow lights the chamber, so we no longer need the torch.
“I’ve seen this kind of riddle before,” I tell Desmond. “There are symbols carved along the rim of each wheel. You have to line up the right combination and then—” I falter, pointing at the stone slab sealing the exit on the opposite side. “That slab should move.”
“Can you reach it from here?” Desmond asks.
My magic caresses it. I try to push it, then pull, but it doesn’t budge. There’s a force keeping it in place, stronger than gravity.
“I can’t move it,” I admit, already frustrated.
“There’s a riddle carved on the wall over each wheel,” Desmond says. “One sees. The other hears.”
I frown. “I have a bad feeling. The only way that slab will move is if we survive whatever trap awaits us.”
Desmond nods.
At the chamber’s center, the floor is made up of closed metal slats. Large pipes jut out between the wall’s stones. The second we step beyond the threshold, who knows what will happen?
Desmond’s gaze unfocuses as if far away, and he silently mouths a string of words.
For a second, I’m too stunned to say anything. I just stare at him. It reminds me of when I eavesdropped on him in the forest. “What are you doing?”
He stills. “Thinking. I know what the trap is, but not how to solve the riddle.”
I’m not sure if I believe him. It sure looked like he was speaking to someone. Yet there’s no one in the tomb beside us, the draugr, and the ghosts of the dead.
The dead. What did he tell me the night of the heist? That the dead lurk in the shadows?
Staring at him, I dare to wonder. There is a Gift that allows the living to speak with spirits unable to move on to the afterlife. As far as I know, spirit mediums don’t wield shadows or any elemental powers. That violet energy lurking within Desmond has to be part of his Gift.
“We can’t turn back,” Desmond says, interrupting my thoughts.
The concern trickling from him to me is so strong it’s almost palpable.
He’s worried he won’t survive this, scared that I won’t, but beneath it lies an unbreakable determination.
He will do anything to reach the depths of this tomb.
Anything. His desperation screams through the bond between us.
I stare at him. What does he want here so badly?
Why would he risk so much to get it? It’s not that I want to turn back.
I have no more choice than he does. I need Olin’s treasure to heal Evie and ensure she never has to worry about her dowry again.
Evie will marry some lecherous sack of slime over my dead body.
I swallow the uneasiness that makes my mouth feel dry. “What’s the trap?”
Still looking out at the chamber, Desmond’s lips curl into a grim frown. “If we fail, we’ll drown.”
Those words shiver over me, bringing me back to the barrow I dragged Evie into. For her, this trap would be child’s play. I still don’t regret leaving her behind. I swore I’d never endanger anyone I love again.
“I’m ready,” I tell Desmond.
His hand flexes, almost imperceptibly reaching for mine. Then he strides into the chamber. I wish he had reached out. I could use the warmth of his grip to soothe my nerves.
I follow him. The chamber is one story tall, but the pipes above us aren’t large enough to crawl through. The only sound is the click of our boots on stone. Stopping beside the metal slats, I see rusted scratches—dozens of them, as if someone clawed the slats with their fingernails for dear life.
“If raiders died here, why aren’t there any bones?” I wonder aloud.
“The draugr eat them.”
Bile churns in my stomach as I imagine draugr devouring our flesh and picking our finger bones from their teeth.
Desmond crosses the chamber to examine one of the wheels. Then the air shifts, a cold draft whispering over our skin. Goosebumps crawl across my arms.
“Desmond—” I start.
I don’t get the rest out.
Iron screams overhead, a grate dropping between us with a brutal crash that shakes dust loose from the walls. The sound echoes like a death knell. It spans the entire diameter of the chamber.
“Run!” Desmond shouts. I’m on the side with the entrance, and he gestures at it.
Before I can shout that I won’t leave him, a stone slab slams down, sealing us inside the chamber. I never had the choice, but even if I did, I wouldn’t have taken it.
We run to the grate that separates us. The metal bars are too thick to cut with our blades, and no amount of shaking and kicking them so much as budges them. We grasp each other’s hands through it, shyness be damned. Desmond’s brows are drawn as he calculates our next move.
Then the sound of rushing water echoes.
“Can you swim?” I ask, my heart pounding so hard it threatens to shake my ribs.
“Yes. Can you?” he asks.
“I can.” Mom is a water-wielder. I learned to swim as soon as I could walk.
Water erupts from the pipes and hits the floor like a tidal wave. Within seconds it reaches my boots, soaking through them. I tense as the frigid water seeps around my feet.