The Lost Castle (6 page)

General Wargrach was torn. Should he take the time to hunt down that misbegotten, incompetent warhound handler, or should he simply lead his soldiers after Ollamon's son and his friends?

Wargrach stood on a flat rock the size of a banqueting table. His anger rumbled in his chest, but his outward demeanour was calm. He propped himself on his tail and crossed his arms while he considered what to do. The troops stood at attention at the base of the rock, waiting nervously for his decision. They all looked as if they were glad they weren't Dorgan.

The warhounds had failed. Wargrach and his troop had found some dead, killed by the younglings, but not all. The rest of the pack had disappeared. Wargrach thought it most probable that the warhounds were poorly trained and had gone in pursuit of game.

Dorgan was no fool. He'd known that the war-hounds had been unsuccessful. He'd also known that he would be held responsible for their failure. He'd managed to slip away from the troop. No-one had seen him for some time.

Wargrach smiled coldly. The handler was probably miles away by now.

'Forget the warhounds,' he said to his troops. 'We hunt our prey by ourselves.' He glared at all of them. 'I chose each one of you. Do not let me down.'

He lurched forward and clashed his jaws together once, twice, then he threw back his head and roared, filling the air with the hunting cry of a great Toothed One. He felt the blood sing in his veins.

'Now,' he said to his saur. They stared at him with awe. 'Let us run.'

* * *

Adalon went first, picking their route as best he could through the never-ending boulders. Targesh marched next to Simangee, supporting her when she struggled. Adalon saw how her head drooped, but whenever he caught her gaze it was fierce and determined. 'We'll get there,' she said. 'I'm sure of it.'

'Sing,' Targesh urged. 'You'll feel better.' She shook her head.

As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, Adalon could see Graaldon, the smoking mountain, getting closer, growing larger all the time. Sometimes, the ground trembled beneath their feet and the riding beasts danced nervously. Overhead, the plume of smoke trailed across the sky, staining it a dismal grey.

After hours of slow going, they came to the foothills, and the stony wilderness began to slope upwards. Adalon was pleased and called a break. Simangee lay on the ground, her eyes closed and her head in her hands.

Adalon was concerned. Simangee's quiet plodding was unlike her. Her singing and her cheeky grin had vanished. Her scales were dull around her eyes, and her shoulders sagged.

He felt guilty and lowered his head.
If it were not for me
, he thought,
Simangee would be safe at High Battilon, finding interesting books in the library or making new music.

Adalon sought for guidance in the lessons of the Way of the Claw. He closed his eyes. He breathed deeply and slowly. Gradually, he could hear his father's voice reciting the lessons.

'
A Clawed One is a creature of motion, made for action. Therefore, watch, listen and learn before acting, lest you leap off the edge of a cliff in your haste.
' Adalon smiled as he remembered his father's habit of tapping the side of his jaw with one claw when he was commenting on the lessons. 'This is one of the great lessons of the Way of the Claw,' he had said. 'We Clawed Ones are prone to rush ahead, to spring into conflicts before understanding them. The wisdom of the Way of the Claw is there to temper the impulsiveness we feel in our blood.'

Adalon sighed. He vowed to watch Simangee closely.

While they handed around the water bottle he rubbed his feet. The rocky wilderness was spread out below them and Adalon looked at the maze they had worked their way through. Outcrops of broken stone stood among countless rounded boulders.
Like a giant's toys
, Adalon thought.
Left strewn where they fell.

Movement caught his eye. 'Targesh,' he said. His friend was sampling the thin leaves of a bush that had found a hold between two rocks. 'Is that them?'

Targesh shaded his eyes with his claws. 'Aye.'

Adalon looked anxiously at the sky. 'We've not much light left. Can we go on?'

Simangee lifted her head, her bony crest bobbing. 'Yes. We must.'

Faint shouts drifted up to them. 'They've seen us,' Adalon said and stood.

'They'll never take us,' Simangee said. Her face was drawn and Adalon could see scales under her eyes beginning to flake. She stood and lurched up the slope.

