Night Rune (Prof Croft Book 8) by Brad Magnarella (best e reader for academics txt) 📕

Could we stop Malphas again?

“This is it,” Bree-yark said, breaking up the question.

“I thought the mayor said he’d filled in the tunnels.”

He grunted a laugh. “Might’ve believed he did, but goblins are like termites. We dig everywhere.”

Dropsy, who had been hopping from one side of the backseat to the other, jumped onto the console and looked between me and Bree-yark. With no time to leave her at Gretchen’s—and her staying with Tabitha out of the question—we’d taken her along. I trusted she’d be all right in the Hummer.

“C’mon, Dropsy,” Bree-yark said.

“Wait, she’s coming with us?”

“What did you think we were gonna do? Leave her in the car?”

Dropsy faced me with an inquisitive look. Only an hour with the lantern, and I could already read her combos of posture and lighting.

“Well, yeah,” I said in a lowered voice.

“By herself and for who knows how long?”

“Can’t we just, I don’t know, turn her off?”

“She doesn’t have a switch, Everson. She’s enchanted.”

“Look, I’ve got nothing against enchanted lanterns,” I said. “I’m just worried about her slowing us down.”

“Naw, I’ll carry her.”

“Or giving us away. The plan is to travel incognito.”

“She can do her own glamours,” he said. “Plus, she listens to me. Right, Dropsy?”

Her light swelled before dimming suddenly. And then she was simply gone, wrapped in an enchantment that blended her into her surroundings. She reappeared a moment later and looked back at me expectantly.

“All right,” I sighed, hoping I wasn’t making a big mistake.

Dropsy bounced as Bree-yark grasped her by the brass ring. I checked all my coat pockets, then slung my pack over a shoulder.

Bree-yark had changed into a fur and leather outfit more befitting of Faerie, complete with a pouch that hung from a strap across his torso. He’d dispensed with shoes, baring his splayed goblin feet. For weapons he was carrying a sheathed blade along with a bow and quiver. Though he owned modern firearms, they were barred from Faerie, thanks to a powerful enchantment that surrounded the realm.

“I still think you should’ve ditched the trench coat,” he said as he closed up the Hummer.

“It’s part of my system.” I patted a loaded pocket. “Anyway, I don’t plan on being visible in Faerie.”

He gave me a final dubious up and down before we set out toward the boulders, Dropsy swinging from his free hand.

When we arrived, Bree-yark nosed around, still convinced the goblins had dug more tunnels than the city could fill. I went in search of the hole I’d entered by the last time only to find it plugged with cement. When I backtracked, Bree-yark was standing triumphantly over a slab of stone.

“Find something?” I asked.

He stamped the slab with his foot. “An escape hatch. When we build tunnel complexes, we always have a plan for in case the complex is overrun. A hidden passage that shoots straight to the surface.”

“So, what, we lift the slab?”

“Can’t. It’s anchored from the inside.”

I was readying my cane for a force invocation, but Bree-yark shook his head.

“Behold goblin engineering,” he announced.

He stepped from the slab and onto a round stone embedded in the ground. It must have been the top of a column, because the stone sunk until I heard something clunk. An instant later, the slab cannoned open to reveal a deep hole.

The sight made the skin over my chest tighten.

Bree-yark frowned. “You all right, Everson?”

“Yeah, I just have this longstanding phobia of being underground. It’ll pass.”

“Dropsy and I can lead. That way if you faint or something, you’ll land on me.”

“That’s reassuring.”

Bree-yark helped the lantern nestle into the top of his pouch until she was secure. He then started down handholds chiseled into stone. I waited until he’d descended about ten feet, Dropsy’s golden light swelling around him, before following. The movement would help, I told myself.

“You clear?” Bree-yark’s barking voice echoed toward me.

I checked to make sure my head was below ground before answering, “Yeah.”

There was some kind of catch where he was, because the slab slammed closed, sending my heart into my throat. Dirt and grit showered over me, some ending up in my mouth. I spat and gathered myself before continuing down, Dropsy’s light guiding my holds. In the cooling air, I picked up a faint odor of rot.

“I should warn you,” I panted. “The last time I was down here, I encountered some goblin bodies.” According to Bree-yark, the goblins who’d occupied Central Park had belonged to a warmongering tribe. If he’d been related to them, it was distantly, but I still wanted to spare him the shock.

“They knew the risks,” he grunted.

A few minutes later, I heard him land with a thud. I was soon standing beside him in a short corridor that appeared to dead-end. Bree-yark pawed along the wall until he encountered a small hole. He inserted a hand and struggled with something, the thick cords of his forearm bulging while breath steamed from his gritted teeth. At last, some mechanism yielded and the dead end slid away.

“Goblin engineering,” he repeated. “Tighten your laces, ’cause we’ve got a hike ahead.”

“Anything I need to worry about down here?” I asked, drawing my sword from the cane.

“Naw. Only goblins know about the secret tunnel and hatch. And after the city’s attack, there’s not much of an appetite these days for getting napalmed.”

I nodded but kept my weapons drawn as Bree-yark led the way into a small chamber. Dried cement flowed in from a corridor to our left, but the way ahead was clear.

We continued down a network of corridors, Bree-yark remarking proudly on this or that feature of the tunnel complex, but I was too fixated on our destination to follow his narrative. Several times I was tempted to ask if he knew where he was going—he’d never been down here to my knowledge—but goblins had powerful homing instincts. If there was a portal to Faerie, he would find it.

We eventually entered a chamber with a sizeable stone well at its center. Beside it sat