Finally, Worthy and Rollan reached the bank. Conor and the others crawled off the ledge and rushed to them.
Jhi appeared with a flash by Rollan’s side before Meilin had even reached him. The panda licked him a few times, but he waved her away. “I’m fine,” he said. “Just need … to catch … my breath.” He pointed a shaky finger at Worthy. “Help him.”
Worthy lay sprawled out on his back, his mask slightly askew. “I. Hate. Water,” he said as the panda licked his face. “But I think I hate panda spit more.”
“Worthy, that was amazing!” Conor said, kneeling beside his friend. Worthy had a few scratches, but otherwise seemed okay. “I can’t believe you did that!”
“It was also very brave,” Meilin said, much more quietly. She placed her hand on the Redcloak’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, Worthy, thanks for giving me a hand back there,” Rollan said, still lying on his back. He paused, his lips twisting into a smile, then added, “Or I guess I should say, thanks for giving me a tail.”
Worthy finally stood up. “Not another word,” he warned, straightening his mask. “Or I’ll throw you back in myself.” But then he placed his hands on his hips in a heroic pose. “And you’re welcome.”
“Do you want to change clothes?” Abeke asked, nodding toward their discarded packs. “Are you cold?”
“I’ll be fine,” Worthy said. “Plus, there’s no way I’m taking off this cloak.”
They all fell silent for a second. Conor was sure that they were all thinking about their abandoned green cloaks.
Meilin helped Rollan to sit up. “Your cloak is ripped,” she said, fingering the brown fabric. “You should change into something dry.”
“I’ll be fine,” Rollan said. “It’s not even that cold down here.”
“No, seriously.” Meilin walked to her pack, then carried it over to Rollan. She slowly rummaged through it. “I think I have something you’d be more comfortable in.”
She pulled out his green cloak.
For a moment, Rollan seemed speechless. He took the cloak from her, running his hands along it. Then he brought it to his nose, smelling it to confirm it was his. “But I thought it was too dangerous to keep this,” he finally said.
“I know,” Meilin replied. “But we’re Greencloaks. We shouldn’t be ashamed of who we are.” She helped unfasten the brown cloak from around his neck, then tossed it aside. “I think we’d all feel a little better with a reminder of Tarik on this journey. We all miss him, too.”
WORTHY HAD NO IDEA WHY HE LEAPED OFF THE CLIFF to save Rollan. Worthy hated water. And now his beautiful red cloak was drenched, making it twice as heavy.
As he wrung out the fabric, he told himself that he’d jumped to save the Heart of the Land tied around Rollan’s neck, but he knew he was lying to himself. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, these Greencloaks were growing on him. He actually liked Rollan, bad jokes and all.
Prior to joining the Redcloaks, he’d always had trouble making friends. When he was younger, other kids had played with him only because they were forced to by their parents in order to gain favor with his father. Similarly, when he was a Conqueror, the only reason that Zerif put up with him was because of his father’s importance and hefty monetary donations.
But these four—Conor, Abeke, Meilin, and Rollan—they genuinely cared for one another. They liked spending time together. And now, he liked spending time with them, too. He even liked Anka, when he remembered she was there.
Once he and Rollan had rested from their dip in the water, they tried to scale the cliff again. This time, they tied themselves to one another using black vines found in the valley forest. Rollan looked as if he was going to make another joke about Worthy’s tail, but one look from him made Rollan reconsider.
Worthy took the lead this time. With his claws, he had a better chance of holding on to the cliff if someone fell and tried to drag them all down.
“How much farther?” Anka yelled as they passed behind the waterfall.
“Almost there,” Worthy called back. Once behind the waterfall, the ledge widened, making it big enough for him to walk without hugging the wall. Very little sunlight was able to stream through the falls. The ledge was dark, so he waited for a moment to let his eyes adjust. Eventually, he noticed that the overhang grew even wider as it approached what looked like the cave entrance.
He froze once he was at the opening. “Whoa,” he murmured.
