He took a deep breath and forced himself onward. Another time, he could consider the cannibalistic nature of the local tribes. After he found Tylie.
When he came to the first intersection, a maze of options opened up to him, three tunnels that continued horizontally, two holes that led downward, into darkness, and two more that rose upward. A rope dangled from one of those. Interlocking stones formed the walls on all of the passages, even those dropping into the earth. He would have assumed nothing but dirt lay beneath the “ground floor” of this strange dwelling, but clearly, it had a basement of some sort and an extensive foundation.
He would have chosen to continue straight ahead—the horizontal passages were lit—but voices came from that direction. He considered his ball and the fact that it was the only one he had remaining, then stuck it in his pocket and jumped, catching the rope instead. He pulled himself up, not certain what he would find, but the darkness should hide him from view, even if he only climbed ten or fifteen feet.
“…so ready to leave this hell,” came a muffled voice from the tunnel below. The speaker was drawing closer to the intersection, boots clomping ponderously as he walked, almost as if he was carrying something heavy.
“Think they’ll let us?” another asked, his voice also sounded oddly muffed. “If we’re not sick?”
A soft draft brushed Tolemek’s cheek. He had reached a cross passage. He patted the cool wall around him with one hand, identifying a hole about three feet wide by three feet high. He thought about pulling himself in, but the conversation below made him pause. If he could learn more about the disease, he couldn’t pass up that opportunity, especially when it might become painfully relevant soon.
“Dragon’s spit, I hope so.”
He stilled himself on the rope, hoping the men walking below wouldn’t notice it twitching. But the two figures who plodded past probably wouldn’t have noticed if the rope had hit them in the heads. They were wearing dark leather head coverings, like nothing Tolemek was familiar with. Helmets? He couldn’t tell exactly from his brief view from ten feet above the men, but they wore similar suits, heavy suits if the tread of those boots was an indicator. He hadn’t seen anything like them in the Cofah army.
Unfortunately, the men continued straight ahead, in the direction of the dead guard. They would know someone had infiltrated the structure before Tolemek had gone a hundred meters, before Zirkander’s team even came down from the crater. He didn’t know who had killed that guard, but it was going to make things inconvenient for everyone else.
He considered whether to go back down to the lit corridors, but decided to try the new tunnel instead. Though dark and tight, it was paralleling the one he had meant to check out below. Maybe it would end up in the same place and help him avoid the Cofah.
“Or maybe you’ll get yourself hopelessly lost,” he muttered.
Tolemek felt his way down the passage, resolving to turn around and go back to the ground level if it didn’t take him anywhere within a few minutes.
The sound of voices and other life faded from hearing, and he had the sense of being in a tomb. Every time his shoulders brushed the walls, he grew certain the tunnel was closing in on him. He was trying not to think too much about the architecture of this place and what such a small passage might have been used for, but he wondered, nonetheless. When the wall opened up to one side, he slipped out a match, wanting to make sure he wasn’t bypassing a branch in the tunnel that he might want to use.
He scraped the bulbous head on the stone floor, and flame flared to life. The light showed the tunnel continuing on but also alcoves opening up to either side ahead of him. Oblong stone boxes about two feet high rested in those openings, the sides carved with people in robes and dragons flying over their heads. It wasn’t until after his match went out that Tolemek realized he had been looking at sarcophagi. At least they weren’t painted with cannibalistic imagery. That didn’t make him any happier about crawling through the passage, but he pushed forward, anyway, hoping their presence suggested another way out. It would have been hard, if not impossible, for people to maneuver the big boxes in here via that vertical shaft.
As he crept along in the dark, he worried he had made a mistake in leaving the others. Would it have been easier to find Tylie with Sardelle’s input? Or maybe he should have attacked those two men below and tried to subdue them for questioning. In those clunky uniforms, they wouldn’t have reacted quickly. By leaving them ambulatory, so they could discover that dead entrance guard, he may have condemned Cas’s team to walking in on an alarm. He sighed, again irritated with whoever had killed that guard. He would prefer to rely on stealth until he had Tylie.
After another fifty meters, the outline of the passage grew visible, and Tolemek no longer needed a match to see the sarcophagi-filled alcoves. The route took a ninety-degree turn, and even more light became apparent, a glow slightly different from that of a fire, a more reddish tint. Maybe it was his imagination. Or maybe he was approaching some room lit by magic. Anticipation made the nerves in his stomach twitch. The intensity of his headache increased. Did dragons glow? Maybe he was about to see the creature that had started all of this, that was somehow tied to his sister. He hastened forward, banging his elbows in his eagerness to get closer.
A square of reddish light appeared after another bend. The end of the tunnel. He crept closer, not spotting a floor or ceiling beyond the opening. He forced himself to slow down, in case he was about to poke his head out on some busy area.
A cavernous opening waited for him. He had reached the hollowed core of the ziggurat. Its walls stair-stepped upward toward the top, high above him. His first thought was to wonder how the architecture could support the weight of all those giant rocks. His second was to look down.
And stare.
