Allanon gathered them closely around him.

“Years ago, before the First War of the Races, a cult of men whose origins have been lost in time, served as priests for the gods of death. Within these caverns, they buried the monarchs of the four lands along with their families, servants, favorite possessions and much of their wealth. The legend grew that only the dead could survive within these chambers, and only the priests were permitted to see that the dead rulers were interred. All others who entered were never seen again. In time, the cult died out, but the evil instilled in the Hall of Kings continued to exist, blindly to serve the priests whose bones had years before returned to the earth. Few men have ever passed…”

He caught himself, seeing in the eyes of his listeners the unasked question.

“I have been through the Hall of Kings-I alone from this age, and now you. I am a Druid, the last to walk this earth. Like Bremen, like Brona before him, I have studied the black arts, and I am a sorcerer. I do not possess the power of the Dark Lord-but I can get us safely through these caverns to the other side of the Dragon’s Teeth.”

“And then?” Balinor’s question came softly out of the mist.

“A narrow cliff-trail men call the Dragon’s Crease leads downward out of the mountains. Once there, we will be within sight of Paranor.”

There was a long, awkward silence. Allanon knew what they were thinking; disregarding it, he continued.

“Beyond this entrance, there are a number of passages and chambers, a maze to one who does not know the way. Some of these are dangerous, some are not. Soon after we enter, we will reach the tunnel of the Sphinxes, giant statues like these sentries, but carved as half man, half beast. If you look into their eyes, you will be turned to stone instantly. So you must be blindfolded. In addition you will be roped to one another. You must concentrate on me, think only of me, for their will, their mental command, is strong enough to force you to tear off the blindfolds and gaze into their eyes.”

The seven men looked at one another doubtfully. Already they were beginning to question the soundness of this whole approach.

“Once past the Sphinxes, there are several harmless passages leading to the Corridor of the Winds, a tunnel inhabited by invisible beings called Banshees after the legendary astral spirits. They are no more than voices, but those voices will drive mortal men insane. Your ears will be bound for protection, but again the important thing for you to do is to concentrate on me, let my mind blanket yours to prevent it from receiving the full force of those voices. You must relax; do not fight me. Do you understand?”

He counted seven barely perceptible nods.

“Once beyond the Corridor of the Winds, we will be in the Tomb of the Kings. Then there will be only one more obstacle…”