The hallway opened into a cavernous space. Adellus swung the lantern first this way, then the other, as if he could ward off an attacker with it. In the wild strobes of light, Grevail saw a human form, then another, and another. We’re surrounded! He threw his arms over his head with a shout. Moments passed with his heartbeat thrumming in his ears, but when nothing happened, he lowered his hands. They were surrounded he saw, but the people were made of stone. Statues ringed the room, about twice as tall as he was. They were soldiers, wearing huge slabs of armor that covered their entires bodies, like nothing he’d ever seen before. Helmets obscured the faces, while huge gauntleted hands rested atop hilts of swords buried into the floor at their feet.

Adellus looked over his shoulder at Grevail with a sheepish grin. “You’re not scared of a statue, are you?”

A sarcophagus sat on a dais in the center of the room, atop more of the red and black floor tiles. Metal capped the top of the sarcophagus, embossed in symbols and what looked like words, but in a language Grevail did not recognize. The head of an owl, shining beneath a thick layer of dust, jutted up from one end of the casket while a pair of metal wings were folded against the sides. Just before the sarcophagus, a square object sat on a slim pedestal. Grevail’s eyes followed the walls upward to see that they stretched into darkness.

Adellus crept toward the sarcophagus, every footstep a thunderclap in the stone chamber. Grevail shook off his awe and joined him.

“They must have been tall,” Raela said, nodding toward the sarcophagus. She set her bag on the floor and spun to take in the rest of the room.

Grevail studied the casket. It was unusually long. He supposed whoever was in it would have been very, very tall—-several hands taller than himself. He turned his attention to the pedestal. A small cube sat atop it—lines of shiny metal arcing mutedly under a coating of dust.

“What is it?” Adellus asked. “A die?”

Tessyn snorted. “Thinking about gambling, even now.”

Grevail bent to blow on it and sent a cloud of dirt cascading to the floor.

Adellus hovered over the pedestal beside him, a greedy smile splitting his face. “That’s gold.”

The cube was little bigger than a fist and made of a dark, nearly black metal. Detailed gold scroll-work ran around the edges and swirled in the corners. In the middle of each side there was a circular recess of what looked like glass. An odd, slanted triangle was etched onto the glass, and behind it, a faint pale blue light seemed to pulse.

“It’s beautiful,” Raela remarked.

Tessyn, pacing around the statues behind them, paused to look up at one. “There are holes in the wall. A bunch of holes.” She fingered the sword in a statue’s hands.

Adellus did not turn his attention from the cube. “That could probably buy us Amphid’s whole palace.” He raised his eyes to the dais, tucking curly brown hair behind an ear. “And that casket has to have something in it too…maybe some more of those eggs.”

“I think a body is in it,” Tessyn said.

Raela’s disgusted scoff echoed. “You are not suggesting…”

“Whoever is in there won’t mind if we just take a look.” Adellus stepped onto the dais and circled the owl head, tall as he was and just as wide. “Bronze again,” he said, shaking his head. “Shame it isn’t gold.” He pointed at the wings. “These must weigh as much as a horse. The Emberfolk sure loved bronze…and owls. I wish instead it was gold and…owls made of gold.”

“Not that we’d ever get that out of here if it were,” Raela said.

Grevail studied the sarcophagus for moment, but his eyes soon came back to the cube, wondering what it could be. It looked expensive. He stretched a hand toward it and thought his fingers became warm as they neared…and the blue light seemed to pulse faster. He paused. My head has more cobwebs than this whole tomb.

“How did I know that I’d find you here?”

Grevail spun, dropping his bag to the floor with a thud.

Xylen stood in the entrance, illuminated by a source of light behind him, a smug grin on his face. His blond hair glowed around his head and a purple merit sparkled in his ear. A man beside Xylen who possessed muscular arms covered in tattoos, gripped a sword at his belt as if ready to draw. The muscular man swept lank and dark hair from his eyes to get a better look at Grevail. The light behind Xylen moved and a woman peeked around the big man, lantern swinging in her hand.

“Xylen?” Grevail said in disbelief.

Xylen’s smile deepened. “You’re not the only one with knowledgeable friends, Grevail. I can think of only one who would have sent you here. Still listening to that old fool Gaston?”

“Why are you here?”

“I’ve come for that,” he said, pointing to the cube behind Grevail.

