Read Online Book of Kinsey: Dark Fate (The Dark Fate Chronicles 2) by Matt Howerter, Jon Reinke - Free Book Online

heated rock wafted across his nose. Thorn envisioned an explosion of cave gasses and hurriedly pushed himself to his elbows to look around for the source.
    Curling columns of black smoke rose from the obelisk he had knelt in front of. At the base, a gaping hole had appeared. The ragged edges of the rock still glowed angry red. Somewhat panicked, Thorn searched himself and his surroundings for evidence of the explosion. He could find none.
    Thorn scrambled to his feet, never letting his eyes waver from the glowing rock in front of him. He was convinced that this was not an explosion but an act of his god. Dagda had spoken or at least had given a sign. The old king stumbled forward to get a closer look.
    The plinth that Thorn had always assumed to be solid appeared to be hollow in fact. Rough stone steps trailed off into the darkness below beyond the still-glowing edges of the new portal. A slight breeze came up from the depths to lightly brush Thorn’s braided beard and disheveled hair. There was a crisp, clean, and inviting feel to the gust instead of the stale and musty air that was often found in the opening of a long-lost or just-discovered cave.
    Intrigued, Thorn took a tentative step through the gap and glanced back before descending further. No hurrying or wide-eyed priests had come to investigate the sudden thunder. The hall remained empty and had returned to its previous somber silence.
    Thorn gingerly began to descend into the depths. The passage began to turn in a wide corkscrew, and he reached a hand to the wall to steady himself as the open space of the great chapel disappeared. Even with the light of the Rhomedeyagda being closed away, Thorn was able to see. It wasn’t the walls and floors themselves that glowed, but it was almost as if the light was emanating from his own body, though he could see no sign of it when peering at his hands.
    The king’s questing fingers touched the cool stone, and he immediately hesitated to peer at the wall. The entire surface had been covered in stone carvings depicting his people and a rearing creature. Dakayga, he thought, touching the figure that towered over the heads of the dwarves the way an adult towered over small children. Thorn tore his gaze away from the creature and the thoughts of Duhann that it had inspired.
    An arched opening was revealed as Thorn rounded the spiral stair. Through it spilled a flickering glow of golden light that lit the steps below. Thorn passed through the portal with a breath of relief. The dim passage with its spectral light had begun to spawn chills of apprehension in the old king’s spine. Free of the small tunnel, he gazed in awe about this new discovery laid before him.
    The chamber was nearly as large as the Rhomedeyagda but completely clear of obstruction. A domed ceiling loomed above his head, and coffering detailed the planes of stone between the arching ribs. Statues depicting the mighty dwarven god evenly paced the perimeter. To the right of each statue, a flaming brand provided the light; to the left, arched openings let into darkness beyond. At the room’s center was a giant, circular rune of inlaid gold and silver. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds set in various places within the circle sparkled in the torchlight. A set of heavy manacles lay bolted to the floor at the very center of the rune.
    Thorn moved to stand next to the thick chains and bent to examine them more closely.
    Smaller versions of the floor’s silver runes ran along the surface of each link and both broad cuffs. Thorn had seen runes like these before, but only in books—scriptures telling of legend.
    A flicker of movement caught his eye, and he spun, bringing his fists up.
    Nothing but dancing shadows and silence greeted him.
    Thorn narrowed his eyes, inspecting the dark spaces around the room, and his gaze fell upon a short stone column placed between two of the largest and most ornate statues of Dagda. Upon the slanting surface sat a large book. He