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“They have been down there a long time,” Dal commented as she stared into the fire that Seth had recently lit. They had moved away from the ruins when a chill started to set into their bones and now sat on the ground close to the remains of one of the outer walls. Ria, Quartilla and Nosmas sat with them, none of the five wishing to return to the palace until their friends emerged from the tomb.
“I know,” Seth said sadly. “How big was the room?”
“Small,” Dal replied. “Do you think they still have air?”
Nobody wanted to answer that question. “Did you hear that?” Nosmas said suddenly, standing up. “I thought I heard a shout coming from somewhere below us.” The other four leaped to their feet and sprinted back towards the trap door. Ria was about to descend when they heard calling from below them.
“Nosmas, get down here now,” Brodin yelled. Ria stepped out of the wizard’s way and watched him descend into the darkness, following as soon as he was out of sight.
“We stay here until we know what is happening,” Seth said sternly to his wife as Dal moved towards the opening.
“I need that door opened now,” Tor demanded, a trace of panic in his voice. He grabbed Nosmas by the arm and pointed towards the wooden door.
“Where is the Keeper?” Ellen asked Ria quietly as they watched Nosmas attempt to open the door by magic.
“He left as soon as you entered the inner chamber. Why? What is going on?”
“Vitkin is still in there,” Ellen replied in a flat voice.
“Vitkin,” Tor shouted. “Move away from the door.” The banging that was coming from the other side ceased and Tor could only assume that his brother was following his orders. Nosmas tried every spell he knew, but nothing had any effect.
“It is only a wooden door for frack’s sake,” Cirren cried out, tears in his eyes. “Somebody find me an axe.” Hawk flew out of the chamber, returning a few minutes later with a large double-bladed war axe.
“Where did you get that thing?” Ria asked him.
“They have altarian guards patrolling all of the roads that lead out of the city, preventing anyone leaving without express permission from the palace. I borrowed it from one of them.”
“Borrowed?” Her eyebrows rose as she asked the question.
“I gave him the option of loaning it to me or being bitten. I think he chose wisely.” Ria nodded her agreement as Hawk strode over towards the door, lifted the axe over his head and drove it into the wood. The metal crumbled and the door remained undamaged.
Through the stunned silence they could all hear rasping breath as Vitkin struggled to speak. “Get out of here,” he ordered. “There is nothing more you can do for me.”
“No,” Brodin shouted, banging his fist on the door. “We cannot just leave you in there.”
“Say goodbye to mother for me,” Vitkin said, his voice barely audible.
“Vitkin,” Cirren screamed, tears streaking down his face. Ria grabbed hold of him, hugging him tight as she slowly moved him away. He ceased struggling against her and sobbed into her shoulder. Brodin continued to bang on the door until his fist began to bleed, while Tor just stared at the wood, too overcome with grief to do anything else.
It took a lot of cajoling, shouting, pushing and demanding to get the three remaining Princes to climb the rungs and leave the outer chamber. They all felt utterly defeated. They had successfully retrieved the next clue, but it was a hollow victory. Ria took Quartilla, Seth and Dal aside and quietly told them what had happened, hoping she was far enough away for Tor, Brodin and Cirren not to overhear.
“The sun will be rising soon,” Hawk said to Nosmas, placing the stone he had retrieved from the crypt in the wizard’s hand. “We have to go. Take care of this.”
Without further words, the two vampires flew off towards the palace in search of their coffins, while the humans trudged wearily after them.
It was a very sombre group that finally entered the throne room. Sam, Grimmel, Oak and River were lying on sleeping pallets that had been placed along one wall, fast asleep, while Modo, Patrick and Ban sat in a far corner, playing a game of dice. All three looked up as they heard the door open. The smiles dropped from their faces when they saw how dejected everyone looked.
“Where is Helen?” Tor asked in a sombre voice.
“She retired for the night as soon as she returned to the palace,” Patrick informed him. “What happened?”
“We will tell you later,” Nosmas said before Tor could speak. “Right now these three are going to go to their room and get some sleep.” Lacking the energy to argue, the three brothers followed Nosmas out of the room. They unwillingly went to their beds and Nosmas cast a spell, putting them into a deep and dreamless sleep. By the time he returned to the throne room, everyone in the room was awake and Ria was providing them with a full breakdown of the night’s events. Only the Princes and the vampires knew exactly what went on inside the inner chamber, so that part of the tale would have to wait for a while.
