Adept (The Essence Gate War, Book 1) - By Michael Arnquist Page 0,73

come to the chamber below to gaze upon the Essence Fount,” he rumbled. “Once corrupted, they seem no longer troubled by its energies. They treat it with some primitive reverence, almost worship. Perhaps it has become a god to them, in their weakened minds. Sometimes I can see them lurking behind the great columns, or in the far-flung shadows of the chamber, and I try to catalog the energies afflicting them. I know the red is fire, the blue a bitter cold, and there is a sickly green that eats at the flesh about wounds…”

The Wyrgen muttered in a low tone, seemingly more to himself than to any other in the room. He pressed himself against the glass wall, peering downward in search of the self-same subjects of his discourse. He slid back and forth along the wall, seeking various viewing angles as his ongoing chatter became a detailed recounting of his many failed attempts to cure his compatriots. Amric began to tune out the rambling jargon, and he found himself glancing down as well to seek hidden figures below.

Suddenly he realized their mistake.

He had stepped back from the viewing wall in an unconscious movement to allow the Wyrgen to travel its length, and he noted that Valkarr had done the same. Grelthus, in his wanderings, and seemingly intent on the scene below, had put himself closer to the stairwell than either of the warriors by almost a full pace. And the chase earlier had already proven the astonishing speed of the Wyrgens.

Even as awareness struck, the furry figure burst into motion. He crossed the room in a single explosive leap and vanished up the darkened stairwell. The warriors sprinted in immediate pursuit. Amric cursed his weakness as the strange dizziness returned and clutched at his trembling legs, and he forced obedience from his unwilling muscles with an effort of will.

They reached the foot of the stairs with Syth’s roar of outrage echoing behind them. From above came a startled cry, the heavy thud of bodies colliding, and the booming crash of the thick metal door slamming shut. Amric and Valkarr vaulted up the stairs, taking several at a time. A clattering sound reached their ears, and the water jug followed, sloshing water as it tumbled end over end down the stone steps.

The warriors gained the landing at the top and hurled themselves against the polished door, but they might as well have been slapping at the base of a mountain for all the good it did them. They hammered at the handle with their sword hilts, and pried at the outline for exposed hinges or other mechanics, but to no avail.

At last they fell back, panting, the acrid taste of defeat rising in their throats like bile. It was no use. Halthak was taken, and the door was impervious to their efforts. They were trapped.

CHAPTER 10

Amric slammed his fist into the metal door and glowered at it, as if the seething intensity of his fury could do what physical efforts had not. There was no sound from the other side. The traitorous Wyrgen had either rendered Halthak unconscious or taken him from the chamber.

At his side, Valkarr lashed out at the door with his sword; an array of sparks flowered in the gloom, but the glinting surface of the door was barely marred. The Sil’ath let out an angry hiss between bared teeth. The warriors exchanged dark looks, and Valkarr stepped back to crouch in the shadows behind the door while Amric turned and stalked down the stairs. As he descended, the swordsman cursed himself for a fool. He had witnessed first-hand the speed of the Wyrgens, and yet had allowed the enemy to separate them and gain the momentary advantage of position.

Now they might all pay for his mistake with their lives.

In the chamber below, Bellimar and the prisoner Syth had not moved. Their faces were drawn with apprehension, but otherwise they were a study in opposites. The old man stood still and straight, cloak wrapped about him, eyes gleaming, a storm roiling beneath a calm surface. In the cage, Syth had his feet planted wide apart and his fists clenched, and his clothing swirled and whipped about his lean frame in a frenzy of motion. Amric stalked across the room and stabbed a finger at the man who claimed to be half wind elemental.

“Did you know aught of this?” he demanded.

“If you could not guess, I am not privy to that demented beast’s plans,” Syth retorted. “I