Outside, more Hunters had emerged from the council house and the students were rapidly being returned to their dormitories. There wasn’t much time. Hugging the wall, Twelve slipped around the base of the fortress to the dungeon. At the threshold, she paused and took a deep breath, then, resisting the urge to look back, she stepped out of the pale light of day, and into the yawning darkness.

Chapter

Nine

Twelve hurried down the steps and night gathered around her, as smothering as an unwanted hug. She fished out the matches and struck one, its flare momentarily blinding her as she fumbled for a candle to light. Beneath her, the spiraling stairs appeared, shadows dancing over them strangely.

Swallowing her misgivings, Twelve descended to where she’d seen the goblins, marveling at the destruction she’d stumbled over earlier. In places, whole sections of the ceiling had fallen. Pale roots trailed obscenely from above, brushing Twelve’s face like the damp hair of a drowned child. Shuddering, she ducked into the cell the goblins had emerged from.

The back wall had exploded inward. In its place stood the gaping mouth of a tunnel entrance. An evil, ogrey stench was wafting out of the passage and the blackness pressed close, hungry and malevolent. Twelve took a deep breath and stared into the hole, crushing her dread into disgust.

Victory wouldn’t be afraid. Think of Seven. Think of Silver.

She swallowed, even though her mouth was dry, and climbed over clots of earth into the tunnel beyond. Widge ran along her arm to within a whisker-length of the candle flame, his eyes searching the shadows beyond. Four eyes were better than two. Hot wax ran over Twelve’s fingers and the only sound was her own ragged breathing as she began to walk, her eyes straining ahead into the black. The tunnel was perfectly round and arrow-straight, every inch proclaiming its unnaturalness. Magic had made this, Twelve was sure.

She walked for hours, until the candle was only a stump and her imagination battered her with an army of terrors. What if the tunnel didn’t lead straight out? What if she was lost underground? What if she and Widge weren’t alone?

Clenching her teeth, Twelve sped up until the gradient of the tunnel shifted and a speck of daylight appeared in the distance. Widge flicked his tail with delight, bounding from her wrist to her shoulder and back again. Swallowing a cry of relief, she broke into a run until the tunnel spat them into the soft light of late afternoon. She took a deep lungful of bitingly cold fresh air and allowed herself a moment of triumph.