For a long moment, thoughts refused to form in his mind. The prone figure of a silver dragon filled much of the space below, its sleek, scaled back rising at least ten feet, even though the creature rested on the ground, its legs hidden from view under its body. Its thick sinuous tail curved about its form, almost reminding Tolemek of a dog curled up on its side to sleep. The dragon wasn’t moving, but large bunches of muscle lay beneath those scales, promising great power.
Yeah, dragons aren’t known for their wimpy natures.
Jaxi, Tolemek blurted in his mind—he almost blurted it out loud, but he caught himself. More than the dragon might be down there.
Right below Tolemek’s perch, the walls became vertical instead of following the exterior contours of the ziggurat, and one of those walls was made from glass instead of stone. A door was set into one side with an instrument panel embedded next to it emitting the red light he had seen. There was light coming from somewhere behind the glass wall too. From his viewpoint, he could not see far into the room, only glimpsing the ends of a few tables and counters, but one held a rack of vials and another a few beakers. Had he found the laboratory where they were extracting the blood? As far as he could tell, the dragon was asleep—or unconscious—so maybe they were simply walking up, sticking a needle between its scales, and extracting its blood. Strange that the big creature would allow that, unless it was indeed working with them. Or maybe the Cofah had injured it somehow.
I don’t think that’s the case, Jaxi thought. Also, did you know the others are worried about you and wondering why you ran off?
Yes, I’m sure you can point them to this location, so they can do whatever it is they deem fit. He tilted his chin toward the dragon and the laboratory below. Is there any chance you can tell where my sister is?
I could barely tell where you were. There’s a lot of interference from Giant and Sleepy down there. Listen, you shouldn’t have gone off alone. Cas’s father is here, apparently with a mission to kill someone. Or something.
What? How does that… even make sense?
Cas isn’t real sure about that, either, from what I gather. But listen, we’re having some trouble out here. Perhaps you’d like to come ou
t and throw around some of your dreaded concoctions.
Tolemek winced. If they—Cas—needed help, he didn’t want to leave the group to fend for itself, but he was so close. Tylie must be nearby. She must.
What’s going on that you and Sardelle can’t handle?
Jaxi didn’t answer. Tolemek let his head thunk against the side of the wall. Would there be someone in the lab who could lead him to Tylie? He wished he could tell how many people might be working in there. He slipped his hand into his pocket and rubbed the leather ball. He considered dropping the twenty feet to the floor, running for that door, and trying to surprise those inside. But what if the dragon woke up? What if the door was locked? He would be stuck on the floor with a creature that might find him a tasty snack.
Reluctantly, he decided he needed to look for another way into that laboratory. On the way, he would check on the others. He wished he knew if they were still outside the ziggurat or had come in.
Jaxi?
Again, he didn’t receive an answer. Tolemek pushed up to his elbows and was about to try and turn around when movement caught his eye below.
The clear wall shimmered, a strange ripple that plucked at his senses. If it was made from glass, there must be some magical element about it. The door opened, and something else shimmered, a barrier that stretched from wall to wall above the dragon. After the brief ripple, it disappeared again, leaving Tolemek glad he hadn’t tried to jump down there, after all.
A man carrying a rifle walked out of the laboratory. At least, Tolemek thought it was a man. The figure wore the same bulky, form-obscuring garb as the other two men had, a head-to-toe leather ensemble that appeared about as comfortable as a thorn in the foot. A big helmet covered his entire head, with flaps extending to the shoulders. A glass face panel presumably allowed the wearer to see. The whole suit reminded him of what divers wore when trying to salvage wrecks from the ocean floor. It was slowly dawning on him what that might signify in this situation when a second figure walked out of the room.
His breath caught. Tylie.
She wasn’t wearing a suit. She wasn’t even wearing shoes. She padded forward on bare feet, a dirty dress hanging limply down to her calves. Her face and bare arms were dirty, too, and she looked cold. Unlike the hot, humid jungle outside, the tunnel passages were cool, like caves. Tolemek couldn’t see her face well, looking down from above, but she walked forward slowly, her chin to her chest, her long, straight brown hair falling forward in curtains, shadowing her cheeks.
He wanted to yell out to her, to see her eyes, to know if she was sane, to know how badly she was being treated, to know how to pull her away from these people. But the guard had taken up a position beside the door, his back to the glass, and his rifle in his arms. He watched her through his clear faceplate.
Tylie didn’t look back, didn’t acknowledge him. She padded toward the dragon, carrying a small rack of empty vials in one hand and an oversized tool in the other with a needle so long and thick that Tolemek could see it from his perch.
Tylie! he tried calling with his mind, even though he knew he had never learned a mote of telepathy, hadn’t even been aware that such a thing existed until a couple of months ago.
But she was the one who could call out, not he, and she didn’t look up. Somehow, she had known he was on the mountainside earlier, but she must not be aware of him now. Maybe the dragon’s presence blunted the effectiveness of her senses, the same way it affected Sardelle.
