Into the Crypt of Clan Sealender #2
They turned from the main avenue into a branching corridor that was the Sealender crypt and walked the central aisle between sarcophagi.
Murals of the seacoast added color to drab stone, the iconography of the seagull most prominent for it was the ancient symbol of Clan Sealender.
An arched doorway led to older tombs filled with wall niches for the dead, including old Agates, but they did not enter, instead halting at an opening to a small chamber the caretakers had not known about until the ghost of Beryl Spencer had led Karigan to it.
A hidden trigger had caused a section of wall to slide open, revealing the chamber.
Since Karigan had last seen it, it had been tidied and lit by the caretakers, centuries of cobwebs and dust cleaned away. If there was one thing they could not abide, it was untidy tombs.
“Agemon has proposed installing marble flooring, hangings, and other decor,” Donal said, his deep bass voice startling Karigan. She’d almost forgotten the Weapons were with them, so silent were they.
In the chamber’s current state, the walls and floor were of natural stone, much like a cavern.
“I don’t know,” Zachary replied. “I think retaining its primitive appearance is appropriate for the age of this tomb.”
A tomb it was for Anschilde Sealender, an early chieftain of that line.
His bones lay within a crude wooden box that sat upon a boulder.
The dragonfly device, the shield, leaned against the boulder.
Exactly what Zachary hoped to learn by coming to this place she couldn’t guess, but she understood his need to puzzle out the shield’s mystery.
Faded, chipped paint revealed the device of a flying, flaming dragon on it. It was clearer to see without all the dust and cobwebs clinging to it.
“How do you suppose it works?” Zachary asked.
The legend was that Anschilde had used it to repel the sea kings who had marauded and brutally fought to possess the lands of the Sacor Clans, especially the coastline. Ostensibly the shield also repelled the dragons.
“I’ve no idea,” Karigan said. “Perhaps it was simply used like a regular shield and legend made it something bigger than it was.”
He lifted the wooden shield to examine it more closely. It looked like there had once been leather arm straps, but those had rotted away with time.
“It was once sturdy,” he said, “and has preserved well despite its great age, but it still isn’t what it was when it was made.
I do not think it would hold up long in a fight, much less against dragons.
If the legend is true that Anschilde sent away the sea kings and their dragons with this shield, there must be some magic in it. Might Rider Duff be able to detect it?”
“I think his ability is more along the lines of seeing magic in people, not objects.” And it was a good thing or Fergal would spend even more time getting sick every time he saw something magical, the cost of using his special ability.
Zachary scrutinized the shield front and back. “Do you sense anything about it?”
“No, Your Majesty.”
“If it were truly magical, it seems like there should be something obvious, but maybe the legend is just a legend.” He carefully replaced the shield against the boulder. Someone cleared their throat. “Did one of you say something?” he asked his Weapons.
“No, sire,” Donal replied.
The others also denied speaking.
“I could have sworn...” Zachary shook his head.
“I thought I heard someone clear their throat,” Karigan told him, “but that’s all.”
Zachary looked about. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard whispers or murmuring in these halls. These tombs are enough to make one fancy they’ve heard or seen all kinds of things.”
Karigan could not agree more. It did not matter how much she dealt with ghosts, the place was unsettling.
“As for the shield,” Zachary said, “I’ll ask Agemon to reinforce the wood and attach new straps.”
As if simply mentioning his name was a summons, the chief caretaker seemed to appear from nowhere and hurried toward them. He was, as usual, attired in robes of muted whites and grays, his pale face and long gray hair ever unchanged.
“Your Majesty has come to look at the shield again?” Agemon asked. He adjusted the specs perched on the end of his nose. “And you’ve brought this green with you this time.”
“This green” was typically how he referred to Karigan.
Her presence in the tombs was anathema to him because he did not believe she should be allowed to enter, and once entered, she should not be allowed to leave.
She was neither Sacoridian royalty nor a Weapon.
An honorary Weapon, yes, but not a full Weapon, which in Agemon’s world made her status dubious at best. She wasn’t even dead.
By the rules that governed the tombs, she should have been made a caretaker forced to live the rest of her life in the tombs never to see the living sun again.
