As Richard walked away from the cells, a pebble struck him in the back of the head. "Ah!" he cried, flinching, then freezing. A second pebble followed. He lifted his right hand, and the projectile stopped in midair and dropped harmlessly to the floor.
Richard turned, his face red with hatred. Emily's eyes followed in horror as he stomped towards Dorian's cell. "Throw stones at me, will you! I'll teach you to throw stones!"
"No! Stop!" Emily cried.
But Richard did not seem to hear her. As he turned to face Dorian through the bars, a third pebble struck him between the eyes.
Richard's hands flexed, and the stone prison around them began to tremble. "Insolent dog! That will be the last stone you ever throw!" he shouted, veins bulging in his forehead as he brought the full power of his magic to bear.
"Don't! Please don't!" Emily screamed. "Dorian!"
As the tremors heightened, an image of black moss clinging to metal flashed through Emily's mind. She thought of the Deep Realm and of Shimmerwood. Nightmoss. The word surfaced, sharp and clear for an instant, just as the tremor reached its crescendo.
Emily braced herself for a crash, for a horrible cry of pain from Dorian's cell, but neither sound came. The earth settled, and it was Richard whose scream pierced the air. He stumbled back two steps, his face contorted by sudden agony. Dark tendrils burst from the sleeve of his coat—the sleeve that held the Bronzeband.
"What... what is this?!" Richard choked out, clutching his arm.
Cracks spiderwebbed out from beneath Richard's feet and then found direction, shooting towards the wall between Emily and Dorian's cells. Loud cracks were followed by a deafening roar as the wall collapsed, showering both cells with dust and rubble.
"Aaaghhh!" Richard screamed. Black tendrils escaped from the collar of his shirt, traveling up his neck. Smoke rose from where the tendrils touched his flesh, and it seemed to wither and crack. His violin clattered to the floor. He staggered backward, clawing uselessly at his arm—at the Bronzeband—which was now visible under the destroyed sleeve of his coat.
The prison was shaken by further tremors. The torches died, plunging the immediate area into near-total darkness—a relief, as Richard's screams only grew louder.
Emily buried her face in her knees as dust rained around her, tears pricking at her eyes. An echoing clang rang out as the bars of her cell crashed down down into the corridor, followed by a series of lesser impacts as debris rained from the ceiling. Richard stopped screaming, and the tremors subsided.
When all was still, Emily looked up from her knees. Her way out was clear. "Dorian?" she coughed, dusting her legs as she pushed herself up.
"Here!" Dorian's voice came from just beyond the collapsed wall. He scrambled over the jagged pile of stone separating their cells, landing beside her. "Are you hit?"
"No, just a little buried." Emily dusted off an arm and peered out of her cell at where Richard had stood.
In the gloom, the sight was brief but horrifying. Where Richard had been, only a rapidly crumbling, desiccated husk remained, collapsing in on itself like ancient parchment touched by flame. Black tendrils still writhed around him. Emily staggered back, nausea churning in her stomach.
"Nightmoss," Dorian said in an awed whisper, staring at the rapidly vanishing remains. "Just like in the Deep Realm."
Nightmoss. There was that word again. It triggered something in Emily's memory, a vague sense of warmth and belonging. Her thoughts felt slippery, hard to grasp. There was something important she needed to tell Dorian, something that seemed to run from her conscious mind.
"Oi! What was that noise?" A shout echoed from the direction of the heavy wooden door leading out of the cell block. "Check the prisoners! Something's happened!" Heavy, booted footsteps pounded, getting closer fast.
Panic surged in Emily's chest. "They're coming!" she hissed.
Dorian reacted instantly. While Emily scrambled towards the main exit door at the end of the short corridor, Dorian darted towards the fading horror on the floor. With quick, decisive movements, he snatched the intact violin from beside the husk, grabbed the Bronzeband as the last of the moss devoured Richard's arm, and ripped Richard's trousers and ruffled shirt from his rapidly disintegrating body.
"The door's stuck!" Emily grunted, throwing her shoulder against the heavy wood. It didn't budge. Richard's final tremor must have warped the frame, lodging it in place.
"You'll need this!" Dorian shouted, waving the Bronzeband. "Lift your foot!"
Emily automatically thrust a calf out behind herself. Cool metal soon encased her ankle once more.
"Take this too!" Dorian said, shoving the ruffled shirt into Emily's hands. It was mostly intact, but missing one of its sleeves. He had stepped into Richard's trousers, though they were clearly too short, ending partway down his ankles.
"This way's collapsed, go around!" shouted a voice, too close for comfort.
"They're almost here!" Emily whispered frantically. Momentarily ignoring the shirt, she pressed her palm flat against the stone wall beside the jammed door. Focusing past the panic, picturing the rock yielding, she poured her will into the Bronzeband. Her ankle tingled, itching slightly. The stone groaned softly.
