The Dragon's Eye

by Sarwat Chadda

  Conor nodded. “It’s like a bog. Organic matter rots in some cavern below; the gas seeps upward and gets trapped here, waiting to be set off.”

  Abeke looked at the walls. “The cave is covered in that moss. Salaman must have climbed around, but lost his grip.”

  Meilin threw up her hands. “Then we’re stuck!”

  “No, we’re not,” said Conor.

  “Then how do we get across without igniting the gas?”

  “We don’t.” Conor grinned. “We set off the explosion.”

  “That’s insane” was Meilin’s reply.

  “Maybe, but think about it. The gas isn’t endless. It’s made from rotting material. That takes time. If we set off one big explosion, then we can easily cross before the gas refills the chamber.”

  Conor thought it must have worked for the previous group of Greencloaks. They’d tried climbing around, but Salaman had fallen, setting off a burst. Then, as the gas had begun to pour back into the chamber, Kofe and Lady Cranston must have sprinted the rest of the way across.

  Meilin didn’t look convinced. “How long?”

  Conor shook his head. “No idea. But that’s what makes it exciting?”

  “That’s not the word I’d use.”

  Conor searched around the entrance until he found a large rock crammed between fissures in the cave. “Give me a hand with this.”

  Together, the Greencloaks were able to pry the stone free from the cave wall. With all four holding a corner, they carried it to the edge of the chamber and dropped it down.

  The tunnel itself was irregular, with many nooks where the rock jutted out crookedly. Conor pointed at a particularly large stone outcrop. “Once we toss the rock, let’s take cover behind that, okay? When the first explosion has passed, we need to be quick. No hanging around—just over to the other tunnel as quickly as possible.”

  Meilin still didn’t look convinced, but they were running out of time. How much of the hour candle had already diminished while they’d been chatting here?

  Conor and the others lifted the rock up and shuffled to the edge of the opening. “On the count of three,” said Conor. They swung it back. “One …”

  The second swing was wider than the first. Conor felt as if his arms were being pulled out of their sockets. “Two …”

  The final swing was the widest yet. “Three!”

  With four great cries, they hurled the rock as far as they could.

  It crashed upon a circle of tiles and instantly the sparks flew. The explosion was quicker than Conor had expected. The area around the rock burst into flame and the chamber itself rumbled as the surrounding gas ignited.

  “Take cover!” Conor yelled. The Greencloaks turned and fled back down the tunnel as the whole chamber filled with heat and flame.

  Conor came last, and the final burst tore him off his feet. He tumbled over the stony floor as a sheet of flame passed over him, caressing the top of his shoulders with pain.

  The air hissed and stank as the flames died down.

  Before he even had a chance to get his bearings, Abeke pulled him up. “Now, Conor!”

  Conor shook away the confusion and pain. He’d have time to suffer later. They needed to cross the chamber now.

  The putrid smell was gone, proof the gas had been used up. Meilin and Rollan were already a few paces ahead, racing across the tiles. The metal squares creaked and sparked, but did nothing more. There were a few pockets of flame in the chamber’s uneven corners, however, where the gas still lingered. The air scorched and the tiles simmered with heat that Conor felt through his boots.

  He reached the room’s midway point. Meilin and Rollan dove through the far exit. They then turned and shouted encouragement. Abeke was ahead of him, leaping so lightly that the tiles hardly moved.

  Conor stepped hard on a particularly rusty tile. The spring beneath the tile snapped, and he plummeted about six inches, tearing the skin off his shins before hitting the stone ground beneath.

  The thick, stinking odor was returning. Conor tried to get up, but one step and he cried out in pain. He’d sprained his ankle badly.

  “Come on, Conor!” yelled Abeke, now beside their friends at the chamber’s exit.

  Conor hopped forward. With his whole weight on one foot, the tile he landed on dipped and cracked out a shower of sparks. Small flames flicked between the metal sheets.

  The explosive gas was refilling the chamber far quicker than he’d thought.

  He hopped from tile to tile, dragging his sprained foot along. Each landing generated more sparks, and the flames grew thicker and lasted longer. His trouser cuffs caught alight.

