“If we don’t, the elves will kill everyone.”
He looked at her and then at the others with a desperate, pleading face. “How do you know this? I mean, how do you know I have to come?”
“Esrahaddon told me.”
“That loon?”
“He was a wizard.”
“He’s dead. If he was so all-knowing, how come he’s dead? Huh?”
“Waiting down here,” Alric shouted up.
“You have to go,” Arista told him.
“And if I refuse?”
“You won’t be emperor.”
“What good is being emperor if I’m dead?”
No one spoke; they all just looked at him.
Degan slumped his shoulders and grimaced. “How do you put this damn thing on?”
“Put your feet through the loops and buckle it around your waist,” Hadrian explained.
After Gaunt and Arista were down, Wyatt took over Hadrian’s position on the rope, freeing him to speak with Renwick. “You have supplies to last a week, perhaps more if you conserve,” he told him and the other boys as they gathered around. “Take care of the horses and stay off the hilltop. Make camp in that hollow. For your own safety, I’d avoid a fire in the daylight. The smoke will be visible at a distance. It would be best not to attract any uninvited guests.”
“We can handle ourselves,” Brand declared.
“I’m sure you can, but still it would be best not to wander, and try to keep unnoticed.”
“I want to go with you,” Renwick said.
“Me too,” Mince added.
Hadrian smiled. “You’re all very brave.”
“Not me,” Elbright said. “A man would have to be a royal fool to go into something like that.”
“So you’re the sensible one,” Hadrian told him. “Still, we need all of you to do your job here. Keep the camp, and take care of the horses for us. If we aren’t back in a week, I suspect we won’t be coming back and it will probably be too late if we do. If you see fire in the north or west, that will likely mean the elves have overrun Aquesta or Ratibor. Your best bet would be to go south. Perhaps try to catch a ship to the Westerlins. Although I have no idea what you’ll find there.”
“You’ll be back,” Renwick said confidently.
Hadrian gave the boy a hug, then turned to look at the monk, who was, as usual, with the horses. “Com’on, Myron, it’s nearly your turn.”
Myron nodded, petting his animal one last time, whispering to it. Hadrian put an arm around him as they walked toward the ridge, where Wyatt and Mauvin were in the process of lowering Magnus.
“What did you say to Royce last night?” Hadrian asked the monk.
“I just spoke with him briefly about loss and coping with it.”
“Something you read?”
“Sadly, no.”
Hadrian waited for more, but the monk was silent. “Well, whatever it was, it worked. He’s-I don’t know-alive again. Not singing songs and dancing, of course. If he did that, I suppose I’d worry. But you know, kinda normal, in a Royce sort of way.”
“He’s not,” Myron replied. “And he’ll never be the way he was again. There’s always a scar.”
“Well, I’m just saying the difference is like summer and winter. You should be thanked, even if Royce will never say it. There aren’t many who would face him like that. It’s like pulling a thorn from a lion’s paw. I love Royce, but he is dangerous. The life he’s lived denied him a proper understanding of right and wrong. He wasn’t kidding when he said he might have killed you.”
“I know.”
“Really?”
Myron nodded. “Of course.”
“You didn’t even seem worried. What happened to my little naive shut-in who walked in awe of the world? Where did all the wisdom come from?”
Myron looked at him, puzzled. “I’m a monk.”
Hadrian was the last to enter the hole, lowering himself hand over hand, sliding on his stomach to the edge, where at last he looked over and saw what Alric and the rest already had. An abyss opened below him. From the rim of the bowl, the opening looked small, but it was an illusion. The aperture was huge, an almost perfect circle of irregular rock, like the burrow of some enormous rabbit, and it went straight down. As in the pass, long icicles decorated the upper walls, stretching down from stony cliffs, and snow dusted the crevices.
He could not see the bottom. The setting sun cast an oblique light across the opening and against the far wall, leaving the depths lost to darkness. Far below, so far he would not have ventured an arrow shot, swallows flew, their tiny bodies appearing as insects, highlighted by the sunlight and brilliant against the black maw as they swirled and circled.
A bit light-headed, Hadrian stared down into the space below his feet. His stomach lightened and it took conscious effort to breathe. He got a firm hold of the rope, slipped over the side, and dangled in midair. The sensation was disturbing. Only the thin line separated him from eternity.
“You’re doing great,” Arista called to him as if she were an old pro now, her voice hollow as it echoed across the mouth of the shaft. He felt Royce pulling him in toward the side. Looking down, he saw all of them crouched on a narrow ledge that was glassy with ice, their gear stacked at one end.
He touched down, feeling hands on his waist pulling him to the safety of the wall.
“That was fun,” he joked, only then realizing how fast his heart was racing.
“Yeah, we should do this all the time,” Mauvin said, and followed it with a nervous laugh.
“Want us to leave the rope or untie it?” Renwick called down.
“Have him leave it,” Royce said. “That lip will be a problem otherwise. From this point on, I’ll come last and bring the rope with me. Wyatt, you have the most climbing experience. Why don’t you find the next ledge?”
Hadrian could see tension on the sailor’s face as they tied on the harness.
The interior of the hole was a wall of stone with many handholds. Hadrian guessed that even he could climb it with little fear if not for the ice and the knowledge that he was hundreds of feet from the ground.
Wyatt found a landing point, a new ledge some ways down, and they began the moving process again. The next ledge was narrower and shorter. There was not enough room for everyone, and Wyatt was forced to move on before all of them were down. Royce brought up the rear, untying the rope, coiling it around his body, and climbing down untethered, using just his claws.
The next two levels Hadrian did not consider ledges at all. They were merely a series of hand-and footholds where only three could pause. As they were forced to cling to the rock without ropes, their gear was left to dangle.
The next ledge was the widest yet, being the width of a country lane, and upon reaching it, several of them collapsed, lying down on their backs, their chests heaving, sweat dripping. Hadrian joined them, yawning to relieve the growing pressure in his ears. When he opened his eyes, he saw a circle of white light above them that was no larger than his thumb held at arm’s length. A seemingly solid shaft of light, like a pale gray pillar, beamed down into the hole. Through its luminescent column, the swallows swooped at eye level, rising and falling, dancing through the shaft. The far wall was still so distant it appeared hazy in the ethereal light.
“It’s like being bloody spiders,” Alric remarked.
“I’m not sure even being ruler of the world is worth all this,” Degan moaned.
“I can see how Edmund Hall fell now, but he must have gotten down a long way to have survived,” Arista said. “Could you imagine doing this alone?”
“He wasn’t alone,” Myron said. “He had two friends and several servants.”
“What happened to them? Were they locked up as well?”
“No,” Myron replied.
“They didn’t survive, did they?”