“We found it first,” Tessyn growled.

Xylen laughed. “I suppose you did…but I don’t care. Give it up, or my friend here will deal with you,” He jerked his head toward the big man.

“Xylen,” Raela pleaded, “we were friends, once. You can’t—”

The big man drew his sword in a rasp of metal. “Drop your bags and lay on the ground.”

Adellus stepped off the dais, raising a cautious hand. “Easy, friend. No need for that. Let’s talk about this…there is treasure enough for all us. I’ve got food in this bag here, we can sit down and have—”

The swordman rushed forward and launched a foot into Adellus’ stomach, who doubled over with a wheeze, then collapsed to his knees, sucking in air through his teeth. He shot the big man a glare through the hair spilling over his face.

“Get on the ground!” the big man commanded.

“Alright…alright,” Grevail said while lowering himself to the floor beside the pillar. Tessyn dropped her bag and sat with her back against the sword of a statue, glaring at Xylen. Raela scowled at the swordsman and knelt beside Adellus, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t move,” the man said. “If I see you reaching for anything, you won’t live to regret it.”

Xylen sauntered across the room with an arrogant smirk, stopping beside the pillar and Grevail. “You never could see the obvious, Grevail. The way you bumbled in here…I thought you’d ruin it. Finally, the Keepers leave after two days in this miserable swamp…and then I see you of all people climbing over the wall. Did you really think you’d be alone? There are thieves who specialize in this kind of thing, you know. I’m surprised Gaston didn’t tell you, but why would he, you’re only worthless mudrats to him. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s trying to get you killed.”

“Do you care?” Raela spat.

Xylen’s smirk deepened. “No…not at all. I only wish he would have thrown your lives away earlier, then I’d consider it a service. Eph’s blade might have went uncleaned tonight.”

“Afraid to do it yourself, Xylen?” Grevail asked.

Xylen shrugged. “I could, we both know that. I always had the upper hand whenever we found ourselves in a fight, Grevail. But why would I? I’ve got people to do it for me now.”

“Is your head really that big?” Tessyn asked, glaring at Xylen and Eph as if it could kill.

A smug scoff flew from Xylen’s lips. “While you’ve been crawling around in the mud, I’ve been building a future, Tessyn. I asked you to join me, but you refused…I wonder if you regret it now.” Xylen stared at Grevail, an odd look in his eyes. “Remember how we used to dream about leaving Lowtown, Grevail? You may have given that dream up, but I haven’t. You are still swiping the purses of shopkeeps and going hungry most nights, aren’t you? Not me. I’ve moved up in the world.”

Grevail stared at him, unable to believe his own ears. “I’ve heard about what you’ve been up to, Xylen. What is wrong with you? Aeson will burn Lowtown to the ground, and you with it, or haven’t you heard?”

Xylen laughed. “Of course I’ve heard. Perhaps it is better that Aeson destroys Lowtown, it doesn’t matter to me. I no longer call that place home like you do. If I must deal with Aeson, then I will, just as I dealt with Amphid’s nephew when he became a little too arrogant for his own good. The little twit thought that he was untouchable because of who his father is, but we all know that isn’t true now. Once I have that relic, not even Amphid himself will worry me.”

Grevail frowned, glancing at the cube. “You think this thing is worth that much?” Shaking his head, he returned his eyes to Xylen. “You’ve doomed everyone in Lowtown.”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Xylen offered a blank, uncaring stare in response. “That doesn’t concern me.” Their eyes clashed through motes of dust until Xylen released a long breath with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Well, that’s enough catching up. We really should be on our way.” He glanced down at the cube and a sinister glint crept into his eyes. “We can’t leave behind loose tongues…or those bags of yours. Eph?”

“Xylen!” Raela screamed.

Grevail’s knife pressed against his breast, where it was tucked away inside his coat, but it would be little use against a sword. Eph raised his weapon and stalked toward Adellus and Raela.

Xylen seemed to realize what Grevail was thinking and snickered, hand disappearing inside his own coat where Grevail assumed a blade must be. “You’ll always be a mudrat, Grevail, for what little time you have left.” He snatched the cube from the pedestal. A metal click hung in the air.

