She’d forgotten how noisy it could be at all times of the day or night, though there really was no difference here. Day or night—it didn’t matter. Not here where their work and sleep schedules followed the deep tone of a bell and the shouts of the wardens telling them to move faster, work harder.
It was hard to stomach—even harder to believe—that they were barely an hour’s walk beneath the levels where civilized Lemurians lived in quiet comfort, entirely ignorant of slaves toiling below. Free folk, living lives of ease and total luxury a short hour away.
“Caution,” she said, touching Roland’s shoulder. “We can’t afford to be seen. They will have missed me by now, which means my life is forfeit should I be caught.”
She didn’t mention that theirs would be forfeit as well. How could she have allowed Dawson to accompany her into this hell? He was an innocent bystander, caught up in this battle through no fault of his own. Involved merely because he was a good man with a desire to see wrong made right.
He leaned close and kissed her quickly on the lips before she realized what he was up to. “Then I guess that means we don’t get caught, because no one is going to hurt you again. Not on my watch.” He smiled at her. “Where is this prisoner held? Can we get to him now, or should we wait for a better time? Do the guards ever go off duty?”
She glanced at Roland. “What time is it, Roland? Is there a shift change due?”
He shook his head. “I can’t say for sure. I’ve never figured out how they schedule things down here. Your wardens aren’t like the regular guard.” He tapped his forehead. “We can’t even communicate telepathically. It’s like they’re a different species from the rest of us.”
Selyn frowned. He wasn’t kidding when he’d made such an absurd comment. Different species? They were men. Big, ugly, mean men. Then she glanced at Dawson, and once again at Roland.
They were men as well, one human, one Lemurian, and both of them were really terrific guys. Maybe Roland knew what he was talking about. Maybe the guards were not true Lemurians.
“Follow me.” She edged toward a narrow passage. “This leads us behind the sleeping quarters where the women are kept when we’re not working. The prisoner is housed in another chamber beyond. I’ve never seen him, but I know how to find his cell.”
They’d covered only a short distance when the scrape of sandals warned them someone drew near. Dawson grabbed Selyn and pulled her into a shallow alcove on one side of the tunnel. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, shielding her with his body. Roland slipped out of sight, hiding in the shadows just across from them.
A huge man was coming their way. Selyn strained to see over Dawson’s shoulder, but the man’s face was lost in shadow. Even so, Selyn would have recognized his form and his walk anywhere. “That’s Birk,” she whispered. “The guard who beat me. He’s a vicious fighter. Very powerful. We can’t let him catch us.”
She felt Dawson stiffen beside her. Heard his muffled curse against the bastard who had harmed her. Suddenly, a red glow seeped through the blanket wrapped around the ruby sword. Without considering what drove her, Selyn quietly reached for the hilt protruding from one end of the covering. She wrapped her fingers around the gold pommel and slipped the sword free of the scabbard and surrounding cloth.
“What are you doing?” Dawson’s whisper tickled the side of her neck.
“I’m not sure, but I know the sword wants me to hold it.” Grasping the golden pommel in both hands, she raised the ruby blade high. Though they were still partially hidden from the oncoming guard, Selyn knew the red glow would give them away the minute he chanced to look in their direction.
The scarlet crystal pulsed red, then redder still. Suddenly a brilliant flash of fire spun from the tip of the blade and lit up the entire tunnel in shimmering red lights.
Before the oncoming guard had time to react, the voice in the sword shouted a single word, “Demonkind!”
Roland leapt from his hiding place with his crystal blade drawn. Birk immediately drew his steel sword, but before he could call for help, Selyn pulled out of Dawson’s grasp and planted herself in front of Birk with the ruby sword held high.
The blade was long and when she’d lifted it earlier, the sword had been almost too heavy to raise, but now it fit her grasp as if it had been made for her—perfect balance, the perfect weight—not heavy at all.
Dawson stood beside her with nothing more than a small can in one hand. Roland covered her other side, and his clear crystal blade glowed with a brilliant blue fire.