“How are they?” Sam asked Nosmas when Ria had finished speaking.
“Asleep,” he replied, collapsing into a chair. “I put a spell on them so they will not awake again until this evening. I would have preferred to use a sleeping potion, but Ellen is much better at making those than I am.” As he leaned back, he felt something uncomfortable in his pocket and withdrew the stone. He turned it over and read the inscription.
Now the players are down to two
Which will manage to win through?
You will need your guide for the final task
The blind man who reads you must also ask
The short and the tall may not be present
When you find the shrieking pheasant
But first to Shelton you must depart
Go and view the wonderful art
––––––––
“What!” Patrick shouted, jumping to his feet. “Nobody goes to my island without my permission. It is impossible for the clue to be there.”
“Calm down,” River said. “You are jumping to conclusions. It says to go there first. I do not think that is where the clue is, but something in the art there will point us in the right direction.”
“Do you have any art?” Ria asked in a doubtful tone.
“Of course I do,” Patrick snapped. “I have been a collector for centuries.”
“So we know where we go to next,” Sam pointed out, attempting to diffuse the tension in the room. “Assuming you will let us onto your island, of course,” she added to Patrick. He did not bother to reply.
“May I suggest that we all go to our rooms and try to get some sleep,” Seth said. “We have a long journey ahead of us and Tor will probably want to get out of this city as soon as possible.”
“After the wedding you mean,” Modo interjected.
“Frack,” Seth swore. “I forgot about that. After what happened to Vitkin, none of his brothers are going to want to stay here for another two weeks. Anyone have any suggestions?”
“Look at it this way,” Dal said when nobody spoke. “We have an extra two weeks to try to figure out what the latest clue means.”
Night had fallen by the time Tor and his brothers awoke from their enforced slumber. They did not feel rested and were grumpy and irritable when they left their room in search of food. The dining room was empty, so they headed to the kitchen, where the head cook was busy stirring a large pot of soup. A loaf of bread had been freshly baked for them and was cooling on the table, a bowl of butter beside it. They ate quickly, not speaking, and headed for the throne room as soon as their bowls were empty.
Everyone was waiting for them when they arrived, including Helen, Alate and Fuzzle. Nobody commented on how unkempt they looked as they walked into the room. Fuzzle opened her mouth to speak, but Tor interrupted her.
“I know what you are going say and would appreciate it if you remained silent. Our brother is dead because of the orders you insisted the Keeper follow. Nothing you can say will make me forgive you for that.”
“How dare you speak to a member of my court in that way,” Helen said through gritted teeth, her eyes flaring with anger. Tor stepped back involuntary, surprised at the viciousness in her voice. “What Fuzzle was about to explain, if you had demonstrated the courtesy she deserves, is that if the Keeper had tried to open the door to let Vitkin out the entire tomb would have exploded, killing you all.”
“Bullshit,” Sam replied. “How the hell would that happen? Are you trying to tell us there is a spell that would know the reason for a door being opened? Get real.”
“Actually, there may be,” Nosmas replied thoughtfully. “Obviously there is no way for a spell or enchantment to know the reasons things happen, that would imply a thought process, but it is possible that a spell was cast that detected if anyone was alive inside the inner chamber when the door opening was triggered from the outer chamber. I am not saying that is the case, but it is a possibility.”
“In that case, I owe you an apology,” Tor said, bowing to Fuzzle.
“Do not worry about it,” she replied graciously. “I would say I know how you feel, but thankfully I do not. Are you all feeling up to hearing the clue?”
Hawk and Ellen had entered the palace shortly after the sun had descended. They had flown into the countryside in search of food, but had returned as soon as they could and read the clue. Ellen repeated it, word perfect, without having to glance at the stone in Nosmas’s hand.
“That seems pretty straight forward,” Brodin said. “Maybe a little too straight forward. All of the others had some sort of twist to them or needed a lot of investigation and research.” He frowned as he spoke, making his eyebrows almost meet in the middle.
“We only know where to go,” Ria pointed out. “We have no idea what the ‘shrieking pheasant’ is or where in Patrick’s castle we are to find it. Apparently he has a lot of artwork we are going to have to analyse.” She said the last sentence in a derisive manner, causing Patrick to growl at her.
Tor looked at her, as though seeing her for the first time since entering the room. “Why do you have red cloth tied round your hair?” he asked. “It does not suit you.”
