Chapter 10

The sunbeam slid across the stone walls, it seemed to have entered here by accident and was foreign to this space. The bright sky could not warm the gloomy abode of the black magician. The dense, dark halls were in semi-darkness, the night torches burned out and extinguished, and the sounds of birdsong and life did not come here. Everything here was in keeping with its host. All living things were eager to leave its confines, sensing evil and even afraid to come too close to its ugly half-destroyed walls, soaked in horror.

Marion was not afraid. Slowly and quietly, like a silent forest shadow, she glided across the stone slabs, her feet, accustomed to running fast, now treading almost silently and lightly. Holding a bow with a loaded arrow at the ready, she moved along the stone wall, trying to be in the shadows.

A dark corridor led her to an empty hall. Standing at the entrance, Marion looked around at her surroundings. Her eyes were used to the twilight, but it was a little brighter here. Black traces of flames on the stone walls and columns, a half-destroyed altar in the center, coals scattered on the stone floor around the burned-out braziers and a layer of ashes. Marion froze in indecision, her attention caught by something dark in the corner, not far from the steps leading to the altar. Keeping her eyes on the spot, she slowly walked closer. There were torn clothes on the floor, with traces of dirt and dried blood. A cruel guess as to who it might have belonged to made her shriek loudly. She leaned against the wall with her hand to keep from falling, swayed, and closed her eyes. Everything was blurring before her eyes. The horrible image of Robin's massacre hit her in the face. She gasped and gulped for air with her mouth open. Feeling her shoulder being touched, she turned around sharply and saw Annabelle beside her. Unable to understand from shock what she was telling her, Marion stood staring frozen somewhere through her. Annabelle's quiet voice, trying not to make any noise, calmed her down and after turning her around from what she had seen, she dragged her behind her back to the exit.

But no sooner had they left the sacrificial hall than Annabelle froze and listened. Her eyebrows furrowed angrily, she forcefully led Marion into the shadows behind a half-destroyed column and put a finger to her lips, ordering her to remain silent. It wasn't an idle precaution, after a couple moments Marion could clearly distinguish approaching footsteps.

Two men came in. They were guards. They strode silently to the back of the room, stopped halfway, one of them stopped the other with a sharply raised hand. And they listened. The hall was dead silent, broken only by gusts of wind that made it sound like a baby crying or an animal whimpering. Marion held her breath; she thought her heart was beating so loudly that the guards could hear it. Cold sweat came out on her forehead and trickled down her temple. Annabelle squeezed her hand hard, they pressed their whole bodies into the wall and waited. Those moments stretched for them endlessly. The Baron's guards moved on, they walked around the altar, the scattered embers and stone chips on the floor crunching under the soles of their boots. After completing their rounds, they lingered at the entrance for a moment longer and left the sanctuary.

Waiting until the guards' footsteps faded into silence, Marion exhaled and slowly lowered herself to the floor near the column. The near danger brought her thoughts to order, she could still feel the weakness in her legs, but her mind was calm and cool. Sitting on the cold floor, she suddenly felt a distinct flush of warmth in her chest, like a faint glimmer of hope, she quickly got to her feet, listened to the surrounding silence, and made her way to the sacrificial altar again. Annabelle looked at her silently and didn't bother to stop her.

Marion walked up to the altar and stretched her hand out in front of her and touched its cold flat surface. She remembered her visions that had come to her as she watched the hearth fire in the mountain cave, remembered her dream and now she didn't know whether to rejoice or cry. Despair shrank and, under the blows of renewed hope, loosened its grip, became insignificant. The blood pulsed in her temples, insisting on the same thing: "Robin is alive." She thought she was going crazy, but the thought never left her, the voice of hope sounding louder and louder. Her mind was already telling her that the mercantile black sorcerer wouldn't just take the body, not intending to get any profit or revenge from it.

Needing to move on, she met Annabelle's eyes and, obeying her signs, followed her.

