Page 61 of The Queens and the Kings
Wagons and other lubbers dotted the road, but offered no greetings. Roots ran deep in these hills, and strangers had noplace. She passed vineyards first, then farmlands, heading closer to the now not-so-distant mountains.
Britt had never ventured to Wyvern Hills, as the lubbers called it, which was a collection of small mountains. Their jagged peaks formed an oval, with steep ridges impossible to climb. The daunting heights and shale fields kept vagrants out. An ideal place for recalcitrant and wild creatures.
As she approached, the shrieks and unhappy screams of wyverns grew with punctuated strength. The raw, visceral sounds sent chills through her bones and blood.
Head bent, she pressed on.
The flourishing fields became rocky places. Rich soil turned to time-worn dirt trails. The road petered into a foot trail, and the sun beat hot overhead. Her throat ached with thirst. Bursts of dirt and guttural sounds stirred behind the rocks, interrupted by screams and low-toned growls.
Wyverns.
Seeing them in the air was one thing. Finding them here? Another, far more serious. At the base of a giant rock, Britt paused in a sliver of shade. An archway stretched overhead, funneling her into a carefully curated cave. The well-worn footpath split to the left, angling around the mountains and into hills and valleys along the north. Sheshouldtake that route, clearly more trodden.
The other led to a black hole with a skull and an X drawn over it. The message was clear.
Don’t enter.
Another roar sounded from within the interior of the broad oval, tapering to a purr. The warning noise reverberated through the rocks. She froze. Did the sound come from directly overhead?
When nothing snapped her up with powerful jaws, she dredged up the courage to look around. Nothing in sightaccounted for the roar. Whatever made the noises was behind these mountains. Or, perhaps, within? Presumably, this cave led to tunnels that wound throughout the behemoth structure, changing the sound environment entirely. It would be disorienting, but necessary.
Britt continued into the cave. The winnowing doorway led into a dark passage so small she had to crouch. After inching her way forward, it widened considerably. Hesitating, she strode within. From what little light fell inside, she saw tunnels branched to all sides. Broad, thin, small. They angled and changed at random, leading to the central spot of exit through which she had entered.
Somanytunnels.
Tentatively, she ventured toward the closest and wandered inside. After twenty steps, it stopped. Dusty, wrinkled blankets and a shelf with a stubby candle waited at the end. A bedroom, was it? She returned to the starting point and followed the next trail. It ended in nothing.
Others winnowed to arches she couldn’t fit through. Another stretched into sheer black, moving sideways. Denerfen flew ahead of her, returning with a low mewl that indicated it, too, was impassable.
Frustrated, she returned to the main passage and continued her exploration through each option. Day continued on, filled with intermittent wyvern sounds as she attempted, fruitlessly, to find her way through. Denerfen, more disheartened with each stop, drooped on her shoulder.
“If it were easy, Den,” she murmured, comforted by the sound of her own voice, “then anyone would do this.”
What felt like hours later, they found a passageway tall enough to walk upright. No dripping water escorted them or sloshed at her feet, like others. Denerfen sprawled across her shoulders, making a feeble, annoyed sound.
“I know,” she muttered. “This is a lost cause. We’ve been here for hours already.”
A very distant pinprick of light was her only connection to the outside. If they ventured much farther, the mountain would cover it. She’d have no orientation. Britt hesitated, heart in her throat. What was she doing here?
This was pointless.
General Helsing asked for answers about the wyvern presence in Kapurnick, but the wyverns couldn’t speak. Unless she planned to track down and meet with a wyvern Keeper—which she didn’t—then this had been a waste of time.
Denerfen’s feet kneaded into her shoulder, a sure sign he meant to jump. She put up a hand to stop him.
“No, Den. It’s not safe.”
He ignored her, leaping over her hand and fluttering away. Britt rooted to the spot for a moment, reassured only by a funnel of air that swept deeper into the tunnel. It would send her smell to him. He’d be able to guide by that. Besides, draguls could see in the dark.
She waited, growls and rumbles trembling in the air.
One minute.
Five.
“Den?” she called. Her voice sounded feeble.
He chirped.
