Tristan stepped forward. “What do I have to do?”
“All we need is a little of your blood, Prince Tristan, and for you to accompany us into the tapestry. I will create a shield so no one will see or hear us. But you still have to be careful. Stay close and don’t make any sudden movements. I will do the rest.”
“I don’t like it, Victor,” said Penelope, clasping her hands in front of her. “Are you sure it will work?”
Victor looked sheepishly at Penelope and shook his head. “I told you it has taken over two hundred years to create. We didn’t have time to test it as well.”
“It will work,” said Brother Sebastian from the doorway. “I’m sure of it. All we need is the blood of a Nightshade.”
We turned toward the druid who had shielded us from the Drakwraith, and I immediately ran toward him. “Is Kalen okay?”
Brother Sebastian nodded and looked at Penelope. “He is recovering. We finally managed to remove all the darkness from his blood.”
Penelope went up to him and grasped his hand. “I cannot thank you enough for all you have done for us, Brother Sebastian. I am forever in your debt.”
Brother Sebastian smiled. “There is no need for thanks. It is what we do.”
I heaved a sigh of relief, as if a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders. It wasn’t a victory in battle, but it was a victory nonetheless: a victory over darkness, a sliver of hope. Kalen was going to be all right. “When can I see him?”
“The witch Ashara is standing guard; she barely let us work on him.” Brother Sebastian rolled his eyes. “I don’t think anyone is going to disturb him any time soon. But he will be better by morning. You can see him then,” he added, moving past me to inspect the tapestry just as Victor had done. He rubbed his hands together, and his eyes lit up like a child’s as he spoke to Victor. “Are we going to use it? I’ve been waiting to see if it works.”
“Well, there is only one way to find out,” said Victor. He drew a knife from his robes. “If you would, Prince Tristan.” He held out the knife.
Tristan took the weapon from the druid and, quick as a flash, sliced his palm.
Victor nodded. “Good. Now place it on the tapestry. It will recognize your Nightshade blood.”
Tristan placed his bleeding hand on the tapestry, which absorbed the blood as if it were never there. Suddenly the tapestry sprang to life, shimmering and moving like a living thing.
“Brother Sebastian, you will have to wait here to make sure we return,” Victor said over his shoulder.
The old druid’s face fell. “Why can’t I go in and you stay here?”
Victor raised his eyebrow, and it was obvious who was in charge. “You shall have other opportunities to test it, Brother Sebastian.”
He nodded. “Of course. Go, I will stand guard.”
Victor drew a rune in the air with his staff and then touched it to the tapestry. A ripple started to form inside it, moving outward. “Follow me.”
One by one, we followed Victor into the tapestry.
The Thirteenth Tapestry
The Dark Fortress loomed above us, an obsidian giant which seemed to be carved out of the massive mountain itself.
“That’s Mount Khatral,” said Victor, “also known as the Black Mountain. This is the place where your ancestors trapped Dragath so many centuries ago.”
The name itself sent a shiver down my spine. The air felt dead, and nothing seemed to grow for miles around. Black rocks and an even darker mountain absorbed all the light around it. I looked down. Centuries-old bones lay by the wayside, fallen and forgotten, while a mage in a dark robe climbed the carved stone steps to the base of the fortress. I recognized the crest on the robes. He was a mage of Evolon.
Penelope gasped. His hair was short and dark, not peppered with white as it was now, but there was no mistaking who it was. “That’s Joreth.”
Victor nodded. “Yes, before he came to work at the palace in Nerenor. His thirst for knowledge and power led him here, to the Darklands. But it was fate or a power far greater that led him to Dragath’s tomb.”
We followed Joreth into the fortress, through dark corridors, and into an underground cavern deep within the bowels of Mount Khatral. I knew he couldn’t see or hear us, but every time he looked back, my heartbeat sped up.
We came to a dark chamber within the cavern. The only thing in this room was a stone tomb where Dragath lay, bound by Auraken Firedrake’s magic. The floor around it had deep grooves etched in the shape of druidic runes, and I knew the druids had helped my ancestors in their war against the demon lord.
Joreth touched the tomb with a reverent finger, then placed both his hands flat against it. I saw him grimace in pain as dark veins forced their way through his body. He looked like he was trying to pull away, but he couldn’t—the darkness was latching on to his soul. I wished we could stop him from doing this, but Penelope had warned us of the dangers of tampering with the past. It could change the course of everything, and it rarely ever ended well.
Finally, Joreth let go, but when he turned toward us his eyes flashed demon black. In the center of the obsidian iris glowed an ember of red evil soullessness. Joreth left the chamber with part of Dragath’s consciousness firmly embedded within him.
Victor turned to me, speaking softly even though the shield around us created a sound barrier.
