by Adam Blade
I fly into the low clouds with Gulkien. Nera runs below.
Now we charge straight into the mouth of a deep blackness. The hills grow rocky again. The grass thins, and stone ruins, thick with ivy and over-growth, litter the open valley below. This is an old country. There are many memories and ghosts here, but no one remembers their names.
As I soar across the valley, scattering a herd of deer and a flock of emperor geese, I think about Tanner. I should have known. I sensed the gift from that old woman contained something from the past — I should have warned him somehow. My scar, the old wound, was tied to that blood. Blood collected for Anoret and stolen by Derthsin. How did he get it? But what does it matter now? All I know is that my blood flows in Tanner’s veins.
Ahead, a narrow valley rises to a dark rock face, split with deep, leering holes, like honeycomb or empty skull sockets. The Southern Caves, where the piece of mask awaits. Atop the black rock is a ruined castle of turrets and crumbling walls. Moss and vines cling to it. We near the caves, and Tanner’s fingers tighten on my feathers. The castle wall once enclosed the entire mountain summit. Now, it is slowly fading back into the natural rock: The castle’s pale stone blocks, once straight and sharp, are rounded to stumps by wind, rain, and time.
The wind whips strongly, and I take a deep breath. I smell rank, wet fur: varkules. Many of them. Derthsin’s soldiers are close…. And there is something else, something I recognize, something ancient.
I land on an outcropping of the largest cave.
The mouth of the cave was jagged and black. As Tanner climbed off Firepos and stepped into the opening, his footsteps echoed loudly, deep into the mountain.
Our Beasts brought us here, Tanner thought. The piece of the mask must be buried in the belly of this cavern. They’d already lost two pieces of the mask to Derthsin. It was more important than ever to retrieve the third piece, lying here. If Derthsin got all four pieces, he’d have power over the Beasts — and through them, over Avantia. In there, in the dark, lay Tanner’s only hope of defeating the evil warrior.
The walls of black rock were shiny and reflective, like murky glass. The cave tunnel was huge, and tiny breaks in the ceiling cast narrow shafts of daylight. Tanner could see perfectly. Castor and Gwen joined him, followed by Nera, Firepos, and Gulkien. The cave was big enough for the Beasts to move freely.
“This is it?” Castor said. His voice echoed into the cave. “The place where the next piece of the mask lies?”
Tanner glanced at the scrap of red linen around his wrist: a reminder of Esme and times when the world was simpler. For his grandmother’s sake, he could not give up now.
“I think so. We have to hurry,” he whispered. “Come on.”
Tanner led them into the mountain. Their weapons rattled, and their footsteps seemed to thunder in the darkness. As they turned a corner, the cave grew warmer, as if they were entering a house with a wood-burning furnace. Strange, thought Tanner. It’s usually cooler underground. The tunnel forked.
“Which way?” Gwen asked.
Something rattled, echoing out of the right-side tunnel. Castor froze. Tanner and Gwen ran to him, the Beasts following.
“What did you do?” Tanner hissed.
Castor shook his head. “Nothing.”
Rattle-snap. The sound brought a flash of memory to Tanner: Grandmother Esme’s oracle bones. They were yellow cubes, worn black at the edges and painted with tiny, foreign symbols. She had tossed them in a ceramic plate with crushed leaves and uncooked beans. “They read messages in the wind and dirt,” Grandmother Esme had once said. “Oracle bones are always looking for the future. We just have to learn to hear them.” She had shaken the bones, made them rattle and bounce — just like the sound they could hear now.
It echoed again.
Castor reached for his sword. Gwen slipped her hands into her cloak and drew two axes, the blades angled down. As quietly as he could, Tanner pulled his sword and nodded to them. Carefully, he led them into the passage.
I don’t understand, Tanner thought. Who would search for the future here?
We follow our Chosen Riders into the deep caves. The tunnel narrows, and Gulkien brushes against Nera. She growls and drags her claws along the floor. The sound grates loudly until Gulkien grunts and constricts his wings — they twist and disappear into his shoulders.
Castor glares and shakes his head at Nera.
