Death of an Author by Ramy Vance & Michael Anderle

Author:Ramy Vance & Michael Anderle
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781642025163
Publisher: LMBPN Publishing
Published: 2019-10-22T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

The runic door opened, and the Wordsmiths crossed its threshold. Unlike the hall that the Wordsmiths had just come from, this new area was beautifully lit.

The walls were covered in gold torches with bejeweled handles. Elaborate candelabras covered the ceiling, seeming to float in midair as their candles burned brightly. The limestone walls were gone, replaced by red-hued wood that gave off the smell of a pine forest.

There was no stone floor. Instead, the ground was soft and mossy. Grass grew nearly to shin height, and it was thick and healthy. As Dawn walked farther into the room, she thought she was going to need a machete just to make her way through.

There was a staircase straight ahead, and the second floor split into two separate pathways. The stairs were also covered with grass, but not as thickly, and you could see red carpet beneath it.

The walls of the room were covered with what looked like small, multicolored spores, and as the Wordsmiths walked by, you could see the spores opening as if they were aware that they had guests.

Along with the spores, there were also hundreds of mushrooms. The mushrooms lacked the visual splendor of the spores. They were mostly dull brown or gray. Still, they had their own charm. When the Wordsmiths walked near the mushrooms, the fungi would grow small tendrils that stretched out toward the writers as trying to touch or kiss them.

Lindsay stopped to look at the fungus. Dawn thought it was a bad idea to stop, but she had no idea where they were going or even what they were looking for. Maybe it was about time that they started to pay closer attention to what was going on around them. The chaotic mess of their first room might have been avoided if they had all spent a little more time trying to understand how the room worked. There was a chance that anything terrible could be avoided here. Lindsay probably had the right idea.

As Dawn watched, Lindsay started to prod one of the mushrooms with her wand. She grabbed Lindsay’s wrist. “You think that’s a good idea?”

Lindsay smiled. She had a way of smiling that made you feel like she was questioning your question. Not in a sly or malicious way, just a little curious. “Not a hundred percent certain, but how else are we going to find out?” she replied.

“Find out what?”

“Exactly. There’s a lot to find out. I mean, these could be killer mushrooms just waiting for a taste of human flesh. Who knows? But we gotta find out somehow. I think it’s better than waiting until we’re all caught off-guard, don’t you?”

Dakota nodded in agreement. “Makes sense to me. Poke away.”

Lindsay prepared to prod the mushroom, the little fungus’ tendrils stretching out like thousands of tiny hairs standing on end, preparing to make contact with Lindsay’s wand. When Lindsay’s wand finally connected with the mushroom, nothing happened. After a couple of seconds, the mushroom shrank back from Lindsay’s wand, almost as if it had suddenly become afraid.

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