Alder couldn’t believe something as big as the quig could get up the air shaft. But there it was, yellow eyes pinned on him, inching its way up the shaft.
Just as he reached the top, the rung that his bottom foot was on gave way. Alder’s stomach rose into his chest as he plunged backward into the shaft.
He made a grab for the top rung, missed, grabbed the next rung and hung on, legs dangling into the darkness.
Snap! Snap! The quig’s jaws were snapping shut.
Now this rung started to give way as well. Alder felt a flash of panic. He was done!
Then—just as the rung collapsed—he felt a hand lock around his wrist. It was Gaveth. For such a skinny kid, he sure was strong!
Gaveth lurched to the side, straddling the air shaft. “Hold on,” he grunted.
“I’m holding! I’m holding!” Alder swung his feet around until he managed to get one foot over the lip of the shaft. From there he was able to push himself up.
“Thanks,” Alder said weakly, gasping for breath.
“What now?” Gaveth said, peering down at the quig. It was still inching upward.
Alder pulled out Falling Light and stabbed down into the shaft. His first stab drew blood. The quig roared and thrashed, slipping back down a few feet.
“Yeah!” Gaveth shouted. “Poke him again!”
This time, though, when Alder stabbed at the huge beast, it batted the sword away.
Alder jabbed furiously. He managed to keep the quig from moving upward. But now he was having no success in drawing blood. And in the thick, unhealthy air of the mine, he knew he couldn’t keep up this pace much longer.
“I don’t—think—I can—stop it,” he gasped.
“Then we’ve gotta run.”
The passage they’d just entered wasn’t small enough to slow the quig down. And, like the one below, it was littered with rocks, some of them big as Alder’s head. It was obviously a very old part of the mine. The timbers holding up the ceiling were weak with age.
Alder continued to jab at the quig. “We’ll never make it,” he said.
“Wait!” Gaveth said. “I’ve got an idea. If we knock down the support beams, maybe we can cause a cave-in. That’ll block off the tunnel and cut the quig off.”
“Genius!” Alder said.
“There!” Gaveth pointed into the blackness. “That one looks like it’s about to go already!”
Alder followed as Gaveth ran down the tunnel.
“Pull!” Gaveth grabbed the beam and heaved. Alder got behind him and yanked. The beam snapped like a toothpick. The two boys leaped backward, but nothing really happened. A thin trickle of dirt fell from the ceiling. But that was it.
Gaveth turned and looked back toward the air shaft. One of the quig’s claws crept up over the lip of the shaft.
“Another one,” Alder said. He slammed his shoulder into another support beam. This one wasn’t as rotted as the other one though. “Help me.”
Gaveth too leaned into the beam. With a loud groan, it finally gave way.
Again, the results were disappointing. A few pebbles fell from the ceiling. But nothing else.
Gaveth turned toward the air shaft again. The quig’s snout had cleared the top of the shaft, and one muscular leg was hauling the big bear’s body upward.
“We’ve got to run!” Gaveth said.
“No,” Alder said. “Knocking down another support’s our only chance.”
“Come on!” Gaveth said. “Don’t be stupid.”
“It’s this or nothing!” Alder said, putting his shoulder against the next support beam. “Trust me.”
“Trust a Bedoowan?” Gaveth said. “I don’t know.”
For a second Alder thought he was joking. But he could see that the Milago boy was serious.
“Now!” Alder shouted.
“You don’t have to yell,” Gaveth said. He put his arms against the beam, braced himself, and heaved.
The beam slipped a little. But then it jammed on something and wouldn’t move.
The quig was now clearing the rim of the shaft. In only seconds it would be on them.
“Never mind!” Alder shouted. “Run!”
They turned and ran with all their strength.
But they didn’t get far. Alder’s stomach sank as he saw what was in front of them. A blank wall.
“No!” Gaveth shouted. “No!” He pounded his fist against the rock.
Behind them there was a scraping noise and a thud. The two boys turned to look. The quig was in the tunnel now. Its flanks were heaving with the effort, and blood dripped in a steady stream from its nose, compliments of Alder’s sword wound.
The quig was in no hurry now. Its yellow eyes were fixed on Alder, and the spikes on its back scraped the ceiling.
Scrape! Scrape! Scrape!
The only other thing Alder could hear was the sound of his heart.
The quig was even with the beam that Alder and Gaveth had been attempting to tear down.
Scrape!
One of its spikes lodged in a ceiling beam. The angered quig lunged forward to free itself. The support that Alder and Gaveth had been pulling on let out a sharp crack. The quig looked back in alarm.
The next thing Alder knew, there was an awful booming noise, like the ground itself was tearing in half. Then the ceiling came down with a noise that was louder and more terrible than thunder.
And just like that…the quig was gone! Nothing was left but a massive pile of black rock, and a choking cloud of dust.
Alder stared at Gaveth. Gaveth’s eyes looked at Alder, big and round as gold coins. For a long moment, there was only silence.
“Whooooooo!” Gaveth shouted.
“We did it!” Alder rejoiced. “We killed it!”
