“You were sleeping so soundly I didn’t think you would ever wake up.”
“What time is it?”
“No idea. All the Urodela are up. Although, I never heard them go to sleep. My clock tells me it’s probably late morning.”
I yawn, sit up, and stretch. I groan at the stiffness in my right shoulder. It’s still wrapped in the hard moss, but it feels a bit more mobile. I can move my fingers just fine, and the moss allows me to barely bend my arm at the elbow. I want to scratch it so badly I feel like I’m going to go crazy. I flop back down on the moss. Nothing has ever felt so soft and springy as this moss bed. I feel Tig walk over to stand looking down at me. He puts both paws on my neck.
“If only I had thumbs,” he muses.
“Go away, Tig.” But I know he won’t.
“Can’t. I’m locked in.” A scratchy tongue starts at my chin and licks all the way up my face.
“Okay!” I gasp, “I’ll tell you anything, just stop with the scratchiness!”
Tig chuckles, then in a serious voice asks, “How are we going to break out of here?”
Instead of answering I just dig my fingers back into the moss as deep as they’ll go. Pretty deep it turns out. I can’t find the stone underneath the moss.
“Do you think the king was here?” asks Tig.
I think about it for a second, then unwrap my fingers from the clinging vegetation and set Tig aside. “I think so. The magic on Cheep, speaking Lingua Comma, the leather armor, details about what the king was trying to accomplish . . . And the timeline is right.”
“Do you think they’re telling the truth about him promising to help? Promising to kill the daemon?” Tig asks.
I scowl. “That’s harder to say. I’ve never heard anyone—my parents, the people at the valley market, Uncle Cagney—discuss why King Mactogonii disappeared. What the Urodela are saying makes sense. If King Mactogonii thought that the only way to stop this drought was to defeat the daemon, he might have traveled this way. He might have even promised the Urodela help. Why not? If he was going to kill it anyway, the Urodela are already on his side. They might have been useful.”
Tig coughs. “Maybe by providing information, but these aren’t exactly your fighting hero types.”
“Even so, it didn’t hurt him to promise to help them,” I say, a little nettled. I don’t know if I’m irritated that Tig keeps cutting at the Urodela or annoyed at his tone that the king would consider helping the Urodela. It fits with what I would want the king to say, which only makes me feel worse because I’m not willing to say it.
“Hmm . . .” purrs Tig, “well, in that case, we’re on the king’s trail,” he says. “We could try to find him. That might help things back home.” He pats my leather britches cautiously, testing the sensitivity.
“Or we could try to avoid being rock basilisk lunch and just try to get back,” I retort.
“A noble suggestion.”
“It’s not noble. It’s practical. Why would you say noble?” I ask, letting him hear the irritation in my voice.
“Because in my world I admire those who bluntly cut to the chase. Your suggestion has done so. To go trekking around the Valley of Fire or who knows where looking for a loony bird who left his own kingdom to a despot—who may or may not be alive, let me remind you—and who obviously hasn’t figured out how to kill the daemon yet, sounds like one of those stories Linan Garrig tells to hawk his ‘magic’ trinkets or everywoman potion.” Tig raises his voice and yowls in a surprisingly accurate imitation of Garrig, “If it doesn’t kill you it might make you stronger!”
He drops his voice and continues in his deadpan tone. “Except it would not only kill you, it would kill me. Hence, I feel your choice is noble. You’re thinking of me. How sweet.”
“If we had a chance to find him we could try,” I say a little peevishly.
“Hmm . . . except we don’t have a chance. Let me also reiterate that even if you did find him, he obviously hasn’t figured out a solution yet, or else he would be galloping back home to tell the world all is okay and take his kingdom back. You have no hope of finding him and no chance of helping if you do find him. It’s admirable of you to think through all these possibilities and come to the only logical conclusion: We should go home.”
The longer I hear Tig’s voice the angrier I get and the more I want to argue against my own suggestion. “We might be able to help—”
“No offense but—”
“Then don’t offend by saying something stupid,” I snap.