Gulkien’s yellow eyes flick back, looking for me. Yes, I know what he senses — I can feel it, too. The light is dimmer here, but I am calm as we form a line: Nera, then Gulkien, and me at the rear. Long ago, men died in this cave. I can feel death here, but I am not afraid.
The floor of the tunnel drops, and there are lumpy formations on the ceiling, as if the rock had been alive once. I know we are going the right way. Someone is close.
Tanner led the way through the darkness. He could hear Castor and Gwen running their hands along the wall. He knew that Castor kept his sword poised; Gwen held her ax low and steady. Tanner creeped down the center of the tunnel, clutching the hilt of his own sword. The close air reminded him of the armory, of running and screaming and the chaos of falling stone. Even as the light drained, his vision adjusted, squeezing the thin light into gray and white shadows. Behind him, Gulkien and Nera growled restlessly at each other again.
Gwen whispered, “Do they know something we don’t?”
Firepos hadn’t made a noise. Tanner looked back at her: She was watching him with steady, bright eyes. He waited for a message but nothing came. “Maybe,” he said. He saw a faint, flickering glow around the corner ahead.
“Oh, come on,” Castor said. “Do you really think whoever’s down here is watching for us?” A beam of blue light, as thin as a stick, flashed at Castor’s head.
Tanner shoved him. “Get down!”
The wall smashed around the light in a spray of rock and dust. Gwen ducked into the center of the tunnel as more of the wall fell in. Rock slabs crashed, breaking in a jumbled pile. She raised her ax. Nera leaped over the rockfall, with Gulkien and Firepos right behind her. Tanner saw Firepos’s wide eyes and tense, sudden movements.
Castor pulled away from Tanner, and shouted, “Show yourself!”
Silence. Tanner could only hear his own panting breath and the rustle of Firepos’s feathers. The whites of Gwen’s eyes shone in the darkness.
Castor cupped a hand to his mouth. “You coward!”
Another beam shot at him. He dove under it, rolling, and the light flashed into the ceiling behind them. Black rock exploded down, shaking the tunnel.
“Run!” Tanner shouted, pointing to the glow of light ahead. “That way!”
Behind them, the ceiling collapsed; the roof fissure gaped and cracked toward them. In another moment, the whole tunnel might fall.
Castor shouted, “Are you crazy?” The ceiling gave in a rushing black wave behind them. “That’s where the attack came from!”
“We don’t have a choice!” Gwen said. “Go!”
As the tunnel smashed around them, Firepos rushed to Tanner. He grabbed Firepos’s wing and leaped onto her back in one movement. A blue beam flashed past Tanner’s face, striking the wall. Rock cracked and exploded, and as Tanner neared the light, the tunnel widened: It opened into a vast, airy cavern of shiny black rock. Veins of silver ran through the black floor, and stumpy formations of white and green quartz clustered up the walls to a hole in the center of the ceiling that opened to cloudy daylight. There was another tunnel on the far wall.
There was no sign of the Mask of Death. Instead, crouched at the center of the cavern, was a boy.
As Tanner, Gwen, Castor, and the Beasts rushed into the open space, a wall of black rock cascaded in behind them.
The boy got to his feet. His clothes were mud-streaked, and through shredded holes, Tanner could see his ribs and bony joints. Long, filthy hair hung down his face.
“Keep away from me!” the boy called, and he raised both hands, palms open. His fingers glowe
d blue, and as the light brightened and swelled into his palms, he shouted, “I won’t go back!”
The blue light was blinding, and Tanner covered his eyes, yelling, “Stop!” He held a hand out and slowly approached the boy. “We’re not here to harm you.”
“I don’t believe you!” the boy screeched. Blue beams blasted out of his hands. Tanner tried to duck, but it was too late. He found himself surrounded by a halo of blue light and his feet gently lifted from the ground, until only his toes connected with the packed earth. With a sigh of air he was lifted higher in the cave, floating in midair, looking down on his friends.
Gwen screamed and Castor called out angrily, “Let him down, for Avantia’s sake!”
The boy looked as surprised as everyone else. Tanner floated weightlessly in the air as the Beasts hissed and roared.
I’ll make him stop! Firepos sent a message thrumming through the damp cave air to Tanner.