They hugged each other and jumped up and down.
And then finally they stopped. Alder looked around. Suddenly his heart sank. Around them was nothing but rock.
“Uh…one question though,” he said. They appeared to be trapped in solid rock. “Since you’re a Milago expert in mining, tell me: How do we get out of here?”
Gaveth looked around. “I have no idea.”
TEN
As the cloud of dust began to settle, Alder looked around. To his horror, he realized they were trapped. The rubble that had killed the quig had also trapped them in a chamber not much bigger than his bedroom back in the castle.
Gaveth met his eyes. “Uh-oh,” Gaveth said.
“How long before the air runs out?” Alder said.
Gaveth shook his head. “Don’t know. We’ll have to dig our way out.”
Alder looked at the pile of rubble. It rose clear to the ceiling. Some of the rocks in the pile were as big as Alder. Could they even move them? “What if it caves in more?”
Gaveth raised one eyebrow at Alder. “Then we’ll die even faster.”
“Sorry.”
There was a long silence. It was the most silent silence Alder had ever experienced. As they stood there, afraid even to move, Gaveth’s headlamp began to flicker.
“Oh, no,” Gaveth said.
Alder could feel his legs and arms shaking. Every sense was heightened. A tiny pebble shifted and slid down the rubble pile. Shadows flickered and danced on the ceiling in the dying light of the lamp.
“So this is it, huh?” Gaveth said.
Alder felt a soft, cool jet of air against his face. It was strangely comforting, like feeling a gentle breeze on a beautiful spring day.
Suddenly something hit him. “You feel that breeze?” he said.
Gaveth shrugged morosely. But then his eyes widened. He smiled. “Wait…”
“It has to be coming from somewhere. Right? There must be a passage somewhere above us that the air’s flowing from. Maybe instead of trying to dig sideways, we can go up.”
Gaveth moved gingerly to his left. “The air’s coming from this little crack right here,” he said, pointing at a small dark hole between two boulders.
“Go,” Alder said.
br /> “Give me a boost.”
The Milago boy took a deep breath, then eased himself upward and into the crack. Soon his torso had disappeared. Only his feet were hanging out. With the lamp up in the crack now, there was so little light that Alder could barely make them out.
The rock above them groaned. Dust sifted out into Alder’s hair. This place could come down any second, he thought. Gaveth’s feet disappeared.
Alder’s heart began racing. The walls seemed to be pressing in again. He was completely encased in darkness. Utter, complete, total darkness.
He could hear Gaveth inching through the rock.
“I can see a tunnel!” Gaveth called.
“Can you make it?”
“I think so. Follow me!”
Alder climbed up into the tiny fissure in the rock. Gaveth had fit more easily. He had light, so he could see where he was going. And he was way smaller than Alder.
Sharp rocks poked into Alder’s flesh as he inched forward. The space grew narrower. He rolled slightly and began crawling on his side. Inch by inch by painful inch he snaked forward. For a moment he was stuck. A panicky sensation ran through him. He squirmed wildly.
Suddenly the crack between the rocks widened slightly. Not much. But enough that he could use his hands again. He saw a light above him. A faint, flickering light. Gaveth was looking down at him!
“You’re almost there, Alder!” Gaveth said. “Just a little more.”
And then, finally, Alder was out. He lay gasping on the floor of a small tunnel. It was so low he’d have to crouch to get through it. But after the crevice he’d crawled through, it felt like the Great Hall of King Karel’s castle. Relief flooded through him.
When he’d finally caught his breath, he said, “Don’t suppose you have any idea where we are, Gaveth?”
“No,” Gaveth said, looking around. His headlamp was flickering badly now. The narrow tunnel angled downward. Its walls seeped moisture, and the floor was slick.
“Hey,” Alder said. “There’s a light down here, Gaveth!” He began walking tentatively down the steep slope.
And with that, Alder’s feet went out from under him, and he began to slide down the slope into the blackness. Without any light to illuminate handholds or timbers in the walls, he had no way of stopping himself. His arms and legs banged into the sharp rock walls, and for a moment he was sure he was going to be killed.
But then, with a hard thump, he came to rest on his back, staring straight up in the air. There was just enough illumination coming from an adjoining chamber to see a little. Alder looked up and blinked.
There, above his head, was a star carved into the wall. “We made it!” he shouted.
Suddenly a powerful light spilled from the adjoining chamber. The light was so bright and harsh that Alder could barely see. A man, his face and body visible only as a black silhouette in the darkness, leaped through the door. In his two hands, raised toward the ceiling, was a huge sword.
“Yahhhhhh!” the man screamed. Then he swung the sword at Alder’s face.
ELEVEN
Caught off guard by the attacker, Alder was sure his skull was about to be split in half.
But just before the blade reached him, it stopped. There was a very brief pause, then the man with the sword stepped back into the light.
“Sorry about that,” the man said. Now that he was completely visible, Alder saw that he was a tall, pleasant-looking man with a broad grin on his face. “When I heard all that thumping and bumping, I thought for sure you were a quig!” The man laughed as he sheathed his sword.