“I was going to say something brilliant about little blind girls,” he says.
“Yeah right.”
A silence ensues for a moment. Tig is right about the king. We only chanced on his trail. We could have missed it much more easily.
“Tig, this isn’t a game,” I say quietly.
Tig flexes his paws, pushing against the leather britches. I feel him twitch his tail. He’s worried. “I’m thinking the same thing.”
“It was just a chance that we managed to find the mouth of the river and the cave in time, and another incredible turn that we stumbled on this kingdom—the very place that the king visited on his way,” I say, thinking out loud. I twist the mossy blanket in my hands. “You’re right. The chance of finding where the king went next is impossible.” We’re both silent for another moment. “I don’t even know if we can get home,” I say. I feel Tig sit up and look at me. “We don’t know how to get back, and if we did know how to get back,” I pause, “we just barely made it here, Tig . . .”
Tig puts one paw on my shoulder. I continue, “Did the Urodela really ask a blind girl for help last night?”
“It sure sounded like it,” says Tig. “They wanted you to help kill the daemon who created the Cauldron’s Crater and singlehandedly demolished their kingdom. From what we know, it has beaten the kingdom protectors twice, and has thus far stumped the king. The words presumptuous and overreaching come to mind if you ask me.”
I grin. “Maybe you didn’t notice, but they didn’t ask you.”
Tig grunts. “They should have.”
I wish Tig would say that he knows the way home, and we should make our way straight there, but part of me still feels like arguing with him. I let the silence stretch out. He’s won this contest. We can’t follow the king. It will take everything we have to make it home. That is our mission.
I throw my legs over the bed and stretch again. “Let’s go home,” I say.
Tig yowls. “That’s the Essie I know.”
It only takes me a few minutes to get ready for the day—not that I can feel the sun, but I trust my body—if it says it’s morning, it probably is. I splash water on my face from the stone basin and pull my hair back in a loose braid. Combing my hair with my fingers will never get all the moss out, so I give up pretty quickly.
An awkward scuffle against the door announces the return of the Urodela. I hope they have food and not cave spider. I shudder and rub my stomach. In a few minutes the door to our cell, that’s how I’ve started thinking of if since last night, pushes open over the moss carpet. Cheep is back, announcing he will be our guide around the Kingdom of Crypta while my arm finishes healing.
We do get breakfast. This time we are in a smaller room with only a few other Urodela chattering away around us. Instead of the individual seats we had when eating with the queen we are seated on a low, moss covered bench that runs along the wall. There is no table, which is okay for me, but Tig has to have two spaces so that he can have his bowl next to him. I ignore courtesy and let Tig inspect my bowl. I want to know exactly what I’m eating this time around, even if I am being rude.
Being locked in our room last night has not put me in a gracious mood.
Most of what I am eating is mushrooms and some kind of berry-like fruit. Despite being disgruntled I can’t help but ask for seconds. The fruit is about the size of my thumb and is so full of moisture each one is like an explosion of crisp, sweet water.
Cheep must
notice my interest because he tells me more about them. “Grandulum. We brought seeds with us from the marshes. They grow well in the shallow parts of the lake. We can plant and harvest them in less than three days,” he boasts. “The old ones say they used to get to be the size of my head when they grew in the marshes.”
“Really?” I ask, in spite of myself.
“Certainly,” says Cheep. “And if you are finished with your meal, come with me, and I will show you more of our kingdom.” Cheep doesn’t seem to think about the fact that he can’t really show me anything, but I don’t comment.
“I apologize for not telling you we would shut the rooms last night. It might have seemed that we were locking you in. Here in Crypta we have to shut the doors to keep the cavern stalkers out. I was upset and forgot to explain.”
Tig brushes my ankle, and I follow them out the door of the dining room and into the tunnel again. I’m still irritated about last night, but his excuse sounds legitimate. “Can you tell us what King Mactogonii was doing and where you think he went? And what are cavern stalkers?” I ask.