Targesh looked at Adalon. 'She isn't right.'

'I know. That evil cloud has touched her in some way.'

Targesh rumbled his displeasure. He took the reins of Simangee's riding beast and led it after her.

It was Simangee who now drove them higher.
Her face set, she pushed on. Adalon's spirit sank at her stumbling gait, but she refused his offers of assistance. Once, she nearly pitched headlong on a stretch of treacherous gravel. When Adalon sprang forward and took her arm, she would not look at him and her sigh sounded like a snarl.

A rocky ridge took them well up the slope of the mountain. Shadows began to creep over the rocky landscape to embrace them. Simangee laboured on, barely looking up to check their direction. Adalon and Targesh had difficulty keeping up, as a path had to be found for the riding beasts.

Eventually, after an hour's struggle, they were stopped by a deep fissure. It was a good stone's throw wide and extended as far as they could see across the mountain's flank. Smoke rose from it and Adalon wrinkled his snout at the sour, sulphurous smell.

Targesh looked at the fissure and then at the riding beasts. Adalon sighed. 'Let them go. They will manage without us.'

Silently, Adalon and Targesh divided their belongings between them. Simangee stood beside them, her gaze on the summit of Graaldon.

Targesh slapped each riding beast on the rump. They snorted and cantered off down the rocky slope. 'Good luck!' Adalon called after them.
They may have the best fate of the lot of us
.

A deep, bone-shaking rumble came through the ground underfoot; smoke and flame spewed from the top of the mountain. Adalon gasped at the display, but was glad when the mountain settled quickly. Soon, a column of smoke was the only sign of life in the heights.

'The smoking mountain is unhappy,' Simangee said.

Targesh hefted the saddlebags and made sure his axe was secure. 'Bellyache.'

'Let's go and see,' Adalon suggested.

Simangee led them. She found a narrow path down the side of the chasm. Adalon marvelled at the way she picked out footholds where he could have sworn there was only smooth rock. When younger, he had been the climber of the three, bounding up and down trees using his spring, his claws and his tail for balance. But here Simangee climbed down as if she had lived in trees all her life.

When they reached the floor of the fissure, Adalon noticed that the rock beneath his feet was warm. Cracks vented smoke that singed his nostrils and made his eyes water. He coughed and scrambled, trying to keep Simangee in sight. He caught up to her just as she began climbing up the far face of the rocky cleft.

Adalon was torn. Should he follow Simangee, or wait for Targesh? Targesh was a poor climber at the best of times. His stocky frame was meant for the ground, not for the heights.

He looked up. Simangee had already disappeared through the smoke. He turned and waited.

He was glad. Targesh would never have made it to the top by himself. Adalon had to use all his climbing skill to find his way upwards, and he had to pause often to point out handholds and resting places to his burly friend.

Eventually, Adalon dragged himself over the lip of the fissure. He turned and hauled Targesh up.

Targesh nodded his thanks. 'Simangee?'

She stood waiting for them a short distance away. A ghost of a smile flitted across her face and, for a moment, the old Simangee was looking at them. Then she frowned. 'Let's go.'

Their way grew steeper and Adalon found that he was using his tail more and more to steady himself. Targesh clambered beside him, bent almost double, using his hands as much as his feet, not complaining, but definitely not comfortable. Simangee forged ahead without pausing.

Eventually, high above the plain, they edged around a massive rockfall and were confronted by a torrent of fire.

Molten rock was pouring from a large cave entrance. Red and orange and white flames leaped from it, and the whole side of the mountain glowed. It flowed down the slope for an arrow's flight or more before disappearing into the ground again. Adalon could feel the heat greedily licking at his face.

'The river of fire,' Simangee said. She rubbed her face and winced as some scales fell away. 'This is our way into the Hidden Valley.'

Targesh frowned. 'How?'

Simangee shook her head impatiently and Adalon was pleased to see some of her normal spirit. 'Where the river of fire emerges from the mountainside there is an entrance to the Hidden Valley, so the book says. A path leads alongside the river of fire, a path the A'ak made, long ago.'

