Forest Kingdom Trilogy 3 - Down Among the Dead Men

we’ve got to get that trapdoor open before he gets here. I want to be one step ahead of him all the way. If he really has got an Infernal Device, we’re going to need every bit of an advantage we can scrape together.”
    “It’ll take hours to break through that much ice,” said Flint. “And there’s no guarantee the ice is confined to this room alone. The tunnels could be full of ice for all we know.”
    “No,” said MacNeil. “Constance would have said.” An idea struck him, and he looked quickly across at the witch. “Constance, can you use your magic to clear away this ice?”
    “Yes,” said Constance steadily, “I can. But a spell of that magnitude will take pretty much everything I’ve got. All magic has its limits, and I’m close to the edge of mine. I might not even be able to use the Sight anymore.”
    “Cast the spell,” said MacNeil.
    Constance nodded, closed her eyes, and concentrated all her strength and power into one potent spell. Magic stirred sluggishly within her and then flared up, assuming shape and form. Constance spoke a single Word of Power, and the mound of ice over the trapdoor exploded. Icy splinters flew into the air like grapeshot, but none came anywhere near the four Rangers. Several icicles fell from the ceiling, dislodged by the force of the explosion, and crashed to the floor. Great cracks appeared in the ice covering the floor and walls. The Rangers slowly lowered the arms they’d raised to protect their heads, and looked over at the trapdoor. The four heavy barrels had been blasted into kindling, and the trapdoor itself lay bare and defenseless in the middle of the icy floor.
    MacNeil nodded approvingly to Constance. “Very impressive.”
    “It ought to be. It cost me enough.”
    “How much magic do you have left?”
    “Some. The rest will return in
time.”
    “How much time?”
    The witch shrugged. “A few hours, a few days. It depends on how much of a strain I’m under.”
    “All right,” said MacNeil. “Take it easy for a while.”
    “Chance would be a fine thing,” muttered Flint behind him. “I haven’t had a moment to myself since we got here.”
    MacNeil pretended not to hear that and moved over to the trapdoor. He squatted on his haunches beside it and ran his fingertips lightly over the two steel bolts. They were uncomfortably cold, but there was no trace of the unnatural sliminess he’d felt earlier. MacNeil glanced back at Flint and the Dancer, and smiled slightly as he saw that they were both standing well back with their swords drawn and at the ready. Constance was standing beside them. Her face was calm, but her eyes were worried. MacNeil looked back at the trapdoor. He remembered the crawling giants pulling themselves through the dark tunnels, and shuddered briefly in spite of himself. He took a deep breath and then pulled back the first bolt. It slid easily into place, with hardly a sound. The second bolt came free just as easily. MacNeil pursed his lips. Maybe Constance’s magic had loosened them. And maybe whatever was waiting under the tunnels wanted the trapdoor opened… . MacNeil’s palms were wet with sweat despite the cold, and he stopped to wipe them dry on his trousers before taking hold of the great steel ring in the center of the trapdoor. He took a firm grip and pulled hard, and the trapdoor swung up and back with a muffled squeal. The opening was full of darkness.
    MacNeil looked at the underside of the trapdoor, and his lips thinned away from his teeth in disgust. The dented and battered wood was soaked with fresh, dripping blood. Maggots writhed and squirmed in the wood in the hundreds. A gust of air wafted out of the opening, thick with the stench of rotting meat. Flint swore harshly, and the Dancer swept his sword back and forth before him. Constance stood and watched, impassive as a statue. MacNeil leaned over the opening and looked down into the darkness. He couldn’t make out a damn thing. He knew there was a flight of wooden steps just below the edge of the opening, but the darkness turned aside his gaze with contemptuous ease. It was like looking up into a starless night sky; the dark just seemed to fall away forever. MacNeil felt suddenly dizzy, as though he was staring down from a great height, and he tore his eyes away from the darkness. And then he froze, as from far below came a single great roar of sound, like the insane neighing of some monstrous horse. The sound rose and rose until it seemed to echo