Page 46 of Bound By Blood
Beneath the watching eagle.That reference puzzles me most. The burial chambers contain countless carved reliefs, but only one depicts an eagle with eyes that seem to track movement in lamplight.
When the council finally dissolves into smaller discussions, Drokhan catches my eye with the slightest nod.Tonight.
I spend the remaining daylight hours preparing. Oil lamps, rope, my sharpest knife, bandages in case something goes wrong. The obsidian-ink scroll stays hidden beneath my sleeping furs, too dangerous to carry but too precious to destroy.
Mother, what were you thinking?The question haunts me as I gather supplies. How did she learn the crown's location? Why entrust such explosive knowledge to her daughter rather than revealing it herself?
Maybe she tried. Maybe revealing it would have meant her death.
The fortress settles into evening rhythms as warriors return from patrol and families gather for shared meals. I eat sparingly, my stomach tight with anticipation and fear. Through my tent's opening, I watch the sun sink behind jagged peaks, painting the sky in shades of blood and gold.
Soon.
Drokhan appears at my tent just after full darkness, moving with surprising stealth for someone his size. He's traded his ceremonial armor for dark leather and soft-soled boots, carrying a shuttered lantern and coiled rope across his shoulder.
"Ready?"
I nod, shouldering my pack and following him through corridors I've walked countless times in daylight. Everything looks different in shadow and lamplight, familiar passages transformed into potential threats. Our footsteps echo softly despite our efforts at silence.
The healing grotto feels abandoned at this hour, mineral springs steaming gently in the darkness. I've worked here through countless nights tending wounded warriors, but tonight the space holds unfamiliar menace.
"The sealed passages begin past the main spring," I whisper, pointing toward a section of cave wall marked with carved warnings. "Three stones north."
North.In a cavern system where directions blur into stone and shadow, we navigate by the subtle air currents that suggest deeper chambers and the orientation of carved glyphs that mark sacred spaces.
We find the first stone marker easily enough, a pillar of black granite carved with clan symbols and warning glyphs. The second stands twenty paces further into the tunnel, its surface worn smooth by centuries of careful hands.
The third proves more elusive.
"Here." Drokhan's lantern illuminates a section of tunnel where an ancient rockfall has created a barrier of loose stone and debris. Beyond the rubble, deeper shadows suggest continued passage. "But the way is blocked."
I study the rockfall carefully, noting how the stones have settled and where gaps might allow passage. "Not blocked. Hidden. Look at the arrangement."
Someone cleared a path and then concealed it.The stones rest against each other in a pattern that appears random but actually creates a narrow opening near the tunnel floor. Wide enough for a person to crawl through, disguised to discourage casual exploration.
"Recent work," Drokhan observes, running his fingers along the stone edges. "Within the last few decades."
Mother's generation.The timing fits perfectly with my growing suspicions about her connection to this place and its secrets.
We squeeze through the hidden opening one at a time, emerging into a passage that descends steeply into the mountain's heart. The air tastes different here, older somehow, thick with the centuries and sacred purpose.
Ancient trap glyphs line the walls like malevolent stars.
I recognize the carved symbols from my mother's medical texts, warnings embedded in stone to protect burial chambers from desecration. Some glow faintly with phosphorescent moss. Others remain dark as secrets.
"Touch nothing," I warn, though Drokhan already moves with careful respect through the sacred space. "The glyphs aren't just warnings. They're active protections."
How do I know that?The knowledge feels inherited rather than learned, like something passed down through bloodlines rather than textbooks.
The tunnel branches repeatedly, forcing choices between paths that all lead deeper into darkness. I follow Mother's encoded directions with growing confidence, recognizing landmarks described in her cryptic message.
Where ancestors sleep.The burial alcoves appear in the tunnel walls, carved niches containing wrapped forms and ceremonial weapons. Some hold clan chiefs from recent generations. Others date back to the highland clans' earliest days.
"Magnificent," Drokhan breathes, his voice hushed with reverence. "I've never seen the deep chambers."
Neither had I, until tonight.The scope of the burial complex exceeds anything I imagined, corridor after corridor lined with the preserved dead and their treasured possessions.
We find the watching eagle carved into a chamber wall three hours after beginning our descent. The relief depicts a massive bird perched on a mountain peak, its eyes formed from polished obsidian that reflects our lamplight like living things.
