Salamin placed his ear to the closed wood, his hands pressing against the immovable frame. He’d heard the grate of an opening drawer and Paxton’s low voice, hiding a growing excitement.

  “High Archmage Kaldon,” Paxton exclaimed. “Your servant is present and ready.”

  “How many remain?” Another voice, low and gravelly, replied.

  Frowning, Salamin concentrated. They had heard no one else enter.

  “We have six, my Lord.”

  “Excellent. The other realms have also reaped well. The Catacombs will be ready for you. Have they been processed?”

  “Yes, the noble children are prepared., the sacrifice as expected.” Paxton said.

  “Excellent,” the unfamiliar voice said. “The power for you and your Keep will be better this time, Mage Paxton. You will be rewarded in kind.”

  “Thank you, my Lord.”

  Silence fell over them, and then a drawer closed.

  In the close quarters, Salamin could feel Lane shivering beside him. The entire chamber was growing cold, and a low buzz barely perceptible began to encompass the dark behind them. “We have to get out of here,” Salamin whispered.

  Footsteps fell outside and a breathless voice spoke. “Sir, I can’t find Farak.”

  “What do you mean, Mage Akar?” Paxton replied. “Find him.”

  “Sir, I’ve searched everywhere. I found the Initiates on the second floor. Their stories vary on how they got there, and where Farak is now.”

  “That is odd,” Paxton said after a pause. “Put the Keep on alert. I want Farak found and he will need to explain this failure. I’ll question the Initiates. Are they all there?”

  “There are only four, sir.”

  Silence fell over the room.

  Finally, Paxton spoke again. “There should be six, Mage Akar. Where are the other two? Which two are missing?”

  “I don’t know which ones, sir.”

  A loud exhale pierced the silence, and the rustle of papers thrown off the desk. “Must I do everything myself? Come, Akar. I will sort this out. I asked you to do a simple task.”

  The door closed, and Paxton’s angry voice became further away.

  “They’ve left,” Lane said, exhaling. “How do we get this open?”

  Salamin had a feeling the statue was holding them in there. Somehow the energy of the god was concentrated in it. “Lane, can I borrow your sword?”

  Lane moved beside him and handed him the sword. His defenses would be lowered, but he had to do it. “Luminas,” he whispered, and the ball of light flickered and became visible in his hand. The statue seemed to mock them from the wall, and the noise in Salamin’s ears grew louder.

  Mooonpaaath

  Salamin heard the words and stopped.

  You have it with you; I sense it. Immense power lies within you. The key to defeating your enemies lies only with me. Destroy the orb and take my oath. You will have everything, or you will have nothing.

  Salamin reached unconsciously for the orb he’d bound with cloth to his leg. It was still there. The orb was safe. He covered his ears and winced. The buzzing in his ears grew louder.

  “Sal, are you okay?” Lane’s voice penetrated through the pain and fog.

  “Help me get the eyes out,” he said. Salamin suspected the eyes were magic shards harvested from the source. Remove those from a sacred source and the magic would lessen. “Give me your sword.”

  Lane paused, then took Virtas from her belt and handed it to Salamin. He held the sword in his hands, surprised when its power resonated through his fingertips.

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  You will pay with your very soul.

  The buzz intensified as he took the tip of the sword and pried out the emerald eyes. First one, and then the other fell to the ground with a rattle, rolling into the shadows.

  The noise in his head stopped.

  Lane pushed, and a crack of light streamed into the alcove. “I got it,” Lane called. “Let’s go!”

  Salamin looked down at the eyes, and then at the statue. The Order was involved with an ancient evil, and it had manifested here in a make-shift altar. He shuddered and closed his palm, extinguishing the light. It had said his oath and had seen him.

  He couldn’t think about that now. The Catacombs held the next step in gaining access to the inner circle of the Order. That was where he needed to be.

  They closed the hidden alcove, moving the shelf into place, and Salamin motioned for her not to move. There were footsteps in the hall. They came up to the door, paused, then walked away again.

  Somehow, Salamin would need to explain their absence.

  The initiates had returned to the Great Hall, along with Paxton and several other mages. They had gotten out of their brown robes and now wore all white.

  All eyes fell on Lane and Salamin as they entered.

  “Initiate Sedwick. Initiate Lane. Where have you been?” Paxton’s bushy brows furrowed.

  Salamin bowed his head. “We went exploring the grounds, sir.”