“No!” Tanner called out. Firepos’s powers, running in his veins, meant he felt nothing but curiosity as he hung in the air. He glanced to one side and shot out a hand to snap a stalactite from the roof of the cave. He brandished it in both fists, holding it before his chest, the point aiming down toward the boy.
Down on the ground, the boy looked nervous. “What are you going to do?” he asked. The beam of light that he had trained on Tanner began to flicker.
“I’m going to let go of this and it will pierce your heart,” Tanner said. Then he cocked his head on one side, pretending to think. “Or you could lower me back down, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”
“Do it!” Castor hissed. “You little fool.”
Gwen was staring straight at the boy. She gave him a small, forgiving nod.
The boy began to flex his fingers, as though loosening them. The light wavered even more and Tanner felt his body sinking through the air until his feet landed in small clouds of dust back on the cave floor. The Beasts watched carefully, licking their fangs.
Tanner brushed himself off and stepped up to shake the boy by the hand. Smiling uncertainly, he reached out to grasp Tanner’s open palm. But as his trembling fingers encased Tanner’s, Tanner twisted his arm around, ducking under the boy’s armpit so that he was suddenly behind him and the boy had his arm awkwardly stretched up behind his back. One tug on his shoulder and Tanner could dislocate it. He brought the point of the stalactite to press against the boy’s tunic, next to his heart.
“Don’t ever use your magic on me again,” he hissed in the boy’s ear.
“I won’t, I promise!” The boy was openly weeping now.
Castor laughed. “What a coward.” Gwen sent Castor a long look, warning him to be quiet.
“I can handle this,” Tanner said quietly. He waited a moment more and then let the boy go, pushing him forward so that he staggered and fell.
“It’s all right,” Gwen said, bending to help him back to his feet. “Like we said, we mean you no harm. I’m Gwen — this is Tanner and Castor. What’s your name? We haven’t come here to hurt you or take you anywhere.”
The boy looked past her, giving Tanner an accusing look. “You already have hurt me.”
“Oh, come on!” Castor scoffed. “You deserved that.”
“Who are you?” the boy asked, ignoring Castor.
“We could ask you the same thing,” Castor said. “You almost killed Tanner.” He shrugged. “Though some people might thank you for that.”
He’s my age, Tanner realized. The stranger was the same height as Tanner. He could see that under the filth and around the frayed sleeves, the boy’s tunic was dyed blue — the same color worn by the people of Hartwell. The tunic was ragged with holes, through which Tanner could see red welts, black bruises, and ugly scabs covering the boy’s back and shoulders. This is what Derthsin’s hate has done, Tanner thought.
“Let’s start our introductions again, shall we? We fled Hartwell, too,” Tanner said. “We went there for help, and —”
“We found a bunch of hysterical idiots instead,” Castor said, and he pointed his sword at the boy. “You still haven’t told us your name.”
“It’s Rufus.”
Before Castor could speak again, Gwen asked, “It’s all right, Rufus. Why are you here?”
“I didn’t have a choice; they tried to kill me,” he said. “Because of …” Rufus held up his fists. “This. The magic. It just happened. One morning, everything changed — I had magic in my hands, could channel it in my fingers.”
“And shoot it at people,” Castor said. “And lift them up in the air!”
“I’m sorry. I thought you were from Hartwell.”
“Well, we can understand why that would make you nervous,” Tanner said. “We’ve seen for ourselves that they don’t like anyone who’s different.”
Their Beasts moved into the cavern, circling, as if they were searching for something through narrow chinks of light from the cavern ceiling. Rufus watched, his brow furrowed, but he didn’t back away as most Avantians would. Gulkien came to the center of the cavern, but when Gwen reached out to him, the Wolf Beast continued toward Rufus.
As the Beasts approached Rufus, Tanner said, “It’s all right, they won’t hurt you.” But he needn’t have bothered. Rufus reached to stroke Gulkien’s snout, and when Firepos craned her head down, Rufus patted the flickering feathers of her neck. This, despite the hostility the Beasts had just seen between Rufus and the others. Gwen smiled back at Tanner and Castor.
Are they attracted to his magic — to whatever energy he has in his hands? Tanner wondered.
“Here,” Gwen said, and she opened her pack to offer Rufus a handful of dried meat and carrots. “We don’t have much, but you need to eat.”
