better in the local quarry.” I push the skeleton out of the way and rub my hands together. “Down to business. Beranabus simply broke the lodestone on the ship, right? No spells or magic required, just brute force?”
“This might be different,” Kernel says. “I think it’s a more powerful stone.”
“Only one way to find out.” I grab hold of the rock. I’m expecting a shock of energy to shoot through me, but although I can feel the buzz of Old magic in the stone, it doesn’t affect me. I let my fingers wander and find cracks and holds. Then I take a firm grip and strain, trying to snap the rock in two.
Nothing happens. I release the stone and scowl. “Think you’re tough?” I growl. “You won’t get the better of Grubbs Grady.” I get hold of it again and strain once more.
“He’s talking to rocks now,” Kernel says.
“A definite lunatic,” Kirilli purrs.
I ignore them and brace my muscles. The stone continues to resist. Losing patience, I pick it up, look around, then plow into the water, holding the rock over one shoulder. My legs buckle, and I use magic to steady them. Moe and Curly gape at me as I stagger past. The lodestone weighs me down, even though I’m using magic to support it. A few more seconds and it will drive me under the water. That wouldn’t be the best way to go—pinned beneath a stone to drown.
With a savage curse, I swing the lodestone around, raise it over my head, then hurl it at the wall of the cave. The rock slams into the wall and shatters. Shards litter the floor, and chunks bounce off and rain down on the underground lake. The werewolves howl at the echoing retorts, and the cave fills with waves of noise. I crawl out of the lake, pick up the larger fragments of the lodestone, and hammer them into the wall or off each other, reducing the rock to dust. This is one stone Bec and Lord Loss won’t be able to use. No tunnel will ever be opened in Carcery Vale again.
When I’m done, I lean against the wall and look around, panting. Kernel and Kirilli are wading through the lake. Moe and Curly have climbed out and are drip-drying. The island of bones looks far less menacing now. I think about dismantling it and scattering the bones. I don’t have time to bury them all, but I could hide them in the lake, grant the dead at least that small measure of privacy.
As I’m deciding whether or not to set to work on the island, I hear footsteps in the tunnel. I spring away from the wall and land in the lake close to where Kernel and Kirilli were about to step out. “Wait!” I hiss, holding up a hand for silence. I listen closely, hoping I was wrong about the footsteps. But a few seconds later I hear them again. Two sets, edging closer slowly, cautiously.
“Company?” Kernel whispers.
“Trouble, most likely.” I bark softly at Moe and Curly. Obeying my command, they move to the mouth of the tunnel and take up position, one on either side.
“Shall I douse the light?” Kirilli asks. He’s trembling. It might be from the chill of the water, though I suspect fear plays more of a part.
“No,” I tell him. “When I give the order, intensify it and direct the rays at whatever comes through. If they have eyes, maybe we can blind them.”
“You’re good at that,” Kernel mutters sarcastically.
We fall silent. The footsteps draw closer. Then I see shadows. Two separate figures, one tall and skinny, the other shorter but broad. The tall, skinny one might be the shadow of Lord Loss, but the other can’t be Bec. Not unless she’s chosen a new form, like Nadia Moore did when she joined the demon master.
Their feet come into view. I see boots and the hems of trousers. They both look human. Soldiers perhaps, sent to assassinate us? Mages? Spelunkers, like the young Kirilli Kovacs? Some chance of that!
The pair pause, perhaps sensing trouble. Then the broader one shrugs and steps forward quickly, the taller one taking a hasty stride to keep up. Curly and Moe howl and
“This might be different,” Kernel says. “I think it’s a more powerful stone.”
“Only one way to find out.” I grab hold of the rock. I’m expecting a shock of energy to shoot through me, but although I can feel the buzz of Old magic in the stone, it doesn’t affect me. I let my fingers wander and find cracks and holds. Then I take a firm grip and strain, trying to snap the rock in two.
Nothing happens. I release the stone and scowl. “Think you’re tough?” I growl. “You won’t get the better of Grubbs Grady.” I get hold of it again and strain once more.
“He’s talking to rocks now,” Kernel says.
“A definite lunatic,” Kirilli purrs.
I ignore them and brace my muscles. The stone continues to resist. Losing patience, I pick it up, look around, then plow into the water, holding the rock over one shoulder. My legs buckle, and I use magic to steady them. Moe and Curly gape at me as I stagger past. The lodestone weighs me down, even though I’m using magic to support it. A few more seconds and it will drive me under the water. That wouldn’t be the best way to go—pinned beneath a stone to drown.
With a savage curse, I swing the lodestone around, raise it over my head, then hurl it at the wall of the cave. The rock slams into the wall and shatters. Shards litter the floor, and chunks bounce off and rain down on the underground lake. The werewolves howl at the echoing retorts, and the cave fills with waves of noise. I crawl out of the lake, pick up the larger fragments of the lodestone, and hammer them into the wall or off each other, reducing the rock to dust. This is one stone Bec and Lord Loss won’t be able to use. No tunnel will ever be opened in Carcery Vale again.
When I’m done, I lean against the wall and look around, panting. Kernel and Kirilli are wading through the lake. Moe and Curly have climbed out and are drip-drying. The island of bones looks far less menacing now. I think about dismantling it and scattering the bones. I don’t have time to bury them all, but I could hide them in the lake, grant the dead at least that small measure of privacy.
As I’m deciding whether or not to set to work on the island, I hear footsteps in the tunnel. I spring away from the wall and land in the lake close to where Kernel and Kirilli were about to step out. “Wait!” I hiss, holding up a hand for silence. I listen closely, hoping I was wrong about the footsteps. But a few seconds later I hear them again. Two sets, edging closer slowly, cautiously.
“Company?” Kernel whispers.
“Trouble, most likely.” I bark softly at Moe and Curly. Obeying my command, they move to the mouth of the tunnel and take up position, one on either side.
“Shall I douse the light?” Kirilli asks. He’s trembling. It might be from the chill of the water, though I suspect fear plays more of a part.
“No,” I tell him. “When I give the order, intensify it and direct the rays at whatever comes through. If they have eyes, maybe we can blind them.”
“You’re good at that,” Kernel mutters sarcastically.
We fall silent. The footsteps draw closer. Then I see shadows. Two separate figures, one tall and skinny, the other shorter but broad. The tall, skinny one might be the shadow of Lord Loss, but the other can’t be Bec. Not unless she’s chosen a new form, like Nadia Moore did when she joined the demon master.
Their feet come into view. I see boots and the hems of trousers. They both look human. Soldiers perhaps, sent to assassinate us? Mages? Spelunkers, like the young Kirilli Kovacs? Some chance of that!
The pair pause, perhaps sensing trouble. Then the broader one shrugs and steps forward quickly, the taller one taking a hasty stride to keep up. Curly and Moe howl and
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