Colwyn tried to see below, bending over, but the twists and turns in the floor hid the approaching danger. Immediately he looped the rope around his waist, tightened it.
'I'm going down.'
'Why risk all we've gained if—' Bardolph began, but Colwyn eyed him so coldly the man went silent.
'I'm going down,' Colwyn repeated, 'and now! Torquil, be ready to bring us up at the signal.'
Torquil leaned backward, clenched his teeth. 'Say the word and I'll have you out like a moonbeam.'
'Right. Easy now.' He stepped over the edge and started to let himself down.
He was suspended halfway between upper and lower passage when a deep rumbling sounded from all around and the gap began to close as quickly and unexpectedly as it had opened. Torquil didn't wait for orders, nor was there time to discuss the matter.
'Up! Pull him up!'
Despite the combined strength, Colwyn's ankles barely cleared the opening before it shut tight beneath them, forming a solid, unbroken floor beneath their feet once more.
Colwyn sat back, staring grimly at the crack that mocked them. Titch and Ergo were trapped somewhere below … with Slayers. He kicked at the surface in frustration. Not even Rell could have pried that mass apart.
A hand touched him and he stared up at Torquil. The thief's expression was set. 'They chose. We all chose.'
'But the boy…' Colwyn's fingers touched the glaive. But as had happened with Rell, Ynyr's words held him back. If he did not conserve the glaive's power to confront the Beast, all would be wasted.
'They've given what they could,' Bardolph added. 'Let's be off from here.'
Colwyn hesitated, then nodded and climbed to his feet. But he left another part of his soul behind in that corridor.
Ergo had stared helplessly as the ceiling had slammed shut overhead. Now he backed down the corridor, his mind working frantically, his eyes on the two approaching Slayers. There was no telling where the corridor led, perhaps to a dead end, perhaps to the Beast's lair, perhaps nowhere. He leaned around the curving wall, ducked back as a Slayer spear lashed out at him.
It might have been the fear in the boy's face that galvanized him to action, or some hidden reserve of cunning and knowledge. Colwyn had suspected it lay hidden beneath that buffoonish exterior all the time, while Ynyr had doubted it. Whatever the inspiration, Ergo abruptly did what he did best.
He even did it right this time.
A thunderous roar shook the tunnel. The Slayers paused, uncertain, then fired again. But this was no waddling, awkward human flying at them. Instead they confronted a quarter ton of angry, fast-moving tiger.
Titch clung to the wall where the tiger had nudged him and watched with wide eyes. No one knew if the Slayers had emotions. If so, it's certain that two died that day full of surprise.
The peasant looked up from his berry-picking and frowned. The sky was not cloudy, but there was thunder in the air. He rose, leaned on his staff and stared up the long, grassy valley. Beyond the mountains, perhaps, there might be a thunderstorm brewing.
A shape appeared in the air before him. It was very large, but it was not a cloud. He found himself backing away from it instinctively. It grew darker and more solid as he tripped and fell backward.
The Black Fortress sat silent and massive between mountain ridges as the peasant ran madly to warn his village. Its exterior was smooth and unchanged, giving no hint of the turmoil occurring within.
Colwyn held up a restraining hand and his companions slowed behind him. The corridor opened unexpectedly into a large, smooth-walled chamber with a high ceiling arching overhead. In the center stood a hexagonal dome of strange design and faintly threatening construction. It made Colwyn think of the war helmets worn by the fighters of distant Ulrathay. But what was one to make of those dark ridges that gave it support and the internally lit, translucent panels that bulged outward? No human hand had fashioned this place, and no human soul ought to abide within it.
Yet one particularly precious soul was thus trapped. Colwyn could sense it with every fragment of his being. He couldn't take his eyes from the structure. He knew where they were.
'Quietly now,' he told them. 'We're close to the center.'
'The center of what?' Bardolph wanted to know. 'Of the Fortress?'
'Of everything,' Colwyn assured him.
Following his lead, they filed out of the corridor and spread out to inspect the hexagon of those softly lit panels. Not a man of the three doubted that it was any less solid than the outer walls of the Fortress. And like those outer walls, there was no sign of an entrance.
When they'd completed the brief inspection, Colwyn declared his intentions. 'From here I must go on alone.'
Torquil tried to see through one of the vitreous panels, fought to imagine the source of the strange inner light. 'Go on to where? There's no way in. And if this is what you hint it is, I wouldn't expect some overanxious Slayer to jump out and offer us one. They won't make that mistake again.'
'There are no Slayers here,' Colwyn murmured. 'This is the place of something else. But there must be a way in.' He began backing a few steps away from the hexagon, studying it intently and paying but slight attention to his friends' movements. Torquil and the others moved to stand well behind him.
'There's nothing for it,' the bandit leader announced. 'That place is as solid as—' He caught himself as he saw Colwyn remove the strange, five-armed weapon from its holding loop. Colwyn's eyes were slightly glazed and he seemed to be concentrating on something beyond their range of vision.
'Get behind him,' Torquil suddenly ordered his men.
'Why? What's he going to do with that?'
'Get behind, Oswyn, and you too, Bardolph. And be ready.' His hand went to his war ax.
'Ready for what?' Oswyn drew his own weapon, watched as Colwyn held the glaive out in front of his chest.
'I don't know,' Torquil replied irritably, his concentration on Colwyn, 'but be ready for it.'
Suddenly five blades appeared on the glaive, one at the terminus of each golden arm. Colwyn brought it back, then flung it hard toward the hexagon. It whizzed toward the nearest section of wall… and struck.
A thunderous chiming rang through the chamber. Oswyn put his hands to his ears while the others winced, wondering how so small a device could generate so violent a reaction.
The blades had failed to scratch the hexagon's walls and the glaive returned to Colwyn's waiting hand. Oblivious to the astonishment on the faces of his companions, he threw it a second time, striking the same spot as before with uncanny accuracy. This time a huge chunk of wall was blasted away. Again he threw the glaive, and again, ignoring the overlapping echoes that had forced his friends to their knees.
'He doesn't act like he hears the noise!' Oswyn shouted. 'He doesn't act like he hears anything!'
'What?' Torquil asked. He had his hands over his own ears, trying to shut out the deafening echoes.
'I SAID, I DON'T THINK HE CAN HEAR THE SOUNDS!'
'I DON'T EITHER!' Torquil agreed.
Colwyn advanced toward the dome like a wraith through a dream, methodically catching and throwing the glaive, hewing a passage through the wall. Sweat poured off his face, and his muscles quivered with the effort. Throw, catch, throw, catch, and throw again. The blades of the glaive became nicked and dulled but the weapon itself remained as solid as the day he'd stolen it from its fiery vault. Shattered fragments of dome flew everywhere, striking walls and floor and ceiling impartially and forcing his men to dodge quickly. The only place in the chamber free of flying debris was the section of floor occupied by the slowly advancing Colwyn.
Someone else heard that steady ringing, muted though it was inside the dome. Lyssa backed away from the intensifying noise. Such announcements of destruction could herald many things, but she doubted the Beast's imminent arrival was among them. He had already revealed his noiseless entryway to the sanctuary.
That implied the presence of another party that sought to fashion its own entrance. The mere thought filled her with more hope than she'd dare allow herself since the day of her abduction. She divided her attention between the section of wall where the approaching sounds rang loudest and the dark hollow that had earlier produced the Beast.
The ringing in the chamber subsided somewhat as Colwyn dug his way deeper into the dome. Torquil removed his hands from his ears. The noise was bearable.
