Secrets of the Dragon Sanctuary

The overlapping whispers ceased. A chill ran down his spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. The tingle was not a reaction to magical fear. It came because of a certainty that the voices had clammed up in response to his words. During the menacing silence, Seth felt sure that all of the beings in the Hall of Dread were aware of him.

"Help me, Great One, please, please, help me," a single voice hissed, breaking the silence. The silky whisper was coming from the cell to his left.

Seth clenched his jaw. Grandpa and Coulter were debating about which of three blocks had the most obvious silver streaks. Kendra had her head bowed and her eyes closed. No one else seemed to have noticed the slithery voice.

"Who are you?" Seth whispered.

"Free me and I will serve you for all time," the voice vowed.

Seth stared at the door. He wanted to see who was addressing him. But Grandpa would skin him alive if he peeked.

"Yes, yes, look upon me, grant me mercy, pardon me, Wise One, and I will serve you well."

Grandpa had one hand on a block and the other on a sconce. Kendra stood beside him, telling him what to say.

The ghastly voice became more intense. "Behold me, Mighty One, pity me, speak to me, answer me."

"Seth!" Coulter said, approaching with the torch and snapping his fingers. "What’s your interest in that door?"

Seth wrenched his gaze away from the iron door. "I hear a voice."

Grandpa turned away from the wall. "A voice? The fiend in that cell doesn’t speak."

"It speaks to me," Seth said. "It wants me to free it. It says it will serve me."

"He said he was hearing whispers as we entered," Coulter said. "I didn’t take him seriously."

"You were really hearing voices?" Kendra said.

The voice from the cell continued to implore him. "Help me, Great One, free me."

"You guys really hear nothing?" Seth checked.

"I’m not sure what this means," Grandpa said, studying Seth intently, "except that you had better leave this place immediately."

Seth nodded. "I think you’re right."

Grandpa blinked. He shot Coulter a worried glance. "Take him upstairs."

"Right." Coulter took hold of Seth’s elbow and guided him back toward the blood-red door.

"I will wait," the voice from the cell promised. "Please."

Seth pressed his hands over his ears as he exited. He began to hear faint, pleading voices from other cells, so he started humming to himself until he was back in the regular part of the dungeon.

As they walked toward the stairs to the kitchen, Seth uncovered his ears. "What was going on back there? What’s the matter with me?"

Coulter shook his head. "I keep remembering how you were the only one who could see us when we were shades, back when the plague was overcoming Fablehaven."

"Graulas said that was because of removing the nail to defeat the revenant. I thought once the nail was destroyed and the plague reversed, there wouldn’t be any more shadow creatures left to see."

Coulter stopped walking. The torch threw strange highlights and shadows across his features. "Whatever explains your condition, if I were in your shoes, I would steer clear of shadowy creatures."

"Makes sense," Seth said, trying to keep his voice steady.

* * *

Standing beside Grandpa, Kendra stared at the door through which Coulter and Seth had departed. She felt deeply worried for her brother, but it was hard to tell how much of that concern was a reaction to the dark emotions stirred by the atmosphere of the hall.

"Have you heard of anything like this?" Kendra finally asked.

Grandpa looked at her, his expression suggesting he had momentarily forgotten she was with him. "No. I’m not sure what it means. I know I don’t like it. You didn’t hear anything, did you?"

"Not a word," Kendra said. "I

feel plenty. I feel scared and sad and alone. I have to keep reminding myself the emotions are false."

"We should retrieve the information we need and get out." Grandpa placed one hand on the sconce and the other on the stone block he had decided contained the clearest vein of silver. "What do I say?"

Kendra read from the journal. ‘"Nobody deserves these secrets.’"

Grandpa solemnly repeated the words.

The entire center portion of the wall dissolved in a cloud of dust.

"Look at that," Grandpa murmured.

‘"Those who came before me were wiser than I am,’" Kendra read, coughing softly.

Again Grandpa repeated the words.

"That second part disarms the traps," Kendra explained, closing the journal.

Grandpa took a torch from the wall and led the way through the mist of dust. Kendra placed a hand over her nose and lips as she followed, squinting to keep the gritty particles out of her eyes.

After about fifteen feet, the dust cloud ended abruptly. A hall stretched ahead of them. To the left and right stood a final set of iron doors. Kendra tried not to envision what might lurk inside those secret cells.

Grandpa led the way down the hall, eventually descending a flight of two dozen stairs. At the bottom of the stairwell, they passed through an archway into a spacious room. The smooth floor, walls, and ceiling were composed of white marble swirled with gray. A stone fountain dominated the center of the chamber. No water flowed, but the basin was full. Diverse objects lined the walls: full suits of armor, upright sarcophagi, ornate jade sculptures, grotesque masks, laden bookshelves, colorful marionettes, statues from various cultures, archaic maps, painted fans, framed scrolls, antique carousel animals, elaborate urns, bouquets of glass flowers, the skull of a triceratops, and a heavy golden gong.

"Many of these items would be priceless museum pieces," Grandpa remarked, surveying the room, torch held aloft.

"Did Patton bring all of this here?" Kendra wondered.

"He and others before him," Grandpa said. "I’m most curious about the books." He approached the nearest bookshelf. "Lots of German and Latin. No English. Some languages I don’t recognize. Some might be fairy dialects."

"I don’t see any words I recognize," Kendra said.

Grandpa turned, eyes scanning the room. "The message from Patton is on the ceiling?"

"I’m supposed to use the mirror to read it."

Footsteps resounded from outside the room, slapping down the stairs. Coulter trotted into view, bearing a torch and Seth’s flashlight. "Would you look at this," he murmured, shining the flashlight beam around the room.