The room filled with a shriek, as if a thousand hawks swept from the sky at once, and dust flew on a rush of air that came from every direction. Grevail covered his head as the ring of metal sprang into his ears—a thousand hammer blows in the space of seconds. A clatter reverberated, as if someone had dropped a bundle of sticks on the ground, and then, only silence.

Grevail cracked an eye, surprised to find Xylen’s legs still beside him, motionless. A drop of blood plopped wetly to the floor, then another, until it became a river of bright red. Xylen teetered on unsteadily and fell backward, thudding to the ground. Grevail scrambled to his knees, coughing on the dust hanging in the air. Arrows pin-cushioned Xylen’s body from the waist up.

Eph gasped and scraped on the floor in a pool of blood, leaving dark trails behind the desperate movements of his limbs. The woman lay nearby, shafts protruding from her body like a porcupine’s quills and the lantern she’d been carrying was broken and flickering beside her. Small arrows, the length of only a hand littered the floor.

Panicked, Grevail searched through the dust for his friends. He found Adellus and Raela, huddled together and staring back at him with wide eyes. Tessyn still sat with her back against a statue, hand pressed over her mouth as if suppressing a scream.

Eph emitted a long, tortured breath and went still.

“Ashen embers!” Raela said and scraped herself off the floor. Her eyes swept the room as if expecting another volley.

“The holes…” Tessyn said.

“We’ve got to get out of here!” Raela breathed.

The cube lay beside Xylen’s mauled body where a stream of glistening blood extended toward it like a tentacle. Grevail grabbed it.

His vision filled with color. Swirling, slashing motes of light cascaded over his eyes and saturated his mind. Then came darkness, and silence, just as abruptly as the colors had come. Whispers approached…indistinguishable chatter, like a slow wind moving through a canopy. Soft voices, like silk rubbed together, yet they continued to become ever louder until they were ripping screams.

A man’s face consumed his thoughts. There was something so strange and unnatural about him. His head was too long—his eyes too big and far apart. His skin was sickly, veiny, and an ugly gray. Clever white eyes burrowed into Grevail’s soul, ripping a vicious path of carnage in pursuit of something. The man’s mouth opened and he loosed a thunderous shout, as if it came from a hundred throats at once. Then, like a candle snuffed, he was gone.

“Let’s get out of here,” Tessyn said, rising on unsteady feet. She launched herself at the exit with her bag over a shoulder, hopping over the growing puddles of blood seeping from the corpses.

Adellus hauled his bag up with him as he stood. He turned to follow Tessyn but paused, twisting to look at the sarcophagus. “What about the casket?” The casket, owl head and wings were dented and rough after the battering of arrows. A few shafts had buried themselves in the coffin itself.

Raela stood and brushed the dust from her face. Her eyes lingered on Xylen’s corpse before she tore them away with a scowl for Adellus. “The casket?” she spat and hurried toward the door. “We’re not touching anything else in here!”

“Are you alright, Grevail?” Adellus asked as he turned for the door himself, lantern held in front of him.

Grevail pushed what he’d just seen from his mind and stood, sparing a glance at the cube in his hand. “I’m fine,” he said, and snatched his bag off the floor.

They left the room to find Tessyn and Raela waiting just outside for Adellus to take the lead. They kept in a tight ball back down the long corridor. Adellus maintained a slow pace, and even stopped at the tunnel they had not explored until Raela pulled him away with a few curses. The more they retraced their steps, the more an unspoken urgency seemed to propel them along faster, and by the time they returned to the stairs they were at a run. Scampering up the last steps they found the dome just as they left it, glass mosaics still glittering in the light from Adellus’ lantern.

Grevail hurried to the doorway before the others and peeked outside. Rain continued to pour around the Thavan’s tent. The fire had gone out and a glowing lantern now sat beside the smoldering remains, rain plinking off the metal. Grevail cursed. He exchanged worried looks with the others.

There isn’t anything to do about it now. He waved at his friends to follow and slid out of the doorway. Squeezing himself against the dome, he headed toward the wall they climbed over. The items in his bag shifted and a clang sounded, muffled by the burlap.

A shadow stepped from behind the tent. Grevail froze.

“Noz, look here,” a man’s voice said and the shadow stepped forward into the lamplight, hoisting a black robe above the water. Dark blond hair slithered from his cowl to the jaw where a goatee bristled on his chin. Brown eyes narrowed at Grevail.

