I walked into a tunnel. The eyes of the carved angels and skeletons seemed to follow me as I passed by them. This passageway felt narrower than the others. The walls pressed against me.
Inhaling the stale air became a chore the deeper I went, so I focused on my task.
Find Jeremiah. Find his captor. Bring him home.
Tombs rose on either side of me like hulking, living things. I searched each one. Dust covered their gray granite surfaces.
I paused. A blank brick wall marked the end of the tunnel. I’d found nothing—no footprints, no signs of spellcasting, no intruders. But I still felt sure that Jeremiah’s captors had been down here. Why else would I have seen the vision of Jeremiah sitting in the temple ruins?
Either they’d never been down here, or they were very good at hiding.
With quiet footsteps, I walked out of the tunnel. A halo of orange firelight came into view as I entered the circular foyer. Kull waited for me. He stood near a pillar with his torch in hand. “I found nothing. Did you?” His voice echoed through the empty room.
“No.”
“There is one tunnel I have not checked.” He nodded toward the passageway marked Mog. I stepped toward it, though Kull didn’t move. His torch cast shadows under his eyes as he stared at the tunnel.
“Are you coming?” I asked.
He hesitated. “I am not sure if we should enter. Some say the family was cursed.”
“Cursed how?”
“There is a record of the Mog family that many remember, perhaps because they were not well liked. They had many enemies. Some of the family members were killed in a particularly gruesome manner, though no one could find the one responsible. In those early days after the crossing, our ancestors built their homes along the ocean’s shore, so it was most convenient to bury the dead in the sea. But some believed the spirits of the Mog family were restless. In the end, they created these tunnels and buried the bodies down here.”
“So these tunnels were first created for the Mog family?”
“Yes, though it did little good. The few souls who have traveled to this place in more modern times claim to hear their voices. Their footsteps still echo, and their apparitions appear in that passageway.”
“Do you believe in such things?”
“I cannot say.”
“Are they dangerous?”
He hesitated. I couldn’t read his face as he stared with apprehension down the hallway. “There are rumors of bodies being found in those chambers. What is odd is that the bodies were slaughtered in the same manner as the original murdered family members—half mutilated, with their eyes cut out and their lips sewn shut with black thread.”
A chill crept down my spine. “They died the same way?”
He nodded. “Some say that the spirits of the Mog family seek revenge.”
A nervous knot formed in my stomach as I peered down the dark hallway. Was it worth risking our lives? “Then perhaps we should search somewhere else.”
He shook his head. “No, there is nowhere else. Besides, the stories are only rumors. And I’ve brought my broadsword. We will be safe enough.”
Kull and his broadsword. Would he ever shut up about it? What could a broadsword do against a spirit?
He turned, and I followed him into the Mog chambers. Thin ribbons of fog appeared along the floor. As the mist touched my skin, its dampness made me shudder. Where did the fog come from? There was little moisture down here to create it. Was it some form of gas released by the decomposing bodies? Surely not. The souls in this part of the chamber had been dead for hundreds of years.
The tunnel stretched farther than the previous ones. The mist muffled our footsteps and made the silence seem oppressive. I felt grateful when Kull started a conversation.
“You don’t seem as frightened of this place as most people.”
I mulled over his statement. “That may be true. But I didn’t grow up hearing the stories.”
“Even without the stories, most people would hesitate before entering a crypt. Don’t you fear death?”
He had to mention death in a place like this. I glanced at him, remembering the stories I’d heard of him. “I’ve heard that you do not fear death. Is it true?” I asked him.
“Of course not. Any man would be a fool not to fear death.”
“Let me guess, that’s why you’re still alive?”
“No. I am alive because the gods allow it. I should have died long ago.” He shifted his broadsword. The tunnel turned to the right, and we followed it as the mist thickened around us. The runes above the tombs had been etched off. Only an empty scar remained where the symbols had been.
“You have good instincts,” he went on. “You show bravery in a fight.” He glanced at my shoulder. “But you hide your pain from others, and you hide your fear.”
“How do you know what I fear?”
“Because I am a warrior. I’ve trained my entire life to find my enemies’ weaknesses.”
“Does this mean you’ve found my weaknesses?”
“Yes,” he answered without hesitation.
This conversation was starting to grate on my nerves. “I’m glad I’m so easy to read, just like anyone else you’ve ever battled.”
“No.” He stopped walking. “You are not the same.”
Firelight flickered on the golden strands of his hair. His eyes exuded an intelligent intensity, as if he were staring inside me, trying to see how I ticked. Good luck, buddy. Even I don’t know how my head works.
“Has the sky king ever mentioned anything about your powers?”
“Of course. He trained me.”
“And don’t you find it odd that he should take such an interest in you?”
“I suppose he felt sorry for me.”
“No, I don’t believe so.”
“Then why do you think he trained me?”
He hesitated. “I do not know,” he replied as he walked ahead.
I stared after him. What a strange conversation. I followed him, but the mists gathered so thickly that I couldn’t see the firelight from his torch or hear his