Birk’s eyes flashed as he looked from Dawson to Selyn and then at Roland. His gaze settled on Selyn, and with his massive sword flashing, he shouted a curse, and charged.
Chapter Nine
Dawson felt like an idiot standing beside Selyn with nothing but a tiny can of pepper spray clutched in his fist, while she and Roland faced a raging maniac armed with their glowing crystal swords.
Then it was all about self-preservation when Roland clashed blades with Birk’s steel, and Selyn took a swing at the man’s unprotected belly. Birk twisted out of reach of the shimmering crystal much faster than Dawson would have expected a guy his size to move. In the midst of his twist, Birk swung his sword.
Dawson ducked. The steel blade split the hair on top of his head. He rolled to his left as Birk slashed the air once more. Birk twisted aside, avoiding both Selyn and Roland and going for Dawson with a single-minded determination. It was obvious he wanted to remove the easiest target first, but once again Dawson ducked beneath the flashing sword.
This time, he came up behind the big guard.
Selyn lunged with her blade. Birk pivoted to the right, out of reach of either Roland or Selyn. Dawson kicked hard, catching the back of the big man’s left knee. Birk grunted, and his leg buckled, but he caught himself and spun on his right, slashing at Dawson, recovering quickly, and taking a swing at Roland.
Blowing hard, Birk evaded another thrust of Selyn’s borrowed ruby blade. He managed a quick turn that put his back to the wall and had the three of them circling him in front.
Roland made a quick thrust that Birk parried. Steel clashed with crystal. Sparks flew, but the two guards appeared to be of equal strength. Their blades met, held, and then slid apart. Birk feinted left and then lunged at Selyn. She evaded his thrust and twisted aside, but Birk’s quick footwork put him right in front of Dawson.
The guard raised his massive arm with the steel blade held high, preparing to strike hard and fast. Dawson pushed the plunger on the lipstick-sized can of pepper spray. He caught Birk directly in the eyes with the blast. Birk screamed. Blindly, he swung his sword. Dawson ducked and rolled out of the way. Roland did the same, and Selyn lunged forward for the killing stroke.
At the last moment, her blade twisted in her hand, as if it shifted of its own free will. Instead of piercing the furious guard’s heart, the ruby crystal slapped him flat across the chest.
Birk went rigid. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his steel sword clattered uselessly to the ground from slack fingers. A thick, black, sulfuric mist streamed out of his chest and hovered in the air in a seething, oily mass.
Without a sound, Birk dropped to his knees. He wavered there a moment, and then fell over on his back. Roland lunged and thrust his crystal blade into the center of the mist.
Clear crystal sliced through the dark wraith. Sparks flashed, and a horrific banshee cry echoed off the tunnel walls. The demonic wraith burst into a mass of fiery blue sparks before it dissolved into nothing more than a horrible stench.
Birk lay unmoving, unconscious.
“What the nine hells was that?” Selyn glanced at her blade and then at the huge guard lying at her feet. “That thing that shot out of his chest. What was it?”
Dawson glanced at his little can of pepper spray and carefully clipped it back to his belt loop. Who needed a sword when you had a weapon like this? “That was a demon, Selyn. Birk was possessed. From the way it burst out of him when you touched his chest, I wonder if we shouldn’t use that sword to help free Artigos?”
“It might work.” Bemused, she stared at the sword in her hand for a long, silent moment. “How strange. It’s not really speaking to me, but I somehow know that the demon in Artigos is different than the one in Birk.” She raised her head and focused on Dawson. “It won’t work on Artigos. This is very strange. I shouldn’t be able to wield this sword, much less understand it. I’ve always heard that it’s asking for death to touch the sword of another, yet it called to me. It communicates with me.”
Roland stood beside her, but he kept his gaze on Birk. “I’ve heard that about crystal swords all my life, but it appears it’s entirely up to the sword. They seem to consciously know who should or should not handle them. Eddy bested a demon with Alton’s sword without injury to herself.”
