The Dragon's Eye: Sequel to Where the Stairs Don't Go (The Corridors of Infinity Book 2)

by Shae Hutto

  “We’re not going anywhere but home today. And no, next I want to go scout out the Minotaur’s maze. Just to see what we’re dealing with.”

  Nick groaned. “Do we have to? I hate that place.” He tried half-heartedly to mop up the disgusting mess his sandwich had disgorged onto the table. He gave up and just covered it up with the wrapper.

  “Sorry, kiddo,” said Claire with genuine regret. “We have to get a look at it. I would say you don’t have to come with, but you’re the only one who’s been there. You’re kinda essential. Enjoy being important, it won’t last,” she joked and punched him playfully in the arm.

  “Careful, lass,” chided Roger. “You’ll hurt the little bugger.”

  “Whatever. This kid’s tough as nails,” she said. Nick grinned sheepishly, pleased by the compliment despite himself.

  “Maybe we should go see if Uncle Clark wants to come with us to the maze,” suggested Nick hopefully.

  Claire surprised Nick by appearing to consider his suggestion seriously. Finally, she sighed. “Let’s vote on it,” she said resignedly. “This is no dictatorship. We’re all in it together.” She looked around the table and nobody disagreed with her. Nick looked shocked to be considered an equal by his sister, and Roger looked a little bemused at her willingness to cede power. “All in favor of going to Clark first, say ‘aye’,” she said.

  “Aye,” said Nick quietly.

  “Woof,” said Weenie, who apparently missed Clark and Alidraal… or the smells of the Elven world. Claire wasn’t sure which. She looked at Roger expectantly.

  “Looks like it’s up to you, Rog,” she said. “You vote with me and it’s a tie. You vote with them and we go see Clark.”

  “I would like to meet this Clark fella,” said Roger thoughtfully. “Sorry, redser. I vote ‘aye’,”

  Claire accepted with good grace. “Clark it is then. Everyone brush up on your Elvish. Now let’s get a move on. Anything else we need to take care of here in the bazaar?”

  “Well, I was curious about that spell you bought to change your eyes back,” said Roger playfully. “Why don’t you give it a go? And I’m also curious what it was that Nick took of the Queen’s that she’s so keen to get it back.”

  “I like her eyes like they are,” said Nick, trying to be nice. He put his hand out on the table, palm up.

  “Hmm,” responded Claire. “I suppose I could try it out.” She brought out the crumpled parchment the vendor had sold her at half price when she accosted him about her earlier spell not working. She squinted her magically purple eyes and studied the paper for a while, the rest of the party waiting patiently. Roger started making funny faces at Nick, hoping to make him laugh. “I always prefer wand magic,” she said before getting started.

  Cautiously at first, but gradually with more confidence, Claire started making the complicated hand motions and muttering the nonsense words on the parchment. At the culminating moment, when her gibberish was at a crescendo and her arm waving was manic, Roger shouted, “Bob’s your uncle!”

  Claire was startled but managed to finish. She looked at Nick, whose face was the picture of astonishment, his mouth hanging wide open. Her gaze moved to Roger, her face starting to solidify into a mask of incandescent teenage rage. “What did you do, you manky eejit?”

  “I’m wounded, love,” Roger said, innocence painted on his face a bit thickly. “Don’t be a flute. It’s grand deadly you are, for sure, lass.”

  “Tell me, Nick. What happened?”

  Nick looked at his sister and wondered if it was worth the chance of violent death to tell her that one eye was still purple and the other had changed to a fiery red that exactly matched the halo of hair that seemed to frizz out with anger from her head. As he thought about it, the wicked little dagger appeared in his hand. It wasn’t sleight of hand, it just appeared. Roger noticed but Claire didn’t.

  “Uhm,” he said intelligently. “I think it’s nice,” he finished unconvincingly. The dagger vanished.

  “WHAT looks nice, Nick?”

  Before he could say anything, Roger interrupted, waving him to silence.

