The sounds of waves lapping against the shore far below filled the air as Carla led the others through the darkened village. Nothing else was moving, and it looked as though the village was fast asleep.

“I thought so,” Arlen muttered as they left the village and followed the path towards the windmill.

The stone building stuck out like a sore thumb, perched on the edge of a cliff and was in a state of disrepair. Parts of the cylindrical main structure had collapsed, and only tattered scraps remained of the sails. It cast an eerie silhouette against the full moon as its arms turned slowly in the nighttime breeze.

“Why are you betraying your people?” Vendel asked. The question had been burning in his mind for a while now, and he thought it was safe to ask now that they were out of the village.

“They aren’t my people,” Carla snapped.

“Silence!” Orla hissed.

Vendel felt a surge of indignance but held his tongue when he saw that her eyes crackling with blue lightning. Orla came highly recommended, but he’d have to talk to Arlen about sorting her attitude out. The young woman looked Arlen in the eye and held up two fingers with one hand while pointing at the windmill with the other.

Arlen gave Carla a look. “Is the windmill normally guarded?”

The girl went pale and shook her head. “I’m not sure. I’ve only been there during the day.”

Arlen set his jaw and nudged Vendel on the arm before cocking his head in the direction of the windmill. The prince nodded in understanding. A chill ran down his spine as he drew his sword for the first time since leaving Maeburn. They didn’t trust this girl or her intentions, but they were about to spill blood because of her.

Orla grabbed Carla by the arm and gave her a look that told her to be silent while the two men veered off the path and approached the windmill from opposite directions. As he crept through the sparse wild grass that grew along the cliff, Vendel spotted the silhouettes of two men standing by the door. Though he could not see their faces, they were standing upright, which told him that they were likely to be alert.

However, despite being alert, they were not prepared for two armed men leaping out of the night with swords drawn. Neither had time to make a sound before they were cut down without hesitation. After making sure that their victims were dead, Arlen and Vendel exchanged looks. The older man then made a bird call signalling the all clear to Orla.

The two men studied Carla as she approached. The girl paused when she saw the two bodies at their feet and swallowed before looking at Arlen.

“The path is inside,” her voice was scarcely a whisper.

Arlen and Vendel busied themselves hiding the bodies in the grass that grew along the path. The grass was sparse, but it was better than nothing. Once the grisly job was complete, the heavyset man turned to Orla, who looked around with her eerie eyes. Moments later, the lightning faded. “I saw no one else.”

Arlen then turned his attention back to Carla. “When are these two due to be relieved?”

The girl bit her lip before replying. “I don’t know. I’m not allowed outside after dark.”

“But you do know where the path is?” Arlen pressed.

The girl nodded. “It’s one of the first things they showed us after bringing us here.”

“From the Three Lakes?” Arlen asked.

Carla nodded.

“Why did they bring you here?” the heavyset man demanded.

“To replenish their numbers. They needed child bearing women to birth them more fanatics,” Carla’s voice broke as she spoke. “My family was on our way to Verspoch when we were waylaid. They killed my parents and then sent me here.”

“Have you been ra…” Vendel began and cried out in pain when Orla kicked him swiftly in the shin.

“There are things you never ask a lady!” she hissed.

“I’m a prince of the realm!” Vendel cried. “How dare you…”

“Now’s not the time for this!” Arlen’s voice was quiet but stern, and the two belligerents backed down at once.

“No, I wasn’t… touched…” Carla began softly as she fidgeted with her hair. “They wanted me to come to terms with my situation first.”

“Do you know who these people are?” Arlen ventured.

Carla nodded. “They call themselves the Keepers of Secrets and are affiliated with the Holy Church.”

“You’re lying!” Vendel scoffed. “The Church? They would never stoop to things like kidnapping and keeping secrets from father.”

“Tell her...” Vendel froze when he saw the expression on his companions’ faces.

“Your father had his suspicions but…” Arlen began.

He and the others froze when they saw a light appear somewhere in the village. It left one of the houses and walked a few paces away before stopping.

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“That must be Old Samrel. He can’t get through the night without relieving himself, and he refuses to go in his house.” Carla remarked. “We should continue this discussion inside.”

Arlen nodded in agreement and the girl led them into the windmill. Inside was a single large room that was dominated by a stationary grindstone.

“The gears look pristine,” Orla observed as she peered up at the windmill’s machinery overhead. “And there isn’t a speck of flour anywhere. Have the gears ever been engaged?”

“No, at least not since I’ve been here,” Carla replied. “The path you seek is under the grindstone.”

Arlen and Vendel looked at the massive grindstone before exchanging looks.

“We might have a problem there,” the older man remarked.

Carla bent over to fiddle with something on the floor. Once she was done, she looked up at Arlen and smirked. “How do you know until you try? Push it in that direction.”

Arlen gave the girl a dubious look before turning to Vendel. “Help me out, will you?”

Together, the men pushed with all their might. To their surprise, after some initial resistance, the stone slid out of the way easily to reveal a staircase that had been hewn out of the limestone beneath them. It had been carved along the edge of a pit. The pit was a perfect square exactly ten feet long on each side. Now that the stone was out of the way, they could see that the stone and the platform it rested on was mounted on well oiled wheels that ran on a steel track that was built into the foundations of the windmill.

“Designing and building this contraption was no small feat,” Arlen remarked. “It lends credence to the girl’s accusation.”

Vendel scowled. As a prince, he had entertained and been entertained by the most senior clergy in the kingdom. They were all good people, friendly and eager to please. The thought of them hiding anything from his father seemed outlandish.