Annabelle walked steadily along the long corridor, as if following an invisible trail. As the guards disappeared around the corner, Marion and Annabelle slowed their steps and looked around for shelter in case the guards decided to return the same way. They listened, around the corner the footsteps of the guards rumbled and measured in the silence of the castle, and then, judging by the sounds, they began to make their way down the stone steps. Whether this was a descent into the dungeon with the prisoners or into the guards' barracks remained to be seen.

Waiting until the sound of the guards' footsteps became almost indistinguishable, Annabelle cautiously looked around the corner, the empty corridor was lit by torches mounted on the walls.

"Wait for me here," she whispered to Marion and walked forward.

Marion gave her a long look, and when Annabelle disappeared down the corridor leading to the dungeon, Marion hid behind a ledge in the wall and waited, listening to the thudding beats of her heart, mentally praying to the heavens to grant them good luck. She felt like she was alone, losing control of herself and allowing doubt and panic to settle in her soul. She instinctively adjusted her hair and felt the copper hoop on her head with her fingertips, adorned with a modest stone. She had forgotten that she was not alone, that Rhona was watching her and would come to her rescue if she needed it. It was she who had given her this copper tiara, ordered her to put it on her head, and under no circumstances to take it off. The thought of it calmed Marion and restored her composure. Looking around, she quietly slipped out of her hiding place and, as if obeying the command of an inner voice, extinguished the torches along the walls of the corridor leading to the spiral staircase, leaving only a few torches to illuminate the entrance to that corridor. Now back in her seat, Marion had a good view of the space in front of the stairs, but she herself could hardly be seen in the darkness, even if she left her hiding place. Her hearing picked up some noise, someone was coming in her direction. She waited. Another guard was stumbling and cursing as he walked toward the dungeon, drunk, judging by his swaying gait and his profanity. He remembered all the unholy things, and promised to put as many rocks in the liver of whoever didn't light the torches as the number of times he stumbled.

His appearance made Marion more than a little nervous, for if he ran into Annabelle on those stairs or in the hallway, there would be a commotion. The ideal scenario would have been for him to fall down the stairs and fall silent, but he was too far away from her and she wouldn't have time to carry out her plan. The only thing to do was to wait. Muttering curses and dragging his feet, the guard started downstairs. Marion covered her eyes. There was a short shriek and the sound of a body falling heavily, clad in steel armor. It was quiet for a moment. Marion exhaled sharply, loaded another arrow, and peered around the corner into the corridor where the guard had gone. After a couple moments she saw a black beast leap out from around the corner leading to the stairs to the dungeon and leap back into the darkness, Marion could only see its eyes burning in the darkness like stars. The dungeon seemed to react to the noise, quick footsteps on the steps were heard. In the light of the torches Marion saw a guard with a short sword in his hand, he looked around and dashed towards where the beast lurked in the darkness, turning his back to Marion. There was no time to think about it, delaying could end disastrously for Annabelle. Marion drew the bowstring and the arrow found its target with a piercing whistle, piercing through the weaker armor on his back and through the guard's torso. He fell to his knees, sagged backward with his whole body, and collapsed to the stone floor with a quiet groan. Marion drew a new arrow from her quiver and took aim again at the torchlit entrance to the dungeon. There was a rough shout downstairs, the sound of footsteps and then another warrior in front of her, he saw a body lying on the floor with an arrow in its back and made a sharp jerk to the side. Marion hurried and fired, her arrow striking the stone ledge an inch above the guard's head. He realized where he was being attacked from and, zigzagging from one wall to the other, flung himself towards Marion, sword clutched in hand. Marion had virtually no chance of fending off his swift, deadly attack. But he shrieked as he ran, and fell face downward, the black beast on his shoulders, a dead grip on his neck. The beast swung its powerful head sharply, there was a crunch of bones and the guard fell silent, eyes wide open in horror. Marion removed a bunch of keys from the dead guard's belt, remembering to grab his short sword, and together with Annabelle headed for the steps leading to the dungeon.