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“I’m comforted. Truly comforted.”
He chuckled. “Come along, sister dearest. We’ve a ring to find.”
I motioned him to proceed. He gripped the hand chain tight, then bent and touched the left long beam. After a moment, he nodded, as if satisfied, then rose and carefully stepped onto it. He waited a second for the slight swaying to stop, then stepped onto the other one.
I bit my lip and watched him carefully shuffle forward. When the limit of the rope tying us together was reached, it was my turn to go.
I repeated Lugh’s actions, stepping carefully on the first beam before placing my full weight on both, then gripped the rusty metal chains and slowly made my way forward. I was halfway across when Cynwrig stepped on. The wood groaned alarmingly, and the swing increased, but there was no immediate sense of oncoming doom.
It was still a monumental relief when I reached the other side and accepted Lugh’s help onto the ledge. Once Cynwrig was safely on solid ground, we continued on, following the narrow tunnel until it came out onto the ledge that snaked alongside the rushing river. It was even narrower than it had appeared in the vision, and it forced us to keep our backs pressed against the wall and edge along sideways.Thatwould definitely be a problem if we had to make a hasty retreat for any reason.
Thankfully, it wasn’t a particularly long section, and we were soon in the next tunnel. This sloped down sharply; with the slickness of the rock, we all but slid the final few yards. The only reason Lugh and I didn’t careen straight into the lake was thanks to Cynwrig latching onto a stone near the exit and acting as our anchor point.
I drew in a relieved breath and studied the dark, still waters ahead of us.
This was it.
This was the right cavern, and the right lake.
And it would become our tomb if we weren’t very careful.
ChapterEleven
I ignoredthe dark intuition and dug my flashlight out of my pocket, shining it across the water. There, deep in the distance of the enormous cavern, was the island. I couldn’t see the treasure chest, but that was no doubt due to the twisted mess of metal and wood—a barrier I suspected was not created by chance.
Lugh bent to pick up a stone and tossed it into the water. Bubbles rose as it quickly sank, and a trail of worms that shone the color of the moon swept from the deeper shadows behind the island and plunged after it.
“I have no idea what they are,” he said, “but I’m thinking it might not be a good idea to enter the water.”
“I’ll make a bridge,” Cynwrig said, “but it will by necessity be narrow. It’ll take too much strength to construct anything wider.”
And he might yet need said strength to get us the hell out of here.
I shivered and rubbed my arms against the chill traipsing across my skin. Things could go very wrong here.Wouldgo very wrong here, if intuition and visions were correct.
Cynwrig removed his pack, dumped it against the wall near the shaft’s exit, then squatted next to the shoreline. Those glowing worms flowed toward him but didn’t leave the water or threaten him in any way.
I suspected had any part of him entered the water, the story would be totally different.
He pressed his hands against the stone and closed his eyes. For several seconds, nothing happened. Then the ground began to vibrate, and the water stirred, gently at first but with increasing ferocity. The worms fled.
The shaking increased. Out in the water, foam-caped waves appeared, washing to the left and the right of the thin strip of stone rising from the lake’s floor. It arched lightly across the water, forming a solid yet decidedly fragile-looking walkway connecting our shoreline to that of the island.
Cynwrig released the stone and sat back on his heels, drawing in deep breaths that racked his body. “That was harder than it should have been.”
I squatted beside him and offered him water. “Why?”
He accepted the bottle with a smile and pointed with his chin toward the island. “There is a presence here, and it’s not the worms.”
Lugh’s gaze swept the distant shore critically even though it was impossible to see anything more than the rusted mining bits and pieces. “Annwfyn?”
“Not Annwfyn. I’ve felt their weight through earth often enough to be sure of that. Whatever this is, it’s neither dead nor alive.”
“Oh great,” I muttered. “It’s a zombie or a fucking ghost. Just what we needed.”
His smile flashed, but it was a wan echo of its usually robust self. “The undead are at least easy to deal with, and ghosts, as a general rule, do not harm the living.”
“There are people out there who’d disagree with the latter part of that statement.”
