The archaic structure was a great, round dome built of black stone. A canopy of moss, vines and creepers covered most of the building like a filigree of tarnished bronze. And yet, the three steps leading to a pair of massive stone doors were clear of debris, as if they had just been swept. At least fifty boots wide and half as high, the doors stood open, the entrance waiting for us like a yawning mouth of stone, dripping with shadow.
I thought it was a rather grim-looking basilica, a dark sanctuary for ghouls or a mausoleum for some ancient lord of vampires.
“Shall we?” Yozinda asked.
I rubbed the scar on my cheek. “Might as well.”
Thetus dredged up a smile and nodded.
We carried small torches in our backpacks, and we each lit one. Then we climbed the steps and entered the dome. I expected the doors to slam shut behind us. But they didn’t.
Inside, we discovered a massive chamber smelling of age-old dust and parchment. All around us the walls rose high and curved inward to form the roof of the dome. The flames of our torches sent shadows chasing each other up and down the walls.
“Why, it’s a library!” Thetus said.
His enthusiasm made me smile.
Numerous shelves lined the walls, each containing thousands of books and scrolls, and tablets, all neatly stacked and encased behind thick sheets of translucent emerald glass. The glass mirrored the light of our torches with a weird reflection of verdigris-etched flames.
“The wisdom of the ages,” Yozinda said. “Someone went to a lot of trouble and spent a lot of time collecting all these tomes.”
“Someone must take care of this place,” I said.
Thetus’ eyes darted about, searching the shadows. “But who?”
Yozinda grinned and pointed to a dark stairwell in the center of the ancient library. The air that blew from the shaft of the stairwell was as cool as the breath of a ghost. I tried to ignore the cold knot in my belly. But that was like trying to ignore an elephant that’s about to step on you.
“There’s only one way to find out,” she said.
So we followed her down the steps and into the bowels of the building, down into the waiting depths of silence and the deeps of shadow.
We descended without incident, and as we reached the final steps, I noticed that the air now bore a faint trace of lilac and frankincense. These did not quite mask the odors of age and rot. The silence was almost unnerving, and it was as dark as a moonless night down there. Not even the light from our torches could pierce that gloom. All we could see was a tall pillar of white marble and, atop that, a black jewel the size of my fist. A faint, violet glow surrounded the jewel like a wispy halo.
“That’s the Black Diamond!” Yozinda said. “It’s real! It exists!”
She started toward the jewel, but I pulled her back.
“Wait,” I told her.
Removing the dowsing rod from its quiver, I cautiously approached the white pillar.