Chapter 8
Iled the way past The Wet Beard, my heartbeat pounding in time with my heavy steps. The tavern was heaving this time of night. Dwarves were packed inside. Some leapt on top of tables, stomping their feet as they slurred the words to the bard's latest tune. Several elves, pixies, and humans had joined them—spectators who had travelled from the other Isles. Many of them were likely sharing the cavern camp with Tormund and his friends, but they'd chosen the tavern and its festive atmosphere to pass the evening. The dwarves would celebrate long into the night.
My brow furrowed as I ruminated on Tormund's confession. His brother's affliction sounded a lot like my own, though mine was a curse and his was an illness. Still, what were the bloomin' odds? And how did a shadow demon come down with something like that? They thrived in the shadows, fed upon them. I had to admit, Tormund's powers were likely why he had done so well in the first trial.
These trials had been designed with dwarves in mind, but the darkness of The Deep was perfect for shadow demons.
Lost in thought, I nearly missed the tunnel's entrance. I came to a sudden stop at the mouth of the mine. Tormund ran into me. Breath knocked from my lungs, I stumbled forward, but his hand caught me before I fell again.
The heat of his palm seeped into my skin. Gods, he was so bloomin' warm.
"That would have been the third time my presence made you faint," he said, though his voice still held traces of the tension from earlier. He'd practically had to force out his story about his brother, what little he'd said. I'd wanted to know more—so much more—but it was clearly difficult for him to talk about, so I hadn't pushed.
"What did I tell you about egos and tunnels?" I asked, turning to face him. He hovered right there, only an inch away. I swallowed hard and backed up.
"Even a dragon-sized ego could fit inside this one." He gestured down the tunnel, still lit by the sunstones scattered around the floor. A mine cart sat just inside the entrance, overflowing with the gems. Soon, someone would come along to take them to the homes or bridges that needed them.
"You haven't seen the end of it yet," I replied crisply.
We started off down the tunnel. As Tormund had noticed, it started off plenty wide enough for us to walk side by side. Now and then, Tormund commented on what he saw. The first mining station held pickaxes of every size. He asked if we should grab some. I firmly told him no. Then he noticed the green mineral veins forking through the stone walls. He pointed out that they were the same color as the Everstone.
"Very good," I said. "I wondered how long it would take you to notice that."
"That's why you thought it was down here. Because of the mineral traces."
"Seems like the logical conclusion," I said with a shrug.
He eyed me as we passed another cluster of sunstones jutting out of the carved stone wall. "There's more you're not saying."
I ground my teeth. How was he so good at reading me? We'd known each other for all of a day, and I wasn't sure know was the right word for whatever this was. Acquainted? Still didn't feel right. We were like two ships passing in the night. Not that I'd ever seen a damn ship in my life, other than in the books that passed through now and again. Leather-bound tomes were another thing that was too fragile for the humidity in The Deep. We had a library aboveground, of course, but I hated asking others to grab the books for me.
"I don't know what gives you that impression," I snapped.
"You're tense."
"Yes, you seem to cause that reaction in me."
He shot me a wolfish smile. "It's my muscly charm, isn't it?"
I rolled my eyes. "I never should have mentioned your bloomin' muscles."
"You're right. You shouldn't have." Slinging his hands into his pockets, he sauntered beside me in that ridiculous swagger of his. "Because now I will never let you forget it."
"Luckily, you'll be long gone in a fortnight, and I'll never have to hear about it again," I replied with a sweet smile.
"Until next year. When I come back to compete again." He waggled his brow at me.
I slowed to a stop. "Surely not."
"Why not? I could be the new Galinn the Great and win five years in a row. Or six, actually. I'd have to beat his record, of course. It would make me the longest-running champion of your dwarven games."
Narrowing my eyes, I continued down the tunnel at a brisk pace. I needed to get this done and dusted, so I could go home to my plants. Tormund easily kept up with me, his strides long and purposeful. Bloomin' shadow demons and their bloomin' long legs.
After a moment of silence, he asked, "Aren't you going to make a cutting remark about my ego?"
"Not necessary," I replied. "The next trial will put you in your place without me having to say a word."
"What's the next task?"
I stopped again, sighing heavily. "You don't even know?"
"Why would I? I've never been Under the Mountain before."
"Because, I don't know, you'd done some kind of preparation before you came here?" I threw up my hands. "Most strangers who enter usually do. It never really helps, mind you, but at least they have the decency to try. You…you just think you can show up here completely unprepared and win the whole bloomin' thing without trying!"
He took a step closer to me, grinning wickedly. "You're doing that nose scrunching thing again."
I tensed, then rubbed my nose. "Stop it."
"Stop what? Making your nose scrunch?" Then, much to my horror, he tapped said nose. "Why in fate's name would I do that? It's so cute when you do it."
Heat bloomed in my cheeks. Scrunching my nose—gods, I really was doing it, I realized—I turned away and pointed emphatically at the tunnel walls. "Fine. You're right. There's more I'm not saying. Notice anything about the sunstones?"