Interlopers, though few, were not permitted to leave, and the caretakers spent all their lives tending the royal dead and the realm’s great heroes, never stepping above ground or seeing the sky, or feeling an open breeze upon their faces.
“Yes, we have,” Zachary replied.
“Fine, fine.” Belatedly Agemon remembered to bow. “A load of stones has been dumped in one of our workshops.”
“Ah, the light stones.” Zachary reached into his pocket and produced the one he’d shown Karigan earlier.
Agemon squawked and shielded his eyes. “No, no. We must not see the light of the sun. This you know, my lord. The stones must be removed from this sacred place.”
“The light of the sun? I think there is a misunderstanding,” Zachary replied. “These stones come from deep underground and are naturally luminous. Exposure to the sun can make them glow more brightly, yes, but it is not necessary. Those brought into your workshop have not been exposed to the sun.”
Agemon slowly lowered his hands and blinked like an owl. “They come from underground? No sun?”
“Yes.”
“It is acceptable, then, but...”
“Yes?”
“My wife will insist upon having several.”
He had a wife? Karigan tried to imagine the idea of Agemon married. It had never occurred to her that he might be. Whoever she was, she must be incredibly patient.
“And you.” He waggled his finger at her.
Karigan stilled at his sudden attention and wondered what she had done to offend him this time besides being a green in his tombs.
“Your head is done.”
“My . . . ?”
Zachary cast her a questioning look.
“Yes, yes, your head,” Agemon replied. “The one you demanded we take care of.”
“Your head?” Zachary asked, eyebrows raised.
“Oh, gods,” she muttered. She’d done a very good job of forgetting about it. “We haven’t gotten the colonel back yet,” she told Agemon. “Do you suppose you could hold on to it until then?”
“An ugly countenance it is,” Agemon grumbled. “But yes, yes, we will hold on to it.”
“What head?” Zachary demanded. “And what has Laren to do with it?”
The Weapons watched the exchange with interest.
“Torq’s,” she replied in a small voice.
“Torq? You brought Torq’s head to Agemon?”
“Um, yes?”
“Why was I not informed?”
“It, uh, never came up.” Torq, the leader of the Darrow Raiders, had been a great enemy of Colonel Mapstone’s.
Karigan had bested him after the Battle of the Sleeping Waelds and taken his head to be preserved so she could present it to the colonel, to satisfy her that he who had done her so much harm was truly dead.
Thinking about it, however, she wasn’t sure what had possessed her.
Zachary looked incredulous. Then he laughed. It echoed through the somber halls. “You kept his head for Laren?”
She nodded.
He had trouble containing himself. “That is...That is quite a gift. I can’t wait to see her face.” He laughed some more, and she couldn’t help but smile for she had rarely seen him so amused. “Just when I think I know you, my lady, you surprise me yet again.”
“I would not wish to bore you.”
“It is not possible,” he said, “whether you’ve stuck an ax in the ceiling or have a gift head in the offing.” He laughed more quietly and added, “No, never boring.” There was tenderness in his voice. He gazed at her, and she gazed back, her pulse quickening.
Agemon cleared his throat, startling them for they had forgotten his existence.
“Yes, yes,” he murmured, watching them through his specs. “I will put the head aside until the colonel returns, but then it must be gone.” He bowed and went on his way, muttering to himself.
“I guess we are done here,” Zachary said with a final glance at the shield. “Shall we return to the realm of the living?”
“Yes, please,” she replied.
As they walked through the Sealender crypt, Zachary was decidedly close to her, his hands clasped behind his back. He leaned toward her and asked, “Is collecting heads going to be a regular thing with you?”
This time she laughed in surprise. “I sincerely hope not.”
Despite the setting, being with him in his light mood uplifted her own spirits.
She felt almost as if she could float Meganlike to the ceiling.
However, when they entered the main avenue of the Halls of Kings and Queens, a shadow stood by a near column, her darker self, watching as they walked by, a reminder of the ruthlessness that had led her to saw off Torq’s head and carry it back to the castle, and of what she could become if she should so wish.