area was the Lamplight spell, so he let the magical threads fade into the background again.
“It’s a large octagonal room,” Angus shouted up to Hobart. “Do you think a bone from one of the skeletons will work?”
“No,” Hobart said. “The trapdoor will shear it off, especially with my weight added to it.”
“Look at this,” Giorge said, holding up a skeletal arm. There was a twisted, tarnished copper bracelet on it. He slid it off the bones and shook the dust off. He looked closely at it before tossing it to Angus. “Recognize the insignia?”
Angus studied it for several seconds. It had three teardrop shapes radiating out from a circular center. “Part of it resembles the mark on my map,” he said. “But only superficially. I’ll toss it up to Hobart and see if he or Ortis recognize it.”
“They all have one,” Giorge noted, gathering them up. “They must have been priests or monks.”
It took three tosses before Hobart finally caught the bracelet. He barely glanced at it before passing it back to Ortis. Not long after that, he said, “We don’t recognize it, but if you throw a few more of them up here, we should be able to wedge them under the trapdoor to keep it partly open.”
“Why not go back and get one of the dwarf axes?” Angus asked. “Wouldn’t they be better?”
“Ortis tried to get one off the floor of that room you burned,” Hobart said. “It’s fused into the stone and won’t budge. The others are with the horses, and Ortis is already on his way back.”
Angus threw a few more bracelets up to Hobart, and then he and Giorge surveyed the area. Two of Ortis joined them, and Hobart lowered ropes, torches, lantern, and sacks—empty and full ones. By the time Hobart, the last to climb down the rope, had arrived, they had a fairly good idea of where they were. It was a thirty foot octagonal chamber, and the trapdoor deposited them on one side of it. In the center of the chamber was an open, circular stairwell leading down.
“Those bracelets aren’t worth much,” Giorge said, “but it is something. Hopefully we’ll find something more valuable down there, like The Tiger’s Eye.”
“One thing is certain,” Hobart said. “No one has been here before us. But that doesn’t mean the priests left much behind when they fled.”
“Why die here if they weren’t protecting something?” Giorge asked. “They could have left after their attackers were gone, but they stayed down here until they died.”
“Perhaps,” Hobart said. “These could have been the ones who were too injured to go with them when they left.”
“They may have died of old age,” Ortis suggested. “There’s no sign of wound marks on the bones.”
“Even better,” Giorge said. “If they died of old age, then their treasure would still be here.”
“Yes,” Ortis agreed. “But where?”
“How long will this thing last?” Giorge asked, pointing at the Lamplight still attached to his shoulder.
Angus shrugged. “Up to a day. It depends on the strength of the thread; the more powerful it is, the shorter it lasts. This one was an extremely strong strand, so I wouldn’t expect more than ten to twelve hours before it escapes.”
“We have a dozen torches,” Ortis said. “And a cask of oil for the lantern.”
“Let me have that torch,” Giorge said, taking the lit torch from Hobart and tossing it down the stairwell. Several seconds later, he whistled and said, “It’s deep, but it has a bottom.”
“All right,” Hobart said. “If this is an Angst temple, what do we know about them?”
Giorge shrugged. “They were fanatics who disappeared about a thousand years ago. They worshipped a fire god of some sort. The Tiger’s Eye was a gift from that god, and some say they used it to focus that god’s energy into a weapon. Considering they’re dead, that part probably isn’t true. I couldn’t find out anything else about them while I was in Hellsbreath; it’s one of those legends people talk about but don’t really believe.”
“You should have told me about The Tiger’s Eye,” Angus said. “I would have looked for information on it in the Wizards’ School’s library. It is quite extensive.”
Giorge shook his head. “I couldn’t risk others finding out what I was looking into. They might have followed us. Or worse. The Tiger’s Eye is one of those treasures that a lot of people dream about and would kill for—and not just the ones who kill for fun or money. If anyone knew we had a map that might lead to it, it would not have gone well. Of course,” Giorge grinned, “if we find it, we’ll become legends—and targets, just like all the rest of the extremely wealthy.”
“If we survive,” Angus mused, looking down at the distant flicker of flame at the bottom of the stairwell.
