Chapter 4

The inside of the crumbling structure was both amazing and sad, its once fine craftsmanship and splendor now torn down by the relentless passage of time. It was impossible not to marvel at the grandeur of the space, even in its current ruined state. Shafts of light streamed in from gaps in the partially intact roof, illuminating swirling motes of dust that danced through the air.

Across from them, the far wall had completely collapsed into a mound of rubble, opening into what must have been a great hall of some kind in its heyday, based on the soaring broken columns that reached toward the high ceilings. Several of the columns had crumpled under the weight of the now missing roof, leaving them leaning at precarious angles. The open ceiling had let in decades of wind, rain, and snow, accelerating the decay inside. Piles of stone and debris lay here and there where what might have once been an upper balcony or second level had succumbed to gravity and collapsed down into the hall below. Vines crept up the remaining stone walls, which were cracked and eroded. It seemed like some kind of painting might have been on the far wall, although it was more an impression of there having been art, than any semblance of it remaining.

Or maybe that was only in Osric’s mind, filling in the space with how he thought a keep should look.

Ahead of them, the wolf paused by the room’s only fully intact wall, which surprisingly held an open doorway with stairs descending into darkness. The creature glanced back at Osric and Talia, with its piercing yellow eyes, before turning and descending slowly down the crumbling steps into the void.

Osric felt Talia shudder next to him.

“It wants us to go down there?” she asked nervously.

“I think so,” Osric replied, squinting futilely, trying to see what lay ahead.

Pulling his sword, he led Talia toward the stairwell. The temperature dropped noticeably as they descended into the shadows, and the air grew damp and heavy. The stairway walls and ceiling were intact, although gnarled roots had forced their way through the cracks, and Osric had to duck under them in places as they descended further from the fading light above them.

“I wish we had a torch,” he said. The ambient light was fading fast now that they had left the brighter upper hall.

Talia stopped partway down the stairs and pulled her hand free from his. For a moment, Osric thought she might have lost her nerve and wanted to go back up the stairs. What he didn’t expect was for her to pull her sleeves back and hold the tips of her thumbs and index fingers together in front of her to form an upward-pointing triangle. He watched as she slowly separated her hands while still keeping the triangle shape with her fingers. Suddenly, a glowing orb of light materialized, small at first, lighting her palms as if she were holding fire. She slowly increased the spacing between her hands, keeping her fingers in the same position, causing the orb to grow as she increased the amount of space.

When it reached the size of a small melon, she stopped expanding the triangle and opened her fingers evenly, out away from the others, like how a flower might open its petals, causing the glowing orb to gently drift up and away from her palms. It floated to about shoulder height and stopped, its eerie white light falling on everything around them. Not as bright as a torch, perhaps, but the light seemed more solid and to reach further out.

“How did you do that?” Osric whispered, again amazed at the powers she’d been hiding all this time.

Talia smiled softly and said, “Just a simple light spell, one of the first ones Elder Miriam taught me to weave.”

Osric shook his head in wonder. Magic never ceased to astonish him. Between the power stored in his mysterious ring and Talia’s own innate talents, he realized how little he knew of the world, working at Master Ironhand’s forge.

“Well, at some point, you’re going to have to explain how you know to do everything you do,” he said.

“I can try,” she said, but she looked doubtful.

Osric didn’t blame her. She and Elder Miriam were the smartest people he knew. If that is what it took to learn magical powers, he was almost certainly not cut out for it.

They made their way down the remaining stairs, Talia’s glowing orb lighting their path. The basement was in as rough shape as the levels above, perhaps worse, since it lacked any natural light. Rotted wooden beams littered the floor amidst piles of rubble and debris. Many of the walls had collapsed into mounds of stone blocks and shattered mortar.

Despite the decay, Osric could see shapes of stone around the room that might be signs that this was some kind of kitchen. He thought he could make out the outline of a large brick oven built into one wall, now crumbling and choked with tangled roots. A massive stone basin against another wall held a layer of fetid rainwater and leaves.

The wolf stood in the middle of the debris-strewn chamber, eyes fixed on the far wall where part of the mortar between the large foundation stones had crumbled away. Tree roots thick as a man’s arm wriggled through the gaps.

“Is there something behind there?” Talia asked, staring at him.

“Maybe,” Osric said. “He seems pretty focused.”

Giving each other a look, they carefully made their way across the debris-strewn floor toward the wolf. The orb of light floated just ahead of them, casting an eerie light around the room, shards of broken pottery, rusted metal fragments, and other rubble creating shadows that bent and moved as they passed.

They were halfway to the wolf when Talia suddenly cried out. Osric turned just in time to see the section of floor she was standing on start to collapse. Without hesitation, he lunged forward, grabbing her arm and yanking her away from the crumbling stones an instant before they gave way completely. Talia stumbled into him with a gasp as several flagstones dropped into a dark pit that opened up where she had just been standing.

One arm wrapped firmly around Talia, Osric peered past her down into the hole. Jagged chunks of stone lined the edges where part of the floor had fallen away. He couldn’t see the bottom in the dim light—it descended into inky blackness.

“Thank you,” Talia said shakily, clutching at Osric as she, too, stared wide-eyed into the pit.

If he hadn’t pulled her clear in time ... Osric shook the thought away.

