Zardi’s rage flared. But something held it back. It was as if she could feel Nadeem’s jealousy. “We’ll never replace you, Nadeem. The Falcon is your family, not ours…”
“Don’t you dare pity me!” Nadeem spat. “Pity yourselves.” He grabbed the emerald from his pocket and flung it out into the inky sea. By the powdery light of the moon, Zardi watched the precious gem skim across the water and finally stop and sink.
With a scream of rage, Rhidan lunged for Nadeem. They quickly became a whirling mass of fists and kicking legs.
Yanking off her sandals, Zardi pounded toward the water. The sand was cold and slushy beneath her feet, but this in no way prepared her for the actual coldness of the sea as she plunged in. It cut through her, making her head ache, but with strong strokes she swam to where she saw the jewel sink and dived downward.
A dull silence engulfed her. The undersea world was blue-black like a bruise, the moon and stars cutting no shaft of light here. Using her fingers as eyes, Zardi searched the seabed. Fine grains of sand, knobby coral, long, sharp bits of shell grazed her fingers, and then she found it—a hexagonal object with smooth cut edges. Grasping the brass rider’s emerald eye, she kicked upward.
In the cool moonlight she treaded water and stared at the emerald in her hand. Zardi grinned as she struck back toward shore.
“You’re alive!” Rhidan ran up to meet her, his clothes sopping wet. “Nadeem left and I swam after you, but I couldn’t find you…” He trailed off. “I thought you might be in trouble.”
“I was fine,” Zardi insisted.
“Still, you shouldn’t have run off into the sea like that in the dark.” Rhidan’s face was serious. “You could have gotten hurt.”
“You could have gotten hurt fighting Nadeem but that didn’t stop you!” She smiled and opened up her palm. “Look!” The emerald glinted in the moonlight.
Rhidan stared at the gem, openmouthed. “I can’t believe it. Zardi, you’re amazing.”
He quickly rummaged in his pocket and brought out the other emerald. “Tomorrow, we’ll slip away from the others and then get the herald to direct us to the volcano.”
“Why wait until tomorrow, when we can go tonight?” Zardi grinned. “We’ll wait for everyone to go to sleep and then sneak away. We’ll be back by dawn.” She gripped the emerald key tightly. “Hopefully, with a djinni who has the power to get us to the Windrose. If we free her she’s bound to want to help us.”
Rhidan closed his hand over the emerald. “We go tonight.”
Back at camp, sailors were yawning and stretching their limbs in the firelight, far too sleepy to notice that Zardi’s and Rhidan’s clothes were wet. Nadeem was nowhere to be seen, and before long, the crew of the Falcon headed to their beds. Zardi and Rhidan did the same.
She lay like a statue, listening to the even breathing of the sailors who surrounded her. Far away, from the east side of the island, a roar thundered across the bay. None of the sailors even flinched.
Maybe they’re all pretending to sleep just like me, she thought. Maybe they don’t want to think about what else is on this island. Zardi shuffled down under her rough covers and stared up at the thatched roof of her shelter. The roaring finally stopped, leaving just the sound of snoring. All she had to do now was wait for Rhidan, wait a little while longer…
“Wake up,” a voice hissed in her ear.
She looked up groggily to see Rhidan crouching over her, a flaming torch in his hand.
“Come on, sleepyhead, let’s go.”
In one fluid motion she sprang to her feet and fastened her archer’s belt around her waist. They tiptoed past the sleeping sailors and plunged deep into the forest. Once in the heart of the trees, Rhidan handed Zardi the torch, fished the emerald out of his pocket, and rubbed it.
The herald appeared, his green glow even brighter at night. “What time do you call this?” he asked grouchily.
“Time to visit the djinni,” Zardi said, holding up the other emerald for him to see.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” The herald yawned and rubbed his eyes. “This djinni was locked away for a reason.”
“What reason?” Zardi tried not to show she was bothered by the herald’s question.
“Well, I don’t know exactly,” the herald muttered. “But I’m sure it’s bad.”
“We know how to handle ourselves,” Rhidan said confidently.