"Try now!" she urged.
Dorian slammed his shoulder into the door again. It scraped outwards, grinding against unseen debris on the other side, opening just enough from them to squeeze through.
"Go!" Dorian pushed Emily through the gap, then squeezed after her, pulling the groaning door partially shut behind them, though it wouldn't close properly. They were in the main passage, with the spiral stairs just ahead. Fresh rubble littered the floor and the air was thick with dust.
A shout echoed from the other end of the cell block. "The cells are empty! They've escaped!"
Emily quickly pulled the large, soft shirt over her head. It came down to her thigh, the single remaining sleeve ridiculously puffy.
"Right. Let's go fetch the Stoneshell. I saw Kastor enter one of the buildings near the top of these stairs. That's the first place we should look. Let's move before they figure out which way we went."
A low rumbling sound echoed from above, followed by distant, panicked shouting. The tremors had clearly caused further damage topside, adding to the general chaos.
Keeping low and close to the walls, they ran towards the spiral staircase, moving as quickly and quietly as possible through the debris-strewn passage. The sounds of alarm from above were growing louder—frantic bells, shouted orders, the heavy tread of many running feet. The monks of Tiedavon Abbey were fully awake, and they were looking for two prisoners.
With Dorian in front of her, Emily noticed a violin slung over his back. "Really using every part of the animal, eh?"
Dorian cast her a confused glance, clearly unaware of the expression. "Stay alert," he whispered. "The monks will be after us."
They began the ascent, moving as quietly as possible. The air grew slightly warmer, less damp, but the sounds of alarm from above grew louder—bells ringing frantically, voices shouting orders, the heavy tread of running feet. Tiedavon Abbey was on high alert.
Reaching the top of the stairs, they peered cautiously out into the main courtyard. Monks were running everywhere, some heading towards the dome, now partially rebuilt, others organizing search parties, their faces grim, staffs held ready. The sky was growing paler as the sun crept towards dawn.
Darting from the exposed entrance to the underground prison, Emily pressed herself flat against the cool sandstone wall of the nearest building. Dorian followed, his movements quick and silent.
The courtyard was a maelstrom of organized panic. Monks ran with purpose, shouting instructions and carrying injured brethren on makeshift stretchers, while others attempted to shore up cracked walls near the dome. The air was thick with dust and the frantic clang of alarm bells.
"Those tremors did more damage than I thought," Dorian whispered.
"It's Richard's fault," Emily replied, mostly to herself.
"I saw Kastor go inside that building," Dorian said, pointing at a small, squat sandstone structure a few hundred yards away. "Let's hope the Stoneshell's there. Is there... is there any way you can tell?"
Emily shook her head. "Not without Talyndra's map magic."
"Then we'll do trial and error," Dorian replied, beckoning her forward.
They moved in a low crouch, using overturned benches and piles of rubble as cover. Twice, they had to freeze behind thick pillars as groups of monks hurried past, eyes scanning for trouble.
Many of the monks wore bandages over their eyes, like the ones they'd encountered on the cliff. Occasionally they would stop and listen, tilting their heads to the side. Emily hardly dared to breathe, for fear they'd hear it.
Near the entrance of the building Kastor had entered, they huddled behind a large stone planter overflowing with dead, salty foliage. A tense argument was taking place nearby between two senior-looking monks.
"...unacceptable breach!" one was saying, voice tight with anger. "The reliquary seals held, but the structural damage...! And all this, during the dome's reconstitution!"
"Calm yourself, brother," said the other.
"This is the work of powerful magic. I told Kastor not to hide the prisoners' artifacts in his personal chamber!" He gesticulated wildly at the building behind him.
"I'll remind you that Brother Kastor is our Tidewarden," the other replied defensively. "Everything he does is for the betterment of our order. With the dome still reconstituting, we have a scarcity of secure places for such a powerful artifacts."
"Reckless!" the first monk snapped, before they were interrupted by another shouting orders nearby and moved off.
Emily and Dorian exchanged a look. That made things easier.
They slipped through the building's entrance just as another tremor shook the ground—weaker this time, likely an aftershock, but enough to send fresh dust raining down and renew the cries of alarm, covering their movement. Richard's dying echo, Emily thought.
The corridor beyond was quieter, less damaged, but narrow and echoing. Their bare feet padded softly on the stone floor.
A few monks hurried through the building, carrying scrolls or tools. Emily and Dorian pressed themselves into alcoves, holding their breath until the footsteps receded. Around one corner, they found their way blocked by a heavy, iron-banded wooden door.
Dorian tried the handle. It was firmly shut. He examined it closely. "No obvious magical wards," he whispered, running his fingers over the thick metal lock plate. He rapped his knuckles against the metal. "Solid craftsmanship." He put his shoulder to it, grunting softly. It didn't budge.
