The Spell of Rosette - Kim Falconer [124]
It must have been a major passageway once, unused for some time judging by the layer of dust and shale at her feet. She could barely make out her hands as she strained to see the outline of the path. There might be a plummeting drop at any moment.
The sounds of the Lupins grew faint. She thought she heard some barking orders and the scuffle of feet, but wasn’t sure. Were they going to find another way around, or were they convinced she wasn’t there? At least it was clear they couldn’t shape-shift into a smaller form and follow.
She stepped forward into the darkness, her foot slipping on loose shale. A chunk broke off and she jerked back instinctively. It toppled down, falling and falling until there was a distant clip and thud as it struck bottom. She backed up, her hands touching a rock wall behind her, the darkness all-consuming. Suddenly, she realised she might still be trapped, only in a larger prison. She needed light to navigate this subterranean world. As if in answer, she looked down. Her pocket pulsed with a faint blue glow.
She pulled out the vial, wrapping the chain around her wrist and holding it high above her head. With illumination, Rosette found herself in a massive cavern, with a canyon hundreds of feet deep. It must have been traversed by a high arched bridge at one time, but that was broken now. It looked like the keystone had given way—the middle of the bridge bitten out like it was a giant’s cookie.
Dead end?
The thought of squeezing back through the crevice repulsed her. Even though she knew she could make it, she didn’t think she had the nerve to do it again. Besides, there would most likely be a Lupin or two posted at the entrance, waiting. Surely they knew this was a dead end. She searched every inch of her surroundings for another means of escape.
To her left she spotted a landing that led into yet another dark passage. Placing the amulet around her neck, she tightened her coat, retied her bootlaces and wiped her hands in the chalky dust. Gripping the wall like a spider, she shuffled along the narrowing ledge, taking slow breaths and small steps, giddy with fear. Heights were never her forte. She dared not look down, though, past an arm’s length, all was black.
Rocks gave way under her boots and tumbled into the chasm. It was a long time before she heard them hit bottom. Her footing slipped more than once, but the jagged edges of the rock face offered deep handholds. She finally reached the landing in front of the passage, panting from the exertion. She rubbed her aching fingers, her relief lasting only moments.
Recessed into the wall was indeed a new tunnel, but it had a stone door, locked tight. When she tried the latch, rotten wood fell to pieces in her hand and the bronze keyhole dropped, clanking to the ground. She pushed and jimmied and shoved and, finally, bashed the full force of her shoulder into thick stone, but it didn’t budge. There seemed no escape that way and with the lengthy breaks in the ledge behind her, she didn’t think she could make it back. Magic was an option, but knowing her, she’d bring the whole archway down on top of her head. Defeated and exhausted, she slumped in the dust, closing her eyes against the dark, tears spilling down her cheeks.
Hotha loped up the steps, his wolf form giving him the advantage of speed and heightened scents. Rosette had come this way, up these very steps, but to where? She hadn’t made it to the top, and she couldn’t have gotten past Rashnan’s pack without notice. She wasn’t that clever yet. He came to the archways, inspecting each before following her trail up the far one. What was she playing at? This was an old part of the caverns, the passageways were treacherous, at least for human feet. Kreshkali would be furious if anything happened to the young witch. He had to find her, and quickly.
Hotha, she’s this way.
Do you have her?