Easy Betrayals Read Free Page A

a silent exchange of glances, the four men pressed farther into the crypt. Belgin coughed in the musty air, holding a handkerchief to his face. “What kind of maze is this place?” he muttered into the darkness.
    “Old work, old human work,” Rings replied softly. The dwarf ran his gnarled hand along the rotten plaster of the wall. “It’s not the same construction as the rest of Aetheric’s halls.”
    “Ancient Mar stonework?”
    “It might be. It looks like the Mar ruins I’ve seen scattered around the Five Kingdoms.” The dwarf tugged on an earring. “This feels like a funeral chamber of some kind.”
    “Great. A crypt,” Jacob remarked over his shoulder.
    “If you’re right, Rings, we might not have a long chase on our hands after all,” Belgin said thoughtfully. “Eidola might have fled into a dead end—er, so to speak.”
    They traveled several hundred yards before the passageway ended in a great double door of stone. One valve stood ajar. Belgin knelt by the floor, examining the tracks. The four-footed paw marks had vanished, replaced by the slim outline of a woman’s boots. “She took human form again here,” he advised the others, rising and dusting his hands against his trousers.
    “You seem to have a knack for reading tracks,” Jacob observed. “I thought you were a sea dog, not a highwayman.”
    “I’ve a few tricks up my sleeve,” the sharper answered. Miltiades moved up, turned his broad shoulders sideways, and slipped into the chamber beyond. Jacob followed, then Rings. Belgin paused a moment, studying the towering door. He was fairly certain he couldn’t have moved it an inch. If you cross swords with her, Belgin my lad, remember that she’s much stronger than she looks, he told himself. He straightened his tailored jacket and wriggled past the rough stone, shielding his eyes against the glare of the paladin’s magical light.
    The room beyond was magnificent, flanked by great statues of ancient warriors in long headdresses. A series of false arches carved in basrelief along the walls flanked the room, which was cluttered with mildewed banners, broken urns stained with redolent residue, old bronze weapons green with verdigris, and dozens of small casks and statuaries. In the center of the room stood a long, low pedestal supporting a stone sarcophagus, elaborately carved in the likeness of a handsome young man. Dust lay thick over the entire chamber.
    Belgin searched the room with his eyes, alert for any threat or sign of Eidola’s path. There was no other exit from the chamber.
    “We have her,” Miltiades said quietly. “Jacob, guard the door. Let nothing pass.” The curly-haired fighter scowled at the paladin’s order, but he grimaced and took up a watchful post by the door, sword poised like a toll pike. With the patience of a stalking cat, Miltiades advanced into the room, his eyes flicking from place to place as he searched. He circled to the left of the sarcophagus.
    Rings watched Miltiades for a moment, then circled around the pedestal to the right, his short axe hanging from his fingertips. Belgin trailed Rings, choosing to cover his friend’s back. He’d seen Miltiades fight, and besides, the Sharkers had to watch out for each other more now than ever. The room fell silent, the quiet broken only by the slow scuffle of leather on stone and the soft jingling of the paladin’s mail and plate. Nervous sweat trickled down the pirate’s brow as the hunt lengthened. “Careful, Rings,” he whispered. “She might have changed her form again.”
    “Could she be a piece of furniture?” the dwarf asked over his shoulder. “A big vase, or maybe a wall hanging?”
    “I’ve heard it said that doppelgangers are limited in how much they can change their shape. Look for something more or less human-sized… but don’t turn your back on anything.”
    “That doesn’t help,” Rings growled in reply. “Belgin, you-“
    “Silence, both of you!” barked Miltiades. Belgin