A tiny whisper reached Jake from the phone. “I must speak to Magister Zahur! He knows more about those ancient stories.”

From the door, piggish eyes fixed on Jake.

With no choice, Jake snapped the phone closed. Once powered off, the battery lost its hold on the crystal. The green stone fell into the straw behind him. Jake stuffed the phone into the back pocket of his pants.

And not a moment too soon.

The door swung open, and the dungeon master bowed his hulking form into the tiny cell. His sharpened knife pointed at Jake.

“You be first.”

14

EYE OF FIRE

Barefoot and upside down, Jake swung by his ankles in the center of the dungeon, in plain view of the other cells. He had never felt so vulnerable. His hands were tied behind his back. The shackles dug into his skin. Any wiggling to free himself only cut the iron deeper into his ankles and made blood pound in his head.

The dungeon master stood a yard away near a scarred table covered in blades, hooks, and hammers. Beside the man, a set of iron pokers glowed brightly in the fire pit.

Jake’s body was covered in sweat—both from the heat of the flames and from the fear of what was to come.

A door clanged open. He twisted enough to spot a familiar figure brush his way into the dungeon. Master Kree stalked toward Jake and his torturer. Any semblance of good nature was gone from his dark face. Shadows played over the sharp edges of his nose and cheekbones. The tattooed eye in the center of his forehead appeared to twitch as flames flickered.

“Are you ready, Dogo?”

The hulking dungeon master shrunk under Kree’s triple gaze. “Yes, master.” He waved a meaty arm over the spread of torture tools. “Ask question. I make answer.”

“Good, Dogo.” Kree crossed and stared at Jake’s hanging form. “But first let us see if the outlander is willing to cooperate. We’ll start with the simplest of questions and judge how freely his tongue wags. After that, we’ll let the witch, Heka, judge the truthfulness of his words.”

Kree lifted his arm, and a piece of shadow broke away from the back of the room. A thin figure cloaked from head to toe in black drifted forward. Jake had not known anyone else was here. Even upside down, he couldn’t see a face under the hood.

A soft hissing voice whispered from inside the cloak: high-pitched, clearly a woman. “Asssssk.” An arm reached out, revealing gloved fingers. They held a fat, squirming slug aloft. It was black, with vile green stripes along its sides.

Before Jake could fathom what she intended to do with the slimy thing, her fingers tossed the slug at his face. It hit like a wet slap and stuck to his cheek.

Jake gasped in shock, yanking away, swinging in his shackles. “What are you doing?”