Before Worthy stood the largest statue he’d ever seen—and being the son of the former Earl of Trunswick, he’d seen plenty. The sculpture was similar to the illustration of Gransfen and the mighty Wilco from the journal they’d read at the Howling House. Carved from what looked like pure black obsidian, Gransfen held the famed Wildcat’s Claw in his hands, pointing it at an unknown enemy. Wilco, nearly as large as the man, stood on her hind legs, her claws ready to maul their unseen foe.
At first, Worthy thought the statue had been built all the way to the top of the cave. But after noting the small boulders and crushed rocks lying at the base, he looked again. The entrance had begun to cave in. It was only the statue—literally, Gransfen’s broad shoulders—that kept the cave mouth open.
“Don’t touch it,” Anka said as the others joined them at the statue. “We don’t want to accidentally cause a collapse. There’s no telling how long we’d be trapped in here.”
They slowly stepped past the statue. Conor released Briggan. The wolf scratched at the rocky ground then stepped farther into the cave, following Conor. The others released their animals as well, and a splash announced that Essix had soared through the waterfall. She landed on Rollan’s shoulder and shook her feathers out, dousing him with water.
With her beak, she lifted up a small edge of Rollan’s green cloak.
“Like it?” he asked.
The gyrfalcon squawked a reply. Rollan nodded. “Yeah, me too,” he said, following the others into the cave.
As the cavern narrowed, Conor pulled a torch from his waistband, and he and Briggan took the lead at the front. Worthy covered the rear, turning around every few minutes to make sure that they weren’t being followed. Now that his eyes were fully adjusted to the dark, he didn’t need as much light to see. But with the falls still roaring in their ears, he was afraid he wouldn’t hear someone sneaking up on them until it was too late.
The cave was a series of long, narrow tunnels, each connected end on end, and each growing smaller as they moved farther into the cliffside. Briggan and Uraza growled as their feet slipped on loose pebbles. Glancing above, Worthy noticed more bats. Thankfully, this bunch didn’t seem interested in waking up and attacking them.
“Yuck,” Conor said from up ahead. “I walked right into a spiderweb.” Then a second later, he added, “Sorry Meilin. I meant to say a mouse web.”
“Thanks,” she replied, with a little tremble in her voice. She placed her hand on Jhi, who barely fit through the narrowing spaces. Jhi rubbed her muzzle against Meilin, then gave her a friendly lick on the arm. Worthy couldn’t help but smile. Meilin was the finest warrior he’d ever met. How could someone so ferocious be afraid of spiders?
The long, dark cave dead-ended into a huge expanse. But it wasn’t a natural cavern—it looked like it had been hand-carved. Worthy ran his hands along the smooth wall. Something caught his attention. Someone—or something—had etched small intersecting ridges into the wall.
“Ouch!” Rollan yelled, falling over as Essix took flight from his arm. “There’s something in the middle of the room. It looks like a big, rectangular rock. Conor, can you bring the torch over here so I can get a better look?”
“Wait, try to light this first,” Abeke said, pulling a dusty, half-burned torch off the wall. “I think it will still catch.”
“There’s another torch over there,” Meilin called out.
Conor quickly lit the torches with a flint and some oil, illuminating the room.
Worthy stepped back to get a better view of
the wall. It wasn’t just random ridges. It was a drawing. No, a language. It looked like etchings of runes—ancient letters used by long-gone Euran civilizations.
“Can you read it?” Meilin asked him.
He shook his head. “I don’t think so.” Worthy had been forced to learn a lot of languages, but he didn’t remember any of his tutors showing him writing like this. The more he stared at it, however, the more he realized that some of the symbols were familiar.
“Guys, come take a look at this,” Rollan said.
Worthy and Meilin joined the others. Two matching, equally large slabs of rock sat in the middle of the room. They looked to be made of solid stone, but they didn’t match the rocky makeup of the cavern walls.
“I think it’s the same type of stone the statue was chiseled from,” Worthy said, kneeling to get a closer look. He placed his hands on the tablet, then pulled it back. The room was warm, but the slabs were as cold as the forest above them. “They’re freezing,” he said. “How is that possible?”
