Dusk on the eleventh day found the travellers at the mouth of a wide cave dark with foreboding: five knights, a squire, a pickpocket and an assassin. It didn't look any different to any of the other caves that were littered about the craggy landscape but from the information they had this was the right one – this was the location of the spell.
"Talen, you stay with the horses. And when I say stay, I mean it." Sparhawk eyed the young thief, who would usually take any opportunity to treat an instruction as a suggestion.
"You'd have to drag me in there." Talen muttered, already moving to hobble the horses.
"Everyone else with me" and he strode into the darkness with a confidence he did not feel.
The cave twisted not far from the entrance cutting the daylight off quickly. As their eye adjusted they caught a gentle illumination from the rock itself: enough so they didn't trip but not so much to feel comfortable. They shared a glance and continued onwards.
The air got cooler, stiller as they moved further underground, the only sound the echo of boots on stone. They travelled for maybe an hour in the curving corridor before it at last opened out into a vast chamber. It was a natural cavern that reached up much higher than Sparhawk thought was possible, and was at least half a mile wide. The walls were covered in alcoves, several feet across. In each alcove was a large jar, some of which glowed with a golden light.
The party were so distracted by that they took a moment to notice the creature in the middle of the room. It was mostly scales, but with the stubs of feathers in some places, too many limbs that were jointed in the wrong places and a head that was too small for it's body. It had been – for wont of a better description – curled up in front of the nearby alcoves, and now it unwound itself to face them.
"Visitors. Seekers. I have not had anyone to trade with for so long." It's voice hummed, like a swarm of bees and made Sparhawk feel distinctly uncomfortable. He steadied himself and spoke to the … thing.
"We were told that here we could find a spell to close the doorway between realms. Do you have it?"
"You want that secret? That is a large secret, yes large indeed. Will you offer the same in return?"
"I don't know what you mean."
It drew closer, and Sparhawk could see that part of the reason that the beast was humming was that it's head contained multiple tongues.
"If you wish a secret of mine." It gestured at one of the glowing jars "you must fill one in return."
"With a secret?" Sparhawk clarified.
"Yes." One hooked limb reached out to one of the dull containers and pushed it towards Sparhawk. "Give me something that is yours and yours alone. When the jar is full I will give you what you seek."
"Most of the time I don't know what I'm doing and am hoping for the best." Sparhawk said. A tiny glow appeared in the bottom, as if a drop of liquid had fallen in. Such a tiny drop in such a large container. Did he have enough secrets to fill that?
Luckily he wasn't on his own. Kalten stepped up. "Being in Sparhawks shadow is not such a bad place to be as then no-one expects much of me." Another bead appeared.
"I think sometimes nothing hears me when I pray." Bevier offered.
"I pity the trolls we hunt." Ulath.
"I worry before every battle that it will be my last." Tynian.
"If I die in service as my father did I would count it a life well lived." Khalad.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The shining liquid covered the bottom of the jar now, but there was still so much to go. Sparhawk glanced around the room at the rows and rows of jars. What had others given up to fill those?
"The less hearts hold the secret, the faster it will fill" the creature suggested.
"Do we have enough secrets to fill one of those?"
"I was six Duke Gluvir decided he wanted some of my fathers land. When he refused to sell he hired the Black Brotherhood to kill my parents." A voice came from behind him, one that he had almost forgotten was there.
Drip. A ball that was the size of the others combined.
"We were on our way to the city and in the end I was trapped under the wagon. They could have left me to die or left me to the elements. Instead they took me back." Berit continued. He was focused on the creature and the jar in a way that made his avoidance of eye contact purposeful.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
"They told me my family had given me up as they branded me. They told me I had been sold to them when they starved me. They told me I owed them when they beat me."
Drip.
Drip.
DripDripDripDrip.
"They tried to force me into obedience. I'm not sure why to start with. I think they just wanted to see if they could. Then I showed some... skill for what they were teaching. Skill they wanted to exploit. But even The Hole couldn't keep me in line. I was not smart as a child. So then they started lying."
The drips had turned into a steady trickle. Sparhawk and his friends were silent as Berit spoke, not wanting to interrupt the filling of the jar. Not knowing what they would say if they intended to. Sparhawk could tell Berit was trying to keep his emotions under control, but the echo of fear, pain and anger seeped through.
"They told me that I had been chosen. They told me they worked for the throne, that each death they dealt was royal justice. And I was stupid enough, or desperate enough to fall for that. So I worked hard and they deemed me worthy of the full title just before my sixteenth birthday. I passed their final tests. They made their final marks on me. And told me of their lies. They laughed and that broke me. I had actually believed that all that pain might be for some sort of good. I was so naïve. So I killed them. I stood at the heart of the Black Brotherhood and struck them down while the smirked at me. I let the apprentices who ran go – it wasn't their fault after all, but I made sure there was no-one left alive. There were no ghosts, no monsters. Just me."
The jar was almost full and Berit at last looked away from it to meet Sparhawk's eyes. "I'm the last Black Borther and I can't be trusted." Drip.
Berit wasn't perturbed by the intense scrutiny he had attracted from the group of men as he spoke. There was a numbness in his face that masked whatever he was feeling, but Sparhawk was sure it was nothing good. Despite what he had just heard. Despite the fact that Berit had been able to get into the palace unnoticed. Despite the fact that he had been able to get into a heavily guarded fortress, after going for his throat. Despite everything that Sparhawk knew or thought he knew about the young man standing before him... he said.
"I trust you."
Drip.
And the jar was filled.
The creature clutched it close and buzzed – was that meant to be it laughing? It scuttled across the room and settled the jar where it had been picked up from.
"And what we came here for?" Sparhawk called.
It ran towards the wall and … up the wall, limb over gangly limb. It quickly found what it was looking for and returned to the contents of yet another jar at Sparhawks feet. He jumped back as molten memories sloshed against his boot and disappeared into the floor to reveal a parchment scroll.
Sparhawk picked it up and unrolled it gently. The language was archaic but the material itself was in remarkably good condition. It was indeed the spell they were searching for, and Sparhawk exhulted.
There were only two who had not shifted there attention for what they had come for. Khalad was still staring at Berit. He raised a hand, as if to place it on his shoulder, but Berit shifted out of reach staring at nothing.
Sparhawk nodded at the thing and led his friends out into daylight once more. The edges of daylight at least as the sun was setting by the time they reached Talen who looked up eagerly as they approached.
"We should camp here for the night" Khalad suggested.