“What’s the point, bundún,” Bee hissed when the Fomor behind her dragged the bag over her head, prompting another laugh from Archu. She hissed expletives at the two dead warriors surrounding her as they grabbed her under the arms with iron-like skeletal fingers. The demon’s cackling laugh, really more shriek than cackle, chased them through the door.

  What is happening? Bee asked herself.

  As the door clanged behind them, she decided Dagda must have somehow learned that Myrddin had been possessed and so sent her after Brenos to stop him from falling into the hands of the demon. Bee was convinced that the scroll Archu claimed came from Danu was send by her Master, but that he was trying to disguise his involvement.

  Why did he send Bren in the first place? As she thought about it, she realized it had to have been Dagda, because only he knew where he hid the stone, or so the legends said. Dorn said that when Dagda created the Kingdoms, he invested the stone with much of his power, so the humans he brought to the land would thrive. He then hid it somewhere. A fool thing to do, but to then tell her brother was way beyond foolish.

  “And it must have weakened him terribly,” Bee said, earning a wrench from the skeleton to her left. What was puzzling her was why he felt a need to send Myrddin to defend it? What had changed? Who was he afraid would snatch his power so much that he gave up the secret of the stone?

  Perhaps the same as the one who’d benefit most from a weak God? Danu?

  The saying was that disrespecting a woman of the Higher Tuatha—a Goddess—was a risk not worth taking, but would Danu threaten his power base? She’d heard that the Mother Goddess could be rancorous, but to that extent. Of course, Dagda’s epithet: the Cheerful Chieftain was just horseshit. He was about as cheerful as a boar spear up the arse on a cold and windy winter’s night. Still, she doubted his moodiness would be enough to warrant such a betrayal.

  Bee frowned through the holes in her bag at the enveloping darkness. Spaced braziers intermittently lit the recesses, which did nothing to brighten the tower. From the limited sight her hood provided, she thought there was a mist oozing from the mildewed walls of the fortress’s innards. The stench of putrefaction didn’t lessen the further they got from the demon but rather seemed to take shape and form as the mists that were creeping over Bee’s feet, making her thankful for the knee-high boots.

  “It’s the mist that stinks,” she hissed, earning her another wrench. “There’s no need for violence, so there isn’t.”

  Her proclamation earned another wrench and a grunt, and she decided to hold her tongue. If they wrenched any harder, she was in danger of a dislocated shoulder. Once again, her guards half-carried, half-dragged her, only this time it was down. The staircase spiralled in ever tightening circles, and she thought the guard on the inside, the narrow side, would be in danger of a fall. Bee didn’t think that breaking her neck on a staircase in a crumbling edifice because a bag of bones lost its footing would be a fitting end. Keeping her eyes tight shut, she prayed to the Three Sisters until they reached the bottom. It seemed to take a lifetime, but eventually they made level ground, and she opened her eyes to see they were already in the dungeons.

  Through the inadequate blindfold, Bee stared at a long, arched corridor. On the left, sconces hung between each archway, providing light, illuminating a mildewed green tinge covering the walls and floor. On the right, iron grills marked the cells, which were large enough to hold several prisoners. As far as Bee could tell, each of the cells was empty until they reached the final door, which they had bolted shut with an iron padlock, gleaming new in contrast to everything else in the corridor. A torch on the wall of the cell revealed a bundled shadow at the back, which had to be Bren. One of her guards unlocked the bolt while the other cut her bonds, and they pushed her into the cell, none too gently.

  Bee pulled the hemp sack off as the iron grill clanged shut and walked to stand over the bundle, rubbing her wrists to get some life back into them. She felt no emotion as she stared down on him, curled up in a foetal, defensive position. She thought the clanging of the bars would have caused some reaction from him, but he was corpse-like in his stillness.

  Same Bren as always, playing to get me attention.

  “Hiding in the shadows, are ye?”

  Bren remained still. Crouching, Bee put a hand on his shoulder and tried to turn him gently. His reaction was violent and shocking, a wailing scream of “N-o-o-o!” filled the cell, and probably half of the tower, before he crouched further into himself and edged closer to the wall, if indeed it were possible to get any closer.

  Bee was about to try again when she heard a door bang and the thumping of approaching, booted feet. After a few moments, an armoured skeleton arrived before the cell, carrying a long spear. The guard grunted and banged the bars with the spear’s haft, trying to cow them. Instead of showing any fear, Bee grinned and blew the skeleton a kiss. The monster grunted again and retreated the way it had come. She suspected that if there had been any blood in the mouldering face, it would have shown a little embarrassment.

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  “Did ye see that, Big Brother? No, of course not, ye’ve got yer face so close to the wall, ye must be squashing yer nose.”