“And how did they even get them through the cave?” Rollan asked. “Those things are massive. They’re way too large to fit through all those winding tunnels and way too heavy to carry.”
Meilin took her torch and circled the slate. “I think there are hinges on this side,” she said.
“I see some, too,” Anka said from the other side. “It kind of looks like a door.”
“But how do you open it?” Rollan asked. “There aren’t any handles.”
“Look around,” Abeke said, “There must be a switch or lever somewhere that will trigger it open.”
While the others started inspecting the cavern walls, pressing into the rock in the hope that they’d find a secret button, Worthy returned to the runes.
“I think this might be a message,” he said. “But it’s old. I’m going to try to decipher it.”
The others searched the entire room while Worthy sat cross-legged in front of the wall. Using his claws, he wrote out possible translations into the rocky ground, but nothing seemed to make sense.
“Making any progress?” Anka asked, appearing beside him. Worthy jumped and let out a small scream.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” She pointed to the wall. “Any luck?”
He shrugged, then looked back at the words he’d drawn on the ground. “The closest I’ve come is: Each day must end, but the mighty shall rise again under a volcano’s roar.”
“That makes no sense,” Rollan said, pausing beside them.
Worthy snorted. “You want to give it a try?”
Abeke aimed an arrow toward a natural hollow in the ceiling. She released it, hitting the hole spot-on, but nothing happened. “Essix, do you mind retrieving my arrow?” she asked the falcon. She returned her bow to her shoulder. “Keep working on the translation, Worthy,” she said. “I have faith in you. It could be the instructions on how to open the doors.”
“Or it could be a warning that we should leave them shut.” But even as he said it, Worthy was sitting back down to study the markings.
The rest of the Greencloaks searched the entire room again. Rollan even tried jumping on the doors, but all he accomplished was slipping and hurting his other foot.
He sighed as Jhi slowly licked his ankle. “This is pointless,” he said. “Maybe there’s another cave we missed. Or a switch outside of the room.”
“Worthy, can you repeat the message?” Abeke asked, shooting another arrow at the ceiling. “Maybe we’ll have better luck if we work together.”
Worthy sighed, then repeated the message: “Each day must end, but the mighty shall rise again under a volcano’s roar.”
Abeke walked over to read Worthy’s translation. “The first part reminds me of an old saying from my village. When someone dies, the elders sometimes say that the deceased’s ‘sun has set.’ Their day has ended. It’s a poetic way of talking about death.” She glanced at the door. “I think the message is saying that Gransfen and Wilco are behind those doors. They’re waiting to rise again.”
Meilin snapped up, suddenly alert. “And on the boat, on the way from Amaya, Worthy said the wildcat’s roar was as loud as an erupting volcano.”
“One thousand erupting volcanoes,” Worthy corrected.
“Yes, yes,” she said. “My point is, you learned that as a kid, right? That can’t be a coincidence. It must mean something important.”
“I was thinking the same,” Rollan said. “When volcanoes blow up, they’re like earthquakes, right?” He slipped his hand inside his shirt and pulled out the Heart of the Land. “Maybe I can try using the gila monster’s earthquake power.”
“Are you daft?” Worthy asked. “You’d cause a cave-in. Did you bash your head in when you fell into the water?”
“I said maybe,” Rollan stressed, returning the amulet to the safety of his shirt. “I’m just throwing out options. We have to do something.”
“Volcanoes also spew lava when they erupt,” Meilin said. “Fire. Heat.” She held up the torch in her hands, inspecting its flame. “Maybe we should heat up the doors. You said those slabs were cold, right? Maybe warmth will trigger the doors to open.”
“So … if we set the doors on fire, they’ll open up, and Gransfen and Wilco will rise again?” Conor asked.
“Just to be clear, I’m not exactly sure that my translation is correct,” Worthy said. “For all we know, an actual volcano could be waiting for us on the other side.”