  “Stall the ball, redser,” he said and blanched when her mismatched gaze switched back to him. “Alright, I’ll give it to ya straight, yeah? It half worked. One eye is still purple. The other matches your hair. Now wipe that fierce glare off your puss. It’s not my fault your spell is banjaxed. Just try it again. I’m sure it will be fine.” His accent had thickened up, the ‘fine’ coming out ‘foine.’ He winked at Nick.

  Claire took several calming breaths and started over. This time nobody interrupted her. She completed the ritual and looked at first Nick, then Roger expectantly.

  “Well?” she asked.

  There had been no change. One eye was still a bright shade of violet and the other looked like it belonged to some demonic fiend.

  “All fixed,” lied Roger. “Looks grand. Let’s be on our way, shall we?”

  Claire looked to Nick to confirm the good news.

  “I liked it better purple,” Nick said, purposely avoiding saying one way or another whether it had worked. Claire continued to glare around the table suspiciously.

  “Where’s a psychic alien when you need one?” she asked rhetorically. “Or a mirror. Fine. Is there any more business we need to conduct in the bazaar world? Nick, did you want to share what you took of the witches?” He shook his head.

  There wasn’t anything else and they pushed back their chairs and gathered their gear. Weenie got to his feet but was obviously bringing his gross chewy thing with him. Roger tossed a tip on the table and they made their way back into the street traffic, heading for the tent that concealed the door to the corridors. Nobody noticed the man and woman watching them from a few tables over. The two black clad travelers with similar features gave the crew some space and then made their way into the crowd after them, taking care to not be in a hurry or appear conspicuous.

  Several people pointed up at the sky in surprise and fear as a massive dragon soared high above, the reddish light making its scales look like a drop of blood in the sky. Its angry scream was barely audible from its prodigious altitude. The man and woman glanced at it in some concern, but it moved off to the north, still voicing its anger. They conferred silently and set off after Claire, moving fluidly through the crowd. They noted the ragged brown tent Claire and her crew entered and moved more quickly, anticipating a quick end to their quest. They surreptitiously drew matching knives and hurriedly pushed through the tent flap, weapons ready. Inside the tent was a pile of dusty old shaggy fur pelts and an empty old wardrobe. Claire and her crew were not there. The twins exchanged a look of annoyance and anger before they concealed their weapons again and made their way back into the bazaar. After a minute of scanning, they found the dragon in the sky and set off after it once more. It would lead them to Claire again, just as it had led them to her here.

  CHAPTER TWO: Going Nowhere

  “My poetry had the same functional origin and the same formal configuration as teenage acne.”

  -Umberto Eco, On Literature, 2002

  It was raining in the Elven forest world. Claire stood in the open doorway, looking disconsolately at the downpour drenching the trees and underbrush. She took a step back to keep from getting wet as water splashed through the door. Weenie whined and licked his lips, then looked at Claire in obvious hope that she would shut the door and pick a different, drier one. Roger groaned aloud.

  “Well, I hereby change my vote,” said Roger with amusement in his voice. “Let’s go see this Minotaur berk.”

  “Maybe we could wait a few minutes,” suggested Nick feebly. “It might let up soon.” As if to refute this possibility, lightning flashed very close by and a thunderous boom and crash announced the demise of a tree in the vicinity. They all took an involuntary step back. It rained even harder. The grey carpet in the hallway was getting darker near them as it got wet. Claire closed the door, blotting out the sound of rain.

  “How a
bout no?” asked Claire with rhetorical finality. Nobody argued.

  “Let’s go find the door for the Minotaur and his maze,” said Claire decisively. “Nick, you’re in the lead. What kind of door handle are we looking for?”

  “It’s a dark colored metal. With a brass ring,” answered Nick. “I think it’s this way.” He started off down the hallway, the rest of the group strung out behind him. Weenie brought up the rear, sniffing hopefully at almost every door they passed. Roger whistled softly and fingered the hilt of his sabre, which he now wore everywhere.

  The door handle was a dull, dark grey metal and a brass ring did stick out from it. It was quite distinctive. Nick stopped next to it.

  “This is it,” he said with absolutely no enthusiasm.

  “What’s wrong, Kiddo?” asked Roger. “You look like somebody shot your dog.”

