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braced himself when the first touched him. But it passed right through his body as if he were as insubstantial as they.
“Hurry, Caramon!” said Earwig in excitement. “1 can’t wait to see what’s inside,”
“I can,” muttered the warrior.
He stepped up to the box. Glancing around him one last time, he propped his sword on the side of the box, spat on his hands, and rubbed them together. He braced himself, grasped the top, and heaved.
There was a hissing sound. The lid opened so easily that he nearly fell on top of it. Gingerly, holding the heavy top open with both hands, he gazed into the box.
“Let me see! Let me see!” shouted Earwig, shoving his head beneath Caramon’s big arm.
Jewels sparkled in the flickering torchlight. Earwig’s small hand darted forward.
“Hey!” said Caramon, panting beneath the weight of the lid. “We’re here to destroy those . . . not steal them.”
“I’ve never stolen anything in my life!” Earwig cried indignantly. He lifted a glass tube filled with glowing blue sapphires from the box.
“Look at this!” he said in awe. “Did you ever see anything more beautiful?” A line of blue light trailed from the jewels back into the box.
“I don’t think you should do that,” Caramon said nervously. “Put it—”
Without warning, one of the hands reached out, grabbed the tube, and replaced it in the box. Caramon braced himself for an attack, but the hand returned to its incomprehensible wavings.
“Wasn’t that great, Caramon? Let’s see if it’ll do it again!”
Earwig reached in and took hold of a glass tube lined
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with black obsidian. Rubies and emeralds and sapphires gleamed in the center. The kender pulled, but he couldn’t budge it.
The hands seemed to pause in their wavings. Caramon had the uneasy impression he was being watched by unseen eyes.
“Earwig,” he said in a low undertone. “I think you’ve found something there.”
“I know, but” — the kender tugged, his face turning red — “it won’t come out!”
Caramon risked a glance. “Give it a twist.” His arms were beginning to give beneath the lid’s weight. “Hurry! I don’t think I can hold this open much longer!”
Earwig put both hands around the tube and tried to rotate it, but his fingers slipped on the smooth container.
‘Try the other way,” Caramon suggested.
He was watching the hands closely and could have sworn that he saw the fingers twitch in alarm. We’re doing something that somebody doesn’t like, Caramon thought grimly. He only wished he knew what.
The kender turned the tube to his left.
“I’ve got it!” he shouted. “It’s giving way!” He twisted it harder.
“Great! Keep going and—”
A shadowy hand suddenly gripped Caramon around the neck. Two others caught him beneath his shoulders and began to tug at him. He exerted his strength against them, keeping a tight grip on the lid.
“I don’t know . . . how long … I can keep this . . . raised!” he gasped. “Hurry!”
“Hurry? Hurry and do what?” Earwig cried frantically, twisting faster.
The tube was slowly coming out of its hole. Hands reached for him, but seemed unwilling to touch him, perhaps because he held the tube.
“What am I supposed to do after I get it?”
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Caramon could only grunt in answer. His face was twisted in pain, turning red with the strain of trying to hang on to the lid and pulling against the hands.
“I’ve got it!” Earwig yanked out the tube.
He stared into it, shook it, and held it against his ear, listening for a sound. Fingers on the hands near him curled and twitched, as if in an agony of frustration.
Caramon issued a smothered scream. More hands were descending, gripping him, endeavoring to haul him up into the air. He clung to the lid with all his strength.
“Do something!”
“I’m trying!” Earwig gasped.
He turned the tube over and over. “Argh!” he finally cried in frustration and smashed the tube against the side of the box.
A high-pitched keening noise cut through the air, piercing the head. Caramon had never heard anything so horrible, felt anything more painful. He dropped the lid, and it closed with a slam. Hands wrapped around his throat and began choking out his life.