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a pool of water to their right and down a set of carved stairs that wound its way to the edge of the water. The pair could just barely make out ledges above them with openings at their backs signifying every spot was accessible via the ground floor.
    Fred frowned. "She didn't say anything about a cavern..." he mumbled to himself.
    Pat caught his words and whipped her head over to him. "She? She who?"
    "The old chambermaid that told me about this place. She just said it was an escape route a long time ago," Fred replied.
    Pat threw her arms up in the air. "We're following the old tales of a half crazed chambermaid?"
    Fred ruffled at the description. "She wasn't crazed, and she was right enough about how to get down here," he shot back.
    "That's great, but did you bother to ask her how to get out?" she countered. The boy opened his mouth, and shut it when he couldn't give a good answer. She put her hands on her hips. "I didn't think so."
    He sullenly turned away from Pat. "I thought it was just a straight tunnel we could follow to the cistern."
    Pat rolled her eyes and turned on her heels. "If that's-" Fred jumped when Pat grasped his arm and pulled him close to her. He looked over his shoulder at her, and the candlelight illuminated her pale face. Her wide eyes stared straight ahead and he followed her gaze back where they'd come. His own eyes widened when he saw a shadow standing very still at the entrance to the tunnel. "Fred?" Pat whispered.
    "Yeah?" he softly breathed back.
    "Are you scared now?"
    "M-Maybe."
    "Then light that god damn staff of yours so we can see."
    Fred fumbled for his broken stick and the moment his hands enclosed on the leather it transformed into the staff, complete with the glowing stone at the top. He swung the stick around toward the shadow and his fear was so great that the whole cavern was illuminated. The youngsters blinked when they saw the shadow behind them was a statue of a bulky man with large bat wings and pointed ears. His feet were bare and showed off three toes with a high, pointed heel that stood off the floor a few inches. The hands were made of four clawed fingers, and He wore a long head of dark hair and a loincloth that wrapped around the front and back, and there were scars over the rough skin.
    Fred frowned when a memory struck him. This magically-appearing statue looked very similar to the creatures he saw on the tapestries in the castle entrance hall and that in the fountain statue. While he pondered the significance, Pat glanced around and jumped into his arms. He nearly dropped the staff trying to hold her up. "What's wrong? It's only a statue," he reminded her.
    She shook her head and nodded behind them. "It's not just one."
    Fred slowly turned around and his staff showed him what it had allowed Pat to see. That there were dozens of statues nestled against the walls and spaces between the stalagmite. Many more stood on the balconies and looked down on them with their empty eyes. Each body was different than the last. Some were short and stocky, others tall and lean. Some had more wrinkles than others, but most looked to be about middle age. They wore ragged-looking clothes around their waists and, for the females, over their breasts.
    The pair slowly squeezed against each other, and Pat wrapped her arms around Fred's. "I-I think I want to go back to the castle."
    "I-I think that's a good idea," Fred agreed.
    They backed up toward the tunnel and both of them bumped into the statue at the entrance. A large hand dropped down on their shoulders and the pair screamed. Fred's grip on the staff loosened enough that it reverted back into the broken stick, though he made sure not to drop it. They jumped free of the intruder and turned to face the statue, only it wasn't a statue any longer. The solid rock was now solid muscle, and red, glowing eyes glared at them. The creature took a step toward them and they scrambled back only to hear noises behind them. They swung around and watched