“No reason,” she replied a little too quickly. Alate and Helen both had to quickly turn away to hide their smirks. Instead of getting sleep, as Seth had suggested, they were both well aware that Ria had spent most of the day walking around the city, making sure a fair number of the altars who were visiting noticed her.
“Back to business,” Brodin said, taking charge. “Does anyone have any idea what the ‘shrieking pheasant’ could refer to?”
The next hour was spent discussing possibilities. With so many people in the room, conversation and ideas should have been flowing, but trying to get anyone to contribute their thoughts was like trying to get blood from the proverbial stone. It was not that they did not wish to discuss business; it was simply that nobody had any suggestions as to what the clue could refer to, not even Patrick. Returning to Alias’s library was suggested, but discounted as too much of a detour. St Cuthberts also came up in the conversation, causing all eyes to fall onto Tor.
“You actually spent the night in the nunnery?” Brodin asked him in disbelief.
“I do not want to talk about it,” he replied in an emotionless voice.
A while later, Sam noticed that Cirren had not spoken since entering the room. He stared at the ground, lost in his own thoughts. “Are you okay?” she asked, noticing a tear trickle down his face.
“I do not want to do this anymore,” he sobbed. “I have lost too many people that I love.”
“You do not have a choice,” Brodin pointed out, sounding as sympathetic as he could. “You either come with us or you die.” The words were harsh, and he knew it, but there was no way to say it any easier.
Soon there was nothing left to talk about except their departure. Tor wanted to leave immediately, but Brodin, who was not used to travelling with vampires, preferred to wait until morning. It was Sam who reminded them that they had to stay until after the wedding. Tor started to swear very loudly. He tried to argue that there were exceptional circumstances and reiterated how badly Vitkin’s death had affected him and his brothers, but Alate would not listen. He was making a lot of sacrifices for Helen, but ignoring altarian marriage traditions was asking too much. Helen agreed with him, pointing out that altarian guards were stationed at every exit from the city and would not permit anyone to leave without written authorisation, which she refused to give.
“I truly am sorry for your loss,” she said, with genuine feeling, “but this wedding is more important to me and my country than a slight delay in your search for the next clue.”
Without speaking another word, she took Alate by the hand and they both silently left the room. Everyone watched them go.
“Well it seems there is no point in discussing things any further,” Tor said in a resigned voice. “It looks like we are stuck here.”
“Wait,” Fuzzle called out as Tor was about to depart. “I may have a solution for you.”
He turned round to look at her. “Go on,” he said in a flat tone.
“There is a tunnel leading out of the city. It has not been used in many years and nobody knows where it leads, but it should still be accessible.”
“I thought the tunnel was just a legend,” Seth mused. “How do you know it exists?”
“I know where the entrance is. The knowledge was entrusted to me by my predecessor. Helen and I are the only people alive who know where it is located.”
Brodin whistled. “You must hold us in high regard to reveal such a well-kept secret. Will Helen agree?”
Fuzzle dropped her head, preferring to study her feet than meet anyone’s gaze. “I was not planning on telling her.”
“No,” Tor said. “That is not an option. I will not abuse her hospitality by going behind her back. I have more honour than that.”
“Stuff honour,” Cirren said. “I want to get out of this damn city and I am definitely not in the mood for spending the next two weeks celebrating. We have just lost a brother, or had you forgotten.”
The words came out more harshly than he intended and he instantly regretted them. He started to apologise, but Tor held out his hand, stopping him mid-sentence.
“I understand how you feel, but this is Helen’s secret, not ours, and she is supposed to pass it on to her children and grandchildren, no-one else. She will be livid if she found out.”
“That is not the problem,” Fuzzle said unexpectedly. “Helen would gladly show you the entrance if it will help you in your quest. The problem is, she is set on respecting altarian traditions. It is not that she would be unhappy about you using the tunnels, it is you leaving the city before the wedding she has a problem with, as she just demonstrated.”
“That changes things,” Brodin observed. “She only said she would not give us permission to leave. She said nothing about sneaking out.”
“Escaping you mean,” Ban muttered.
“Ellen and I will not be able to come with you,” Hawk pointed out. “We need to stay with our coffins.”
“Only the Princes go,” Fuzzle stated matter-of-factly. “I cannot justify allowing anyone else to see the entrance and finding out where the exit is.”
Patrick shrugged. “I do not think any of us will mind too much not having to travel through a dark tunnel, especially one that may not have an exit.”
Brodin shot him a dark look. “What do you mean?”