“Fine, but don’t say that I didn’t warn you.” The green guide hovered shoulder height to Rhidan and Zardi and then burst ahead, leading them through the humid forest.
As they emerged from the trees, they came to a mountain range. They scrambled over the lowest part and were hit by the freezing air coming off a series of sand dunes that rose up before them.
“Where are we?” Zardi asked, lifting her torch a bit higher.
“The east side of the island,” their guide said huffily as he led them up the first sand dune. “But we still have plenty of ground to cover before we reach the volcano.”
“You’re taking us eastward?” Zardi asked uneasily.
The herald’s eyes became sly. “That’s right. You’ve heard him, haven’t you? Roaring in the night.”
“Who is him?” Rhidan demanded.
“Why, the Cyclops of course,” their guide said, arching an eyebrow. “His name is Okre. He was here first. Desolation Island is his island more than anybody else’s. I’m surprised he hasn’t been over to your camp for a visit yet.”
Zardi swallowed.
“Oh well,” the herald continued. “I’m sure he’ll come visiting soon. He always comes in the end.”
“He can come if he wants,” Zardi said fiercely. “Once we release the djinni she’ll get us off this island, every single one of us.”
“I’d like to see that.” The herald chuckled. “She helps no one but herself. You’ll find that out if you don’t run into Okre first.”
“Take us on a route that avoids him,” Rhidan said firmly.
The herald smirked. “He lives in the volcano as well.”
“You never mentioned that before,” Rhidan accused.
“You never asked. Want to turn back?”
“No, we don’t,” Zardi snapped. “Just get us to the volcano.”
“Your funeral.” Their annoying guide floated off down the dunes.
Zardi and Rhidan slid and slipped in the soft sand as they followed him, the cold air rushing across their faces.
The night air grew colder still, but finally they slid down the last dune and found themselves on a flat expanse of rocky ground. Their torch had almost gone out, but as they stood still it flared into life once more. Rhidan took it from Zardi and held it up.
The volcano towered in the distance. They followed a path filled with coarse rocks to reach its base.
“Here we are,” the herald said, pointing to a crack in the rock face. “You’ll find her in there.”
“What about the Cyclops?” Rhidan looked around nervously.
“Oh, he’ll be in there as well,” their guide replied. “Keep your voices down. Okre’s probably asleep at the moment and you really don’t want to wake him.” He tipped his head at them. “I bid you farewell.”
“Farewell!” Rhidan exclaimed. “You’re supposed to be our guide, and you haven’t guided us all the way to the prison yet.”
“This is as far as I go,” the herald said. “I have no idea where she is in the volcano anyway.” He sniffed and shoved his glasses up his nose. “What you’re failing to understand is that the person who made this prison really didn’t want anyone to release her. Perhaps you should take the hint.”
“We’re not turning back,” Zardi said resolutely.
“Good luck. You’ll need it.” And with that the little green man faded from sight.
For a moment Zardi felt bereft. It wasn’t like the herald had ever been especially friendly or even nice, but he had been a companion on this journey.
“Ready?” Rhidan asked. His hair loo
ked more silver than the watching moon above their heads.
“Ready!” she replied. Together they plunged into the bowels of the volcano.
24
Cyclops This Way
The heat hit them first, and then the sulfurous smell of rotten eggs. The pungent gas burned their throats and nostrils, and Zardi’s eyes streamed with tears. She suddenly remembered chopping onions with Nonna back in the kitchen in Taraket. Thinking of home made her feel braver.
Zardi wiped away the sweat from her stinging eyes as she tried to see through the boiling vapor that burst out of the vents in the ground. In the distance she spotted something that filled her with excitement and fear.
A tunnel.
She pointed it out to Rhidan and they walked toward the cavernous passageway. Billows of heat pumped from it, lifting their hair. By the flickering light of their torch Zardi saw bones and excrement littering the tunnel’s floor.
“You might as well have a sign at the entrance saying ‘Cyclops This Way,’” Rhidan said in disgust.
“A sleeping one, hopefully,” Zardi reminded him. “Come on. There’s only one way forward.” Taking a deep breath, she strode into the mouth of the long tunnel.
