Asunder by David Gaider Page B

warning!"
                Rhys jumped at her voice and spun around. She half expected a fight, but as soon as he recognized her the brilliant light around his staff faded. He offered a wry grin. "Why, hello, Ser Evangeline. What brings you to this part of the Pit?"
                "The noise. And a missing mage."
                He nodded, more seriously this time. "I suppose that was inevitable."
                Somehow he managed to be handsome even under the grime. It was the eyes, she thought. They were a warm brown, kind like her father's. With any other eyes, a man with such chiseled features and dark beard might look cold, or even sinister. It made him difficult to judge. Certainly, the way he had stood up to the Lord Seeker said something of his courage . . . or his foolhardiness.
                She advanced on him. "Mind telling me what you're doing?"
                For a moment she thought he might actually tell her. It was clear he was considering it, frowning thoughtfully. But then he shook his head. "You wouldn't believe me."
                "Wouldn't I?" She got as close as she dared, her extended sword just short of touching him. He glanced down at it, but his posture remained relaxed. It wouldn't be a battle, then. That was good. "What am I expected to think? The Lord Seeker questioned you and then you sneak down here to . . . what? Demolish the crypt? Work out some anger?"
                "Not exactly, no."
                "You were fighting someone. Who?"
                Evangeline was watching him carefully, and caught him glancing toward a dark corner on the far side of the crypt. She followed his gaze but saw nothing there except stone slabs, scorch marks, and smoke. He'd definitely been casting spells at . . . something.
                "Do you see anyone for me to fight?" he asked, his tone evasive.
                She paused. It was possible that whoever he'd been fighting had run off. She'd come through the only entrance, but for all she knew there were a dozen secret passages leading out of here. Still . . . something didn't seem right. "No. I don't." She lowered her blade slightly. "But that's hardly an answer."
                The mage said nothing, and absently wiped his cheek. There was definitely a gash there amid the dirt, and when he pulled his hand away he seemed startled to see the blood. "Well," he said lightly, as if this were a casual conversation they might be having in the tower halls. "What are you going to do now?"
                "You leave me no choice. It's a cell for you, until I figure this out."
                "A cell? I don't know that—"
                Evangeline didn't give him time to finish. She lunged forward, twisting her sword around so she could strike him in the back of the head with the pommel. He was taken completely by surprise, and went down like a sack of potatoes. His staff winked out, leaving only the crimson light of her vial.
                She stood over him, keeping her sword ready as she scanned the rest of the crypt. There had to be something here, but she saw only the smoke rising from the fallen statue and a cloud of dust wafting through the air. Everything else was still, literally as silent as the grave.
                Maker's breath, man! What were you doing?
                Was that movement she caught out of the corner of her eye? Tightening her grip on the sword, she crept over to the corner of the crypt. She looked carefully at the spaces between each sarcophagus, searched the shadows for someone hiding.
                Nothing.
                She shuddered. There were too many statues in here, of men dead so long their names had faded even from their epitaphs. And there was too much talk of ghosts. It left her stomach in knots, and she hated that. Fear was not something she