  “Run, Conor!” shouted Rollan.

  Conor focused on his friends, all shouting and waving at him. He jumped along, ignoring the fires now rising all around him. The air began to hiss and pop. He was only a few yards away!

  He dove, throwing himself the final distance into his friends’ arms. The impact knocked all four of them backward with a thump.

  Conor lay there, gasping. He felt a dull ache in his ankle and knew it would soon intensify into pure pain. But right now he was alive and that was what mattered. He sighed with great, great relief.

  Conor rolled over onto his back. When he opened his eyes there was Meilin, grinning at him.

  “Well, you were right!” she said. “That was exciting!”

  ROLLAN COULDN’T GET ESSIX OUT OF HIS MIND. THE image of his falcon trapped in that hideous cage was like a knife through his chest.

  How could Song—how could anyone with a spirit animal themselves—do that?

  Anger threatened to overwhelm him. It had taken all his willpower to stop himself from charging the guards the moment Essix had been revealed.

  It would have been suicide, but at least it would have been something.

  Instead they’d agreed to this ordeal, which seemed just as suicidal.

  Rollan’s clothes stank of smoke, and he was sure half his eyebrows were gone from that first explosion. So what was next?

  He didn’t care. He’d get through it, get through all the dangers. He would save Essix.

  Jhi was tending Conor’s bleeding leg. The panda had licked it clean and the tear was now closed. Using Meilin as support, Conor tested his weight on the twisted ankle. The grimace of pain wasn’t exactly encouraging.

  Meilin took out her sword and sliced up her cloak. “We need to knot it up tightly. By locking it rigid, you’ll at least be able to walk.”

  Conor frowned. “The first test and we’re already handicapped.”

  “Hey, we’re still all here,” said Rollan. “I bet the rest will be easy.”

  “Really?” Meilin arched an eyebrow.

  “No. Probably perilous to the extreme, but you have to keep being positive, don’t you?”

  “You are truly impossible, Rollan.”

  He grinned at her. “And that’s why you like me.”

  He laughed as she blushed, and Conor rolled his eyes. “I’m in quite a lot of pain, so can we save the romantic banter for later? If there is a later.”

  Rollan saluted. “Yes, sir.”

  A mournful wind blew down the tunnel. Air whistled through narrow cracks, and the farther they went, the stronger the gusts became.

  Abeke was up ahead and she raised her hand. “Our next deadly danger is here.”

  Rollan stepped beside her. “Well. That’s quite a drop.”

  The cavern opened into a shaft, a wide one. Above them hung hundreds of stalactites of all shapes and sizes. Far below were their stalagmite siblings, looking unpleasantly spear-sharp.

  The gap between this side and the tunnel opening on the next had to be more than a hundred feet. The wind roared up through this strange, natural chimney. There was only one way across, and it made Rollan’s heart sink.

  Suspended above the spikes were a series of chains, arranged in pairs, with short wooden handles.

  Five trapezes. The only way across was to swing from one to the other, five times.<
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  The chains creaked in the wind. The nearest was a good ten feet away from them.

  “Are those … bones down there?” asked Conor.

  He was right. Even from this high up, Rollan saw the rotten clothes and shattered skeletons of those who’d tried crossing before them.

  He shook his head. “Even the best acrobat in the world couldn’t do it.”

  “We have to try,” insisted Conor.

  “We try and we’ll fail.” Rollan sat down on the ledge. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we just got down there and walked across? Then climbed up the other side?”

  Conor leaned over. “Now that you mention it, it would.”

  Rollan stood up. “Let’s do it.”

  Meilin looked over at Jhi. The panda peered over the edge, then sat down.

  Meilin smiled. “Yes, I know what you mean.”

  She brushed Jhi’s cheek and a moment later the panda was gone

  Rollan paused at the ledge. “I hate to say it, but Kovo would be handy right now. He could carry us on his back all the way across, no problem.”

  “If he were in a good mood.” Abeke was next to him, wiping her hands on her trousers. “And have you ever seen him in a good mood?”

  “Fair point. More likely he’d tear us limb from limb.”