As they walked farther down the path, a deafening rumble filled the passageway.
“Is that what I think it is?” Zardi asked, her voice all but drowned out by the noise.
“Snoring,” Rhidan said after listening for a moment. “Okre is still asleep then. He sounds just like Nonna, only a hundred times louder.”
Zardi laughed despite herself. For a moment it didn’t seem to matter that a sleeping Cyclops was at the end of the tunnel. “Nonna could snore for Arribitha. Do you remember how she would doze off in front of the fire and then insist that she was just deep in thought?” Zardi’s throat began to feel tight. “And Zubeyda wasn’t much better, always saying she needed an extra hour in bed or she’d get pimples.” Zardi laughed again but this time it felt much more like she was crying.
Rhidan put a hand on her shoulder. “I miss them too,” he said. “Every night, I go to bed thinking about Nonna, your father, and Zub, what they must be feeling. How scared they must be.”
“Me too,” Zardi replied brokenly. “I hurt with it, knowing that I haven’t put things right yet.”
“Let it hurt, Zardi,” Rhidan said. “Take the pain and make it something else. Let it make you stronger and smarter.”
The snoring was earsplittingly loud now, but finally Zardi could see the end of the passageway and the huge stone cavity it spilled into. As they crept into the highceilinged chamber an overpowering festering smell filled her nostrils. Squinting in the low light she saw the slumbering form of a giant.
Okre’s face was in the shadows, but the flickering flame of the torch revealed the shaggy jet-black hairs that covered his tree trunk legs, wide torso, and barrel chest. The beast’s feet were big enough to crush a man beneath them and they ended with long twisted nails that could stab and slash.
Zardi scanned the walls, looking for any sign of a doorway that might lead to the djinni’s prison. Then she saw it, an iron door at the far side of the cavern, next to Okre’s hull-like left shoulder.
The entrance had a faint green glow pulsing all around it, similar to the light that had surrounded the herald. She turned to Rhidan and they shared silent words with a glance. They had found the entrance to the djinni’s prison.
“How are we going to get over there?” Rhidan mouthed beneath the loud snoring.
Zardi shook her head. The Cyclops was practically wedged into the cavity, his bulk covering the entire floor space. There was no way they’d be able to creep round the edges. A bitter taste bloomed on her tongue as she realized that they only had one choice.
She turned to her friend. “We go over him.”
Rhidan’s mouth dropped open. “You’re actually crazy, you do know that?”
“It’s all right. He’s so big he won’t notice us.”
Zardi crept toward the sleeping beast. She lightly placed her trembling hands around a bunch of thick bristles on the Cyclops’s massive leg and pulled herself up onto his shin.
The beast did not stir.
Finding her balance, she carefully took one step and then another.
Still the Cyclops did not move.
She turned her head and looked at Rhidan. The torch in his hand quivered, but on meeting her gaze, he slotted it into a crevice in the wall and climbed onto the Cyclops’s leg.
They journeyed over Okre’s body, past his bulging kneecaps, across the brawny muscles of one of his thighs, and onto the hard ridge of his stomach.
Eagerness nipped at her. The door ringed in green was still a fair distance away but they were making good progress.
They stepped onto Okre’s chest, and Zardi bit down on an exclamation of surprise as a powerful tremble suddenly ran up her legs, forcing them to buckle beneath her. Both she and Rhidan fell onto their hands and knees—hard.
The Cyclops snorted in his sleep and scratched irritably at his chest, just missing her head with his sharp, twisted claws. Beneath her palms Zardi felt a strong, steady vibration. It was the creature’s powerful heartbeat. Each dull thunk was a mini earthquake. She and Rhidan tried to crawl forward, but the thudding heartbeat was too strong, and they began to slide off the beast’s chest.
Zardi looked up and around, searching for another way to get to the djinni’s prison. A thin sliver of ledge jutted out of the chamber’s wall just above the Cyclops’s chest. It was frighteningly narrow but they might be able to walk along it to the iron door.
“It’s too narrow,” Rhidan mouthed when she pointed it out to him.