Birk began to stir, though he still lay on his back, eyes unfocused and filled with tears from the pepper spray. Blinking slowly, he rubbed at his streaming eyes with one big fist. Selyn nudged him with her foot. “What do we do with him?”
Dawson knelt beside the man with his hands clenched tightly into fists. “Just give him a minute. I want to see what he remembers. If he knows he was possessed.” He glanced at Selyn, and unexplainable anger welled up in him. “I want to know if the bastard remembers hurting you.”
“I do.” Birk’s voice rumbled up out of his chest. He closed his eyes as if in pain. “I am truly cursed.” He groaned and rolled his head back and forth against the stone floor. “I remember everything—every terrible thing.”
Blinking his eyes, red-rimmed from the irritating spray, he sighed noisily. “It’s as if I watched from afar. I know now, as I knew then, I have done terrible things.” Slowly he rolled over and pushed himself to his hands and knees. He raised his head and gazed up at Selyn. “But knowing made no difference. I did them anyway and didn’t care. That’s not who or what I am. I swear it. But why?”
He glanced at Dawson and Roland. Then once more he focused on Selyn. “Why would I hurt you, Selyn? You didn’t deserve my anger, but I remember. Not everything, but too much. Dear gods, I remember too much. I am so sorry. So terribly sorry and ashamed.”
He pushed himself upright, though he still knelt. Clasped his hands at the small of his back, and bowed his head before Selyn.
Time stood still. None of them moved until Selyn quietly asked, “What does he want?”
Dawson wrapped an arm around her waist. His anger at the man was gone. It had given way to nothing more than pity, almost as if he shared the shame the big guard felt. “I’m not really sure.”
Roland shrugged. “I think it’s obvious, don’t you? He expects you to kill him.”
“What?” She shook her head in absolute denial. “But why? What he says is true, and he was not at fault. I saw the demon. It wasn’t him doing those terrible things. Not really. Birk? Why do you kneel that way?”
Obviously confused, the big guard raised his head. “I have wronged you, and I’ve wronged Lemuria. I’ve broken my vow to serve my people. I await my punishment.”
Selyn shrugged and glanced at the ruby sword in her hand, as if she asked the thing for guidance. Then she shook her head. “Birk, wouldn’t you rather redeem yourself by fighting demons instead of wasting your life? We could really use your help.”
He bowed his head even deeper. “I’ve served evil long enough, and I’ve done enough harm. I would be honored, but only if you serve Lemuria.”
Indignantly, she rolled her eyes. “Of course we do. All of us are on a mission to save Lemuria from demonkind. You can help us. Killing you isn’t going to do anyone any good. Look, Birk, we need to deliver this sword to the prisoner you hold, the man you’ve kept behind bars for thousands of years. It’s his. Will you take us to him?”
The sword pulsed with a deep, red glow. Birk stared at the ruby blade, and then he shook his head. “Impossible. I remember that sword with the ruby blade and the gold hilt. It belonged to Artigos the Just, the one, true leader of Lemuria. It’s too late to return it. That Artigos died during the great move.”
Roland held out his hand. Birk took it, and Roland drew him to his feet. Though Birk was a bit larger than Roland, the two were almost of equal strength, and both such large men that Dawson felt like a kid beside the huge guards.
Dawson gestured toward the ruby sword clasped in Selyn’s hand. “Birk, I’ve been learning a lot about the crystal swords of Lemuria. If Artigos the Just were dead, his blade would have turned black. It would be obsidian, not ruby. Look at that thing. That’s not the crystal blade of a dead man. We have reason to believe Lemuria’s true leader has been held prisoner here since the great move, but his identity has been kept secret. You’ve been possessed, most likely the entire time you’ve served here in the mines. The demon has probably hidden the man’s true identity from you.”
Birk stared into Dawson’s eyes, as if trying to judge the worth of a mere human. After a moment, he nodded. “Follow me, and I’ll take you to him. If the man is who you think he is, the sword will recognize its master.”
They skirted the women’s quarters and followed a dark passage that seemed to take them even deeper into the caverns. Here the light was not as good. Roland’s sword cast an eerie blue glow, barely enough to keep them from stumbling in the dark.