“I need to let the queen answer your first question. As for cavern stalkers, they are many things,” Cheep says. “It’s what we call any of the hunters that come up from the lower parts of the Valley of Fire. Our advance spotters are supposed to give warning or scare them away, but sometimes there are too many, or if an ogre wanders through you can’t usually scare them.”
“How do you get rid of an ogre?” Tig wonders.
“I helped with that once,” says Cheep. Even though I am following Tig’s tail, Cheep takes two fingers on my other hand and leads the way down the tunnel. I resist the impulse to jerk my hand away. I know he is probably just trying to be nice so I let it slide.
“The way to get rid of an ogre is to lead it around to another exit from the Valley of Fire, or if you can’t do that, to get it as far away from Crypta as possible. You have to be fast.”
“Are the Urodela fast?” I ask, trying to keep my voice from being rude.
“We can be,” says Cheep, his voice a little higher than before. “Ogres are easy to confuse underground. They usually stay in shallow caves, and they don’t see as well in the dark as we do.”
“What else is under the Valley of Fire? And why aren’t they here around the lake?” I ask.
“Lots of things live deep under the Valley of Fire, much deeper than the Lake of Hemleth. Many big, some smaller. When the Urodela fled the marshes we chose this spot for a couple of reasons. Water is one. Water is what keeps us alive, so we followed the track of the Redlan River back to its source, here. There was an old wyrm that had lived here for years and made this its territory, so nothing else lived here. That was what made so many of these tunnels. By the time we got here the wyrm was too old and sluggish to move—”
“A wyrm?” interrupts Tig, his voice openly incredulous. “Wyrms are huge and you’re, well, not huge. You attacked and killed a wyrm?
“Not exactly,” says Cheep, again defensive. “We avoided it. Eventually it died. We put pieces in the tunnels all over this part of the Valley of Fire. Wrym is a very distinctive smell that doesn’t go away quickly.”
We walk on in silence for a few seconds. A right turn, then a left, and we come out of the tunnel into the city. The chirruping is scattered and inconsistent today, without the massive crowding of our previous entrance.
“The smell of wyrm in the tunnels has kept most things out of this part of the Valley of Fire, at least until more recently. The scent is fading, so the other things are moving in more often.”
“Like?” asks Tig. I let my hands trail on the shaped moss hedges around us as we walk.
“I already mentioned the occasional ogre. Cave spiders every so often. Big ones. We’ve been able to scare them off with light so far, but we’ve never had to actually attack one. Grundles. They have long arms, short legs, and huge teeth. They can jump or climb anything but the real danger from grundles is they move in packs.”
“Wait, are they hairless and white?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Dad called those cave apes. They’re supposed to be really dangerous. He said even a protector or a champion wouldn’t try to attack a group of those alone. You have those here?”
“They are down below us, but we’ve seen packs come close recently.” Cheep leads me to a bench. “This is the park off of our trade square. I have an appointment to see the queen, and I’ll raise your questions. You can wait here until I return.” I nod and feel the bench in front of me. It is a little low, but it will work. I sit down and stretch out my legs.
Cheep says farewell and scampers off to the right, opposite the direction we just came. I usually have an excellent sense of direction, but since last night I have been completely turned around. I couldn’t say where the palace was, and I probably couldn’t find my way back to the banquet hall from last night if my life depended on it.
Tig flicks his tail. “I’m going to scout around.” He flicks his tail again, letting me know which direction he is traveling and is gone. It was nice of him to say that. Usually he would just leave. Must be the fact that we are in a totally unfamiliar realm under the Valley of Fire. I’m glad to see he draws the line somewhere.
I sit on the bench and breathe in the smells and sounds around me: the chirruping from the square in front of me, the high pitched squeals and squeaks from what must be little Urodela playing. I hear “hello” chirruped often enough I stop thinking it is Cheep coming back. This seems like a wonderful place, constantly cool, and I’m not one to miss the light. I do miss the wind on my face. The bench I am sitting on has the same dry moss as my bed, but under my toes is silky smooth moss that must be manicured somehow. In my room the moss is a thick spongy texture that lets my toes sink in.