Another much bigger shadow appeared behind the robed figure. It came forward, materializing into a giant man clutching a knife. The blade caught the light, dripping a blood red. Grevail looked to the tent where the Keepers had slept and spotted dark splotches on the walls.

“What is in your hand?” the robed man asked.

Surprised, Grevail looked down at the cube clenched in his fist.

“Give it to me,” the robed man said.

Grevail remained motionless. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

The man named Noz marched forward, each thudding step erupting a splash of water. A sword hung from his belt and he wore a leather vest that glinted wetly in the moonlight, like his hairless scalp. Grevail’s gaze traveled upward for what seemed an eternity until it reached the man’s sneering face. He wanted to run but his legs would not move.

The man’s monstrous hand shot forward, grabbing a handful of Grevail’s hair and jerking him to his feet. Noz thrust the knife under his nose. “He told you to give it.” The giant grunted in an odd accent.

Smelling the metallic stench of blood on the knife, Grevail extended his fist. “Here…take it.”

The robed man’s cold eyes sank to the sack in Grevail’s hand. “The bags…drop them.”

Grevail let it slip from his fingers and heard his friends do the same.

The robed man’s lips curled in a smirk. “You are not who we saw earlier. Your friends, the other three, where—”

A guttural shout ripped from the darkness beyond the dome, like the lonesome moonlight howl of a wolf, but vaguely human.

The robed man’s brows drew down and he turned to the open east gate, a wide gap in the wall beyond which the noise originated. Grevail twisted his head in Noz’ grip, wincing as his hair pulled taught. The blackness beyond the reach of the lanterns remained still.

Adellus thrust a finger into the rain, eyes wide. “What’s that!”

Beyond the east gate, shapes crept toward them, like ghostly apparitions in the night. The forms cloaked in darkness drew closer. They were rough human shapes, but even at a distance, there was something unnatural about them…something wrong. Another shout pierced the darkness. It was a man’s voice, but there was something wrong with it too. It sounded…feral and grotesque. A shiver down Grevail’s spine.

Noz’ eyes widened and he shoved Grevail away from him. Dropping the knife, he drew the sword at his waist in a flash of metal. The big man leveled the blade at the three creatures which slunk out of the night, eyes gleaming. Though Grevail had never seen one in the flesh, he’d heard them described a thousand times over. Esh.

A male, its skin scaly and gray, shouted again. Crooked black teeth flashed in chomping jaws and a string of drool hung suspended from his mouth. A length of wispy brown hair clung wetly to his head, while white eyes as if bleached by the sun searched them like a rabid dog.

Beside him was a female, her skin just as scaly and thick as his was. Strands of gray hair hung from her scabbed scalp, and one of her breasts was missing—a jagged scar in its place. Beside her, another female, whose relatively smooth skin compared to the others glistened in the rain. Faded black eyes looked back at Grevail with no less aggression and patchy blond hair topped her head.

In a flash, the male Esh bounded forward at Noz with a snarl. The tall man cursed and warded off the creature with a wild thrust of his blade. The beast lurched to a stop and screamed—a horribly tortured, barely-human sound. A gob of spittle flew from the its lips and Noz dodged away as if it had struck at him. The big man’s eyes went from wide with fear to narrowed in concentration and he began moving his sword rhythmically, back and forth, like a viper waiting to strike.

Grevail watched enraptured, unable to move or look away, until a series of splashing footsteps brought his head around. A shape collided with him, taking him to the ground. The robed man pinned him to the ground, straddling him. Grevail stared at him in shock. “What are you doing? They’ll kill us both!”

“Give it to me!” the man said, clawing at Grevail’s hand around the cube. Noz and the male Esh still circled each other nearby.

Another howl shattered the night, and the robed man froze in his assault. The old female Esh’ bleached eyes were focused on the cube Grevail hugged to his chest. She cocked her head to the side, a furrow arcing over her brow. A growl formed in the creature’s throat. It grew into a searing screech and she sprang forward through the rain on all fours, running like a dog straight at them. The robed man abandoned his attempts at seizing the cube and rolled away. Wiping at the water in his eyes, Grevail hurried to stand, fumbling for the knife in his coat. The Esh galloped forward, snarling and baring black, twisted teeth.

