his head. He knew this portal had the same triple-layered doors as the last.
Every new sound reaffirmed how impossible it would be to come this way again if Wynn’s gamble did not get them to the Stonewalkers. Despite his claim to her about using mixed intimidation and manipulation, that ploy had worked only on humans who had viewed Welstiel as a powerful noble. It would not work here.
Whatever lay beyond the doors was of such importance that the dwarves took no chance of anyone finding—let alone gaining—the entrance.
“This way,” said the elf.
Chane turned around to find the iron portal fully open. But he was not looking into another chamber, rather at the head of a wide passage that turned sharply left. The duchess and her elven advisor stepped through, disappearing around the portal’s left.
As Chane followed Wynn and Shade, he entered the passage’s head and saw that it curved away, gradually downward. The Weardas came last, and the captain still had his sword out. Chane quickened his step, closing behind Wynn. Strategically set orange crystals lit their path.
He remained silent, hearing only an indiscernible whisper or two pass between the duchess and the elf walking ahead. This was too easy, and going far too well from Chane’s perspective.
The journey continued along the tunnel’s gradual spiral down—and down. Soon, Chane lost all sense of which direction they headed through the mountain. They had been walking for something less than an eighth- night when the tunnel finally ended in a small round chamber.
Another door waited between two more armored constables, though it was normal wood and overly broad. Both guards clearly knew the duchess. One began unlocking the door as the second studied Wynn and Shade—and Chane. The elf said something in Dwarvish. Other than his higher-pitched voice, it sounded as if he was fluent. The guard studying Wynn shook his head, perhaps not liking surprise guests, and then motioned everyone forward.
Chane stepped through the door into a wide domed chamber of smooth stone. His gaze immediately locked upon the floor’s center.
Embedded there was a perfectly round mirror big enough to hold a wagon. Light from the elf’s crystal bounced off its surface, sending flickers across the domed walls. But the closer Chane stepped, the less certain he became.
The mirror was not glass.
Milky, perhaps a gray nearly white, it appeared made of some kind of metal. Chane spotted a hair-thin seam dividing the great disk. Another portal, this time in the floor, but again, no bars, locks, latches, or handles of any kind. What was it made of, and where had he seen such metal before?
Wynn whispered, “Chein’âs . . . the Burning Ones!”
Wynn stared at the glistening portal in astonishment. She wasn’t even aware she’d spoken until her own whisper filled her ears. She clamped her mouth shut, hoping no one had heard her clearly, but there was no mistaking that metal.
It was the same as the head of the elven quill given to her by Sgäile’s uncle, Gleann, while she’d been in the Elven Territories. It was the same metal as the weapons gifted to Leesil and Magiere by . . .
The Chein’âs—the Burning Ones.
They were one of the five races of the mythical Úirishg, though only dwarves and elves were commonly known to exist. At least until Sgäile had taken Magiere, Leesil, and Chap on a secret side trip during the journey to Pock Peaks in search of the orb.
Were the Chein’âs here as well, hidden somewhere below the seatt?
It didn’t seem possible they had been so close all these centuries and remained unknown to the world. Then again, First Glade, at the center of the Lhoin’na’s lands, had been hiding in plain sight since the great war and beyond. Or had the dwarves learned to mine this metal themselves from somewhere deep in the earth? That was unlikely.
From what little Wynn had learned, the Chein’âs lived in the depths amid severe heat. Only they seemed to know the working of this white metal.
Shade’s quick huff startled Wynn to awareness.
Four dwarves stood post around the domed chamber at equidistant points, but they weren’t constabulary. Though they carried tall iron staves, their armor was more layered bands of steel than leather, and their iron-banded helms would’ve been too heavy for a human male. Two were armed with double-bladed axes, harnessed head-down on their backs. Another held a long hafted mace, its butt resting on the floor, while the last had a wide sword in a scabbard on his waist. All