  “Did you get permission for this?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Paxton squinted, gazing into Salamin’s eyes. “Where is Mage Farak?”

  Salamin looked over at Lane and shrugged. “We haven’t seen him in some time, sir. He mentioned something about Mage Saban’s memorial?”

  Nodding, Paxton’s gaze went back to the initiates. “Everyone, gather round. Yes, this is a sad day, as we have lost one of our brethren. But we have work to do.” He clapped his hands together. “We must get ready for our journey to the Catacombs. There is food to prepare and bags to pack. Each of you will be assigned duties. Akar? You are in charge.”

  Akar bowed and barked orders, gathering the initiates around him. As Salamin received his orders to proceed to kitchen duty, he knew this was going to be a long, tedious day.

  ***

  Lane’s arm muscles ached, and she grunted as she threw another pack into the back of the carriage. She wiped the sweat off her brow and sighed looking at the ten more packs awaiting her.

  Water sloshed as Staya and Parric brought the water jugs to load.

  Lane stepped aside for a break and thought of Sal. She chuckled to herself, thinking of the intense, contemplative boy chopping vegetables. Sal was, in fact, the oddest boy she’d ever known. He had skills beyond his years. Luminas was something she’d only dreamed of learning. She gazed down at her hand. That skill would be so useful.

  She grimaced when she felt in her pocket and her fingers rolled over the green gem she’d picked up in the chamber. There was a faint trace of energy there. But the gem itself would be worth something when this was all over. Besides, once free from the statue, it couldn’t have much power anymore.

  If she made it through the Catacombs and received a Fury Stone, she’d be able to infiltrate the Order. Get her brother free. And when that was done, sell the gem on the market. A new life for both of them.

  Her brother was still alive, somewhere in the order. She twisted the chain around her neck and brought out the tiny crescent moon pendant, given to both her brother and herself by their mother. The silver shimmered in the overhead sun. It’s your bond, her mother had said. Family is stronger than anything.

  Yes, he is still alive, she thought. I have no doubt.

  Staya placed the last jug into the carriage, then pulled her long black hair into a knot, walking closer to Lane. “How do you know Sedwick?” she asked. “He seems to young to be an initiate.”

  Lane nodded. She’d thought that more than once. “We met on the journey over here,” she said. “We both wanted to join the Order.”

  Nodding, Staya wiped off a dirt stain on her tunic. “It’s best not to get too attached to anyone,” she said, and glanced over at Parric on the other side of the Hall. “Once we enter the Catacombs, it’s every person for themselves.”

  “What do you mean?” Lane asked.

  Staya sighed. “I’ve heard the stories. Each Keep in the different realms sends their Initiates in. There’s a sacrifice for each.” She shuddered. “I asked my father about it, and he was very vague, but it is usually a commoner, like yourself. You need to be careful, Lane. It’s going to be one of you, mark my words.”

  Lane touched the hilt of her sword. No one was going to sacrifice her. Never again. She’d come so close in that chapel. “There has to be another way,” Lane said.

  Staya glanced over at Parric again. “It is said the more sacrifice, the power and tiers the Mage’s obtain. Its a path that doesn’t adhere to emotions or attachment.” She frowned. “You never know who you can trust. And I certainly wouldn’t trust Sedwick. That’s my advice to you. He’ll betray you, mark my words.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Lane loaded the last pack. Now was the time to take them out to the wagon. It would be a long, two day travel to the Catacombs.

  Staya left her side and began talking to Parric. At the edge of her mind, she suspected Staya was up to something. Maybe placing doubts in her mind about Sal?

  She shook her head. Aleda knew how to read people, and she gave her life for both him and Lane. “I’m going to do this, Aleda,” she whispered.

  There are other ways to survive.

  Lane spun. The strange voice had come from right behind her.

  There was no one there.

  Frowning, she heaved up another pack to load.

  They will all betray you.

  She stopped and looked over her shoulder. Sal would not betray her. She believed that.

  There is only one way to save your brother.

  Lane shook her head and continued walking. Her mind felt foggy, as if she’d just waken up from a deep sleep. She raised her face to the sun feeling its warmth and healing.

  She was on the only path to save her brother right now. And part of that was supporting the strange boy, Sal. They would get through the Catacombs together, and come back victorious. It was just a matter of time.

  Time is running out.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, then hefted another pack on the wagon. Instinctively, she felt for her necklace and felt the familiar pull of connection. Thorn was still alive. Her brother still breathed, and while he breathed, there was hope.