Sentinelspire - Mark Sehestedt [94]
Jerumillis's scowl eased, and he slid all but the last bit of the sunrod into his sleeve. He closed his fist over the rest, plunging them into the dark. "You saw it too?"
"The green glow?" said Galban. "Yes. Bennig saw it first, then we both saw it again, headed back toward the Gallery."
"What was it?" asked one of the men behind Jerumillis.
"You tell me and we'll both know. A green light. That's all I saw."
"It scarcely seemed brighter than a firefly." "You ever see a greenlit firefly?"
"Enough talk," said Galban. "Jerumillis, you have the saber. I suggest you go first. Everyone else fan out and follow."
"Narrow tunnels like this," said Jerumillis, "a dagger should go first. I say you go first, Galban."
There was a tense moment of silence, then Galban said, "Fine. But if I go first, you go last."
The five assassins spread out and began a careful, quiet walk toward the Gallery of Stone Faces. It was not a long walk, but it seemed a great distance in the dark.
Bennig felt the thunder before he heard it-a slight rhythmic hum to the air. But as they proceeded he could hear it quite clearly, and as they rounded a bend in the tunnel, he saw the flicker of lightning. Not light, really, not yet, but more of a lighter shimmer on the walls against the impenetrable dark.
They rounded the last bend in the tunnel-the gallery was no more than a few dozen paces ahead-and when they did, they saw the green glow ahead of them. Bennig was right behind Galban, and he could see the man profiled in the light. Galban stopped a moment, then continued on, his blade held behind him to keep the light from glinting off it-and to be ready to strike. Bennig followed, so close that he could have reached out and touched the tip of Gal's blade. Ahead of them, he could hear rain dripping through crevices in the gallery's ceiling.
As they entered the Gallery of Stone Faces, Bennig was able to make out more derails around the green light. A statue, a crouched demonlike figure with a horned head and wide, leering lips. Its stone tail curved around, its forked tip dangling over the lip of the pedestal. Hanging from the lower fork was a necklace. Nothing lovely, it looked like no more than braided leather or perhaps a rough thong, but the small stone on the end of it gave off a faint green glow.
Lightning flashed outside, sending down a few shafts of bright white light that disappeared as quickly as they'd come. Thunder shook the gallery, a great explosion that faded into a rumble down the mountain.
"Oh, damn," said Galban, and knelt a few feet before the statue.
Bennig stepped around him and saw the reason for Galban's curse. By the green glow, Bennig could clearly see smears of something dark along the stone and floor. It was impossible to tell for certain in the green light, but Bennig thought it looked like blood.
"What is it?" said Jerumillis as he entered the gallery last. He opened his fist slightly, and a bit of the sunrod's light leaked from his fingers. The light was meager at best, but in the green-tinged gloom of the gallery, it seemed a small sliver of the sun. As the light spread about the nearest of the statues and the back wall, Bennig saw them-two pale eyes watching from above the doorway to the main passage, and around the eyes the dark mass of a figure.
Bennig drew in a breath, but then the eyes dropped. "Jeru-!" Bennig shouted, then he saw the flare of a cloak, and Jerumillis went down beneath it, and the sunrod's light with him. The light in the cavern was again only the faint green glow.
The other assassins cried out. One scrambled away, but Galban and another man ran for Jerumillis. Bennig followed them, opening his eyes wide to adjust to the dim light.
"What-?" said Galban.
Bennig looked down at the body. It wasn't Jerumillis. It was Lurom, his skull over his right eye smashed in, blood caked round his face and down his chest. His mouth hung open and his eyes stared sightlessly at the comrades who had come too late for him.
"Where is Jerumillis?"