“Thank you!” Smiling, Rufus eagerly grabbed the food and ate. While Gwen laughed and rummaged for more, Tanner noticed a black stone altar set into the side wall, beside a mound of bones. There were tiny skulls in the heap. Rats, Tanner thought. Has Rufus been sacrificing them?
Tanner went to the altar. A blue cloth covered lumpy objects on top. Carefully, he pulled back part of the cloth. A simple plate full of oracle bones — covered with blue symbols, like Hilda’s tattoos — was arranged in front of a row of glass bottles filled with yellow, red, blue, and silver liquids with black bubbles that swam. Next to these was a shrunken rabbit’s foot, an iron mirror with a worn, engraved handle, and a narrow, sharp knife.
“My grandmother had things like this,” Tanner said.
Rufus moved over to a rock formation. “I have another weapon, too.” He pulled out a heavy wooden staff, carved with the scales and the head of a serpent. A curved blade was fixed to the top, like a scythe.
Tanner pulled back more of the sheet: At the back of the altar was a colored wooden etching — the face of a girl with long red hair, full lips, and inquisitive eyes. Isadora, the girl from the Winding River. Tanner shook his head. “I don’t understand. That girl is —”
“That’s my sister,” Rufus said. “I left her when I had to flee for my life. I can only pray that she’s survived.”
“She’s still alive,” Tanner said. “We met her, after we left Hartwell.”
Castor said, “The villagers —”
“The villagers let her go,” Tanner said. “Isadora is going to Colton.” He tried to put the etching back but it slipped, pulling away the blue cloth, knocking things onto the floor: bottles, a beaded necklace.
“I’m sorry,” Tanner said, “I didn’t mean to …”
One of the fallen objects made him gasp. I don’t believe it. Tanner shivered. A curl of stained leather in the outline of an eye, and the ridge to cover a person’s nose. He glanced at Castor and Gwen. They were both frozen, watching the leather fragment.
“Rufus,” Tanner said, “where did you get this?”
“What?” Rufus stepped beside him. “Oh, the Watching Mask. It was fixed to the skull above the gate at Hartwell, to protect the village. If I’m afraid, I wanted them to be afraid, too. It’s childi
sh, I know. I took it so they would panic when they saw that it was gone.”
Castor laughed as he joined Gwen beside Tanner. “It was in Hartwell the whole time. On their gate!”
Carefully, Tanner picked up the piece of the mask. The texture was coarse, and there were black discolorations from years of rain and wind.
“I don’t understand,” Rufus said. “You act like you know what this is.”
“This isn’t a Watching Mask. It’s a piece of the Mask of Death,” Tanner said. “There are three other pieces. General Gor has two of them.”
Rufus’s eyes widened and Tanner noticed the pulse quicken in the boy’s neck. “The Mask of Death,” he murmured, repeating Tanner’s words. “I’ve heard of such a thing.”
Tanner said, “There’s a reason the world seems to be destroying itself and why your people tried to kill you. The warlord Derthsin is using them. He has armies, soldiers, and spies everywhere. If he ever gets all four pieces of the mask” — Tanner held up the leather fragment — “Avantia will be ruined. He’ll gain control over the kingdom’s Beasts and no one will be able to resist him. He’s already tearing towns and villages apart. With the Beasts’ powers behind him, he’ll be unstoppable. He will tear out whatever is good in this world and twist and torture the rest. And he’ll laugh while he does it.”
“He’s evil,” Castor said, and to Tanner, “Can we go now?”
“Rufus, I want you to join us,” Tanner said.
Gwen nodded. “I agree.”
“Wait a second,” Castor said. “Since when do we need someone else?”
“You’re strong,” Tanner told Rufus, ignoring Castor. “If you weren’t, you would be dead now. We saw what you can do with your power — that could be the difference between victory and defeat.”
Castor pulled Tanner and Gwen aside. He shoved Tanner in the chest. “Are you crazy? We can’t take him with us! He can’t even control his own hands!”
“Don’t push me again, Castor.”
“It’s fine,” Rufus called. “I want to come with you. I can’t stay here, and if I can get out of here maybe I will see Isadora again.”