Sekali, "The Sister City"
Chapter 75
Finyat was barely able to see as he crept through the tunnel, but that was not the problem. All he had to do was slow down and take his time. No mistakes was always the goal. It was the bones that unnerved Finyat badly; the side of a skull, a backbone, or all that was left of one, attached to broken ribs bearing deep teeth marks. It told him of horrific death wrought upon each and every creature that either ventured down here, or was brought down here, caught by whatever stalked the deeper caves he was headed into.
Slowly making his way down through the cave, which became more spacious as he crept along, Finyat often froze in place at the sound of even an insect scuttling along the rocks before him, terrified of its sudden approach. He watched a hand-sized beetle with a long horn-like snout squeal and clamber away from him, after he’d mistakenly placed his hand upon its back. But what was ahead, down in this dark corridor, would not be so merciful as to let him go if he were caught.
Stopping, Finyat removed a pouch from some hidden pocket of his cloak and opened it. Within, lay a number of vials smaller than his smallest finger.
“Vessen.” He whispered softly, and the light changed color from an almost black to red.
He pulled his cloak about him and up over his head, so that he was inside it. Within the cloak, he thumbed through a few vials of musk scent. Pinewood? No. Roses? No. Rotten log, wolf hair, frog? No, no, no. He continued to search the vials until finally he found the most appropriate one needed: Earthen Soil Musk. That was the one. Removing it from the case, he gently twisted the cork from the vial with his teeth. He poured half of it into the palm of his hand, recapped the vial and dropped it into the pouch and laid it on the ground. He then slowly rubbed his hands together, patted his face and hair, and many other points about his body until he was satisfied that he’d covered himself with the musk. He licked his hands and swallowed ; the taste was no better than eating dirt. Using some of the draughts he carried made him queasy. But better queasy than to end up in the belly of some horror. The thought of being suddenly chewed and swallowed made him grimace. That would not do . . . no, no, not at all. Control; that was the key . . . control. He tied the pouch securely and replaced it within its pocket in his cloak.
“Vessen.” He softly whispered once again, and the light of the orb changed again to just brighter than a blackened light. Adjusting his cloak once more, he checked for his poisoned darts. They were there, and that gave him courage.
Slowly he stood and loaded a toxin dart; a natural spine removed from the Toxin Cactus. The long quill was old, yet he knew no less deadly than when he took it from the dreaded plant in the Southern Crystal Desert back on the mainland. One prick would send almost any creature to its grave in a short time. He used one on the dredgeworm while on the Harbringer, and one on the dragonling. Its effect on the latter, to his disappointment, had not killed it. But that was good to know.
Holding the orb in the palm of his hand, he shielded its dim rays from giving away his position, as he began to creep in silence further down into the tunnel, making sure to manipulate his motions in utmost silence. It was not long before he’d worked his way far into the tunnel and up into a large entrance to another massive chamber.
He stopped at the entrance and waited, a feeling of warning suddenly clawing at his mind. For some reason he dared not move, nor explore it further . . . yet. And it was a good thing he had waited, for after a few minutes a large gray-scaled dragon moved within the cave. It was perfectly camouflaged to the background of stone it was sitting against. He knew it for the breed it was; a Hunter Dragon. This one was an assassin: stealthy and superb at tracking and hiding; greedy in its lust for dominance and treasure.
He should have turned back at that point, but he took the nature of the dragon as a personal challenge and found himself creeping into the cavern as he readied his blowpipe. This would be his crowning achievement . . . well, until he stole an entire kingdom (which he always wanted to do).
He worked his way back to the opposite end of the cavern, and to the backside of the dragon, which was picking at the carcass of an old kill, stripping it hungrily to get at the drying meat, still attached to the skeletal remains. A thrumming began to fill the cave as the great Hunter Dragon worked the carcass of its remaining shreds of flesh, in its feverish desire to feed.
Scanning nearby ledges and the darker corners of the massive cave, Finyat noticed an almost vertical shaft at the top of the center-point of the cavern. No doubt the shaft led up and out onto the mountain, where the dragon would hunt.
A loud snap caused Finyat to be as still as the stone under his feet. With a low rumbling growl, the dragon ripped the body of its victim to pieces, trying to get into the parts where there was were scraps of meat and cartilage. It growled feverishly, ripping the great body of the carcass into a dozen pieces, and then raised its head and sniffed a few times. Shaking its head, like a dog that had gotten water in its ears, the massive gray-scaled beast settled down and once again began steadily picking at the remains.
