“That’s it.” Royce declared. “One last test. Everyone join hands. Let’s make sure it works with four.” They all joined hands and each was able to pierce the surface of the cliff. “Everyone, make sure you remove your hands before breaking the chain.”

“Okay, we need to make some decisions before we go any further. I’ve seen some unusual things before, but nothing like this. I don’t have a clue what will happen to us if we go in there. Well, Hadrian, what do you think?”

Hadrian rubbed his chin. “It’s a risk to be sure. Considering some of the choices I’ve made recently, I’ll leave this one up to you. If you think we should go then that is good enough by me.”

“I have to admit,” Royce responded, “my curiosity is piqued, so if you still want to go through with this, Alric, we’ll go with you.”

“If I had to go in alone, I would decline,” Alric said. “But, I also am curious.”

“Myron?” Royce asked.

“What about the horses? Will they be all right?”

“I’m sure they will be fine.”

“But what if we don’t come back? They’ll starve, won’t they?”

Royce sighed. “It’s us or the horses. You’ll have to choose.”

Myron hesitated. Lightning and thunder tore through the sky, and it began to rain. “Can’t we just untie them, so in case we don’t—”

“I don’t intend to make plans based on our expected deaths. We’ll need the horses when we come out. They’re staying; are you?”

The wind sprayed rain into the monk’s face as he stole one last look at the horses. “I’ll go,” he said finally. “I just hope they’ll be all right.”

“Okay,” Royce told them, “this is how we’ll do it. I’ll go first wearing the ring. Alric comes in behind me, then Myron, and Hadrian will take up the rear. When we get inside, we break the chain in reverse order: Hadrian first, then Myron, and Alric last. Enter in the same place I do, and don’t pass me. I don’t want anyone setting off any traps. Any questions?”

All but Myron shook their heads. “Wait a second,” he said as he trotted off toward where they stored their gear. He gathered the lantern and tinder kit he had brought from the abbey and paused a moment to pet the horses’ wet noses one more time. “I’m ready now,” he said when he returned to the party.

“All right, here goes, everyone hang on and follow me,” Royce said as they rejoined their chain and moved forward. One by one, they passed through the rock cliff. Hadrian was last. When the barrier reached his shoulder, he took a deep breath as if he was swimming, and with that, Hadrian dipped his head inside the stone.

They entered into total darkness. The air was dry, still, and stale. The only sound came from the rainwater dripping from their clothes. Hadrian took a few blind steps forward to make sure he was completely through the barrier before releasing Myron’s hand. “See anything, Royce?” he asked in a whisper so quiet it could scarcely be heard.

“No, not a thing. Everyone stay still until Myron gets the lantern lit.”

Hadrian could hear Myron fiddling in the dark. He tilted his head, searching in vain for anything to focus on. There was nothing. He could have had his eyes closed. Myron scraped the tiny metal lever on his tinder pad, and a burst of sparks emitted from the monk’s lap. In the flare, Hadrian saw faces glaring from the darkness. They appeared briefly and vanished with the dying brilliance.

No one moved or spoke as Myron scrapped the pad again. This time the tinder caught fire, and the monk lit the wick of the lantern. The light revealed a narrow hallway, only five feet wide, and a ceiling which was so high it was lost in darkness. Lining both walls were carvings of faces, as if people standing on the other side of a gray curtain were pressing forward to peer at them. Seemingly caught in a moment of anguish frozen forever in stone, their terrible ghastly visages stared back at them with gaping mouths and wild eyes.

“Pass up the light,” Royce ordered softly.

As the lantern moved from Myron to Royce, its light shone on more faces. To Hadrian, it seemed as if they screamed at the intruders, but the corridor remained still and silent. Some of the figures had eyes wide with fear, while others were shut tight, perhaps to avoid seeing something too frightening to look at.

“Someone certainly had a morbid taste in decorating,” Royce said, taking the lantern.

“I’m just thankful they’re only carvings. Imagine if we could hear them,” Alric said.

“What makes you think they’re carvings?” Hadrian asked, reaching out to gingerly touch the nose of a woman with glaring eyes. He half expected warm skin and was grateful when his fingers met cold stone. “Maybe they let go of their gemstones too soon.”

Royce held the lantern up high. “The passage keeps going.”

“More faces?” Alric asked.

“More faces,” the thief confirmed.

“At least we’re out of the rain,” Hadrian said, trying to sound cheerful. “We could still be back…” When he turned around, he was shocked. The corridor extended behind them seemingly without end. “Where’s the wall we just came through?” He took a step and reached out. “It’s not an illusion. The hallway keeps going.” Turning back, Hadrian saw Royce pressing on the sides of the corridor, unlike the wall outside, his hand did not penetrate the surface.

“Well, this is going to make matters difficult,” the thief muttered.

“There must be another way out, right?” Alric asked, his voice a bit shaky.

The thief looked back, then forward, and sighed. “We might as well travel in the direction we entered. Here, Alric, take your ring back, although I’m not sure what good it will do you in here.”

Royce led them down the corridor. He checked and tested anything that appeared suspicious. The passage went on for what seemed like eternity. Despite the hallway appearing perfectly straight and level, Hadrian began to wonder if the dwarves had built in an imperceptible curve that made the hallway loop back onto itself to form a circle. He also worried about the amount of oil left in Myron’s lantern. It would not be long before they were cast back into utter darkness.

The lack of variation in their surroundings made it impossible to judge exactly how long they had been walking. After awhile something luminescent appeared in the distance. A tiny light bobbed and weaved. As the light drew closer, the echo of sharp, deliberate footsteps accompanied it. At last, Hadrian could discern the figure carrying a lamp. He was tall, trim, and wore a long-hooded hauberk. Over this was a scarlet and gold tabard that shimmered in the lamplight. The tabard was marked with a regal coat of arms depicting a celestial crown and a jeweled scepter above a shield divided into quarters and supported on either side by combatant lions. At his side was an ornate sword, and on his head, a pointed silver helm exquisitely etched with gold ivy trim. Below the helm was a pair of dark eyes, and an even darker look.

“Why are you here?” His tone was reproachful and threatening.

There was a pause before Royce replied. “We are here to see the prisoner.”

“That is not allowed,” he responded firmly.

“Then Esrahaddon is still alive?” asked Alric.

“Do not speak that name!” thundered the sentry. He cast a tense look over his shoulder into the darkness. “Not here, not ever here. You should not have come.”

“That may be, but we are here and we need to see Esra—the prisoner,” Royce replied.

“That will not be possible.”

“Make it possible,” Alric ordered. His voice was loud and commanding. He stepped out from behind the others. “I am King Alric of Melengar, lord of this land wherein you stand. You will not tell me what is and what is not possible within the boundaries of my own kingdom.”