Like any good medicine, it tasted awful to prevent misuse, and so Cirion choked down the foul tasting stuff with a grimace until the blue vial sat empty. As he lowered the vial, the slash on his forehead disappeared, as did the more troublesome, bloody gash on his sword arm and a smaller one on a leg. Most of those around him were doing the same, for few had escaped the battle unscathed.
They had made it past the five ogres and the mercenaries beyond the gate but with a terrible price. Four of his men were dead and most of the others were hurt, but the rogue regretted it not. They’d known what they were getting themselves into when they signed up with him and he wouldn’t tolerate any whining about it now. Still, he’d expected better swordplay from several, who at least paid with their own lives, but they had risked his as well. Their ineptness also caused an alarmingly quick reduction in their healing potions. After using up most of what they’d brought, he’d looked to Raith to see if any were hidden in those robes, but the wizard shook his head. Hopefully no more would be needed, but he doubted that. He wasn’t entirely certain the wizard was telling the truth about that, either.
They stood in the castle’s entrance hall, doors closed behind them. No sounds of running feet came their way thanks to Nola’s quick aim with the crossbow. A robed cult member had gone sprinting between the curving stairs on either side and straight into the castle’s further reaches, but the crossbow bolt had slain him in mid stride. For now, no one knew they were here except the dead, and Cirion intended to keep it that way.
The flaming tiles he’d encountered last time hadn’t been active in the courtyard, presumably done away with by the current occupants. The stairways, however, were still out of the question due to what was happening on them and had apparently been happening for a long time. With swords, knives, and bows in hand, men dressed much like them stood on the stairs in climbing positions, and yet they moved not at all. Each stood caught in time, alive but forever unmoving. They’d all been here the last time Cirion had, and in fact two of them were his men, and yet they hadn’t moved more than an inch in all that time. The rogue looked longingly at an ornate dagger in one man’s hand, for it was his and had been borrowed shortly before the man became ensnared. He’d resigned himself to never getting it back.
Cirion gestured toward the guy with a bolt in his back. “That way.”
Nola and Raith followed, their hired men following, weapons drawn. Ahead stood an archway with two hallways leading right and left to the rest of the castle. The main wing stood straight ahead, but the rogue hadn’t been lying to Anna when telling her a maze lay there. He suspected traps waited everywhere, and while he specialized in getting past them, many would be magical and beyond his skills. A glance showed the young wizard’s lips silently moving as he tried to detect magic along each path. At the very least, they wouldn’t be going straight into that room.
“Anything?” Cirion asked, realizing the ogre blood dripping from his sword to the floor would leave a trail. He wiped it on an ogre’s shirt.
“Yes,” the wizard answered. “There’s something in every direction, but more directly ahead. Still, I think we should go forward, even if by another route. The gate is bound to be in a big room in the main wing.”
Cirion frowned. “Wouldn’t it be hidden in some out of the way place where no one would look for it.”
“No,” the wizard disagreed. “Remember, the dragons had to be pulled into it, so it must be enormous, and the only rooms that big are public places.”
“He’s right,” agreed Nola.
And Cirion knew she did so reluctantly. Neither of them trusted the wizard. Well, they didn’t trust anyone, but they both thought Raith was hiding something. The show of strength he’d put on to get them here had surprised him. To agree with Raith now probably made her feel like she was playing a part in some machination of his she didn’t understand. That’s how Cirion felt. Beyond the outrage of being duped by someone they’d held in contempt, he knew such things usually ended with the ignorant person dead. It was too bad Nola hadn’t managed to drug Korrin with that sleeping potion after the banquet; that damn Andier ruined that. It would’ve given them a head start of a few days, but thanks to Raith, it seemed they’d arrived first anyway.
“All right,” Cirion started, “let’s avoid the big halls unless we can see into them before entering. That dragon will be back soon, so let’s get on with our search before we find it sitting between us and the Dragon Gate.” He gestured to a side hallway that hopefully led in the same general direction while providing cover. “This way.”
He and Raith took the lead, each doing their part to detect traps as Nola and their hired henchman followed. The way seemed clear as they paralleled the big room on one side via a hallway leading further into the castle. Doorways spilled into other rooms, some with spells upon them, but all were empty of life. Down an adjacent corridor lay several skeletons and a more recent corpse with flesh still on it, all with charred clothing. From the next doorway beyond it, a sliver of golden light streamed into the hall. Cirion motioned Nola forward as he listened to men speaking without concern of being overheard.
“The dragon’s out for her nightly feast,” said a gruff voice, “but she’ll be back soon.”
“Good thing it’s not one of us,” remarked another, chuckling.
Only nervous laughter greeted that, and someone asked, “Your service to the dragons stops short of being dinner?”
Before