Emily stepped forward, placing her hand flat against the stone wall beside the doorframe. Concentrating, she pictured the stone around the hinges, and imagined it warping outward, loosening. Her ankle tingled.
"Try now," she whispered.
Dorian pushed again. This time, there was a faint creak, a slight give. He threw his weight against it more firmly, and with a low groan of stressed wood, the door scraped inwards just enough for them to squeeze through. They slipped inside, pulling it shut behind them, plunging them into near darkness.
Emily attempted to summon a light but was quickly reminded of the Stoneshell's absence. As their eyes adjusted to the low light, Dorian approached an ornate door at the far end of the passage, which stood slightly ajar. "The Tidewarden's symbol is carved on this door," Dorian said, cautiously pushing it open. "I remember it from the back of his robe."
Kastor's chamber was fittingly austere. Maps of coastlines and tidal charts covered one wall. A solid wooden desk stood against another, clear except for an inkwell and quill. Bookshelves lined a third wall, filled with heavy, leather-bound volumes. Dawn light streamed in from a single, high window. The room smelled faintly of sea salt and old paper. And it was empty. Kastor was clearly still coordinating the crisis outside.
Emily felt a familiar warmth rise in her chest, and she knew the Stoneshell was nearby. Somewhere.
Her eyes scanned the room. The desk? The bookshelves? Her gaze fell on a section of the stone wall opposite the desk. Apart from being unadorned by charts or maps, it looked subtly different from the rest, the mortar lines less distinct, as if it were a single, smooth panel. She approached it, placing her hand flat against the cold stone. As she did so, the Bronzeband started to slowly rotate around her ankle, just like it had when she'd fallen into the Deep Realm. The bond between artifacts had been reestablished.
"Dorian," she whispered, her voice sharp with excitement. "It's in here!"
After making sure the door to the chamber was securely bolted, Dorian came closer and examined the panel. "A hidden compartment. Makes sense." He ran his fingers along the edges, searching for a seam, a hidden switch. Nothing. "Probably magically sealed, awaiting Kastor's touch or command."
"Maybe it's Face ID," said Emily.
Dorian gave her another puzzled glance. "I haven't heard of that one. Regardless, these things are never very difficult to break, despite what the mages claim." He surveyed the room, grabbing the quill and parchment from Kastor's desk. Holding the parchment against the panel, he scrawled a series of complicated ruins across it, then pronounced a rapid sequence of sounds that Emily was pretty sure she'd never heard a human mouth make before, finishing off with a high-pitched, sustained whistle.
A low click echoed in the quiet room, and a thin seam appeared around the edges of the panel. Dorian grinned at Emily, tearing up the parchment.
It took their combined strength to pull the heavy stone panel outwards, revealing a small, velvet-lined niche within the wall.
And there it lay. The Stoneshell, resting on the dark velvet, looking for all the world like a slightly ugly necklace.
The moment Emily's skin touched the smooth, shell-like surface, a jolt shot through her, flooding her whole body with warmth. With a sigh of profound relief, she lifted the necklace and secured it around her neck, slipping the pendant under her shirt. The familiar weight settled into place just above her breasts and everything felt right again. "Sorry Aria," she whispered, hoping this would be the last time she was separated from the Stoneshell.
"Okay," she breathed, turning to Dorian. "Got it. Now... the Essence."
Dorian nodded, his face tense but relieved. "I think it's in the dome. There's no way they could have rebuilt it that fast without extraordinarily potent magic."
The distinct sound of heavy, purposeful footsteps echoed from the corridor outside. Someone was approaching Kastor's chamber! They scrambled to push the heavy stone panel back into place, hoping it looked undisturbed. The footsteps stopped right outside the door. A hand rattled the handle. They were trapped.
"Open up! Tidewarden's orders!" a rough voice bellowed.
The bolt would buy them some time, but it wouldn't hold for long. Emily and Dorian glanced around frantically.
"Window?" Emily mouthed silently, pointing towards the chamber's single narrow window, high in the wall.
Dorian nodded curtly. It was their only way out. As the pounding on the door intensified, Emily clambered onto Dorian's back, reaching the window and unlatching it. Cool, damp air rushed in as she slid it open.
"Go!" Dorian urged, lifting her off his shoulders and up through the window.
Emily scrambled through the window and dropped out the other side, oversized shirt billowing around her. Leading with one shoulder, she rolled as she hit the dusty ground, elegantly ending in a standing position, tugging at the hem of her shirt.
With a powerful but not very graceful leap, Dorian followed, thudding down on both feet. Inside, the chamber door splintered inwards with a loud crash.
Shouts erupted from inside. "The window!" All around, monks stopped what they were doing and looked in Emily and Dorian's direction.
"Move!" Dorian yelled, grabbing Emily's hand.
"Where?!" Emily cried.
Dorian pointed at the half-reconstructed dome in the center of the abbey.