  As soon as the door banged shut, Bee went and crouched beside the gate. As she’d suspected when the spear shaft knocked a pile of brown flakes off the bars, there was rusty metal lying all along the ground directly under the cell gate. In contrast to the gleaming new lock, the flat, iron bars were crumbling where they were.

  Good news, Bee thought as she grabbed the lock and twisted it vigorously until it came away in her hand. Staring at it, she thought about the legends surrounding The Four. Marbh was the leader, the one with a modicum of intelligence, the one the Giant relied on. Concaire was mischievous and a little of a prankster, as well as cunning. Plasgorta was like any pestilence, horrific and unrelenting. Holding the lock, she thought the stories about Archu must be accurate. The demon of war was said to be a monster of extreme violence and very little wit. He must have ordered the skeletal warriors to lock Bren in the dungeons and trusted them to ensure the cells were still strong enough to keep him there.

  Why didn’t ye escape, Big Brother? she wondered.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Bren had finally moved and was sitting with his back against the wall.

  “So, it’s really you, Little Sister,” he said.

  “Aye. Who else would it be?”

  He shrugged before saying, “I thought the demon was playing one of his tricks.”

  “Why’re ye here, Bren?”

  “I was taken by that monster in the throne room,” he said, his face clouded by confusion.

  “No. I mean, look.” Bee held out the lock and moved the door slightly with her finger. “A child could’ve escaped.”

  “I didn’t think to look, Bee. They burned me half to death each day to learn what I know, so my mind was too fragile to be searching for ways of escape.”

  “And what did ye tell them, Bren?”

  “I told them I know nothing,” he said, not meeting her eyes.

  He’s keeping something from me, she thought. And he looks remarkably well for someone who they tortured half to death each day.

  “I’m going to scout. Ye stay here. There’s no point in blundering into trouble because I didn’t take time to see what’s what.”

  Bee’s brother shrugged again, still not looking at her. Shaking her head, she tested the cell gate and was relieved when it didn’t squeal like the portcullis. To her right, there was nothing but a dead end of mouldy, green bricks, which seemed to ooze the stinking mists that had confused Bee when they first arrived in the dungeons. To her left, there was a long corridor that had seemed shorter when she was bundled along it by the guards. Where the spiral staircase waited, she could just see a door in the shadows beside it. No doubt, that was where the guard went after knocking flakes of rust off the cell’s bars. As far as she could tell, there was no other way out of the dungeons.

  Bee remained in the corridor for several moments, trying to decide on what to do. She thought that silently climbing the spiral stairs was out of the question. The guardhouse was directly below them, and even alone, she didn’t believe she could climb the narrow stairs in silence.

  Returning to the cell, she leaned down to Bren and said in a low voice, “I’m going to look in the guardhouse. There’s a good chance the bag of bones here just now is the only guard. I’ll try and overcome it.”

  “And if it’s not?”

  “Then, Big Brother, ye’ll be on yer own.”

  Bee didn’t say that even if it was the only guard, she didn’t think she could overcome it. It was a warrior, however old and skeletal. She couldn’t use Earth Power because Archu would know immediately, which seemed to be one of the things Bren had surmised, if not the only thing. Not that any of that helped, because even together, they would be no match for the War Demon. If they had a coven and a troop of Neit’s Maidens, they would have a chance, but only then.

  She edged along the corridor until she arrived at the door. There was no sound from within. The door appeared heavy and new, which meant she could open it without triggering a screaming alarm that would alert whoever or whatever was inside, unless it was warded. She didn’t think it would be. From the evidence, Archu hadn’t been in the dungeons, and she doubted the skeletons would have the skill to lay wards. Taking several deep breaths, Bee pushed the handle down, praying to The Sisters that the door was not visible on the inside, perhaps around a corner, or behind a curtain. As soon as the door was open wide enough, she put an eye up to the crack and felt her heart skip a beat.

  Not far into the room, four guards were sitting at a heavy, rough-hewn table, with their backs to her. A fifth guard sat facing her, but its head was down, concentrating on cleaning a heavy hammer that was lying across the table. Bee was about to close the door and return to the cell, there to think of some other way for them to escape, when the skeleton facing her lifted its head and winked.

  How can it wink without eyelids? she thought, just as the monster exploded into action, lifting the hammer and smiting the guard directly opposite.

  Bee had never seen a skeleton struck with a heavy war hammer, but she was not surprised at the result as the collection of bones exploded into a pile of decrepit death, leaving armour on the bench, as though an invisible warrior was sitting there. The guards with their backs to her did nothing. They must have been too shocked to react, and the hammer took only moments to reduce them to piles of bones shrouded in clouds of dust.

  Bee lifted her head and looked at the grinning face before her. Where moments before there had been a monster guard preventing her escape, now Dorn stood grinning at her.

  “Hello, Bee. Are you pleased to see me?”