“He has a point,” Seth said. “If nobody has travelled through this tunnel in a long time, how do you know it has not caved in or maybe a house has been built over the exit?”
Sam shuddered. The thought of being trapped in the dark made her feel physically ill.
“That is a chance we have to take,” Tor said.
“I should go with you,” Modo insisted. “You may need my eyes.” He held out his hands and opened all of his eyes at once, emphasising his words.
“He is right,” Tor said and Fuzzle reluctantly nodded her agreement.
They spent the next few hours discussing arrangements. If the three brothers and Modo were to depart without their companions, they needed to arrange a meeting place that would not take either of the groups too far out of their way. They knew their destination was Shelton Island and that the Princes had been requested to return to their homeland to visit their mother, so Fuzzle sent a servant to bring them a map. When it arrived, Tor placed it on the floor and everyone crowded round it.
“We are here,” he said, placing an empty cup on Linket. “Brodin, Cirren and I need to get to here.” He placed a second cup on Remeny. “Then we all need to end up here.” A third cup was used to mark Shelton. “And we will have a two week head start on you. Any suggestions?”
“The only thing that really makes sense is for everyone else to head straight to Shelton,” Brodin said, studying the map. “We have no idea where we are going to find ourselves when we come out of the tunnel and we will have to find somewhere to buy provisions and horses. Even with being stuck here for two weeks, there is no way they will not make it to any convenient rendezvous a long time ahead of us. I am sure they will be more comfortable in Patrick’s castle than in an inn somewhere.”
“Going home is a huge detour,” Cirren said in a sulky voice. “Do we really have to go?” He was not looking forward to their mother’s reaction to hearing about the death of her sons. He was not sure how many she had heard about and hated to be the bearer of bad news. Neither of his brothers bothered to respond.
“Excuse me,” Patrick said loudly. “Why are you assuming that I will be allowing anyone onto my island?”
“Grow up Patrick,” Ellen said. “You are sounding like a spoilt child who does not want to share his toys.”
“Dawn is approaching,” Fuzzle said, looking out of the window towards the slowly lightening sky. “I suggest the vampires head back to their coffins and everyone else retires for a few hours. Once I am sure you are all safely out of the way, I will lead these four to the tunnel.”
Goodbyes were swiftly made, then the three Princes and Modo went to retrieve their personal belongings, while Fuzzle stole away to the kitchen to package up some food and water for them to take. She did not think they would be underground for long, but did not want them to risk dying of thirst or starvation if she was wrong. When she returned to the throne room she found everyone waiting for her, ready to depart. She took one last look outside, making sure nobody was within sight, then closed the door, locking it behind her before striding over to the throne.
“Well come on then,” she said impatiently as the three men and Modo stared at her. Shaking their heads and frowning in confusion, they slowly made their way across the room to join her. “Move it,” she instructed, pointing to the large throne.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Modo said. “That thing is solid marble.”
Fuzzle smiled at him. “Why do you think I am asking you to move it instead of doing it myself?”
With a lot of grunting and straining, the four of them managed to move the throne forwards, revealing a large hole underneath.
“So the tunnel really does exist,” Brodin said, collapsing onto the floor.
“How are you planning on covering it up again?” Tor asked in concern.
“There is a little button underneath one of the arms that automatically moves it back again,” came the reply.
Everyone stared at her. “Why does the button not open it as well?” Tor asked.
“To avoid it being accidentally pressed,” Fuzzle explained. “It would be a bit embarrassing if the throne started to move while Helen was talking with visiting diplomats.”
Cirren looked down the dark hole. “Remind you of anything?” he said dryly. All he could see was a couple of rungs followed by complete blackness. If he had not known he was in the palace, he could imagine entering the tomb once more. Tor collected a lamp from the side of the room and lowered it down the hole, hoping that by doing so he would be able to see the bottom. He couldn’t.
“Should have brought some torches,” Brodin observed. Modo promptly removed one from his bag and handed it over.
“I knew there was a reason for bringing you along,” Tor said, taking the torch and lighting it. He dropped it down the hole and they all watched it descend. It took a long time to hit the bottom.
“Time to go.” Tor placed his backpack over his shoulders and began to climb down, closely followed by Modo and Cirren.
“Good luck,” Fuzzle said as Brodin began his descent. As soon as his head was clear, she pressed the button underneath the arm and the throne slid back into place.
Brodin was still descending when he heard movement above him. He paused and looked up, watching as the light slowly diminished and he was plunged into complete darkness.