“Bring me the Treasure of Magnus,” the dark lord went on in a deep voice like a roll of thunder.
Mark gulped. He gingerly reached for the golden treasure chest that had lain beneath the king’s head only a moment ago. His finger touched the octagonal cave-in on the lid.
He thought fast. Maybe he could trick the dark lord. Maybe he could destroy the treasure and the scepter. Maybe –
“Don’t make me lose my patience,” the dark lord warned him.
Mark’s hands began to tremble as he fumbled with the necklaces. He took one off and quickly fitted it into the cave-in. It fitted perfectly. But when he tried to push the lid up, he couldn’t.
His throat became dry.