Tolemek gripped the edge of his hole with both hands, watching with horror as she walked closer to the dragon, its size dwarfing her. It hadn’t moved yet, nor shown any hint that it might wake up, but he couldn’t help but fear that it would. That its eyes would open, and its giant head would swing toward Tylie. The long, sword-like fangs in its mouth might not be visible from where he perched, but he had seen the skeletons in the museums. He knew they were there and that they could chomp a human in half easily.
When Tylie reached the dragon’s side, she set down the vials, then reached out, not with the needle but with her hand, resting her palm against the silver scales. She bowed her head even further, as if offering a prayer. Or an apology? Everything about her stance, along with that presence of that guard, said she was a prisoner.
The man must have said something, because Tylie looked over her shoulder at him for a moment. Then she lowered her hand and moved the needle toward the dragon’s hide. Those scales appeared hard enough to repel bullets, but she found a spot behind its arm—leg, whatever dragons had—and poked her needle between two scales. Tolemek held his breath, certain the creature would wake up, certain it would spin toward the one daring to prick it.
But it didn’t move. Tylie plucked up one of the vials, fastening it to the back of the tool, and dark red blood flowed through the needle and into the receptacle.
While she was filling the second one, another man walked out of the room, this one also wearing the protective clothing and helmet. Judging by their bent heads, he spoke to the first. Whatever the barrier was that separated Tolemek from the dragon and that chamber, he couldn’t hear a thing through it. But as he watched the men converse, his thoughts spun back to the purpose of those suits. He hadn’t ever worn such a thing or even seen one, but if that apparatus on their backs was a filter or self-contained oxygen supply, the gear might have been designed to protect the wearer from bad air—from infected air. He didn’t miss the fact that Tylie wasn’t wearing one, and his fingers tightened further around the stone edge of the shaft. If that barrier hadn’t been there, he might have risked injury to jump down and attack those men, to rip off their helmets and force them to breathe the air they were making Tylie breath. Whatever was causing the sicknesses—the deaths.
Was it the dragon itself? Its blood? Sardelle had objected to the idea, but she, too, had been born into a world that hadn’t seen dragons for centuries. How much of an expert could she truly be? If it was the blood, had Tylie been infected because she was handling it? Or was it possible she had some immunity, and that was why they were using her? If so, why would that be? If that winged tiger had been infected, then possessing dragon blood alone didn’t protect a creature.
Tylie was on the sixth and final vial. Tolemek forced his tight grip on the edge of the floor to loosen and slid his hands along the smooth rock, wondering if he might find some tiny pebble to toss down there, something that might alert her to his presence without drawing the guards from their conversation. All he found was a tiny fleck, scarcely a millimeter thick. He doubted it would make a noise when it landed, but he lofted it in Tylie’s direction anyway.
It struck the translucent barrier and burst into flame. For a moment, it was as if a match burned above Tylie’s head.
Tolemek stared down, willing her to notice the flame. But it burned out too quickly. He sighed and was about to withdraw, resolved that he would have to search for another way down, but his sister lifted her head. She looked straight at him. It was only for a second, then she dropped her face again, but they had made eye contact. It had been as if she knew he was there all along.
For the second time in his life, her voice sounded in his head.
The dragon is dying, she informed him solemnly.
Are you all right? The dragon’s welfare wasn’t high on his list of concerns. I’m here to get you out of here. Can you help me? Tell me how to get down there? To reach you?
We can’t leave Phelistoth marooned here.
Phelistoth? Was that the dragon? It wasn’t important now. How many men are there, Tylie?
We have to figure out how to help him, how to free him. This is my fault. Tylie didn’t look up at him again—maybe she didn’t want to draw the guard’s attention in his direction—but she shook her head slowly, morosely, and he sensed her pain. It’s my fault, Tolie.
You can tell me about it later. This place is a maze. I need your help. Actually, he was guessing that it was a maze. Maybe he should have gone straight down that passage from the front door,
and it would have led him to this room. He would go back and try that if she didn’t give him the information he needed. But it would be useful to get some inside intelligence, here. Tylie—
Don’t you understand? They wouldn’t know about him if it weren’t for me. He would still be sleeping.
He looks like he’s sleeping now. Tolemek kept his thoughts calm and patient—or tried to at least. Tylie had never been entirely there when he had spoken to her, not since she had been a child, and she might be nearly eighteen now, but it was as if her mind had gone backwards instead of growing up with her body.
No, he’s unconscious now, Tylie responded, urgency in her words. He’s dying.
Tolemek looked up at the tiered stone ceiling. Earlier, he had thought there might be an exit up there, that people would need to be able to climb up there and light that dragon head brazier, but there wasn’t so much as a ladder or a dangling rope. He also didn’t see anything that resembled a trapdoor. He couldn’t imagine how the dragon had gotten in here in the first place, and he couldn’t see a way to get him out. Tylie, you’re my primary concern. What’s the best way down there? How do I get you out of here?
I’m not going without him.
Tylie… Tolemek resisted the urge to let his forehead thunk to the stone floor. We have to—
Her head whipped around, and he stopped, as if they were having a conversation out loud and might be overheard.
Patterns in the Dark (Dragon Blood Book 4) Page 17
