Sickening chills broke out over Warren’s skin when the shadows touched him. The sickness that had haunted him surged, nearly buckling his knees. He drew his sword and swiped at the nearest one, but it sliced ineffectually through it. They became solid when they pressed against him, forcing him back down the stairs, but became smoke when his sword touched them.
“I think they’re trying to keep us out!” Esha yelled as she shot a blast of power from her hand that buffeted them back, but only for a moment. They surged forward harder than before, black smoke that flowed and ebbed in the barely-there form of the Mytheans they’d once been.
Warren shuddered again as the surge of shadows sent a chill and a wave of sickness through him. He swiped and thrust with his sword to no avail. “I can do nothing against them!”
Neither could Esha, whose blasts of power couldn’t clear the way long enough for them to reach the door at the top of the stairs. They didn’t seem to be bothering her as much as him, however. The majority of the shadows plowed against Warren, trying to keep him out.
When something touched his back that didn’t feel as sickening as the press of souls, Warren glanced behind him. It was another soul shadow, this one more corporeal than the rest. It was the one that had followed them from their base camp.
It waved an amorphous, shadowy arm and drifted toward the side of the building.
“Esha! The shadow that was following us is trying to lead us around the building.” He had no idea if he should trust it or not, but by then the mass of shadows had pressed them down off the stairs entirely.
Esha glanced at the shadow and her brow furrowed. “Follow it!”
The Chairman ran after the shadow, and they followed. It might be a trap, and he’d be prepared if it was, but he doubted it. The shadow led them to the edge of the stairs and around the corner of the building into a small alley. A glance behind him showed that the shadows had stayed behind on the portico, as if trapped. The illness that had tied up his guts in knots and weakened his muscles had faded as well.
“Look, it’s led us to a door.” Esha pointed to the small wooden door. The shadow hovered just in front of it.
“Let’s try it.”
The door stuck when Esha tried it, and a heave of Warren’s shoulders did nothing as well.
“Here, let me try this.” Esha stepped up and laid her hand on the handle. It glowed briefly, then popped open.
“How?”
Esha shrugged as she crept through the small door. “I’m a soulceress, and I asked it to open. I think it’s guarded against outsiders but not my kind.”
Made sense, given what had happened up on the portico. The mysterious shade, as Warren had begun to think of the shadow that had aided them, followed them into the building. The room was pitch black, a problem that he alleviated with the flashlight he pulled out of the pocket of his jacket.
“Smart thinking,” Esha said as the beam of light revealed the contents of the room. Boxes piled upon boxes, all the way to the ceiling. “I have no idea what this place is, though.”
“We’re in the basement. Let’s try those stairs.” He shone the beam on the stairs on the other side of the room. “Do you sense any of the shadows?”
“Not in here. I think they were just trying to protect the front entrance.”
“Good.”
They climbed the stairs in silence, their steps soundless on the stone beneath their feet. The door at the top swung open silently, and they stepped out into an enormous cavern-like room. Light from the few windows beamed down upon a brightly colored marble floor, and the walls were hung with tapestries stitched with explosions of color. It, like the house, was unnaturally well preserved.
“It’s a museum,” Esha said.
Only then did Warren notice the low tables scattered throughout the expansive room. The soaring ceiling dwarfed them, making one want to look up rather than down. They walked slowly through the room, glancing at the tables and stands upon which precious artifacts sat.
“This must be the oldest museum in the world,” Warren said as he glanced around for the shadows that hovered just outside of the great doors on the other side of the room. “Museums dinna exist back then, did they?”
“Among soulceresses, they did. But I don’t think this is a museum in the traditional sense, where you display artifacts for the public. I think it is a holding place of our most precious cultural objects and art.”
“This isn’t the temple, then.”
“No. But I’d like to look, all the same.” The dim light revealed the wistfulness and sorrow etched on Esha’s face. This was the last evidence of her race. Family and friends of her own kind that she’d never have.
“All right. We won’t get separated in here. I doona have the same problem navigating within the buildings that I do on the outside.”
She nodded and wandered off, her gaze intent upon the tables bearing jewelry, weapons, dishes, and other unidentifiable objects. Warren watched as she reached out now and again to brush her fingertips over shining metal and gleaming, polished wood. The Chairman stuck close to her side, as if he knew she needed the comfort.
Warren shook his head and turned away. He wandered as well, his gaze drawn especially to the weapons. One, a long dagger with an artfully decorated hilt, caught his eye. It looked sharp and deadly and reminded him that his sword hadn’t affected the soul shadows. Perhaps only a soulceress weapon would work within the city walls. Feeling slightly guilty but vowing he’d return it when this was all over, he slid the dagger into his boot and turned to find Esha.