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With that, he grabbed the emerald, drew back his arm, and tossed it high and long. It sailed over the misty green barrier and disappeared behind the rusty fence—not in Cynwrig’s direction but the other way. A few seconds later, there was a loud splash and green light speared up toward the cavern’s roofline, glimmering across ghostly stalactites.

“I have no idea what you just did,” came Cynwrig’s comment, “but the lake is beginning to bubble and steam.”

“Is it affecting the bridge?” I asked.

“Not yet, but the water is becoming acidic and eating away at the stone. I can only combat its effects for a limited time.”

“We don’t need long.”

I returned my gaze to the hoard. The golden ouroboros sat on the very top of the pile, almost plain-looking when compared to everything else in the hoard. I touched the tip of the knife to it. Again, no reaction from either the blade or the ring. I hesitated, then warily picked it up. Nothing. This ring, unlike the sword, wasn’t activated by touch.

I held it out to Lugh. “You take it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Our foes will be expecting me to carry it.”

“Our foes aren’t here.”

“No but let’s not take any chances, given the bastards keep turning up at inopportune times.”

I thrust to my feet, then paused and scooped up an ornate medieval ring with a thick black jewel at its heart. It was basically the design I’d been half expecting, and that might be just enough to fool those who would be waiting for us at the mine’s entrance.

Would, not might.

I shivered but shoved this insight aside too. I had to concentrate on getting out of this mine before I started worrying about an ambush.

I walked around the skeletal chest and followed Lugh down the hill, but we’d barely gone a few steps when, from behind us, came a muffledwhoomp. I spun around. Water had plumed high, and dark droplets rained all around, hissing where they hit the ground and stinging when they hit flesh.

Lugh tugged on his protective hood and said, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

I pulled on my hood and raced after him. A low, haunting moan chased after us, raising the hairs on the back of my neck and sending a chill through my heart. I didn’t look back. I didn’t dare. The little pits being created in the ground were now sliding into each other, creating deeper, wider pits of molten soil. The whole island was melting away...

Lugh ducked under the arch and disappeared into the barrier. I followed him in but had barely gone two steps when a jagged bit of metal speared through a gap, missing flesh but snagging the arm of my coveralls. I stopped so abruptly a yelp of surprise escaped.

Lugh immediately turned around. “You okay?”

“Fine. Go.”

I sliced the caught section away then, from the corner of my eye, saw movement, and turned to face the island. Blood drained from my face.

A figure stood there.

A figure that was green and skeletal, with overly long fingers that ended in razor-sharp nails.

A lich.

It was a goddamn lich.

I turned and ran after my brother, but any sort of real speed was almost impossible. Not only was the twisty path too narrow, but a constant barrage of metal spikes speared through the barrier, slicing through clothes and skin but thankfully missing anything vital.

We finally reached the exit, but the metal continued to attack. Big chunks were being lifted by an invisible hand and thrown toward us, hitting the melting ground with enough force to send it pluming into the air. We swerved constantly in an effort to make it hard to track us with any ease and kept running for the bridge.

The moaning got closer, louder.

I gripped my knife fiercely and concentrated on getting to the bridge.

The lich appeared, looming over the top of the barrier. Its fingers—itsclaws—extended beyond all reason as it reached for us.