Adalon saw a rock fall into the river of fire. It flared and disappeared like a dry stick in a furnace. He squinted into the heat. 'You are sure about this?'

Simangee shivered and tore her gaze away from the blaze. 'Yes. It's the only way in. The Jarquin Ranges surround the valley, and they cannot be crossed.'

Targesh grunted and gestured back the way they had come. 'Wargrach?'

'He can't follow if we disappear before he sees us,' Adalon said.

A deep coughing roar came from where the river poured out of the mountainside. It was followed by a ball of flame and smoke that filled the cave mouth.

'Quickly, now,' Simangee said. 'Before the next outpouring.'

She set off. Adalon climbed after her. He was closest to the river of fire and he felt the heat through his thick traveller's cloak. Before too long he could smell singed fabric.

Targesh slipped and cursed. Adalon steadied himself, then dug his feet into thick ash. It kicked up and fell back, uncovering rusty metal.

Adalon swept the ash away with a hand and exposed a rusty spearhead. A long leaf shape, it had a strange twisted barb near the tip. 'I've never seen anything like this before.'

'From up there,' Targesh said, and gestured with one horn. 'The A'ak.'

Adalon looked up at the cave mouth. It was lit from within by orange light, and heat burst from it like water through a hole in a dam.

Simangee nodded. 'We must hurry. We don't have long.'

Adalon gritted his teeth and pushed on.

The cave mouth belched smoke and cascades of molten rock. Heat splashed on Adalon's face and he could also feel the heat in the rocks they were climbing over. He wished for gloves.

Wiping his face, coughing and spitting ash from his mouth, he turned to check the progress of their pursuers. The rock beneath his feet shifted and, as he caught his balance, something flashed into his vision. With Clawed One speed, he jerked back and an arrow shattered on the rock next to him. He peered through the smoke and orange light and saw figures clambering up the slope. 'They're almost upon us!' he cried. 'Targesh, to me! Sim, do you have any arrows left?'

Simangee seized his shoulder. She shook her head and jabbed a claw at the cave mouth. 'We must go! We have little time!'

Another arrow struck at his feet. He put a hand to the hilt of his sword, but Simangee refused to let him draw it.

He looked at her. She stared back with eyes that were rimmed with red. Was something lurking behind them? A shadow?

Targesh put a hand on Adalon's shoulder. 'Trust her.'

All was still for an instant, and in that time Adalon realised that trust was what bound all three of them together. If he couldn't trust Targesh and Simangee, who could he rely on? 'We are with you, Simangee,' he said.

Shouts and cries came from their pursuers. Adalon shepherded Simangee ahead of him. Targesh followed close behind.

Avoiding the river of molten rock that coursed from the cave mouth, Simangee scrambled over a fall of rubble at the entrance. Adalon went next, hissing at the hot rock beneath his hands. He held his tail high to stop it being burned. Inside the cave, a path by the side of the wall led them upwards, until they were looking down on the river of fire. He choked on the smoke and fumes, and, with tears in his eyes, looked around at the cave that stretched out in front of them.

Simangee hurried forward along the narrow, broken path. Adalon ran his hand against the smooth rock walls and realised that the cave had become a tunnel. The walls were almost glassy and reflected the red glow of the river of fire.

As they followed Simangee, Adalon felt the heat wrapping them up like a blanket. He felt it through the soles of his feet. A huge chuffing noise came from the river of fire to their left, echoing along the tunnel. Simangee looked back, wide-eyed, and waved them onwards.

Voices came from behind, hunting cries and screams rising over the noise. A roar of triumph went up, the grating, growling roar of a Toothed One, a roar that sounded down the ages from when the world was new. It made Adalon stop, stiffening in place. Small, he felt small, helpless and doomed. He was prey, and prey only existed to be eaten. He had no chance, no hope, nothing . . .

'Move,' Targesh grunted. He nudged Adalon with a horn, pricking his shoulder.

