Page 16 of For the Love of the Quest

She had left a note next to Thomasin’s sleeping form, letting her know where she’d gone, and figured they would meet her at Arthur’s Stone when they were ready. But five minutes into her walk, Thomasin snuck up behind her, and the startle of it had probably taken a good chunk off of Edith’s life. According to Thomasin, the noise of Edith’s trouncing through the woods was enough to wake a bear from hibernation, let alone a mercenary with insomnia.

At that point, Edith had asked Thomasin if she wanted to talk about what was troubling her so much as to cause insomnia, to which Thomasin had responded, “There are two kinds of mercenaries. Those who don’t sleep heavily, and those who are dead.”

Jay did not seem to fall under either category, though, because as he lumbered over to where they stood, he still seemed half asleep.

“Where’s the treasure?” he asked, looking down at the stone over Edith’s shoulder. Worthing stepped in front of her, cutting off her view of the stone.

“I do hope you’re right about this, boss,” Worthing said. “We really do need the funds to pay off the chief inspector after—well, you know,” he finished with a condescending look at Thomasin, whose eyes flicked skyward in irritation.

Before Thomasin could respond, Edith shouldered her way past Worthing. “You’ll get your treasure, just like I promised.” She pulled the key from where it hung on a leather cord around her neck, trying not to think about what Worthing might do once she came out with a clue instead of treasure.

“You two stand guard out here,” Thomasin commanded.

They took their posts while Thomasin and Edith crouched before the stone. “I don’t see a lock,” Thomasin murmured in Edith’s ear.

“Trust me.” Edith ran her fingers along the underside of the stone, tracing a ring around the edge. At the left end of one of the long sides, right before it met the corner, Edith’s fingers dipped up into a slender gap. She felt along the ridges of the small, carved-out space and smiled.

With a firm push, the key slotted right into the gap. She twisted, and with a rough clunk, the stone loosened from the ground. In the sliver of space that had opened, Edith could see that the stone had not been lying against the earth. It had been attached to a stone frame that had been dug into the ground.

“Help me lift this,” she said to Thomasin.

The two of them slid their fingers into the gap and heaved the stone up, letting it fall back against the rocky ledge. What was revealed beneath Arthur’s Stone had Edith’s heart beating with furious joy.

Within the stone frame was an earthen set of stairs that led into the darkness below the ground. Without delay, the two of them stepped into the narrow entrance and began their descent. The stairs went so deep that by the time they reached the end, the light from the opening only provided the faintest glow. Edith could barely make out the shape of her own hand in front of her.

From what she could tell, they now stood in a slender passageway. The walls were cobbled stone, and the floor was packed dirt. The thrill of being in a place no one had walked in for centuries spurred Edith onward despite the dark. She kept her left hand on the wall as she followed the tunnel, Thomasin close at her heels.

The further they walked, the more complete the darkness became. Thomasin took hold of the strap of Edith’s satchel so as tonot lose track of her. Each step became slower, more hesitant. There was no way to tell if her foot would find solid ground or not, but she kept moving.

She only screamed once. The cobweb that she walked right into clung to her face, and she batted at it.

“Stay still,” Thomasin ordered. Edith managed to obey, and Thomasin’s rough fingers brushed the webs away from her skin.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

“It’s nothing,” Thomasin said, giving her bicep a bracing squeeze.

They continued down the passage until, finally, a pinprick of orange light broke up the dark. Edith picked up the pace, her heart beating a wild rhythm in her chest as she followed the light. The passage came to an end with a stone archway that led to a circular chamber. Thomasin had to duck her head to step through the threshold.

The very moment they passed into the room, a loud mechanical thunk shuddered through the walls. Thomasin and Edith spun around to face the archway, but it was too late. A wrought iron portcullis slammed into place, trapping them inside the chamber.

Edith’s mouth dropped open, equal parts terror and glee. Yes, she was in an underground room and the only exit had been sealed, but on the other hand, this proved that there wassomethinghere. Thomasin, though, did not seem to appreciate this silver lining. She stormed the portcullis the same way she’d stormed the constables. Unfortunately, wrought iron bars did not respond to brute force the same way humans did. Thomasin pried at the edges of the gate, trying with all her might to lift it back up. She kicked and shook the bars, growling ferociously all the while. The low sound coming from deep in her chest set off an odd flutter in Edith’s stomach.

It wasn’t until Thomasin whipped out her pistol that Edith intervened. She grabbed hold of Thomasin’s arm, pulling it down as Thomasin tried to aim at the portcullis.

“Bullets ricochet!” Edith bit out as she struggled with the effort of wrestling Thomasin away from the archway. “Thomasin!” Edith shouted.

This finally seemed to get her attention. She slumped against the wall, chest heaving with frustration and the effort of trying to engage a door in hand-to-hand combat. Edith slowly released her grip on Thomasin’s arm and said, “We can’t get out of here with brute force. We have to be smart.”

“Well, that’s your department,” Thomasin replied with a sardonic smile.

“Hey,” Edith said, ducking her head to meet Thomasin’s eyes. “That’s not true. C’mon, help me figure this out.”

Edith turned and took in the odd scene of the circular chamber. At the center of the room was a pedestal with a flickering candle underneath a glass dome. The source of the light. She approached it and ghosted the tips of her fingers over the glass. She could feel the heat of the flame.

“This candle has been burning for centuries,” she whispered.

“Or someone comes and lights it every day,” Thomasin said.