Muse (Tales of Silver Downs Book 1) (27 page)

"We're trapped?" Rhiwallon asked.

"There must be a hidden lever or button," Diarmuid said, although he didn't sound like he believed his own words.

Owain managed to deposit me onto the ground, then he began running his hands over the earthen wall. I pressed my nose to the base of the wall, searching for anything that looked different. I searched the floor also but found nothing unusual in the hard-packed earth.

"We must be missing something," Diarmuid said.

"Could it be up higher?" Rhiwallon asked.

We all looked up. The roof of this tunnel did seem much higher than the others.

"But what would be the point in putting it out of our reach?" she asked.

"Maybe that's the whole point," Diarmuid said. "Another test."

We all craned our necks, eyes straining with the effort to trying to see something which was intended to be invisible. I worked my way methodically along the wall, starting from the edge near the dragon's door. Everyone kept getting in my way and obscuring my view, and I let out a loud yelp when Rhiwallon stood on my paw. She muttered an apology.
 

Owain picked me up and I wriggled around in his arms to gain a higher purchase. When he realised what I was doing, he held me up over his head. My tail quivered at being up so high but his hands gripped my ribs firmly so I tried to ignore my unease and focus on my task.

It was easier to scan the walls now that I had an uninterrupted view but even so, I could see nothing unusual. I let out a frustrated growl.

"Keep trying, Bramble," Owain said. He squeezed past Rhiwallon, which was only possible if they both turned sideways, to let me inspect the far end of the wall.

"This is hopeless." Rhiwallon sank down to sit cross-legged on the floor. "Titania wants us to rot in here."

"Can't give up now," Owain said.

"Well, what are we supposed to do? We've checked every inch of that blasted wall. There's nothing there. We're trapped in here until she decides to let us out. And what if she doesn't?"

My stomach rumbled loudly, a reminder that it had been many hours since we had eaten. And it had been so long since we ran out of water that I wasn't even thirsty anymore. We were all exhausted and covered in muck from the dead beast. We couldn't go on like this for much longer.

My eyes were sore from straining so hard but I kept searching. There had to be a way out of here. The fey wouldn't lead us here for no reason. I checked the last section of wall, right above the door that would lead us somewhere else, but there was nothing. I sighed and Owain started to bring me down. But just as he moved, I spotted something. It was the shallowest of depressions, just a slight dip in the otherwise smooth wall, and I only saw it because I was on exactly the right angle.

I wuffed and he froze.

"Do you see something?" he asked.

I barked and he held me back up high again.
 

Whatever I was looking at was almost out of my sight and certainly out of reach. Even if Owain were to lift Diarmuid, he wouldn't be able to reach it. But how could we check whether this was the key to opening the door if we couldn't touch it?

Diarmuid and Rhiwallon crowded around Owain and all three craned their necks.

"I can't see anything," Diarmuid admitted at last.

"Me either," Owain said. He continued to hold me up over his head and I kept my gaze fixed on the indentation, fearful of not being able to find it again if I even so much as blinked.

"I think I see something," Rhiwallon said. "It might be nothing though and it's too high up."

"I could lift you," Owain said.

"I still wouldn't be able to reach it."

I was close to despair. We were hungry and thirsty and tired and now it seemed the final key we needed was positioned deliberately far out of our reach.

"Could you push it with an arrow?" Diarmuid asked.

Rhiwallon shook her head. "No, it's easily three times my height. I couldn't even get close. Unless…" She tipped her head to the side, still considering the indentation.

Owain's fingers were beginning to dig into my ribs uncomfortably. I wiggled and he lowered me, clutching me to his chest once more. Now that Rhiwallon had also seen the indentation, I was less afraid of not being able to find it again.

Rhiwallon stared up at the mark I had spotted, one hand on the quiver at her hip. I understood where her thoughts were heading and my heart thudded faster. It could work.
 

Slowly, Rhiwallon drew an arrow from her quiver. With the other hand, she reached for her bow.

"That's impossible," Diarmuid said.

Rhiwallon shrugged. "I'll just keep shooting until I hit it. I need some room though. And watch for the arrows as they fall. We don't need any injuries right now."
 

