Veronica tightens a leather strap around Draken’s wrists.

“It’s gonna be a rough ride but this way slipping won’t be an instant death sentence.”

She picks a wicker broom up, mounting it. “Get behind me and hold on with both hands.”

Draken feels silly squeezing a broom between his legs, gripping the shaft as if it will fly from his hands.

“Is the broom supposed to do something?” He asks.

“Yeah, keep you firmly behind me in this whirlwind!”

A screeching gust sweeps the broom into the sky. Draken feels instantly nauseated as the world turns end over end, the broom jerking and twisting in the strong freezing wind. He notes the brim of Tamrin’s hat is folded down over her face, protecting her from the icy daggers which Draken feels stabbing at his unprotected skin.

It also seems to protect her ears, not only from the numbing cold but from the deafening roar of the angry sky.

“We’re almost there.” She thinks at him.

His mind is almost too numbed by cold and too tossed by vertigo to register the alien thoughts. He feels a sudden updraft. His feet touch ground with such unexpected force that he topples into a heap on the hard stone pavement.

“Good lord, you’re all bloody again.”

Draken attempts to mumble something in reply but before the words pass his lips he is engulfed once again in the fires of pain.

“Just what’s going on here?”

The commanding tone identifies the speaker as a guard before Draken ever sees him.

Every instinct drives the boy to ignore all pain, spring to his feet and grin.

“No problem here, I just tripped.” He says automatically.

The guard’s eyes shift between Draken and Veronica. He pulls the boy aside.

“This woman’s clearly a witch,” the guard whispers, eying Veronica with suspicion. “If she’s cursed you son, you’d best let me know. You may not get another chance for help.”

“Why ever would I need help?” Draken asks innocently as the colonel of a wicked joke forms in his brain. “It’s my poor aunt who needs help.” He whispers back, nodding at Veronica.

“She always wanted to be a witch, you see but never could pass the trials. Now every year during the festival she dresses up and convinces herself that she’s a witch and I have to play along to keep her out of trouble.”

The guardsman looks pityingly at Veronica.

“That poor woman, can nothing be done for her?”

Putting on his best forlorn expression, Draken slowly shakes his head.

“We just have to play along until the episode passes.”

“Sorry for the commotion.” Veronica says, interrupting the hushed conversation. “I was taking my apprentice to his initiation and we had a rough landing.” She holds up the broom for emphasis. Standing behind Veronica, Draken spins his index finger like a whirlwind at the side of his head. The guard nods sympathetically.

“Ay, madam. I see that you’re a ‘witch’.” The guard replies, winking at Draken. “And where’s this initiation taking place?”

Veronica shakes her head in annoyance. “You should know better than to ask that of a witch.”

The guard looks past Veronica to Draken as if to say ‘help me out here’. Draken shrugs.

“I understand you believe that...” The guard begins. Draken rapidly shakes his head, making the ‘kill’ gesture. The guard rolls his eyes, clearing his throat to cover the pause.

“Fine, you’re a ‘witch’ but I can’t have you ambling all over the neighborhood, digging through trash cans and spouting gibberish. ”

The hardest task of Draken’s life is keeping a straight face. Holding down the laughter as the look of indignation explodes across Tamerin’s face is like holding in an ocean.

“What exactly do you think witches do?” The anger in Veronica’s voice is matched only by the outrage. The guard fingers his cudgel as he takes a few steps back.

“Now, madam nobody here is looking to see you in trouble.”

Veronica takes a step forward and Draken is hit by the faintest wisp of overpowering rage.

His ocean of amusement drains away to sandy hot alarm.

Thinking quickly he sends her a thought.

“Even you’ll get in trouble if you attack a guard.”

She stops, shooting Draken a withering glance.

“Very well, you stupid little man,” she says. “I’ll relieve your insulting concerns. I’ll not be skulking you’re alleys digging through this ugly neighborhood’s trash. My business is in the catacombs.”

“Ye gods, woman don’t take the lad down there!”

Draken interposes himself between the two.

“It will be fine if it’s for my initiation.” He winks at the guard. “Right, let's get to those catacombs before we miss the last tour.”

“Tour?” Tamrin asks.

“Right, I forgot witches don’t tour.” Draken twirls his finger by his head when she isn’t looking. The guard nods sympathetically.

“Move your feet!” Veronica demands, quickening her pace. Draken waves politely to the guard and follows the witch at a trot.

A stale stench hangs in the air as the duo round a corner and Tamrin stops dead before a gaping pit as wide as four pubs. Tour guides idle near the edge of the great pit but the witch ignores them. Draken feels a growing unease as he looks at the staircase spiralling down the interior edge of the pit into all consuming and impenetrable shadows.

“Follow close behind and hurry up.” Veronica says in a low voice.

Draken follows close at her heels as she descends , each footfall sounding like a thunderclap.

A sour smell carries on the updraft. Goosebumps form on Draken’s skin as he shivers in the unseasonably cold wind. As the light dims the air grows thick with dust.

Draken sneezes, the sound echoes to a chorus of unholy wails.

“Place gives me chills up my spine.”

Tamrin hushes him, speaking in a soft voice.

“Things lurk in these shadows, boy and not all of them are alive.”

She waves him on, hopping past the final missing steps to the dirt floor, kicking up dust as she lands. Draken follows her example and the two stand inside a circular chamber with numbered tunnels on all sides. She walks confidently in a leftward direction and the boy sticks to her tail.

“This way and stay quiet.”

They stand before three tunnels, each with numbers carved above the entrance. Somehow Draken knows which tunnel they’ll take before Veronica turns toward it. As they take the path the vague sense of rightness becomes a blazing assurance inside him.

The witch’s lanturn illuminates the dim and murky tunnel just enough for Draken to make out where he’s putting his feet. The distinct crunch of small bones tells the boy that the tunnels are alive with rats. If he listens carefully he can hear them scuttling in the darkness.

“You know, these caves are natural.” The witch whispers. “The original settlers lived down here.”

She stops before an old tomb with a carved relief set in the stone. A matronly woman holding a sword in one hand and a stick in the other. The inscription beneath the figure is barely legible to Draken’s strained eyes but he manages to puzzle out the ancient script.

THE LIGHT BURNS BRIGHTEST IN SHADOWS DEEP

“According to legend, our city’s name comes from when the old settlers used magic to seal treasure in hidden chambers. We stand before one such chamber. ” Veronica speaks a word, one which Draken does not hear but feels resonate through his body. The stone woman vanishes, revealing a deep corridor. The boy is struck by the finely polished marble floor which seems unnaturally bright to his eyes.

“Brace yourself.” Tamrin says, leading him into a vast chamber.

The blue jewel at the center of the chamber is at least as big as a good-sized tree and it sparkles in a way Draken quickly recognizes. Geometric patterns flash and merge in an enticing dance of magical beauty.