“Thank you, but nothing works,” Harp said regretfully, “I’ve tried everything.”
“Well see.”
“Majida, do you think that Verran had something to do with that creature coming to life?” he asked. Above them, Kitto was halfway down the ladder, and the others would be right behind him.
“I don’t know,” she said. “But there is something about him…”
“What?” Harp prompted.
Majida smiled sadly. “He’s at a crossroads.”
“I don’t understand,” Harp said. “It’s very similar to the place you are standing,” Majida said.
“Are you sure I’m at a crossroads?” Harp said. “Because I feel like I’m at the bottom of a well.”
When everyone had climbed down the ladder and the trap door was closed above them, Majida pushed open the wooden door. An unexpected flood of sunlight made Harp shield his eyes. Blinking rapidly, he stepped into an enormous subterranean room. High above them, crystal-encrusted stalagmites hung from the cavern’s dripping ceiling. A narrow streambed flowing with azure water bisected the cavern floor, which was composed of the same black rock as the walls of the shaft.
“Fire-rock and mud-rock in the same place?” Boult muttered to Harp. “Something incredibly hot exploded here to get that combination.”
The walls of the cavern were slopes of gray, pockmarked rock that let water seep into the cavern as well as sunlight. The rock was so porous that Harp could see the silhouettes of vines and flowers dangling on the other side. In the center of the massive cavern, a bronze urn burned with a glittery orange flame.
“Welcome to the Spirit Vault,” Majida said. They stared at the cavern.
“Why do you call it that?” Harp asked.
Majida smiled and pointed to the far side of the cavern. The wall was the same glistening black as the shaft, but in place of sea fossils, the crystallized bones of a giant creature protruded from the obsidian wall.
Spanning from floor to ceiling, the bones were at least double the height of a giant and more than four times the size of an average man. While the bones of the creature’s torso, arms, and legs were humanoid, the slant of its skull was distinctly feline. Spiny filaments of wings jutted out from behind its back, and broken chains dangled from his shackled wrists. With its wings outspread and palms opened, the creature looked as if it had been blasted back against the wall by some immense force that had made the cavern into a tomb.
“What are those?” Harp said in awe.
Zo gave him a quizzical look. “Those are the bones of a god.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
2 Flamerule, the Year of the Ageless One (1479 DR) Chult
'That’s not a god,” Verran said. “That’s just some monster.”
Zo’s eyes widened, and he sputtered harsh words in Dwarvish, but Verran didn’t look abashed at all. Harp thought he looked defiant, and a little pleased, as if he took pleasure in angering the dwaryen chief.
“You know, Verran,” Harp said as gently as he could. “You shouldn’t judge something you don’t know anything about.”
“It’s not a god,” Verran repeated. Furious, Zo turned bright red under his beard.
Majida sighed. “Zo, would you ask Lethea to prepare a place for our guests to rest? And food for them to eat?”
After Zo had stomped out of the cavern and down a tunnel in the wall behind them Harp glared at Verran.
“We’re guests here…” Harp began irritably, but Majida interrupted him before he could chastise the youth.
“You’re right, Verran,” she interrupted, staring intently at the boy. “It’s not a god. But there’s no use trying to dissuade someone from their beliefs, is there?”
“What do you mean by that?” Verran asked petulantly.
Harp and Boult exchanged glances. Ever since the waterfall, Verran had been touchy. Harp wanted to attribute it to hunger and tiredness, but Majida’s fears about the boy were worrisome. And there was the strange emergence of the the creature in the pit. Without proof, Harp didn’t want to think that Verran had anything to do with it. But considering how he had melted Bootman, it was hard not to wonder.
“The Captive is not unrelated to you,” Majida told them. “The Practitioner is searching for the Torque, which was created from one of the broken links of his chains.”
“What does the Torque do?” Kitto asked.
“The Domain’s legends say many things,” Majida said with a touch of amusement. “Various myths assign it powers from dismemberment to the utter extermination of the dwarves.”
“Can you narrow that down?” Harp asked.
“Only to a guess,” Majida said. “I think it gives the wearer heightened protection. Like a shield, it gifts them with the Captive’s endurance, if not his strength.”
“But you don’t know for sure?” Boult asked.
“I am unraveling our legends in search of answers,” Majida said. “And as you know, in the realm of myth, truth is always suffocated by fear.”
“If the Torque is so powerful, why don’t the yuan-ti just use it themselves?” Boult asked.
Majida shook her head. “The Scaly Ones can’t use it.”
“Why?” Harp asked.
“I don’t know how the magic was ordered around the artifact, but in their hands, it’s simply a twist of metal. Since they can’t use it, I believe it’s safest in their keeping.”
While they talked, Verran became more and more agitated. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, and his eyes darted around the cavern as if he were watching the flight path of some invisible bird. Harp raised his eyebrows and frowned at the impatient youth.
“What is wrong with you?” Harp asked. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m hungry,” he said, jutting out his chin as if he expected someone to disagree with him.
“Go down the tunnel into the hub and ask for Lethea,” Majida said. “She’ll find something for you to eat.”
Before she finished speaking, Verran spun on his heel and hurried down the tunnel and out of sight. Watching him, Harp had the unpleasant feeling that Verran was like a pot of water, waiting to boil.
“We should go to the ruins and look for Liel,” Harp said to Majida when her dark eyes found his. “Liel thought the Torque was important. Cardew and his patron obviously think it’s important.”
“Not until you’ve rested. Kitto looks as if he’s about to fall over.”
“I’m fine,” Kitto insisted.
But Majida was right. Kitto looked tired and pale. On closer inspection, Harp saw that the boy was shaking, probably from hunger.
“Agreed,” Harp said. “Come on, Kitto, let’s go get some food.”
S@- SSSSSS ‹g›-
“All right, you,” Boult growled at Majida when Kitto and Harp were gone. “Talk.”
Majida laughed softly. “Abrupt, aren’t you?”
“You inscribed my name in the trees in the colony, as part of the ward.”
“Yes,” Majida admitted. “Why?” Boult demanded.
“I’ve dreamed about you, that you were coming to the jungle. My dreams are puzzling at best. Horrifying at worst. I thought you were the key to the puzzle.”
“And now you’re not so sure?” Boult prompted.
“And now I’m not so sure,” Majida agreed.
“What’s changed?”
But Majida didn’t answer. They stood in silence in the warm circle of air around the urn, and Boult marveled at the spectacle of the skeleton immortalized in the shiny rock. At first glance, the bones had looked like pure white
