Regent

Then his eyes returned to Durin. 'Now tell me every detail. I want to know what you heard, what you felt. I want to know how it smelled. Everything. Sit. Talk.'

Strom listened with so much interest that Durin's hands and voice trembled. When Martik entered the smithy, Strom called him over and made Durin repeat every word. Martik, an experienced engineer, sat back heavily and stared, open mouthed, at Durin.

'If only Brother Vaughn were here with us,' Martik said. 'He'd love to know those runes actually do something.'

Both Strom and Durin looked away, knowing his absence did not bode well for his safety. Already, Prios had sworn to go back out after Sinjin and any other survivors, but it was uncertain if there was anyone at all still left alive in other parts of the hold. And many felt it better to spend their time reinforcing the barrier and not bringing it down to fight a losing battle.

'Keep building up the barrier,' Strom told Martik, and he pulled Durin from the smithy. 'Brother Vaughn may have saved us without even knowing it.'

Strom wrinkled his nose as he poured a foul mixture into a glowing rune. 'What is this?'

'Wine and pickle juice,' Durin responded with a shrug. 'It's all that was left.' But then he fell back. Wisps of steam escaped the rune, then more steam came and the whistling sound grew. An instant later, the whistling abruptly stopped, and the floor trembled. When the trembling stopped, Durin watched the truth settle onto Strom's face by the light of a shaking torch. By pouring liquid into the rune, they had done something that would have wide- reaching consequences. For Durin, it was the second time he'd had one of these realizations, and the second was no better than the first.

'By the gods,' Strom said, looking down at the steaming rune then at the now open hall leading into the darkness.

'You said Brother Vaughn called that one respite. That should mean safety, right?' Durin asked, wanting reassurance and knowing that had been Strom's argument for selecting the rune, but screams from above drove them both to move.

'What have I done?' Strom asked aloud as they ran. 'What was I thinking?'

'You said it would've taken too long for everyone to agree on what to do, so you were making the decision for them.'

The screaming and shouting continued, and Strom looked like he might be sick.

'Where in the depths have you been?' Miss Mariss barked when they arrived at the forge.

Strom couldn't find words, and Durin followed his example.

'Idiots. The keep has up and moved again, and by the sound of it, some of the demons are trapped as well. They certainly don't sound happy.'

'I know now why the keep moved,' Strom said at last, and Miss Mariss stopped. 'Durin caused it the first time, and I caused it the second time.' Miss Mariss looked as if she would shift from stunned to a full-blown rage, so Strom spoke more quickly. 'I wasn't sure it would work. Durin's experience could have been a coincidence, and I knew it would take too long to come to a consensus, and we needed everyone to continue working on the barrier, so I. .'

'You acted like an irresponsible fool and could have killed us all. You should be ashamed of yourselves, both of you. Now the demons are even more determined to break down our barrier.'

'Respite,' Durin said, looking up at Strom.

'A new corridor has opened,' Strom said. 'I think Durin and I should explore it and see what new resources we have available to us.'

'Or what new dangers we face. You fools. Fine. Go. Just try not to make things worse.'

Durin flushed and he could see Strom wasn't faring much better. It made him feel very good that even someone as strong and skilled as Strom could still feel guilt under Miss Mariss's stare. Perhaps there was hope for him yet, Durin thought. Then again, he knew Miss Mariss had not yet realized there were pickles and wine missing.

Strom grabbed more torches and his hammers. Durin looked around for something to arm himself with but found only a rasp. Strom gave him a disapproving look. 'You're gonna have a hard time filing your way out of trouble.' After what looked like a moment of pure conflict, Strom reached up and grabbed something from the back of the tallest shelf in the smithy. He shoved a cold, black handle into Durin's hand. 'I want that back.'

'I thought you didn't make weapons?' Durin asked after drawing a gleaming, curved blade from the sheath. The handle felt good in his palm, solid and smooth but with an unusual texture that provided a sure grip. Durin looked in amazement at the finely crosshatched lines that made up the grip. Never before had he seen such precision. The blade itself was black, but the edge gleamed silver and promised blood.

'Knives are not always weapons,' Strom said without looking at Durin.

'You don't expect me to believe that you made this for cutting cheese, do you?'

Strom stopped and glared.

'Right. Uh, sorry.'

Not far ahead, in a room that had once been a storeroom, despite the glowing runes in the floor, now waited respite-at least Durin hoped that was what awaited them.

The silence was often worse than the hunger or thirst; still it was generally preferable to the sound of Brother Vaughn trying to get information from Trinda. The sullen girl's responses drained the energy from Sinjin, and he wondered how anyone could be so unhappy.

'It needs more,' Trinda said, pointing at the herald globe, whose light was fading. Sinjin turned away, not sure how to respond to such an inane statement. It seemed unlikely they could charge the herald globe in the sun without first finding their way out of where they were trapped.

'He doesn't like me,' Sinjin heard Trinda say, and he turned toward where she and Brother Vaughn sat.

'I don't think that's true,' Brother Vaughn said, and he waved for Sinjin to come closer. 'Now that's not true at all, is it?'

'It's not that I dislike you,' Sinjin began, but his tone changed under the weight of Brother Vaughn's gaze. 'It's just that you are sad a lot, and that makes me feel sad.'

'You feel sad because I feel sad?'

'Yeah, that's what I said,' Sinjin snapped, earning another glare from Brother Vaughn.

'You should be nice to me.'

'Why's that?'

''Cause someday you're gonna need somethin'.'

'And you'll be there to help me?'

Trinda just raised her eyebrows and looked doubtful.

'Perhaps you'll both need something, and wouldn't it be nice if you were there for each other?' Brother Vaughn said.

Sinjin and Trinda both rolled their eyes at him, and in rare moment, Sinjin saw Brother Vaughn's frustration show through the cloak of calmness he usually wore. He took a breath to say something, but then the world began to move. 'Hold on to me!' he shouted.

Sinjin grabbed Trinda and pulled her with him, wrapping his arms around her. She didn't struggle and though she was older than he, she seemed but a child, slight and frail, counting on him to save her. It was an odd feeling that bloomed in Sinjin's chest. Dust seeped into the air as the deep grinding reverberated through the keep. Relief flooded through Sinjin as the walls moved, and once again the way they had come in was clear. Still the keep moaned and trembled. Brother Vaughn pulled Sinjin forward, and Sinjin half carried Trinda back toward the main hall, which led between the God's Eye and the great hall. As they neared the junction, Dragonhold returned to rest, and what had become a near-deafening roar suddenly stopped. What remained was far from silence, and it chilled Sinjin's blood. Howls and grunts echoed through the halls, sounding like the cries of tortured animals, and only occasionally did he hear the shouts of people. Sometimes those calls were more frightening than those of the demons, especially when they ended in shrill and strangled cries.

Brother Vaughn stood as still as stone and listened, his head turned one way then another. 'May the gods