“Well,” Hobart said, “We won’t find it here.” He turned to the stairwell and started down.
14
“I don’t like this,” Ortis said as they stopped to rest. “We’ve been going down these steps for almost an hour without finding any openings.”
“I know what you mean,” Giorge added. “I’m bored. I thought something would have happened by now.”
“It is a bit odd,” Hobart conceded. “But, if you have a great treasure, wouldn’t you protect it with something like this? By the time we get down to the bottom, we’ll be too tired to fight effectively.”
“I’d protect it with traps,” Giorge said, grinning mischievously. “Lots of them.”
“They only took advantage of a natural formation and added the stairs to it,” Angus said. “There are probably more natural tunnels at the bottom.”
“Giorge is right, Angus,” Ortis agreed. “There could be traps. Maybe he should take point and the rest of us follow in a staggered formation.”
“Fine with me,” Giorge said, moving to the front. “I’m bored anyway.” One at a time the others followed, each about twenty steps behind the man in front of him. Twenty minutes later, Giorge was at the bottom of the stairwell waiting for the others to join him.
“Nothing,” Giorge grunted, sneering and slapping the rough wall of the stairwell.
“Not quite,” Angus said. “Don’t you see it?” He pointed at a reddish shadow on the wall. “Right there?”
“See what?” Hobart puffed as he joined them. He slid the ropes from his shoulders and dropped them to the floor, and then he sagged heavily against the stairwell wall.
“Did either of you bring a bracelet?”
Giorge grinned at Hobart. “I thought they might come in handy as a doorstop,” he said, taking a bracelet out and handing it to Angus. “What are you looking at?”
“The wall,” Angus said. “There’s a dull red shadow. Are you sure you can’t see it?”
“I don’t see anything but the wall,” Giorge said.
“That’s all I see,” Hobart added. “What does it look like?”
Angus pointed to the bracelet. “It’s like this insignia,” he said. “The curves of the shadow follow the same pattern, but this section is missing.” He traced the shadow for them. “I think it’s a seal of some kind.”
The others stared at the wall until Ortis said, “Are you sure? I don’t see anything either.”
“Yes, it’s right—”
A series of snapping sounds echoed down from high above them, steadily growing louder as their echoes approached.
“What’s that?” Ortis asked as he turned around and ran up the stairs.
“A trap!” Hobart cried. “And we’re caught in it!”
“How?” Angus asked, turning to follow Ortis.
“No!” Giorge warned. “The steps are collapsing! We can’t get out that way.”
Angus paused, but Ortis kept running.
“We can only wait to see what happens when they reach us. It might not do anything other than collapsing the stairs and leaving us here. Or—”
There was a horrid grating, and the floor began sliding into the wall, moving slowly toward the symbol Angus had seen.
Giorge frowned and moved to the edge of the floor where it
was already opening up. He sighed. “Or it could drop us into something pretty nasty.”
“What is it?” Hobart asked.
“A pit,” Giorge said as he knelt down and leaned over the edge. “It’s about thirty feet deep. There are iron stakes—a lot of them. There are some skeletons, too; they look like adventurers by their armor and weapons.”
Angus studied the shadowy insignia. It had to be a key, didn’t it? A way to open a door that only the followers of Angst could see? There had to be a way to open it, didn’t there? No one would make such an elaborate trap that ended nowhere, would they? They could, but…. He pushed against the different parts of the shadowy insignia, but nothing happened. Then, on impulse, he pushed the section of the wall where the missing part of the insignia should have been. It gave, sliding inward about two inches, and the rest of the insignia evaporated. A moment later, a section of the wall slid apart to reveal a narrow opening. Beyond it was a long tunnel, just wide enough for a large man to pass.
“Quick!” Angus cried, as he stepped through the opening. A moment later, Giorge followed after him. But Hobart lingered on the retracting floor near the opening.
“There has to be a way to reset the trap or make it stop,” Giorge said, pushing past Angus. “We have to find it!”
About five feet inside the tunnel, there were two small side passages. Giorge took the left and Angus the right.
“It’s in here,” Giorge called.
“How does it work?” Angus asked as he joined him. It was a small chamber, and along the left wall were a series of metal gears and levers. The gears were