Adalon blinked and shook himself. He realised he'd experienced the power of a full-grown Toothed One. When he'd heard the roar, he'd frozen. If Targesh hadn't nudged him, he would have simply waited there to be killed.

Adalon whirled and shook his fist at General Wargrach and his troops. Jeers and cries went up. Anger seized Adalon.
I'm no soft-bellied, hairy-pelted, squeaking beast of prey!
he thought. Seething, he dragged his bow from his back and launched an arrow at them, then another, then another, until Targesh took his arm. 'It's no good. Follow Sim.'

Adalon took a deep breath and felt the anger leave him. It was foolish, standing here, trying to bring down Wargrach and his soldiers in this light.
Fight, fall back, fight again,
he recited to himself.
The Way of the Claw.

Adalon jogged after Simangee. Targesh lumbered alongside, struggling in the heat. His great head and neck shield began to droop. Below the path, the river of fire widened into a bright orange-white lake. The path took them up, up until they were high on the wall of the tunnel, but still the heat was fierce. They stumbled to where Simangee was waiting. Adalon felt the breath searing in his throat. 'How much further?' he croaked.

Simangee pointed past the fiery lake. 'Look.'

Adalon held up a hand to shield himself from the red glow. He could see something. Because of the smoke he wasn't quite sure at first, but there it was . . . light! The healthy light of outdoors!

A fountain of molten rock burst from the lake. The three friends staggered back at the blast of heat. The plume of lava arced up until it struck the craggy ceiling overhead, where it splashed, sending red-hot globules of molten rock in all directions. Adalon ducked, but the nearest fell some distance away. He rose on his toe-claws and he wondered if the tunnel would collapse.

Simangee gestured ahead, then hurried on. Adalon and Targesh followed. With each step, the rock grew hotter. Adalon thought he could feel his skin starting to shrivel. His tail skimmed the rock and he hissed with pain.

'On,' grunted Targesh from behind him. 'Up.'

The path beside the lake of fire grew yet narrower.
Adalon looked down. The molten rock was alight with reds and oranges, with streamers of bright white that made his vision dance. The vast chuffing noise was even louder and he felt as if he were trapped in a giant bellows.

Heat beat at him and he saw that the lake was heaving. Great waves surged along the lake, along the river of fire, then down toward the cave entrance. Flame and smoke leaped high, licking the ceiling of the cave.

In a rush, they squeezed around a rocky spur and were past the lake. Light beckoned. Adalon broke into a run, yet couldn't catch Simangee. His heart felt as if it would burst as he scrambled up the slope, ignoring the pain in his hands and feet. The air began to grow thicker with smoke and he heard Targesh's throaty coughing from behind him.

Adalon looked up and peered ahead. He could dimly see Simangee, scrambling toward the light. He dug in his claws and dragged himself after her, trying not to choke on the smoke.

He looked up in time to see Simangee disappear. He surged forward and, suddenly, broke into open air.

In the dim twilight, Adalon cried out in relief and sucked in lungfuls of cool air. Then Targesh stumbled out of the tunnel and ran straight into him. They both rolled onto a mat of thick, green grass, Targesh's horns gouging long furrows as he fell face first.

Adalon sat up to see Simangee lying close to them. Her gaze was on the cave they had just left. 'The fiery lake is about to erupt. The cave will fill with molten rock before rolling out and down the mountainside. I think we got through just in time.'

'We did?' Targesh said. He glared at the cave mouth.

'Explorers were afraid to enter the tunnel until the A'ak discovered that the lake erupts regularly, allowing time to get through to the Hidden Valley.'

The mountain roared. Adalon clapped his hands to his ears as he was engulfed by the noise. It was like being pummelled by a thousand fists. He rolled onto his stomach and put his hands over his head. The ground shook. Smoke and heat burst from the cave – but no molten rock came their way.

Adalon lay there wondering when it would stop.
If
it would stop.

A few minutes later, all was still again.

Simangee sat and looked at the cave mouth. 'I don't think we have to worry about General Wargrach.'