On the opposite side of the hole, the wolf stared back at them, yellow eyes glowing in Talia’s summoned light. It turned and paced farther into the chamber, still fixated on the crumbling section of wall.

“I guess we need to find a way over there,” Osric said.

“Look, part of that beam is still intact. We might be able to lay it across the hole and use it as a bridge,” Talia said, pointing at part of the wall to their left, where the ceiling above had only partially collapsed.

Osric looked where she’d indicated and saw a long wooden roof beam. It looked half-rotted through, but as he made his way over to it, poking at it, the core seemed still intact. Sheathing his sword, he gripped the intact end, dragging it over and levering it across the gap. It only just reached, sagging slightly in the middle.

“I’ll go first, test it out,” he said.

Talia opened her mouth to object, but Osric was already edging out onto the precarious plank bridge. The aged wooden plank creaked and groaned under his weight, and he held his arms out for balance, concentrating on finding secure footing. With careful steps, he slowly made his way across, the bridge lurching and swaying beneath him.

When he reached the other side, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Turning back, he extended a hand towards Talia, beckoning for her to follow. She hesitated.

“If it held me, it’ll hold you,” he said.

“Maybe,” she said, eyeing the beam skeptically.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped out onto it, taking small, shuffling steps. As she hit the middle, she began to sway, teetering back and forth slightly. Osric was just about to step out to her to help her across, when she recovered and managed one large step. Reaching out, he grabbed her hand and pulled her the rest of the way over.

“That’s about the last scare I’m going to be able to stand,” she said.

“No problem. I’m sure the pitch black, ancient, crumbling basement is perfectly fine from here on out,” Osric said, giving her a grin that was much more calm and playful than he felt.

She gave him a look that told him she was aware he was putting on a front for her benefit, but she still gave a weak smile and said, “Shut it.”

Osric gave her shoulder a pat and carefully made his way toward the wolf, prepared in case the ground gave way again. As he neared the animal, it stepped aside but kept its intense gaze fixed on the cracks in the mortar.

Osric placed his hands on the wall, trying to feel what had it so enthralled, and stopped suddenly. As his hand passed a section, he could feel a slight breeze on his palm. He moved his hand away and then back over the cracked and missing mortar, feeling the air again. Kneeling down, he examined the spot. It was a small crack, maybe a little larger than some of the others, but still too small to see through. But apparently, not small enough to be airtight.

“There’s something here,” Osric said. “I can feel ... air coming through the wall.”

Talia moved next to him, sliding her hand over the same spot as he stood and stepped aside. He could see the expression on her face change as she found the spot he had discovered.

“There’s something on the other side,” she said.

“Air, at the very least,” he said, running his hand over the wall, feeling it out, trying to get a sense of what was back there.

She did the same on the opposite side, her hands moving over the rough and worn stone. She paused as her hand reached the edge of a large stone, not more than a hand span from the opposite wall. Peering over, he saw her nails had caught on an almost invisible seam cut in the rock. She looked at him, and then dug her fingernails in and pulled. With a faint grinding noise, the block shifted inward slightly on concealed hinges, revealing a dark cavity behind it.

“A hidden door!” she exclaimed.

Placing his hands on that section of wall, Osric pushed with all his might. At first, it seemed like it might have been a fluke, or some small deformation, but then the wall shifted, slowly at first and then faster until it swung in on its protesting hinges, emitting a low scraping sound.

As soon as it was opened, the wolf stepped through the door, leaving them little choice but to follow, ducking their heads as they entered the low passageway. As Osric reached out to steady himself, his hand brushed one of the hinges, stopping as he realized something felt off.

Leaning forward, he brushed away a thin layer of dirt to reveal dull metal underneath. Dull, but not rusted.

“These hinges can’t be more than a few years old,” he murmured.

“Do you mean someone’s been down here? And why would they build a hidden room off an ancient keep’s basement?”

“I don’t think they built this room,” Osric said, pointing at the passage on the other side of the doorway. “Look at all that. The stone here looks as old as the stone out there. Hell, even the door looks old ... weathered. Only the hinges are new.”

“So someone repaired it? Why?”

“I have no idea,” Osric said. “Come on.”

Osric led the way, walking cautiously through the short, narrow stone passageway. The walls and floors were rough-hewn, with jagged edges that snagged at Talia’s cloak as she followed along behind him. The passage opened up into a chamber perhaps five meters across with small slits carved into the opposite wall, pointing back toward the passage they had just come through. Between the slits was a doorway leading off into more darkness.

Osric stepped up to it, reaching high to grab something from the lintel above the doorway. He tugged hard and a shower of rust flakes drifted down. Turning, he held his hand out, palm up, to Talia. In his hand was a ragged chunk of discolored metal, one side was pitted and blackened as if burned long ago.

“See, this door hinge is as old as the castle. Look how brittle the metal is. I think maybe the door here was wood, but it rotted through a long time ago,” he said, looking around the room and at the slits in the wall. “I think this might have originally been a trap. Master Ironhand told me about a trip he took to the Baron’s castle, where there was something like this at the front entrance. The room was meant to funnel people into the path of these slits, where, I think, archers or crossbowmen could fire through.”

He waved her through the doorway, which led into yet another room, this one nearly six meters across. Some of the stone had collapsed on one side of the room, blocking off most of the space, but Osric thought he noticed something and went to pull it free, coming away with a rather thin, twisted piece of metal sheeting.