Borna, my guide, followed suit as I froze near the crypt. The woodcutter's ragged and anxious breathing turned to vapor with each exhalation. His stick was slipping from his sweaty hands, and he gripped it tighter. Borna fumbled himself so hard, that when I turned to him, I made him flinch.
"Why don't you go back, there's not much going on inside?" I glanced at him obliquely, leaving the first pair of columns behind and keeping my eyes on the passageway. He looked as if I'd invented speech for him again. And it poured out of him like a full-blown river.
"No, no, my lord! Have mercy! I don't walk in the woods alone! I'll be eaten, I'll be calmer with you at least," the man wailed, taking away the trembling in his knees. "If he continues to tense himself up like this, then our business will definitely not end well," I thought. "We've got to distract him somehow."
"Do you have the relic?" I tossed the question casually over my shoulder, treading carefully on the marble slabs, which were surprisingly tightly fitted together.
"Yes, yes, she's here." Borna dropped his hand to the bundle lying on top of his shoulder bag.
"Try to keep up," I whispered to him as I ducked closer and closer. "One more thing. Light a fire. You have a torch with you, I hope?"
"Yes, yes, here, wait, wait, I'll light it," Borna paused to get what he needed from his bag, and I stood waiting. With two flicks of a flint, my guide lit some caustic cloth with shaking hands. Then he stood up and grasped his club with his other hand, and then he smiled.
"It's a bit of a thrill," he exhaled with a sigh of relief.
I knew the feeling. Fire always adds confidence and determination when nothing else does. "Fire is plain and simple, it's always at hand. And if a hunter enlists its help, then maybe I can do something too," such a person will cheer himself up. How many times I had to use this trick with the novices of the Order during the trials. Well, and if there was no fire at hand, then I gave them a knife in their hands, and they were immediately encouraged, even if they did not know how to use it at all.
"All right." I pulled from my bag a green glowing crystal in a small cage and with a hanging handle. They say that back then, when the first settlers arrived on the island of Amberesvet the Great, the prisoners went under the Canopy of the Unknown with such emerald crystals. Then, long ago, at the dawn of the first age, as I said, they were worn by the prisoners to dispel the darkness of the Canopy. And now we hunters wear them to ward off the infected creatures of the ancient night. These crystals are like a short leash, made only to keep the convicts from straying too far from the expedition. The crystal sucks the life force of its wearer. And now I felt a kind of wind blowing through me and taking my vital juices inside the crystal, which was burning with new vigor. The skin on my fingers would gradually become flabby, like a bath, then begin to cool, and if I delayed, it would suck everything out. Belatedly, familiar otherworldly disordered voices sounded. They wailed, whispered, sighed. They say they are the moans of the souls of those whose lives this crystal has already consumed.
And everything was stained with the red blood of Titan Jodecheim. The columns were lost in the gloom, the thick fog coming up on the right and left in a scarlet glow. Behind was the graveyard, huge stone tombstones. To the right and left towered columns of reddened white marble, they reflected the light, casting a scarlet veil over everything. The haze ahead shrouded the blue shadowed passage into the darkness of the unknown past with a bloody shawl. Footsteps whispered between the columns with a resounding echo, disappearing into the tomb. And then there was the pounding of his heart, unexpectedly loud for such a late hour.