Owain and Diarmuid moved to the other end of the tunnel. Rhiwallon nocked the arrow and drew it back, lifting the bow to aim.

Diarmuid was right: it
was
an impossible shot. But I had seen Rhiwallon take down a running hare with a single arrow that pierced right through the eye. As she took aim, I held my breath.

Rhiwallon released the arrow and it sprang up, almost too fast for my eyes to follow. The arrow knocked the wall and vanished.
 

"What happened?" Owain asked.

"Where did it go?" Diarmuid said.

Rhiwallon's face was pale. "It disappeared as soon as it hit the wall."

A long moment of silence followed her words. I was so very tired. After all we had been through, it seemed unfair that we should encounter such a charm now.

"How many arrows do you have?" Diarmuid asked, at last.

"I carry five," she said.

"Four left," Owain said.

Rhiwallon nodded. "Four left." She took another arrow from her quiver. "Might as well get on with it."

I couldn't quite see the indentation from my perch in Owain's arms but the first arrow had hit close. Under other circumstances, I had no doubt that Rhiwallon would have hit her target. But the tunnel was dimly-lit and she was shooting on an extremely steep angle to a tiny target far above her head. Close would not be good enough.

Rhiwallon nocked the arrow and aimed. Once again the arrow hit very near to the indentation and silently disappeared. She immediately took out a third arrow, set it in place, and fired, all in the time it took me to draw a single breath. Again, the arrow disappeared.

Rhiwallon hissed.

"You can do it," Owain said gently.
 

Rhiwallon turned and shot him a glare.

Diarmuid opened his mouth and now she glared so hard that he simply closed it again.

The fourth arrow missed also. Rhiwallon's face was red now, although I didn't know whether it was with frustration or anger.

With a deep breath, Rhiwallon set the final arrow in place. The world seemed to slow around me as I watched her exhale gently, her gaze fixed on her target. She raised the bow and arrow and they were like extensions of her arms.

I followed the arrow's trajectory. I couldn't tell whether it had hit its target. If it hadn't, it was close. Very close. I held my breath and prayed.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the door in front of us rumbled open and light flooded the small tunnel. Diarmuid and Owain cheered and even Rhiwallon looked pleased. I barked in appreciation, and then we hurried through the door before it could close again.

We stepped out into sunshine scented with spring.

The sun hovered low over the horizon, its light soft. Dawn perhaps? Snow still remained on the ground although patches of grass peeked through in some areas. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed out here. I breathed in deeply, rejoicing in the feel of fresh, cool air filling my lungs.

We stood outside the dragon's lair, letting the sunlight soak into our skin. Rhiwallon stood with her hands clasped over her stomach. The empty quiver hung from the belt around her waist. Owain's face was tight and his shoulders hunched. Bramble's tail and ears drooped. My fingers itched to stroke her hair but I no longer felt I had any right to touch her. Not until we figured out what manner of creature she was.

Unless I was much mistaken, we emerged from the mound in the same place we had entered it. The paths of the fey could appear to lead in one direction when in reality going another. If we went back inside, likely we wouldn't encounter the dragon and its treasures. Perhaps we would not even find the original path we took but something entirely different. I had no desire to find out.

"Why so morose?" I asked. "We did it. We rescued Rhiwallon, made our way through the tunnels, answered the dragon's riddles, and found a way out. You should be pleased."

"We barely got out," Rhiwallon said. "The dragon would have gladly eaten us."

"No it wouldn't." I didn't feel quite as confident as I sounded. "Dragons enjoy company. They love riddles. It would have kept us alive as long as we kept talking."

"She," Rhiwallon said. "The dragon was a female."

"How do you know?" I asked.

"I just know. She was sad too."

"Lonely, most like," I said. "Dragons lead solitary lives. She will probably think of us for years to come."

"Last dragon I ever want to see," Owain said.

"I'm sure it will be." I was only half-listening for already my mind had turned to Ida. Was there still time to stop her? Or had she already killed everyone in Crow's Nest and moved on? How exactly does one go about destroying such a creature? And would destroying her also kill me? I would never fall in love, never marry, never bed a woman. I would never say goodbye to Eithne or learn whether Caedmon still lived or whether Grainne was injured. I would never find out who Bramble really was.

