“I don’t want to be trapped.”
“I know, but Terrence, he was smart, because he was a builder. He knew that if it rained, the mines would flood, so the warlord would have to open the gates, and then the children could be free. So, he prayed for rain, and the rains came. But the warlord still didn’t open the gates. He refused. So Terrence went into the mines himself, through the flooding tunnels, to open the gates, and the children were free. He yelled to the children, Rejoice, Rejoice, for you are free!”
“And what happened to him?” the boy asked. “Did he get out?”
“They say he closed the gates again, to trap the warlord, and he held him down there to drown.”
“So he drowned too?”
“No one knows,” the Thorn said. “But two nights later, the people in the village woke to find toys next to every child’s bed, and wet footprints in the room. And some say, in those mines, you can still hear him call.”
“Rejoice! Rejoice! Rejoice!” Hemmit called out.
“He’s here!” the boy shouted. They could hear a scramble of rock and stone.
“I’ve got you,” Hemmit said. “You’re safe.”
“Hemmit, you’ve got to get him out of here,” Dayne called. “We’ll find another way around.”
“How?” Hemmit asked.
The Thorn spoke up. “You take that passage to the left of the one he was in, and you follow it down about a quarter of a mile. You’ll reach a junction with a chalk mark on the wall. You should be able to follow chalk marks all the way to a sewer exit in Seleth. And if you find a fellow named Rynax—”
“Asti or Verci?” Hemmit asked.
That startled the Thorn. “Asti. You tell him the Thorn is going for the giant.”
“Dayne, what about everyone else?”
“I won’t leave them down here,” Dayne said. “But you’re hurt and that boy needs to get home. Take care of that.”
“All right,” Hemmit said. “Come on, son. Let’s get you home for Terrentin.”
The sound of their feet receded in the distance.
“You have others down here?” the Thorn asked. “I know there’s more than just one kid.”
“Other children, other friends,” Dayne said. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not leaving without every single one of them.”
“What a coincidence,” the Thorn said, the shadow of his cloak covering his face again. The rope coiled up at his belt, and he took up his bow. “I feel exactly the same way.”
Chapter 14
“BLESSED BE THE NINE!” THE crowd called. “Blessed be their High Dragon, Crenaxin!”
From her place at the back of the crowd, Jerinne was not the focus of anyone’s attention, thankfully. Else they would have noticed that she was not calling out with the rest of them.
Under her bloody robe, her fingers were wrapped around the hilt of her sword, so tight she could feel the blood pooling in them. She couldn’t make herself loosen her grip. If these zealots noticed her, if they went for her, she wouldn’t have a chance. There were easily a hundred of them. She kept her eye on the exits, noting how many robed figures were between her and escape, should things go wrong.
Crenaxin stepped away from the altar and the corpse, looking out to the crowd. “We must call him back, and for that, we must feed the fervent fire.”
“The fire must burn!”
“Who will step forward?” Crenaxin asked. “Who will take their place in the furnace of the world? Who will burn for the Nine? Someone must feed the fervent fire so . . .” He turned to one of the other men. “What was his name?”
“Poller,” the man said. “Ren Poller.”
“So that Ren can be called. So he can share with us his final secrets.”
One of the people from the crowd—one of the misshapen grotesques—came forward. They knelt at Crenaxin’s feet.
“Worthy soul,” Crenaxin said, placing his hand on their head. “You have already sacrificed so much, being a vessel for the great and terrible power. You were broken, but your faith is strong.” Crenaxin knelt down next to the beast. “I am humbled by your courage. I wish that you were enough, dear friend.” One hand still cradling the creature’s face, he reached out to the crowd. “I need more, please.”
Three more stepped forward, all reaching out and putting their hands on Crenaxin.
“Thank you,” he said, tears falling from his eyes. “I will hold on to this, dear friends.” He touched each of them, kissed them on the head, and then walked slowly to the altar.
As he approached the corpse, his body started to glow, like the last embers of a fire when blown upon. The glow filled his arms, and as it did, the four creatures on the altar began to smolder.
They all screamed as smoke poured off their bodies. One of them held up their arm to the air, and Jerinne watched in horror as it turned gray and ashen, and then crumbled into dust.
They all crumbled into dust, and the smoke that had poured off their bodies pooled and swirled around the altar, and then flew high in the air before jetting down Crenaxin’s throat.
Crenaxin’s skin swirled with light and color, as if a raging inferno burned underneath it. He bent back his head and opened his mouth impossibly wide, and then leaned forward to the corpse.
Fire spewed from his mouth, engulfing the body.
Jerinne screamed.
So did the rest of the congregation, but theirs were in elation and ecstasy. Jerinne dug her fingers into the hilt of her sword, hoping the feel of the weapon in her hand could stop the trembling fear in her body.
Crenaxin dropped to his knees, coughing and weeping.
Then the dead man started coughing. The flames cooled down and ebbed, then died down completely. The dead man coughed and jerked, and the two robed figures on the dais rushed over and helped him to his feet.
The dead man stood. His head