  “Woof,” objected Weenie. Claire patted his head reassuringly.

  “Yeah, Nick,” she joined in. “What’s the big deal? We need to go in there sometime anyway. Might as well be now.”

  “It could be raining in there, too,” said Nick softly, hopefully.

  “It could….,” said Claire and then she worked the handle and pushed the door open. Muted sunshine filtered through iron grey clouds to illuminate a grassy plain. They could see mountains in the far distance. There was no rain in evidence. “But it’s not,” added Claire. Nick’s shoulders slumped a bit more.

  “I really hate this place,” he said quietly. Nobody seemed to hear.

  They all walked through the door to find themselves trooping out of a door set in a stone hovel. It looked like something a herdsman would use to take shelter from inclement weather.

  “Ok, where’s this maze?” asked Claire.

  “I don’t see anything for miles,” said Roger, looking around at the gently rolling plains that surrounded them.

  “Well, we’re in it already. It doesn’t look like it, but we are.”

  “Explain, please,” said Claire as she started walking in the direction she figured to be North. It was hard to tell with the thick cloud cover.

  “It’s easier to show you,” said Nick. “Just keep walking that direction. You’ll see a shack like this one. Walk to it.”

  “Are you coming?” she asked Nick.

  “No. We’ll wait here.”

  Claire shrugged and set off at a decent pace. Nick waited where he was. Roger and Weenie started looking around the stone hovel for anything interesting.

  Soon after Claire started out, she saw another small building built from the same color stone as the one she had just left, exactly like Nick had predicted. She looked back and saw the group watching her. Roger waved, and she waved back. She turned to the new shack and set out again. In just a few minutes she was close enough to it to see that there were some people standing outside the little building that looked eerily similar to her own party. Claire increased her pace and strode up to the new structure. A little way out, she noted that the people looked suspiciously like Nick and Roger and they had a Dalmatian with them. Her suspicions were confirmed as she walked up behind Roger; she had come back around to where she started, as if she had walked in a circle. It had to be some sort of magic trick. Nick had already turned to see her coming. He obviously knew what would happen. Weenie looked at her in mute canine confusion. He looked in the direction she had walked off, then back to her.

  She got out her wand and zapped Roger in the butt as she walked up behind him, snickering at the anticipation of his startled yelp. What started out as a laugh ended as a scream of shock and fear as Roger spun on one foot, his sabre extended to take off her head. Claire dropped to the ground, just barely ahead of the steel edge that was racing toward her. Recognition flashed over Roger’s face and he tried to stop his swing and angled it up at the same time. Between the two of them, they were able to keep Claire from being horribly disfigured or killed outright. Barely.

  “That’s two I owe you, buddy,” Claire said with quiet menace from her place on the hard ground, her multicolored eyes flashing with barely contained violence.

  Roger looked horrified that he had almost decapitated Claire. For a moment, Claire thought he might start crying and her own mood softened considerably.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, lass,” he all but wailed. “How rotten would that be? Lay my best sham low by accident?” He reached down to help her up.

  “No, Roger,” she said contritely, taking the offered hand. “It’s my fault for sneaking up on you. I’m sorry.”

  They stood awkwardly, not looking each other in the eye as each wondered what they should say or do next.

  “Well… Then, let that be a lesson to ya,” Roger said playfully, trying to lighten the mood, and started to turn away. On impulse, Claire grabbed him in a bear hug and held him tightly. At first, Roger was obviously shocked and held his arms stiffly by his side. Gradually, he softened and finally he hugged her back. Abruptly, Claire broke the embrace and turned and walked a few feet away, trying to hide her face that burned with a blush as bright as her hair. Roger said nothing, perhaps not wanting to confuse the situation any more than it already was. Claire walked to Nick who was observing with a look that showed he was confused as Roger.

  “Ok, kiddo,” she said. “You’ve got my attention. How did I end up where I started?”

  “Stop calling me kiddo,” Nick said grumpily but then quickly added. “Please.”

  “Yes. I’m sorry.” She was apologizing way too much lately. “Anyway, Nick. I assume there’s an explanation of some kind.”

