Page 62 of For the Love of the Quest

That drew a small snort from Thomasin, but any conversation lapsed into a tense silence when the steps narrowed as they turned a corner, spiraling down along the wall of the cave. The farther they got, the more unsteady each slat felt, and the height between each one was never the same. Sometimes it was hardly more than astep, but other times there was enough of a drop to make Thomasin queasy.

Long after any sight of the landing had disappeared, the flickering of torchlight below joined the meager glow that Edith’s torch cast. Thomasin’s limbs were shaky and exhausted by the time they made it to the end of the stairs. When she reached the final step, she practically collapsed onto the solid ground.

“You did it!” Edith threw her arms around Thomasin. Breathing in the scent of her, sweat and vanilla, honey and dirt, Thomasin felt her body relax. She let her cheek rest atop Edith’s head. When she opened her eyes, she froze.

They were in a rectangular room, no different from any normal cave. Except the chamber was dominated by a large stone sarcophagus at its center. Despite its size, the exterior of it was plain, unassuming. There were no carvings or decorations. Just smooth rock.

But the room was not without splendor. At the head of the sarcophagus was a marble statue. It was of a cloaked man, standing proud upon a pedestal. He was at least six feet tall, and his face was carved with striking angles that gave him a gaunt, hollow appearance. A beard trailed down to his slender chest. Even in marble, the eyes were piercing. Maybe it was just the unforgiving slant of his brow, but Thomasin felt like his eyes were following her, assessing her.

One of his arms reached toward the sky, his hand palm-up as if he were calling down the sun. The other stretched out before him, hand held in an open fist. Directly beneath the open circle made by his fingers was a circular divot in the pedestal.

The wall behind the statue was covered in a mural that stretched from floor to ceiling. The colors of it, though faded with time, were striking. There were ruby-red dragons that danced with ones whiteas bone. Forests of the deepest green, a pitch-black cauldron on a roaring orange fire. A silver moon and a golden sun.

Though the sarcophagus was unadorned, the statue and the mural left little doubt in Thomasin’s mind.

They had found Merlin’s tomb.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Edith stared up into the marble eyes of the statue and imagined that she could see a twinkle of pride, maybe even a little magic staring back at her. She was so close now, and the anticipation had her fingers trembling as she reached over her shoulder to grab the staff. This was not a difficult puzzle. She knew right away what needed to be done. Merlin’s arm was half raised, and his hand was closed around nothing but air.

With a deep breath, she reunited Merlin with his staff. It fit perfectly in his hand and slotted into the notch at the base of the statue, inches from his carved marble shoe. There was a beat of silence, then a dull thunk shuddered through the walls of the tomb.

Edith took a step back as the section of the mural directly behind the statue began to lift from the floor. The wall rose into the ceiling, just like the portcullis had at Arthur’s Stone. Edith liked the symmetry of that. Their first foray into the quest, and now again at the very end.

Thomasin took Edith’s hand. Edith was grateful for the touch. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it might grow wings and flutter away. They stepped around the statue and through the newlyrevealed threshold. Edith could tell Thomasin was also thinking of that portcullis, because she kept glancing back at the doorway, waiting for it to slam down and trap them inside. But it didn’t.

When Edith turned her gaze away from Thomasin, she gasped.

The walls were made of amethyst. Deep-purple chunks of crystal, with silvery lavender veins woven in. Edith exhaled roughly, in awe of the sparkling beauty around them. Her eyes traveled upward to the domed ceiling. It was earthen, but so perfectly carved out that it was clearly man-made. At the center of the room was a pedestal. Upon it was a single lit torch that illuminated the room and cast a glittery glow across the amethyst spikes.

Edith took a step forward, her gaze locked on the only feature of the room beyond the crystal walls and the pedestal. Straight across from them, on the far side of the room, was a door.

“Door” seemed like too simple a word. It was white stone carved into a perfect circle. The surface of it was a labyrinth of gears nestled among serpentine carvings. Delicate lines that swirled like a rippling pond, with images and symbols also hiding within the tangled etchings. There were dragons and swords. Castles and crowns. Cradles and graves.

If there were ever a door to another world, this was it.

Edith stepped up to it, scanning the masterpiece for any clue as to how to open it. Right at the center, there was an empty space about the size of her palm. In that circle, the stone had faded to more of a gray, rather than the pure white of the rest of the door. It was clear that there was something missing, something that was supposed to slot into that space and connect the rest of the gears. So Edith and Thomasin began their search.

They scoured the amethyst chamber.

And found nothing.

Thomasin tried to help. She joked and quipped and searched wherever Edith directed her to. But hours passed, and Edith’sfrustration simmered into desperation. The damp chill seeped into her bones, and her stomach grumbled. But every human need she had felt distant. Her mind was too loud. The thud of her heart as she spiraled into panic was all she could hear. This wasn’t like the other clues. All they had left was a sealed door, a missing piece, and a dead end. There must have been an artifact; a key or a gear, or whatever was supposed to fit in that open space, that Edith had been supposed to collect earlier. She must have missed something at one of the other sites.

“Edith, you need to take a break.” Thomasin’s voice drifted to her, echoey, as though it was traveling through one of the many tunnels they had traversed in the course of their quest. The meaning of her words was extraneous to Edith. She pretended she hadn’t heard Thomasin speak at all.

“Let’s head back up to the surface, get some fresh air. Seriously, we’re about to be in a reality in which I have to establish a pee corner, and I don’t think either one of us wants to live in that world,” Thomasin said with a grim laugh.

Edith ignored that too. Her focus was needed elsewhere. She was running her pointer and index fingers along the spindly web of grooves and gears that made up the surface of the wretchedly locked door. There had to be a pattern to them. A puzzle hidden in the shapes. A divot, a latch nestled out of sight. Edith had not made it all this way, she had not sacrificed so much, for a dead end.Sacrifice.Maybe that was the key. More sacrifice. She whirled on Thomasin, hand outstretched. “Your dagger. Give it to me.”

Thomasin’s throat bobbed as she swallowed roughly. “No.” Her jaw was tight, mouth pressing into a firm line. “You’ve been at this all day. You—”

“I don’t care!” Edith snapped, advancing on Thomasin. Edith reached for one of the daggers on Thomasin’s belt, but Thomasin captured Edith’s wrist in a gentle, yet inescapable, hold. Edithlooked up at her through her lashes and laced her voice with desperate pleading. “Thomasin, please. I’ve solved it. I just need your dagger.”

Thomasin cocked her head, jaw working as she studied Edith. Without letting go of Edith’s wrist, Thomasin unsheathed a dagger. Edith’s free hand shot out eagerly, but Thomasin pulled back at the last second. Cutting off Edith’s grumble of frustration, she said, “You try whatever it is you want to try with this, and then you take a break. Deal?”

“Yes, fine.” The words escaped her mouth before she could think about their meaning. She didn’t need to. Edith would agree to anything if it meant she could finally solve this puzzle.