Meilin stepped forward. Her torch illuminated her face as she walked to the center of the room. Her hair was damp from sweat, and her skin was covered in grime from the cavern walls. “Only one way to find out.”
Meilin tossed the torch onto the slabs. It bounced twice before coming to a stop. Conor and Abeke followed her lead, pitching their torches on the black slates as well.
At first nothing happened.
Then thick gray smoke began to seep out through the seams between the doors.
“It’s the volcano!” Worthy yelled.
“Enough about the volcano,” Meilin said. “Look, something’s happening.”
The doors in the floor had begun to change color, quickly shifting from their dark ink-black color to a fiery orange-red hue. There was a large hiss and then a pop. The doors slowly began to creak open.
More smoke spilled out as the doors opened up. Worthy could see what looked like long stone columns rising up from below, pushing the doors open from the inside. With a thud, they slammed against the floor, shaking the room. Small rocks fell from above, but the room didn’t collapse.
Something was rising out of the hole in the floor.
Worthy watched as a large, gleaming box slowly emerged up into the cavern. It was the same deep black color as the slabs, chiseled with careful precision. All across the edges, scenes of a great cat performing heroic acts glittered, carved in relief into the stone. Once completely out of the ground, the black box creaked to a halt. The smoke thinned out, and the red doors returned to their dark color.
“It’s a coffin,” Anka said. “It must be the final resting place of Gransfen and the wildcat.”
Now that it was all the way out, they could see dull yellow and red jewels covering the rectangular container on all sides. Conor picked up one of the still-lit torches and held it over the coffin. The jewels lit up like stars in the midnight sky.
Worthy noticed something else gleaming on top of the box. Whatever it was, it was covered with soot and dirt. Worthy blew across the top, revealing a silver blade. A thick leather-wrapped hilt shone through the soot, and a large yellow stone, cut into an oval shape, was embedded in the center of the hilt.
The Wildcat’s Claw.
Anka started to step toward it, but Rollan stopped her. “I think Conor or Worthy should pick it up,” he said. “It’s a Euran gift. Someone from this land should activate it.”
Conor looked at Worthy. “You deciphered the code,” he said. “You should take it.”
Worthy shook his head. “
Are you sure?”
Abeke placed her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be afraid,” she said.
It wasn’t that Worthy was afraid. It was more like, he didn’t know if he was actually worthy enough to hold the sword. Gransfen and Wilco had been the protectors of an entire land. He was just a kid in a white mask and red cloak trying to make up for his past mistakes.
“Do it, Worthy,” Conor said. “I believe in you. We all do.”
Worthy nodded, his eyes stinging behind his mask. Then he reached out and grabbed the hilt. The leather hadn’t been used in aeons, but it was supple, like it had just been oiled. He lifted the sword and was surprised by how light it was, given its size. It was easily the largest, longest sword he’d ever wielded, but it felt as weightless as a training foil.
He adjusted his grip on the sword and took a few swipes. The metal almost sang as it sliced through the dusty, smoky air.
“Look here,” Conor said, pointing. “There’s a small incision at the base of the tomb. I think you’re supposed to place the sword here.”
Worthy began sliding the sword into the opening. The sword sang again as its steel blade scraped against the black stone. Worthy felt it lock in place, and slowly let go.
The room began to rumble, and more rocks and debris fell from the ceiling. The hilt of the sword began to glow. Worthy took a closer look. He realized it wasn’t the metal underneath the leather that was glowing. It was the yellow jewel at the center of the sword. If the gems on the tomb were stars, then the jewel on the sword was the shining sun, beaming brightly enough to blind them all.
Smoke began to surround them, this time seemingly coming from all sides of the room, as the jewel shone brighter and brighter. Then the jewel flashed, causing Worthy to cover his eyes.
When he opened them, he saw the image of a man beginning to form from the smoke. Well, not a man. More like a giant. Worthy had to look up to see his face. The man’s beard hung to his belt buckle. His face was rough and weathered, similar to the cliff they had traversed, but there was a lightness in his eyes.
The Wildcat's Claw Page 12