  Nick shrugged enigmatically. “It’s just part of the maze. There’s only one way out of this part.”

  “What way would that be, now?” asked Roger, who had come closer to hear Nick and Claire talk.

  “Well, you see those mountains?” asked Nick as he waved at the distant mountain range with one hand.

  “I see them,” said Roger. Claire nodded.

  “When the sun sets behind them, it makes a path of sunshine as it goes between two peaks. You have to follow that path. It leads to a very tall stone wall. On the other side of that wall is the maze proper.”

  “How on earth did you figure that out?” asked Claire incredulously.

  “There’s a riddle engraved on the wall of that little stone building,” he said, pointing at the hovel the door was set in.

  Claire and Roger both walked over to the little building and started looking for the engraving. Weenie beat them to it and woofed softly as he pawed at some words chiseled into the stone. They read:

  From Berg to Gate, shines the way.

  Light when it’s late, follow the ray.

  “And you figured that out from this stupid little rhyme? You must be a bloody genius, Nick,” exclaimed Roger.

  “I sat here all day, trying to figure out what I was supposed to do. It got late, and I saw the path when the sun was setting. It all just sorta clicked into place, you know?”

  Claire was looking thoughtfully at the sky. Nick and Roger followed her gaze upwards to the solid layer of grey clouds that obscured the sun completely.

  “And on cloudy days?” she asked resignedly.

  “No dice on cloudy days. We have to wait for the sun to shine.”

  “I see,” she said. “And when it shines, we have to wait for it to set.” Nick nodded by way of reply. “And when it sets, how long does it take before the sun is set completely and the light path or whatever turns into just plain old dark?”

  “About an hour I guess.”

  “How long does it take to get to the gate?” asked Roger, anticipating Claire’s next question and wanting to be a part of the discussion.

  “If you jog, just under an hour.”

  Claire made an angry scowl and said a word young ladies aren’t supposed to know, much less use.

  “Maybe we should just camp here until the sun sets. Visibly,” said Roger. “I could open the door to this little cottage and we could stay in there. We have enough food for a couple days and
the weather isn’t all that bad. We’ll not freeze in this.” He waved his hand at the surrounding landscape. Despite being barren and boring, the temperature was pleasant, and it wasn’t raining. Since Roger wasn’t from the key world as they called it, he couldn’t open the doors into or out of the hallway any more. He lost that ability when he stayed for over a year in the lighthouse world where Claire found him, and the elevator shifted from his home world to Claire’s.

  “Who knows how long it will be before the sun sets like it’s supposed to,” said Claire, still scowling. “Besides, what would we do to pass the time while we sat around doing nothing?”

  “We could play spades,” suggested Nick.

  “Or take turns chasing Nick with this pig sticker,” suggested Roger, indicating his sabre.

  “Hey!” objected Nick.

  “Woof,” objected Weenie. Claire appeared to give it serious thought.

  Roger laughed at Nick’s look of wounded apprehension. “Sure, I’m only slagging ya,” he said, grinning.

  “I don’t think we can just wait it out,” said Claire. “We should probably come back in a couple of days. Who knows what dangers are lurking just over the horizon, just waiting for us to go to sleep so it can have a meal of roasted dog and fricasseed Irishman.” Now it was her turn to laugh at Roger’s expression. As if to emphasize her point, a piercing, roaring screech blasted down through the cloud layer and sounded over the rolling hills. It echoed, seeming to come from every direction. They all looked up, flinching instinctively. Chills played up and down Claire’s spine.

  “Or you could wait by yourself, Rog,” Claire added, looking at the sky nervously.

  “I will in me bollix,” Roger responded forcefully. Nick took his eyes off the clouds to look at Roger like he had two heads.

  “We’ll take that as a ‘no,’ I guess,” said Claire.

  “That’s new,” said Nick who was watching the sky again.

  “You never heard it when you were here before?” asked Claire. Nick shook his head. “Well, from the sound of it, I don’t think we want to meet whatever made that sound. Anyone disagree?” They all shook their heads. Weenie whined softly and looked hopefully at the door.