  Abeke rubbed her hands together. “Who goes first?”

  “It was my idea.” Rollan sighed. “So I suppose I’d better.”

  Slowly, Rollan dropped down to a lower ledge. Even before the Greencloaks, he’d been climbing for years—buildings mainly—but in the end it was simply a case of making sure you relaxed. People got scared and tired themselves out by gripping so hard their hands ached. Rollan was careful to use his legs to support his weight, rather than his arms, in order to conserve his strength.

  He moved from ledge to ledge, constantly checking back to make sure the others were following him. Meilin and Conor moved carefully downward, following the same route as him, but Abeke took another path, using her flexibility and nimbleness to stretch and read the most minute holds. Soon she passed him, winking as she swung from one hold to another. The wind pulled at him, as if trying to tear him away from the stone. It hummed across the rough, rocky surface, tugging at his clothes. The air was cold and damp, and the rocks themselves were blemished with moss. Rollan avoided those—vegetation could come away—and kept his grip on the rock itself.

  His toes reached the tip of a stalagmite. Rollan carefully pushed away from the wall, leaping toward the column of stone. He grabbed onto the slippery stone and slid to a nearby foothold.

  “You took your time,” said Abeke, squatting on a rock with her chin on both fists.

  “I just wanted to enjoy the view,” he replied.

  She grimaced. “Some view.”

  The floor of the cavern was uneven, dense with the limestone spikes and wavy razor-edges of stone. Nasty.

  “Look there,” said Abeke. “On the ledge.”

  It was Lady Cranston.

  Rollan shinnied sideways across a jutting stalagmite and dropped down lightly.

  He leaned over. “Lady Cranston? Are you—”

  Her face was swollen, covered in large red lumps. Her fingers, too, were thick and puffy. No breath emerged.

  “It wasn’t the fall that killed her,” said Abeke, joining him with a single springing step.

  As Rollan’s eyes got used to the gloom, he noticed something moving.

  In fact, a lot of things were moving.

  The others clambered onto the remains of a shattered rock nearby. Abeke scowled as she gazed below her. “What is that? The floor seems to be alive.”

  It was. The ground seethed with ants. Among the stalagmites were huge mounds, homes to these creatures. They covered the floor of the cavern in their billions.

  Rollan brushed some inquisitive insects off the end of his boot, but one latched on. He felt its bite even through the leather before flicking it off.

  Suddenly he knew what had happened to Lady Cranston.

  Rollan drew the cloak back over her face.

  How many had come down here, over the many centuries? There were plenty of bones littering the bottom of the cavern. Who had these people been, once?

  All for the Dragon’s Eye. He was beginning to hate the relic. Was it worth the risk?

  It is, for Essix.

  Conor huffed loudly. “I thought it was too easy.”

  “We should have tried the chains,” said Meilin. “Better than getting eaten by these things.”

  “With Uraza I might have been able to jump it,” Abeke said. “But that wouldn’t have helped the rest of you much. We’re down here now, and we need to find a way across.”

  Rollan stared at Abeke. “What did you just say?”

  “We need to find a way across?” she replied, puzzled.

  “No, before that. About Uraza …” Rollan glanced upward. “How far is it to the ledge? Far enough that you could release Uraza there?”

  Abeke squinted. “It’s farther than I’ve ever sent her.…” she said. “But I think I could make it. Why?”

  Rollan held out his spear. “I have this. Conor’s got a staff. With Uraza’s help, Abeke could walk across, using these as stilts. It’s not far.”

  “Stilts?” Conor didn’t look convinced. “It’s far enough.”

  Rollan undid his belt and measured about three feet of spear. That would be enough to keep away from the ants. “It doesn’t matter. Give me your stick, Conor.”

  If Conor wasn’t convinced, then neither was Meilin. “And what are the rest of us meant to do?”

  “Ride on my back, of course!” said Abeke, brightening to the idea. “I’ll carry you over one at a time. Once I get you to the far wall, start climbing.”