Again returning his attention to the area he had to work with, Finyat gritted his teeth and grinned. He had his eye fixed above the dragon, where the chamber formed into a tunnel leading out. He had to explore that area; get the best advantage over the Dragon, which always hoarded treasure and precious gold. He could not see even one copper coin anywhere, but he knew the nature of this breed; he’d studied them when he was growing up, collecting bits of information continuously. They were collectors, and smart about it; a very suspicious lot, thinking other dragons would be out to get their treasure, like the dog that guards its dish of food, even when its not hungry. He would have to search the caves later . . . if things went well.
Moving under the opening, he looked up into the tunnel above the dragon, suspecting that all the treasure this overgrown reptile owned was stashed up in that area. Finyat capped his blowpipe slowly at both ends, making secure the Toxin Thorn would stay in the blowpipe. Very slowly he slipped it back into a long, slim, pocket within his cloak and secured it carefully. Perspiration began to moisten his temples, even in the chill of the cave, as he crept ever so slowly to a great pillar of rock closest to the tunnel above and began to scale its rough surface expertly. Up he climbed, like a patient spider, ascending until he finally crept over the steep ledge that was an exit of the dragon’s lair, all the while hearing the sounds of the dragon breathing through its nose as bones snapped and a crunching sound echoed through the cavern. The smell of this place was beginning to turn Finyat’s stomach.
Once he had explored the cave above, far up the large tunnel, he smiled to think the dragon, in its comings and goings, had loosed many rocks and boulders, setting itself a trap of its own making. Finyat shook his head, thinking to himself just how stupid and prideful dragons could be.
Inching his way up the steep incline, Finyat finally spotted the place that offered him his opportunity. A large boulder set high up on an outcropping of rock above. Surveying the mass of rocks that sat partially secured within the bottom part of the cave, he decided to give it a try. If this failed he would climb out of this tunnel and head north, over the mountains by himself and try to find the exit his comrades would take out of the mountains.
Positioning himself behind a large rock, far up in the tunnel, he thought for a moment as he contemplated the intelligence of this very large lizard. If it heard a rumbling from above, it might clear out from beneath the opening instinctively. He would have to bait it up into the tunnel where it would meet the falling debris; it was the only sure way. This one single rock could kill it if it struck just right; it would cripple it if not, and that was a reassuring thought. Either way, he knew he had to get the dragon up into the cave.
Frozen in his indecision, Finyat thought twice on what he was about to attempt. If it failed it would be difficult to escape the dragon’s wrath . . . but possible. He just needed to keep a calm mind about this, swallow the instinctive panic that was beginning to well up within him. Quickly he equipped his hand claws and strapped another set upon his feet. With these on, he could traverse practically impossible angles, and even scale walls of sheer ice. All was set and he was committed to this daring deed.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and yelled, “Vessen!” He coiled the long chain up into the palm of his hand as silence filled the cavern below. He waited for the space of ten breaths, placing his feet against the rock, and leaned far to the left, watching the tunnel below. He saw nothing; the orb was too bright for him to see into the darkness beyond. This was not good. Quickly he threw it out into the darkness, watching it fall. It descended into the depths of the almost vertical tunnel below, falling as if in slow motion. As it descended brightly, he watched the illumination of its light reach all sides of the tunnel.
“Come on, you want it! Take it!” He taunted the dragon openly, even as doubt began to fill his mind. Finyat felt horror begin to creep into his mind and body, and paled. But just before the orb struck the incline below, the wickedly taloned hand of the dragon shot out, catching the brightly illuminated orb. He could see the dragon now, just upon the ledge overlooking the cavern below where it had been feeding. It blinked at the brilliantly shining orb, squinting at its brightness, growling.
Finyat heaved against the boulder with all his might and strength. The boulder came loose too easily, sending Finyat down with it. Slipping almost in a sudden free fall, Finyat twisted and used his hands and feet to catch himself. He peered down as the boulder fell free, striking the incline once and sending it into a spin, as it hurtled down at the dragon.
The dragon closed its massive claws about the orb and blinked, squinting up into the tunnel, temporarily blinded by the sudden light of the orb. It did not see the boulder descending, and as the great rock fell, the dragon gripped the sides of the cave, tucked its wings in close and pulled itself through. As it heaved angrily upward, the weight of the boulder struck it full in the face, sending the dragon crashing down into the cave from whence it came.
All Finyat heard was the dragon grunt as the boulder struck; nothing more. The cave shuddered as many rocks followed the first, tumbling in a roar down through the opening.
Then there was an absolute silence.