The Dark Remains - Mark Anthony [234]
“How much further?” Travis whispered to Sareth.
The Mournish man had said nothing since the shimmering gate vanished. A few times he had hesitated as a side tunnel branched off from the passage they trod, muttering under his breath, but after a moment he always continued onward. As far as Travis could tell, they had moved consistently downward.
“I directed the gate to deliver us to a place just outside the cavern,” Sareth said in a barely audible voice. “However, it seems we arrived somewhat farther away than I intended. Still, we are nearly there. I think.”
The grinding of Durge’s teeth was considerably louder than Sareth’s words, as was Lirith’s sigh. The sound of it seemed to hiss around them like invisible snakes. Lirith quickly clamped a hand to her mouth.
“It feels like the whole world is weighing on this place,” Travis murmured to Grace.
“No, just a city.”
Sareth came to a halt. Once again the passage forked. The Mournish man rubbed his chin, staring first at one opening, then the other. He was muttering, louder than before.
Panic rose in Travis’s throat. The only way they could get back to the surface was to reach the cavern and find the passage Sareth had once taken from the sewers. Sareth still had the gate artifact, but it was empty now, the fairy’s blood consumed by its magic. If they didn’t find the passage, they would be trapped down here forever.
But that wasn’t true, either. The Scirathi would find them sooner or later. If the demon didn’t consume them and the entire city first.
“This way,” Sareth said, moving toward the left-hand passage.
They pressed on down the sinuous tunnel. Travis found himself wondering how these passages had been formed. Not by water. Although they were smooth, here and there sharp edges protruded from the walls. Nor had these tunnels been hewn by men; they were too … organic. All in all, they reminded Travis of the branching pattern of arteries and veins in a body.
Sareth held up a hand. “I recognize this place,” the Mournish man whispered. “We are near.”
“But I sense only emptiness ahead of us,” Lirith said, fingers pressed lightly to her temples.
“Truly, my lady?” Durge rumbled. “For I was thinking I had never in my life breathed air so thick with danger.”
“Emptiness is all there is to the demon, beshala,” Sareth murmured. “Perhaps that is what you sense.”
“No, there is something ahead,” Grace said quietly. “But it’s hard to make out—like a shadow on black.” She let out a breath. “It’s gone now.”
Travis reached into his pocket and gripped the hard orb of Sinfathisar. “I suppose I had better lead from this point on. The rest of you stay back.”
Lirith started to protest. “But the light—”
“I don’t need light,” Travis said, and started down the tunnel.
Fear rose in him with each step.
This is stupid, Travis. Beyond stupid. Sareth said the demons were capable of eating entire cities. They turned most of the southern continent into some sort of wasteland. What makes you think you can stop it?
He couldn’t—but Sinfathisar could. And because of what Jack Graystone had done to him, making him a runelord, Travis was the only one who could touch one of the Imsari and live. That was why the fairy had brought the Stone to him.
The Stone of Twilight is going to do all the work, Travis. You’re just the deliveryman. It’s not a great job, and not one you asked for, but you can manage it.
They had not gone far when Travis noticed a faint light on the air, like the splotchy purple afterglow one saw after staring at a bright light. Behind him, Sareth blew out the lantern flame, and Travis guessed it wasn’t only he who saw the light. With each step the purple glow brightened, rippling on the heavy