  Abeke stretched out over the lip of the rock she was standing on, extending her arm as far as she dared. “Here goes …” There was a flash of brightness that illuminated the cave, revealing even more teeming ants than Rollan had realized were on the cavern floor.

  Uraza appeared on the far ledge. The leopard searched the rock around her, momentarily confused to find herself alone. Then she glanced down at Abeke and the others, far below in the pit. Uraza keened nervously, stalking back and forth across the ledge.

  “We’ll be there in a moment!” Abeke called up. “But I need your help, girl. Every bit of grace you can give me!”

  Uraza sank to her stomach, staring hard at Abeke with her violet eyes.

  “There is no way this is going to work,” said Conor. But he handed over his staff and helped Rollan tie it to Abeke’s leg. The girls lent scarves, and after a few minutes Abeke had the spear and the staff strapped to her legs. Both were tied on at two places, once at the foot and the other just below the knee.

  “Knot them as tightly as you can,” Abeke instructed. “They’ve got to take the weight of two of us without me sliding down.”

  “Got it,” said Conor, adding an extra knot.

  Rollan double-checked with a pull. It all looked good. “Lift her up.”

  The ants rippled around the base of the stilts as Abeke was tilted into the air. She swung her arms around in circles as she steadied herself.

  She swayed wildly for a moment, the sticks clattering as she tried to keep standing. Rollan worried she wouldn’t be able to walk the whole distance in one go, but then with a deep breath, her footing grew steadier.

  “Lightest first,” she said, still clinging to Rollan’s fingers.

  Meilin shuffled closer. “I might as well get this over and done with.”

  “Up onto my shoulders,” Abeke said.

  “Do you think you can carry me?”

  “Only one way to find out,” she replied cheerfully. Rollan didn’t need Essix’s help to see that she was trying to hide her fear.

  “Nice and easy, Abeke,” said Conor. “Just get your balance first.”

  Meilin settled herself, with the help of Conor.

  The knots slid an inch, but held.

 
; If he hadn’t been so terrified, Rollan would have laughed. He helped Abeke to turn around, so she was at least facing the right way. With any luck she’d stumble just far enough to drop Meilin to the ledge.

  Ants crunched under each step. Rollan could see a few latch on, digging their mandibles into the hard wood.

  Abeke looked as if she was sweating already, but she took a few more steps. “This must be how the rest of you feel all the time,” she joked. “I’ll never laugh at you for tripping ever again.”

  “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” said Meilin, perched on her shoulders.

  Rollan couldn’t disagree.

  Step, stumble, trip. The stilts clacked and crunched across the floor. By moving slowly, Abeke could make it to one rock, rest against it a few moments, then push herself toward the next, zigzagging her way across.

  It was working.

  A cheer from Meilin announced that they’d made it. She wriggled off, accidentally kicking Uraza’s head in her scramble to get up onto the narrow ledge.

  Abeke turned around.

  “I might just be getting the hang of this!” Freed of the weight of another person, she crossed back to the boys in half the time. “You next, Rollan.”

  Rollan nodded, took a deep breath, and climbed up. “Hope all these muscles don’t weigh you down too much.”

  Trip, trip, slip, and stumble, but now that Abeke knew the route, she made quicker time. Rollan tried not to be offended that his weight didn’t seem to bother her. Sooner than last time, they were by the opposite wall. Abeke had even managed to bypass one of the stopping points.

  Rollan attempted a bit more grace than Meilin had mustered while climbing the ledge. He failed. By the time he was seated beside Uraza, Abeke had already made it back to Conor.

  “Come on,” she said.

  Conor paused. Rollan realized that the Euran boy was probably the heaviest of all of them. With a shrug, Conor slowly climbed up.

  Abeke almost collapsed. “Empty those rocks from your pockets first!”

  “I haven’t got any!”

  The knots slipped another inch or two.

  “Then how can you be that heavy?”

  Conor sniffed. “Muscle mass. Now giddy-up.”

  Off they went, but with each step the knots loosened some more. Even worse, Rollan could see that the scarf on Abeke’s left foot was unraveling faster, tilting the two perilously to one side. Conor tried to compensate by clambering more onto Abeke’s right shoulder.