“We’re wasting time,” Carla said worriedly. “Shall I lead the way?”

“Wait,” Orla ordered. She picked a stick up off the ground and muttered a spell. A flame appeared in her other hand, and she touched it to the end of the stick. When it caught, she handed the makeshift torch to Arlen, who cocked his head, indicating for her to continue.

Carla nodded and descended the stairs. Arlen went second, and then Vendel while Orla brought up the rear. There was no guardrail, so they kept close to the wall on their left as they descended. Each step was roughly three feet wide, level, and evenly spaced. Vendel peered over the side, but the light of the torch was swallowed up after a few feet. The sound of waves came from below, but the echoes made it impossible for them to discern how far it was down to the shore.

“Where does this stair take us?” Arlen asked.

“To the shore,” Carla replied, leaning against the wall as she descended. “Beyond there is a chamber that contains what the three of you are searching for.”

“Does it now?” Arlen remarked flatly. “And what is it we are after?”

“Don’t insult my intelligence.” There was a hint of irritation in the girl’s voice. “We both know you didn’t come all this way to take in the sights.”

“Fair enough,” Arlen shrugged. “You know, it would cause a massive scandal if half of what you’ve said is true.”

Carla shrugged. “That’s no concern of mine. I just want to be free of this life.”

“Do you think you could toss a fireball down there?” Vendel asked as they continued their descent. “Just to see what’s down there.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Arlen remarked after Orla clicked her tongue irritably. “We might end up unwittingly destroying the very thing we’re after.”

“So, how many sites are these Keepers protecting?” Arlen ventured after a brief silence.

“I don’t know,” Carla replied. “We weren’t informed about others, if there are any.”

“How far is it to the bottom?” Vendel blurted before stifling a yawn. He hadn’t had to climb this many steps since Vengian, his eldest brother, insisted they climb to the top of one of Destra Vingol Cathedral’s famous three towers.

Without slowing down, Carla turned around and smiled mischievously at the prince. “We’re about half way there. You had better pace yourself, the climb back up will be more arduous.”

Vendel grunted as Orla ran her hand against the side of the pit. “Remarkable. This hole was carved out of the earth by hand, not magic.”

Arlen raised his eyebrows in surprise. “That must have taken quite the effort.”

“The stairs and the shrine below existed before the Church found it,” Carla said. “The Keepers here say they don’t know who built it.”

“Then how did they come to settle here?” Arlen asked.

“I don’t know,” Caral replied absently. “All I know is that this village was here before the reign of the Setranium Kings.”

“It’s a good thing we came here,” Arlen remarked darkly. “The Church has been friendly to our king, almost to a fault. His Majesty needs to know what’s going on under his nose.”

“Do you know why you’re keeping this thing secret?” Orla asked.

“We were only told that it is dangerous,” Carla sighed. “The text we found with it said it would bring ruination to these lands.”

“And they just believed it?” Vendel blurted.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t here when the decision was here,” Carla snorted derisively. “But the elders seem to think it’s dangerous.”

“And you don’t?” Orla ventured.

The girl shook her head. “All I want is my freedom. If a dusty relic is what it takes, I’ll hand it over gladly.”

The sounds of water grew louder, and soon, the stairs ended in a cavern that was covered in ankle deep water. The cavern was pitch dark, and it swallowed their torch’s meagre light.

“I don’t see another entrance,” Arlen remarked grimly.

“The entrance to the cavern is submerged except for an hour at midday,” Carla offered.

Vendel’s blood froze and looked up the stairs they had just descended. That would be their only means of escape if something went wrong, and if the villagers realized something was amiss and discovered them here, the climb up would be all but impossible. Suddenly feeling exposed, he drew his sword, which made him feel a little better.

Vendel jumped when he heard splashes in the darkness, and admonished his nervousness when he realized it was just Carla walking down the cavern.

“Get a move on,” Orla whispered urgently. “And stay together. You do not want to get lost down here.”

Vendel swallowed and heard Arlen ask, “Does the water rise any further?”

“This is as high as it gets,” came Carla’s reply. “We’ve arrived.”

Moments later, Vendel walked nose first into a rockface and fell onto his backside in ankle deep water.

“Some warning would have been nice,” he snapped, furious that his trousers were now soaked. He then realized that he had dropped his sword. “And I’ve lost my sword!”

Arlen lowered his torch, but the water was murky, and they could see nothing but inky blackness. Vendel knew better than to grope around in the water for it. That was a good way to lose a finger or two. He’d just have to find another sword. Had the two guards at the windmill been armed?

“I did warn you,” there was a hint of amusement in Carla’s voice, and Orla bowed her head to hide a smirk.

“Where is this shrine, then?” Arlen asked curtly. He too was all too aware of the precarious situation they were in and wanted to be away from this place as quickly as possible.

“Bring the light over here,” Carla ordered.

Arlen brought the light over to the rockface and followed Carla until they came across a circular smooth stone slab in the wall. It was roughly two meters in diameter, and runes had been etched into it.

“Etakaya Har Vash Danar,” Orla murmured.

“You can read that?” Arlen asked.

The young woman nodded. “It’s an old elvish script.”

There was a loud rumbling, and the ground shook underfoot as the stone slab slid aside into a recess that had been hidden in the wall to reveal a chamber beyond. The chamber was large and bathed in a faint blue light. In the heart of the chamber, a stone platform rose out of the water. A light shone down from above, illuminating a sheathed sword.

“There it is,” Arlen gasped.