Journey Of Thieves (Book 5) by C.Greenwood Page A

were reluctant to confront me. If they guessed I came from Swiftsfell, maybe they feared my magic. They could not know my power was now too drained to defend myself.
    I waited to be killed.
    Instead they disarmed me and bound my hands. Even the warrior who did this touched me as little as possible, looking as if he would rather keep his distance. I was then led by them through the gaping entrance of their stronghold, the great stone doors now standing wide open like the jaws of some hungry beast prepared to devour me. After I passed between them, I heard the doors groaning closed again. My shoulders tensed with the realization I was cut off from the outside world and all chance of escape.
    All around, cold rock walls glistened with dampness while rough columns of granite soared to the shadowed ceiling. I was led through vast empty caverns that stretched so far into the mountain I couldn’t make out where they ended. This was such a foreign place that I couldn’t guess what I would encounter next. I was surprised to be escorted through a corridor and onto an unstable platform of timber banded with metal, suspended by chains disappearing into the darkness above and below. This space was only wide enough to hold a handful of us. The rest of my captors stayed behind, as the platform gave a sudden jolt with the grinding of pulleys and began to sink into the unknown abyss.
    Deeper and deeper we descended into the bowels of the earth. With every level we passed, my spirits plummeted further. I could feel any hope of ever returning to the safety of the upper world slipping away. Even if I managed to break free of my bonds and my strong guards, I would only become lost in these warrens and caverns. Unlike my captors, I had no wings to fly to the surface, and I didn’t know if I was strong enough to operate the pulley system they used for my benefit.
    As the platform propelled us bumpily downward, its rusty chains screeching in protest, I vaguely made out a pale glow from the level we approached. We were slowing for this one. And it was different from the rest. The others had been lit by flickering torches placed intermittently along the walls. But those gave way here to the harsher light of glow-stones embedded in the rock. Their cold light illumined a cave vaster than any yet.
    Unlike the previous caverns, the touch of human hands was evident here. These columns weren’t natural towers of granite but were carved and etched with runes and likenesses of men and beasts. They were primitively done but probably considered ornate by Drejian standards. From what I had read in Calder’s book of their culture, they typically rejected art and beauty as unworthy pursuits.
    Our conveyance jerked to a halt, and I was hustled forward into what I guessed to be something like an audience chamber. Ahead there was a dais atop rows of stone steps, and occupying the dais were several empty seats. One was so big and high-backed I could only assume it was intended for a person of importance. I was permitted to advance only halfway across the room before my escort stopped me. One of them spoke in Drejian, a guttural tongue that was incomprehensible to me. I understood by his gestures that I was to stay where I was. Under my boots, a series of carved triangles intersected on the floor to form the pattern of a many-pointed star enclosed within a broad circle. Torches stood on high poles around this circle. They were rendered unnecessary by the cool light of the glow-stones, but maybe their purpose was ceremonial.
    At the heart of the many-pointed star was a heavy metal ring attached to a chain. One of my guards looped the chain through the ropes binding my hands. Once I was secured, all the warriors faded back, leaving me alone in the empty, echoing chamber.
    Only I wasn’t really alone, because I quickly realized there were other, silent presences stationed in shadowy corners of the room. Servants perhaps. They were dressed simply, in sleeveless tunics