All morning and afternoon I sit and listen. The square in front of me is crowded. I wonder how they fit all of them down here. I am so used to our wide-open valley with the wind sweeping through everything, this could start to feel a bit claustrophobic. Tig wanders over and takes a nap next to me for an hour, and then he’s gone again. I’m itching to leave, to get home, but at the same time I want to stay. It seems so steady here. Calm. The world outside this tiny kingdom has tipped upside down, and I don’t know how to set it right. I don’t know if I can set it right. So I don’t complain about Cheep being absent. I don’t say anything. I just sit and listen and think. I don’t know what we’ll do when we get home. I don’t know if the mercenaries will still be at the house or if there is even a house left. I don’t know why Uncle Cagney let the mercenaries make it to the house. I wonder again if he is okay. If my parents are okay. Rather than make me reluctant to go home it just increases the urgency. I have to find out what happened. My thoughts wander from one worry to another, and in between the worries I just sit and let the sounds, smells, and moods wash over me.
My internal clock tells me it is evening when Cheep returns. He is less communicative than he was this morning. “I have discussed your decision with the queen,” he says.
“What decision?” I interrupt.
“Your decision to return home.”
“It’s not a decision,” I say, trying to keep my voice neutral. “It’s the only option open to us. It’s either go home or stay here, and we have to find out what is happening to my family.”
He is silent for a second too long.
“Going after King Mactogonii was never an option,” I say, cutting off his train of thought.
He ignores my statement and moves on. “You will leave the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow we will do what we can to describe a safe passage for your return to your region.”
I bite my lip. I had been hoping they could escort us all the way to the edge of the Valley of Fire, but we already owe them so much, and I know we have disappointed them. A twinge runs up my arm where the lava ripped my arm when the rock basilisk grabbed me. The words come out even though I know how selfish I must sound. “Could you escort us to the edge of the V
alley of Fire?” I ask.
“Our realm of safety ends a good distance from your Kingdom of Mar,” says Cheep. “That’s lassertilla territory and there are no safe passages in that direction. We will do what we can, but we won’t send spotters beyond our own tunnels.”
He doesn’t take my hand. Instead Tig leads the way by keeping his tail brushing casually against my leggings. This new armor does make it harder to feel the subtle brush of Tig’s tail.
Cheep doesn’t speak in Lingua Comma the whole way back to our room. He chirrups to other Urodela several times. At our room the door swings shut with a resounding finality. There are mushrooms, fruit, and something like sweet bread waiting for us.
The evening is unusually quiet. I don’t even hear the usual faint squeaks from the Urodela. For a long time I sit in the darkness and stroke Tig’s coat, wishing Cheep wasn’t so upset. At some point I must have fallen asleep because I hear the pattering and chirrups that announce our captors have come back.
Cheep is there again, but this time breakfast is a hurried affair. “You have an appointment with the queen,” he says. I am freshly aware of how my hair must look after sleeping in moss for several days. Tig confirms. “You look like a scarecrow that got hit by lightning and then decided she still looked too nice—”
“I get it. Your honesty is painful.”
“I try,” Tig replies.
Cheep leads us in silence again, this time to what Tig describes as a mossy chamber with benches along the walls. We wait for nearly an hour before Cheep interprets several chirrups as our summons. Cheep takes my hand again and leads us in to speak with the queen. The room feels small. As we are led to low moss seats I elbow Tig for a description.
“Small room. The queen is here with four bodyguards and another Urodela. Then there’s Cheep and us, so not too much of a crowd. The guards are standing back at the door. We could probably take them all if we wanted to.”
The queen begins and goes on for quite some time before letting Cheep interpret. “You will leave tomorrow,” he says. “Our scouts say the safest passage back to your kingdom will be to go down the cliffs and around the Valley of Fire to the west, rather than trying to go back through lassertilla territory. We will escort you as far as the dry bed of the Redlan River. From there you will go over the cliffs near where the falls were.”
A Hero's Curse Page 9