Finally they arrived at a broader passage. Birk checked to make sure it was empty and then led them through a portal into a large cavern. Peering around a partial wall of shimmering stone, they could see a single door, with a barred grill across the top and what appeared to be a regular lock that took a key on the front, set into the stone wall on the far side of the cavern.
Birk stopped them with a soft whisper. “Wait here. I’ll relieve the guard on duty.”
The three of them pressed against the wall in the shadows just inside the cavern. Birk quietly slipped around the wall and then strode boldly across the open area to a desk where a young man in a guard’s uniform sat. He was writing in a large book when Birk stopped in front of the desk. The guard looked up, obviously surprised to see his superior standing there.
Birk planted both hands on the desk, and shook his head as if he was disgusted by the request he had to make. “Aeron. I’ve got some hells-be-damned paperwork that needs to be done. Why don’t you go ahead and take off. I’ll relieve you now so I can get to it.”
The guard clambered to his feet. He looked flustered by Birk’s request. “Of course, sir. If you wish, though I still have half my watch to serve.”
“I know. And I’d like to be back in my room sleeping, but you know how that works.” He chuckled. “They’re serving third meal right now in the guards’ mess. There’s no point in both of us wasting our evening. Go ahead. I’ll take the watch.”
Aeron was already gathering up his paperwork and adjusting his sword. “Thank you, sir. If you’re certain you don’t mind.”
Smiling affably, Birk nodded. “I am. You can probably use the break. This is a most boring duty.”
The guard nodded, spun around before Birk could change his mind, and left by a portal opposite the one where Dawson and the others waited. They stepped into the light the moment he was gone. Birk was already headed to the locked door carrying a large ring with a pair of keys on it.
He unlocked the door. Selyn had slipped the leather scabbard over her back, but she kept the sword free. Now she came forward with the hilt clutched in her hand and the point of the long blade aimed at the ground. She glanced over her shoulder and looked directly at Dawson. He stepped close and grabbed her left hand in his.
She radiated tension. He tugged just hard enough to bring her to a halt. “Are you okay?” he whispered. “You’re trembling.”
Selyn nodded. “So much is happening, so very fast. After so long. What if it’s not him?”
Daws grinned and squeezed her hand. “Then we keep looking, but if we’re making bets, my money’s on the sword. And on you. Let’s go.” He nodded to Birk. The guard tugged on the door and pulled it open. Roland stepped through first with his crystal sword unsheathed. Selyn followed with the ruby sword in her right hand and Dawson hanging on to her left.
Birk closed the door behind him as he entered the cell.
The man seated in a comfortable-looking chair on the far side of the room raised his head from the book he was reading and stared at the four who had entered his quarters.
Dawson’s first thought was that this was not the cell of a common prisoner. The space they entered was large with doors that appeared to lead to other rooms. It was furnished in what had to be high-quality tables and chairs, the walls decorated with beautiful paintings of a forgotten world. Scattered about were what looked like personal belongings—small statues, a vase, some carvings. Even a few colorful seashells. Dawson wondered if they’d come from an ancient Lemurian seashore. Lamps glowed brightly, and the shelves were lined with books. He recognized current authors of Earth and familiar titles among them, but some of the spines had titles in other languages and writing that was totally unfamiliar.
It was hard to look away from those fascinating shelves, but the room itself was just as intriguing. Not a miserable cell at all, but still a cell. There was that lock on the door to reinforce the fact that this gentleman was a prisoner, but there was no doubt as to the identity of the man who stood to greet his obviously unexpected visitors.
He was Alton, only he was not. An older, wiser version of Alton, he looked much more like his grandson than he did his own son. As he stood, the resemblance was even more pronounced—he was every bit as tall, as regal-looking as Alton. He carried his age and his dignity like a well-worn cloak, yet he retained the bearing and the look of a man in his prime.
He smiled in greeting, but then he appeared to recognize Birk and frowned when the large guard looked his way.