With a shrill scream, Adellus jumped between Grevail and the Esh, swinging his lantern in a looping arc. It left his hand and flew through the air, striking the beast’s face with the sound of breaking glass. A gout of yellow flame exploded in a ball around her head, pushing back the night. The creature screamed, a ringing shriek so loud Grevail shielded his ears. The Esh spun in circles, swatting at her head, then turned and ran into the dark swamp like a chaotic candle.

The younger female Esh hesitated and cowered, hissing at Adellus. In a moment of shock, Grevail realized she looked afraid.

The male Esh and Noz still circled each other, neither taking their gaze from the other. Noz sprang forward, slicing at the beast’s midsection but the Esh leapt away, avoiding the strike by a hair. The Esh made short barking noises, as if challenging his opponent.

Grevail pulled himself out of his stupor and pointed to the western wall. “Go!”

Raela needed little encouragement and bolted past him. Grevail crawled into a run right behind her, Adellus and Tessyn on his heels. Launching themselves at the wall, they tumbled over in a mass of bodies, racing to their feet on the other side.

“NOZ! KILL THEM!” came a furious bellow from the dome.

Adellus and Raela scurried ahead of him, and he trudged along after, casting a look over his shoulder at Tessyn. She stumbled but kept on—her face twisted in fear. A jagged bolt of lightning lit a sky filled with angry black clouds.

After sprinting across the muddy, barren lake bed, Adellus and Raela reached the sheer bank first and helped each other climb onto the shore. Adellus helped pulled Grevail up and he lay for a moment in the cold, wet reeds to catch his breath as Tessyn was hauled up.

In front of the dome, Noz and the male Esh still circled each other, mere shadows in the courtyard. The Esh swiped at the tall man but he dodged, sword flashing in response, but it found only air as the Esh ducked away with a snarl.

The semi-human shout of the remaining female Esh cut through the rain, but closer, somewhere just below them in the dark lake bed. He and his friends exchanged alarmed looks and then darted into the tangle of twisted marsh trees and tall grass.

Grevail took the lead and moved with careful feet, searching for solid ground among patches of water that could be a hand deep or over his head. He shot frequent glances over his shoulder, but no more shouts followed after them, nor any lanterns through the thick rain.

In a panic, they raced onward into the darkness, stumbling through puddles and covering much of the distance on hands and knees. At one point, Grevail had shouldered through a bush into a shallow pool on the other side when his foot caught a rock. He tumbled forward onto his face in a deluge of water.

Raela grabbed him by the arm. “Get up!”

“Ash and embers!” Tessyn cursed. “Esh!”

“My rucksack!” Adellus groaned, tripping toward them in the ankle-deep water. “We’ve got to go back and get it.” His eyes sunk to their hands. “None of you grabbed yours!”

Grevail realized he left his bag in the courtyard, filled with the treasure and the little food they’d brought. With a curse he pushed himself to his feet.

“It wasn’t like we had time to think about it, Dell!” Tessyn said, wiping at the mud streaked across her face.

“I was saving Grevail’s life! What were you doing?” Adellus turned back toward the dome.

“You’ll do no such thing, Adellus!” Raela snapped and grabbed the tail of his cloak. “We’re leaving!”

“I’ve still got this,” Grevail said, raising the cube. Ashes, let it be worth something. “We can’t go back Adellus. You know we can’t.” He trudged onward, searching in the downpour for the trail they followed in, if it hadn’t washed away after all this rain. Every rustle of a tree branch in the wind was enough to send his heart into his throat. If he hadn’t seen those creatures with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it.

“Those things are supposed to be children’s tales, high up in the mountains,” Adellus whispered, wading through a tuft of reeds. He shot a glance behind them toward the dome, as if he still wanted to go back for the treasure even after what they’d seen. “What are the chances I’d finally see one, tonight of all nights.”

“I’ve read every book I can find on them.” Raela’s voice trembled. “Did any of you get any of their spit or blood on you?”

Grevail paused to look at his friends but they all shook their heads. Esh were stories used to scare sprouts, or so he’d thought. Mothers told children they would turn into an Esh if they lied or stole. There were tales of entire villages disappearing overnight, the inhabitants going mad before they turned on each other. It was said Esh lived for centuries and formed cities of their own in the wilderness, or so the stories went. Stories no longer. He wondered if other Stricken were real too.

He tried to push the treasure from his mind. “Gaston will give us something for this,” he said, looking down at the cube in his hand. “Whatever it is.”