I had no choice, though, for this was my fault. Ida came from my head, from my evil thoughts, and I had to be the one to destroy her. I hoped I was brave enough. I hoped it wouldn't be very painful when I died.

As we slowly began to make our way back to the campsite, Owain stumbled and then let out a yell.
 

"My axe!"
 

He bent over and picked up the axe he had left behind when we entered the mound. I soon found the dagger he had loaned me. His other dagger was there too and eventually we found the lamp. It had rolled down a slight slope and rested at the bottom in a snowy ditch.

Clutching our weapons and the lamp, we staggered back to where we had made camp so many days ago. My legs were shaky, my stomach growled and I was thirsty enough to drink a river. When we reached our camp, everything was just as we left it. The oxen grazed nearby, ignoring us. Maybe — just maybe — fewer days had passed out here than within the fey mound. I might still have time to stop Ida.

We filled our water flasks from the stream and eagerly gulped every last drop. Never had water tasted so sweet. My stomach was so empty it hurt but I couldn't eat with spider goo all over me. It had dried, hard and crusty, and my clothes were stiff with the stuff. I waded into the icy stream and scrubbed myself all over with a handful of sand, letting the cold waters cleanse me. By the time I was finished, my skin was raw and I was so cold I couldn't feel my toes.
 

While I was bathing, Owain and Rhiwallon had built up a fire. They took turns to bathe and even Bramble returned wet and shivering. Rhiwallon dried her off with a blanket. Then we ate. The bread was stale but the cheese was sharp, the dried meat smoky, the apples sweet and only a little too soft. As I ate, the fog lifted from my brain. It was a wonder I had been able to think clearly enough to answer the dragon's riddles while I was so hungry.

Our meal finished, we prepared to leave. There was no need for discussion about whether we should rest first. Without knowing how much time we had lost in the fey tunnels, the only thing we could do now was get to Crow's Nest as quickly as possible.

Owain climbed into the front of the cart and Rhiwallon and I settled ourselves on blankets in the back with Bramble's basket tucked in between us. Her hair was still damp so I tucked an extra blanket around her. She sniffed at me before tucking her nose into the blanket, but the noise didn't seem quite as haughty as usual.
 

As we set off with a creak, I looked back towards the mound. Far beyond it, past an expanse of snow-covered hills, stood the lonely figure of a dragon. I raised a hand in farewell and it seemed the dragon dipped her head in response. Then she rose up on enormous wings and sailed away towards the rising sun.

Nothing of note happened for the rest of the day. The oxen trudged along, tireless as always. Rhiwallon and Bramble slept. Sometimes I dozed but mostly I simply sat there. I should have used the time to plan but I found I no longer cared. In two days I would face Ida, if she was still in Crow's Nest. In two days I would try to destroy her. And in two days I would likely die. There didn't seem much point in planning. Melancholy gripped me for the first time since the start of my journey. It wrapped around my shoulders, clouding my head, as familiar as an old friend.

We halted an hour or so before night fell, and made camp beside a small stream. Rhiwallon didn't offer to hunt and we all knew she had no more arrows anyway. She built a fire and Owain cooked a meal of porridge and flat breads. I tried to help but mostly just got in the way. Bramble sat close to the fire.

The heady scent of our first warm meal in days wafted through the campsite and my stomach grumbled. The sky darkened as we ate, burning tongues and fingers in our haste. Hot porridge sank down into my stomach, warm and comforting and filling. The melancholy eased just the tiniest bit. The moon rose and it looked much the same as it had the night Rhiwallon was taken, a waxing crescent still a few days away from its darkness.

I slept soundly, waking only once. Owain sat by the fire, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and over Bramble, who slept on his lap. I missed her warmth against my legs.

We packed the cart the next morning with the quiet speed of folk well accustomed to travelling together. We would reach Crow's Nest tonight and tomorrow I would face Ida. I walked beside the cart for a while. Long walks across the length and breadth of Silver Downs always gave me room to create my tales so perhaps walking would also help me find a solution to the problem of Ida. I thought of, and discarded, a dozen possibilities. Threats, weapons, dire warnings. I doubted any such thing would work. As we drew steadily closer to Crow's Nest and I still had no plan, failure seemed increasingly certain.