We'd only walked several yards around the bend. The distant sound of singing dwarves still reached our ears, and the tunnel had yet to narrow. And yet there were sunstones everywhere. Curious to see if his mind worked fast enough, I cocked my head and watched him stare at the gems.
After a moment, he glanced back at the bend, then looked at the gems again, noting the overflowing carts here and there. "How long's The Wet Beard been in business?"
"Decades," I replied.
He nodded. "Just like the trading shops, I presume?"
"That's right."
"This tunnel is heavily used. It has been for a while. And yet there are hundreds of sunstones still embedded in these walls. We're barely down the tunnel. Shouldn't you have mined them all by now?"
"You'd think," I said, impressed he'd gotten it so quickly. "They grow back. And this is the only place Under the Mountain where they do that."
"That plus these mineral traces…" He rubbed the base of his curving horns, brow furrowed. "Well, that's that, then. We need to search this tunnel for the Everstone. The other must be a fake."
I took a step back in the direction of The Wet Beard. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you're wrong, Tormund. I've spent my entire life looking for that stone. In this very tunnel. I followed the mineral traces. I dug my pickaxe into the densest clusters of sunstones. It's not here. It never was. The miners of Rockheim found it instead."
He stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "Surely you don't believe that."
I wasn't sure what I believed. I'd seen the Everstone with my own two eyes, but more importantly, I'd felt its power. There was no faking that. Besides, what would Rockheim have to gain by tricking everyone into believing the stone was up for grabs? It made little sense.
Still, something about the whole thing didn't sit right with me, either…
And if Tormund was right and the Everstone was still in these tunnels, I couldn't very well help him find it.
So I said, "I'd like to think it's here. Mostly because I'm not going to win the trials, now am I? But it's time to accept reality and move on. Didn't you feel the power of the gem they showed us? If it was a fake, it wouldn't have any magic."
"Sunstones have magic," he countered.
"Not like that," I said. "I'm telling you, this is all a coincidence and nothing more. The Everstone was never here."
"Hmm." He rubbed his chin, frowning down the tunnel. For a moment, it looked like he might listen to me. I started to turn back toward the mouth of the tunnel, already looking forward to a moss cake, a cup of tea, and a whole lot of bloomin' quiet. My ears were still ringing from the stomping and the cheering in the arena, and all I wanted now was the company of my plants.
But then Tormund started walking in the opposite direction of The Wet Beard.
"Where are you going?" I propped fisted hands on my hips.
Without even slowing, he tossed the words over his shoulder. "I'm going to take a look myself."
I let out a little growl and strode after him.
"Come on," I said, practically running to catch up. "It's late, and I'm tired, and I've already searched these tunnels five million times."
"Then go on home," he practically sang. "I think I can manage on my own from now on."
"Absolutely bloomin' not."
He kept walking. "You worried I'll find something?"
"No."
Yes, actually. He seemed destined to have every little thing fall right into his lap. I never should have brought him here. If that other Everstone was a fake, I had very little doubt Tormund would find the real one if he put even a flicker of effort into it.
As he moved around the next bend, I grabbed his arm. He tensed against my fingers, but he came to a stop. His eyes dropped to meet mine, his shadows whorling around him, bigger and quicker now that we were leaving the sunstone-laden section behind.
He arched a single brow, those midnight eyes burrowing into me. "Yes, Astrid?"
There was something about the way he said my name…
I cleared my throat and dropped my hand. "You shouldn't go further, at least not alone."
"And why ever not?"
"It's dangerous."
"I'm a shadow demon. I know how to move around in the dark," he said, his voice near a purr now.
"Maybe so, but not in mines. It's different here than in your caves back home."
"And you've visited Azraak, have you?" His eyes dipped to my chest, and when he dragged them back up to my face, there was a different sort of spark there. And that was when I remembered other stories I'd been told. Shadow demons fed upon darkness. It made them powerful and strong, but also something else.
"No," I breathed. "I've never visited your homeland, but I know you don't mine there. You don't need sunstones."
"Ah, but we do need gold." He took a step closer to me. I backed up and hit the slick stone wall. "And there are caverns near Azraak full of it."
"Wait…so you mine? None of the other shadow demons have ever mentioned it."
He winked. "Only a few of us know where the caverns are. And we don't like to share."
Suddenly, his overbearing confidence made a lot more sense. If Tormund was a miner, of course he'd come prepared. He likely spent every day working the pickaxe, hauling rocks, and even scaling ropes. And everyone here was none the wiser.
"I still don't think you should go further alone," I said. "Just because you mine for gold doesn't mean you know anything about dwarven tunnels."
"You're welcome to come along." He smiled and motioned toward the distant, raucous singing. "Or you can relax, put up your feet, and have an ale. Up to you."
"I was going to have a cup of tea, thanks, but that's not what I meant. It's time for you to return to camp, Tormund."
"No, thank you," he said, then took off down the tunnel again.
I fisted my hands and groaned.
"That little growl is almost as cute as your nose scrunch. Almost," he called out. "Now you go have a good night. I'll tell you tomorrow if I find the Everstone."
"You're bloomin' mad if you think I'm going to let you do that." And then I took off after him, following the shadow demon into the darkness.