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Torquil tried to see through one of the vitreous panels, fought to imagine
the source of the strange inner light. "Go on to where? There's no way in. And if
this is what you hint it is, I wouldn't expect some overanxious Slayer to jump out
and offer us one. They won't make that mistake again."
"There are no Slayers here," Colwyn murmured. "This is the place of
something else. But there must be a way in." He began backing a few steps away from
the hexagon, studying it intently and paying but slight attention to his friends'
movements. Torquil and the others moved to stand well behind him.
"There's nothing for it," the bandit leader announced. "That place is as
solid as " He caught himself as he saw
Colwyn remove the strange, five-armed weapon from its holding loop. Colwyn's
eyes were slightly glazed and he seemed to be concentrating on something beyond
their range of vision.
"Get behind him," Torquil suddenly ordered his men.
"Why? What's he going to do with that?"
"Get behind, Oswyn, and you too, Bardolph. And be ready." His hand went to
his war ax.
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"Ready for what?" Oswyn drew his own weapon, watched as Colwyn held the
glaive out in front of his chest.
"I don't know," Torquil replied irritably, his concentration on Colwyn, "but
be ready for it."
Suddenly five blades appeared on the glaive, one at the terminus of each
golden arm. Colwyn brought it back, then flung it hard toward the hexagon. It
whizzed toward the nearest section of wall... and struck.
A thunderous chiming rang through the chamber. Oswyn put his hands to his
ears while the others winced, wondering how so small a device could generate so
violent a reaction.
The blades had failed to scratch the hexagon's walls and the glaive returned
to Colwyn's waiting hand. Oblivious to the astonishment on the faces of his
companions, he threw it a second time, striking the same spot as before with uncanny
accuracy. This time a huge chunk of wall was blasted away. Again he threw the
glaive, and again, ignoring the overlapping echoes that had forced his friends to
their knees.
"He doesn't act like he hears the noise!" Oswyn shouted. "He doesn't act
like he hears anything!"
"What?" Torquil asked. He had his hands over his own ears, trying to shut
out the deafening echoes.
"I SAID, I DON'T THINK HE CAN HEAR THE SOUNDS!"
"I DON'T EITHER!" Torquil agreed.
Colwyn advanced toward the dome like a wraith through a
dream, methodically catching and throwing the glaive, hewing a passage
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through the wall. Sweat poured off his face, and his muscles quivered with the
effort. Throw, catch, throw, catch, and throw again. The blades of the glaive became
nicked and dulled but the weapon itself remained as solid as the day he'd stolen it
from its fiery vault. Shattered fragments of dome flew everywhere, striking walls
and floor and ceiling impartially and forcing his men to dodge quickly. The only
place in the chamber free of flying debris was the section of floor occupied by the
slowly advancing Colwyn.
Someone else heard that steady ringing, muted though it was inside the dome.
Lyssa backed away from the intensifying noise. Such announcements of destruction
could herald many things, but she doubted the Beast's imminent arrival was among
them. He had already revealed his noiseless entryway to the sanctuary.
That implied the presence of another party that sought to fashion its own
entrance. The mere thought filled her with more hope than she'd dare allow herself
since the day of her abduction. She divided her attention between the section of
wall where the approaching sounds rang loudest and the dark hollow that had earlier
produced the Beast.
The ringing in the chamber subsided somewhat as Colwyn dug his way deeper
into the dome. Torquil removed his hands from his ears. The noise was bearable.
He turned to the other two. "Colwyn works difficult magic and we stand
around like hogs waiting for'our butchers. The noise is bound to draw Slayers.
Colwyn has enough to work without having to worry about such distractions. Let's
scout around this object. Surely we can provide a warm welcome for any black-eyed
curiosity seekers."
Oswyn swung his mace. "I hope some of them do come. We'll satisfy their
curiosity, all right. I owe poor Ergo a dozen dead souls at least."
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"Not if I get to them first," Bardolph said tersely, testing the edge of his
own weapon.
"I'm sure there will be plenty of killing to satisfy all of you," Torquil
said. "Come on."
They started off to their left, intending to complete another
circumnavigation of the dome. Bardolph followed for a moment, then paused.
"We ought to split up here in case they try to take us from behind. We can
meet on the far side."
Torquil nodded approvingly. "A good idea, if there were more than three of
us. I don't want anyone going off by himself. But we can at least spread out a
little."
Torquil took the center, Bardolph the outside, and Oswyn crept along the
wall of the glowing dome. Bardolph felt his way cautiously along the chamber wall,
walking parallel to his companions.
And then the wall wasn't there anymore to support him, and yet its ghost
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was. His hand sank through the wall. There was no time to catch his balance, only
time enough to shout.
"Torquil!"
Then he was gone, the wall having swallowed him up as neatly as quicksand
had taken poor Menno. Torquil and Oswyn arrived an instant too late to help. They
pushed and probed the wall, testing, searching for an opening. It was as solid as
the floor under their feet.
For another second. Then it had vanished and both men tumbled forward.
Torquil had silently cursed Bardolph for his clumsiness. There was no reason for a
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