“Have you got a better idea?” She pulled herself up onto the ledge and Rhidan followed.
The ledge was much narrower than the sultan’s arch in Taraket. They had to walk on the tips of their toes, with their backs pressed to the wall, to remain on the jutting piece of rock. Rhidan leading, step by step they drew closer to the djinni’s prison.
The cavern shuddered as the Cyclops coughed and shifted his body. The beast turned his head, and Zardi and Rhidan took in a full profile of Okre’s grotesque face. His one eye was set in the center of his brow, and his hairy head was as large and uneven as a rain-battered boulder. His fleshy nose was bulbous and badly pitted, and inflamed pustules covered his skin. As the Cyclops snored, his lips curled around two tusks. They were yellow in the firelight and looked sharp enough to slice through rock. His breath was the worst thing, though, a combination of rotten fish and sulfur, and in his new position he was breathing right on them.
Rhidan looked as if he was about to pass out from the smell.
“Don’t you dare faint,” Zardi ordered.
In her head the words had sounded quiet, but clearly not quiet enough. The Cyclops opened his eye—its red iris was like a candle’s flame. Drawing back his lips, Okre roared.
“RUN!” Rhidan shouted. With surprising nimbleness he edged along the narrow ridge. Zardi followed him, the wall scraping at her back.
Okre’s head brushed the top of the cavern’s ceiling as he stood, dislodging small fragments of rock. With his massive clawed hand he swiped at them, but Zardi and Rhidan were just out of reach.
The iron door was almost below them, its emerald aura burning brighter. Zardi’s eyes raked the front of the door, searching for the lock.
There you are.
A simple indentation in the shape of a hexagon was in the wall next to the door. Rhidan had seen it too, and he sprinted along the narrow stone width toward it, his feet a blur.
Zardi screamed as a meaty fist smashed through the ledge in front of her. The Cyclops’s clenched hand just missed Rhidan. He wobbled for a second before throwing his body back against the wall, arching his feet so that he was perched on the tips of his toes. Across the chasm that had opened up between them Zardi could see his chest rising and falling with the effort of keeping his balance.
She ducked as Okre swiped again. Ou
t of the corner of her eye she could see that Rhidan was just above the door now. All he needed to do was climb down and place the emerald key in the wall.
But I have it.
Swiftly, she took the emerald from her pocket. “RHIDAN, CATCH!” she yelled, tossing the jewel at him.
He held up a hand and caught it easily. He then knelt down and grabbed hold of the ledge before dropping down to the ground. He fitted the key into the lock and the iron door swung open. He hesitated for a moment before diving through it.
The Cyclops paid him no attention. He only had eyes for Zardi. Lucky me, she thought. Okre watched her carefully, with a calculated calm that scared her far more than his fists.
The door had now swung back fully, and inside, Zardi could see a room lit by a white glow. She heard the sound of clattering.
“Zardi, hurry,” Rhidan called. “I can’t hold this door open for much longer.”
Zardi eyeballed the Cyclops. A black, swollen tongue shot out of his mouth, and he licked his sabersharp tusks and growled in anticipation, enjoying the moment. For an instant she considered loosing an arrow, but knew the second she unclipped her bow he would be upon her. I need a distraction.
Her hand crept to the pear-shaped blue stone around her neck with its smooth edges and sharp tip. Before she could have second thoughts, she ripped the jewel from its gossamer casing and leaped forward. While in midair, she slashed the sharp stone across the Cyclops’s cheek, leaving a crimson ribbon. She fell to the ground, winding herself as the air left her lungs in an excruciating rush.
The Cyclops roared in pain and clutched at his cheek, blood seeping between his thick, hairy fingers. Zardi took her chance and tumbled her aching body across the floor and through the door. It closed behind her with a resounding thud. But she could still hear the Cyclops’s angry roar.
She lay on the floor, and would have felt delight if her chest hadn’t hurt so much. Rhidan knelt beside her, peering at her anxiously. Torches that flowered with white fire sat in iron sconces in the wall.
The Book of Wonders Page 15
