Arianne looked at him and raised an eyebrow in question.
“Alert the others. Our enemy begins his move.” His assistant nodded and spoke into her own communications crystal.
Dimly through the fog, the walls of the castle began to glow.
Bal-Simba studied other forms in his crystal as the reports began to pour in.
“Recall the guard into the shelter of the towers,” he ordered.
“More of the fog things?” Arianne asked, looking up from her communications crystal.
“It appears our enemy begins his attack.” Outside the wind began to keen and sing. “I think I know what it wants,” he added grimly.
The adventurers slept that night in an empty room with a guard posted at the door. The stone floor was cold and uneven and everyone was so keyed up that in truth they got little enough sleep. But after a decent interval they ate a hurried breakfast, packed up and moved out again, following the magic indicator toward where Moira—or Moiras body—lay.
“This looks like the section of the tunnels I was in before,” Wiz said as they moved away from their resting place. “At least it’s built the same way.”
“Can you say what lies before us?” Malkin asked.
Wiz shook his head. “I can’t even be sure it’s the same section. It just looks like it”
“Hmmpf,” Malkin said in a tone that indicated how much help that was. Then she turned again and led off.
The tunnel was much as Wiz remembered it. Same musty smell, same dirt floor and walls, same occasional wooden beams for bracing and the same twisting, turning meandering that would confuse a homing pigeon. Wiz was a long way from a homing pigeon and he didn’t have the faintest idea where they were.
Malkin rounded a corner and stopped short, rapier half out of its scabbard. Glandurg hissed and stepped out beside her, whipping Blind Fury free. Wiz took a firmer grip on his staff and peered around Malkin and over Glandurg.
Nothing moved. It had been a guardroom, Wiz realized. The same big fireplace and benches and tables he had seen when he had stumbled into such a room full of goblin guards on his first trip here. But the fireplace was cold and dead, the tables and benches were smashed and littered across the floor out beyond the range of the glow globe’s light, and there were other things mixed into toe litter on the stone-flagged floor.
Nearly at his feet was a halberd, its thick oak shaft neatly sheared off a foot behind the head. Beyond that lay a conical metal helmet and further out in the room was a scattering of other pieces of armor and bones.
Halfway out in the room was a set of leg armor, from shin guards to tassets. Because it was all together Wiz thought for an instant there might be a leg still in it Then he looked more closely and saw it was empty. The armor had been split open, as if someone—no, something had been at it with a giant can opener.
“What the… ?” Danny breathed in Wiz’s ear.
Sword and dagger at the ready, Malkin eased catlike into the room. Wiz shifted his grip on his staff to provide covering fire if needed. But mere was no movement, no sound but their own breathing.
Malkin knelt beside the leg armor and carefully turned it with the point of her dagger, wincing slightly at the noise. Then she turned and examined an unrecognizable bit of bone nearby.
“This is old,” she announced. “Several years I would say.”
Wiz turned up the glow globe and flooded the chamber with blue light. Then he and the others eased into the room in a tight knot.
“How many?” he asked the kneeling thief.
Malkin glanced around and shrugged. “More than half a dozen, perhaps as many as twenty. It would be a pretty puzzle to reassemble enough pieces for an accurate count” She looked more carefully. “But I would say they were all killed at the same time.”
“It probably goes back to when the Dark League ruled the city, or a little after,” Wiz said. “Even then these tunnels were full of nasties.”