“No, you have it wrong. The lights on the walls. The orbs. Touch them. Cover them with your hands or a cloak. Quickly, Bhikhu! Cover the one behind you!”
Paedrin thought the Preachán was daft. Cover the orb? But he remembered that the lights had illuminated the room as soon as he touched the ground. As fast as he could, he rushed to the nearest orb and smothered its light with his hands. He gritted his teeth, waiting for a crushing blow to come at him. The room dimmed. The creature slowed and turned away from Paedrin, coming at Annon and Hettie.
The other two! Erasmus called. Annon! Hettie! Cover the other two! Hettie rushed across the room and used her cloak to smother the second one. The creature had turned from her and started across the room, but its movements slowed as the light faded.
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The Preachán came the rest of the way down. As soon as his boots touched the floor, the creature shifted and started at him with slow, shuddering movements. Erasmus covered the final orb, plunging the chamber in darkness.
The creature stopped.
Paedrin breathed out, releasing the pent-up frustration and panic. He felt strange, his emotions jumbled. He wanted to kiss Hettie. He wanted to kill Annon. He wanted to drown Erasmus in the waterfall. The feelings were violent and went against every aspect of Bhikhu precepts. He struggled with his feelings, trying to control his breathing.
“Annon?” Hettie whimpered. I feel sick… Paedrin heard the grunt in the darkness, then a muffled voice muttering, “It is too heavy.
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The creature shuddered again and slowly returned to the alcove. There was a grating, grinding noise as the lid was dragged away. A hiss emerged in the room. There was light in the alcove, and Paedrin saw Annon’s face bathed in the silvery light. He stared at the dark space, his eyes wide with surprise. Then he reached inside his belt pouch, uncinched the drawstrings, and withdrew a set of sturdy gloves. After tugging them on, he reached gingerly into the pit.
The feelings intensified within Paedrin. Thoughts and images rushed through his mind that shocked him with their intensity and depravity. He trembled against the rush of feelings the images produced.
Annon lifted a silver dagger from the depths of the pit. There was a white stone embedded in the blade guard, one that glowed with a ghostlike light. Annon stared at it in awe and fear, his eyes widening with horror. Then slowly, deliberately, he withdrew a sheath from the pit and slid the blade inside.
