Read Online The Way Into Darkness: Book Three of The Great Way by Harry Connolly - Free Book Online
Authors: Harry Connolly
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single mind. “We know nothing of the tyr’s family. That was forbidden.”
“Of course it was,” Tejohn snapped, “but you did it anyway, yes? You can’t gather information without hearing all sorts of things, even by accident. Come, no one will punish you for this.”
They shrugged again, regretful. Useless. Whether it was out of true ignorance or a loyalty to the dead tyr, Tejohn couldn’t tell. He’d have to deal with it later. “What about his rooms?” he asked. “Surely that’s not a secret.”
“Young Findwater--” Redegg began, but stopped himself. Findwater was already on another errand.
“I know the way.” It was the merchant who was Tejohn’s own age. “I’ve sold supplies to him in the past.”
“What’s your name?” Tejohn asked. “And what supplies?”
“Colz Bluepetal, my tyr. Tyr Twofin’s brother asked me to go hunting for him.”
“Lead the way. Commander, bring your men with you.”
Bluepetal led them through another side door into a dark corridor. There were no lamps or candles here and precious little light. Still, the merchant set a quick pace, for which Tejohn was grateful.
“I don’t understand the problem,” Redegg called from the back of the group. “We can make a peaceful offer to the doctor, can’t we? Offer him safe passage out of Twofin lands, perhaps.”
“He is a hollowed-out medical scholar,” Tejohn called back without breaking stride. And I was so pleased to rescue him that I didn’t see it. “I wouldn’t deliberately set him loose on the countryside any more than I would unleash those floodwaters. And he knows what will happen to him if he’s caught: he’ll be lucky to lose only his fingers.”
They turned down a flight of stairs at the end of the hall, then went deeper and deeper into the holdfast. What had seemed to be a two-story wooden structure from the courtyard turned out to be much deeper and more complex. The black stone walls of the tunnel were damp and gritty, and in several places the corridors narrowed into natural choke points where a few defenders could hold off a much larger force. In other places, the walls on the western side of the corridor simply weren’t there, turning a tunnel into a long gallery that looked out onto the black peaks, the darkening sky, and the murky waters of Twofin Lake below. There was no pink granite in the construction anywhere, and the wooden doors they passed were so thin and warped that he could glance into the rooms without opening them.
Finally, they came to a broad corridor with a heavy wooden door in the center. This door fit snugly. There would be no peeking here. “This is it,” Bluepetal said. Like Redegg, he lingered near the turning of the hall, beside the gallery.
“What if he’s there?” one of the soldiers asked.
Tejohn scowled at him, but before he could answer, Lowtower spoke. “We fan out and come at him from every direction. Points low.”
“Commander, I need a moment of your time.” Tejohn pulled Lowtower aside. The two merchants weren’t invited into the conversation, but they moved close enough to hear anyway. “We don’t fan out. Wizards--that’s what a hollow scholar is--use the Gifts differently. We have to rush him at full speed in a single column, shields high.”
“What about the men at the front of the column?”
“What do you think? You need to understand something: we must kill this man. I have a job to do in Tempest Pass, but I can’t return if this hollowed-out scholar takes command of the Twofin lands and Salt Pass. We need to face him here and now. If none of us survive, someone else has to go to Ghoron Italga in his tower and retrieve that skull-destroying spell.”
“Hm.” Redegg said. “Not exactly an auspicious name for a spell that will supposedly save us all.”
“As far as I can tell,” Tejohn said, “it doesn’t have a name. It’s a variation of the Fifth Gift; it turns a person’s
“Of course it was,” Tejohn snapped, “but you did it anyway, yes? You can’t gather information without hearing all sorts of things, even by accident. Come, no one will punish you for this.”
They shrugged again, regretful. Useless. Whether it was out of true ignorance or a loyalty to the dead tyr, Tejohn couldn’t tell. He’d have to deal with it later. “What about his rooms?” he asked. “Surely that’s not a secret.”
“Young Findwater--” Redegg began, but stopped himself. Findwater was already on another errand.
“I know the way.” It was the merchant who was Tejohn’s own age. “I’ve sold supplies to him in the past.”
“What’s your name?” Tejohn asked. “And what supplies?”
“Colz Bluepetal, my tyr. Tyr Twofin’s brother asked me to go hunting for him.”
“Lead the way. Commander, bring your men with you.”
Bluepetal led them through another side door into a dark corridor. There were no lamps or candles here and precious little light. Still, the merchant set a quick pace, for which Tejohn was grateful.
“I don’t understand the problem,” Redegg called from the back of the group. “We can make a peaceful offer to the doctor, can’t we? Offer him safe passage out of Twofin lands, perhaps.”
“He is a hollowed-out medical scholar,” Tejohn called back without breaking stride. And I was so pleased to rescue him that I didn’t see it. “I wouldn’t deliberately set him loose on the countryside any more than I would unleash those floodwaters. And he knows what will happen to him if he’s caught: he’ll be lucky to lose only his fingers.”
They turned down a flight of stairs at the end of the hall, then went deeper and deeper into the holdfast. What had seemed to be a two-story wooden structure from the courtyard turned out to be much deeper and more complex. The black stone walls of the tunnel were damp and gritty, and in several places the corridors narrowed into natural choke points where a few defenders could hold off a much larger force. In other places, the walls on the western side of the corridor simply weren’t there, turning a tunnel into a long gallery that looked out onto the black peaks, the darkening sky, and the murky waters of Twofin Lake below. There was no pink granite in the construction anywhere, and the wooden doors they passed were so thin and warped that he could glance into the rooms without opening them.
Finally, they came to a broad corridor with a heavy wooden door in the center. This door fit snugly. There would be no peeking here. “This is it,” Bluepetal said. Like Redegg, he lingered near the turning of the hall, beside the gallery.
“What if he’s there?” one of the soldiers asked.
Tejohn scowled at him, but before he could answer, Lowtower spoke. “We fan out and come at him from every direction. Points low.”
“Commander, I need a moment of your time.” Tejohn pulled Lowtower aside. The two merchants weren’t invited into the conversation, but they moved close enough to hear anyway. “We don’t fan out. Wizards--that’s what a hollow scholar is--use the Gifts differently. We have to rush him at full speed in a single column, shields high.”
“What about the men at the front of the column?”
“What do you think? You need to understand something: we must kill this man. I have a job to do in Tempest Pass, but I can’t return if this hollowed-out scholar takes command of the Twofin lands and Salt Pass. We need to face him here and now. If none of us survive, someone else has to go to Ghoron Italga in his tower and retrieve that skull-destroying spell.”
“Hm.” Redegg said. “Not exactly an auspicious name for a spell that will supposedly save us all.”
“As far as I can tell,” Tejohn said, “it doesn’t have a name. It’s a variation of the Fifth Gift; it turns a person’s
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