Alder sat up gingerly. After his undignified tumble down the steep tunnel, he felt like one giant bruise.
The smiling man reached out his hand. “My name’s Press,” he said. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re Wencil’s student, Alder.”
Alder took the man’s hand. Press effortlessly hoisted Alder to his feet. The man was dressed like a Bedoowan knight. But he wasn’t anybody that Alder had ever seen at the castle.
Press looked up the incline into the tunnel. “Ah, that’s young Gaveth, isn’t it?”
“Do I know you?” Gaveth said.
“I knew your father,” Press said. “Before he was killed in the mine.”
Alder looked at Gaveth. “You? Your father…So, when you were talking about kids starving because—”
Gaveth looked away. “I’m old enough to work in the mine. We get by.”
“Gaveth,” Press said, “would you excuse us? I need to have a conversation with Alder.”
Gaveth nodded. Alder followed the dark-haired man back into the chamber. It was illuminated by a brightly burning light of the sort used in the castle.
“Sit,” Press said, indicating a hump of rock in the corner of the room.
Alder sat where the man pointed.
“I have a lot of things to tell you,” he said. “But first, I’ve got something to give you.” He extended his hand. In his palm lay a small silver ring with a stone in the center, its outer edge inscribed with tiny symbols written in a language that Alder didn’t recognize.
He reached out and took the ring.
“What’s this all about?” he said, trying on the ring. It fit perfectly on the fourth finger of his right hand.
“Like me,” Press said, “you are a Traveler. Let me explain what that means….”
TWELVE
It was late and dark when Alder passed through the walls and into the town that formed the outer ring of the castle. He stopped at Wencil’s house. The house was dark, and no one answered when he knocked.
He continued on to the castle to go back to his dank little room. As he passed through the inner gate, one of the guards said, “Come with me, Alder. The king commands your presence.”
Alder’s eyes widened. For a moment he wasn’t sure what the guard was talking about. The king? The king? King Karel? “You mean—”
But the guard turned away before Alder could finish his not-very-bright-sounding question. Alder flushed, feeling stupid now as he followed the guard.
They went through the entrance to the king’s own household. Everywhere he looked, objects made from pure glaze gleamed in the subdued light. He had never been here before. The magnificence of the place was astounding.
Because it was late, the rooms were deserted. The only sound was that of their footsteps.
Eventually the guard reached a heavy wooden door. He knocked, then threw the door open and said, “My lord, he is here.”
Alder hesitated.
“Go!” the guard said harshly. “The king is waiting.”
Alder entered. At the far end of the room he saw two figures standing next to a bed. One of them turned—an old man with a long white beard. It was King Karel.
Alder bowed low. “Your Highness,” he said nervously.
“Come,” the king said. He had bright blue eyes and a kind face.
Alder approached, recognizing the second man. It was Mallos, the king’s chancellor. His face was cloaked in darkness, only one eye visible. It was a very pale blue.
“Your master is extremely sick,” King Karel said.
It was only then that Alder saw Wencil lying on the bed. His face was drawn and haggard, and his eyes were closed. “Wencil!” Alder cried. “What happened?”
“Let him rest,” Mallos said softly.
King Karel put his hand on Alder’s shoulder. “Wencil was my instructor, you know. He was barely older than I. But he was the best swordsman alive.” The king smiled sadly. “He was a great friend to me.”
Mallos turned to Alder and said, “The king’s doctor has been with him. He says that Wencil will not make it through the night.”
“What!”
Mallos nodded. “Apparently, he had been sick for a very long time.”
“But…he never told me….” Alder felt a crushing weight on his shoulders. For the past six months—for the first time in his life—he had felt a sense of belonging, a sense of attachment. It was the feeling that eve
ryone with a family must have, but that he had never really known.
And now…it was all being snatched away? It couldn’t be! It just couldn’t.
“I’m sorry,” the king said. “I wanted to give my personal condolences to you. Wencil was a very picky instructor. He only chose to teach those of extraordinary promise. If he chose to teach you…” He spread his hands, as though nothing more needed to be said.
Extraordinary promise? From the way Wencil drove him, it seemed that he could never do enough, that he never had enough skill or bravery or talent. Surely there must be some mistake.
King Karel looked at his chancellor for a moment. “What do you think, Mallos? Is it time?”
Time for what? Alder wondered.
“While he still lives,” Mallos said.
The king nodded thoughtfully. Then he turned to Alder. “Kneel, boy.”
Alder felt confused. What was going on? But you didn’t ask questions when the king told you to do something. He knelt.
The king drew his sword, a beautifully jeweled blade.
“Alder, pupil of Wencil, I bind you to the realm,” he intoned. His voice was soft and scratchy. “With this, I call you…knight!”
Alder couldn’t believe it. Right here? Right now? A wave of relief and gratitude flooded through him. He had heard the words spoken as so many other boys became knights. And to think that the king was speaking them now…right here! In his own chambers!
With that, the king rapped Alder on each shoulder with the sword. Alder was surprised at how hard the king hit him. Each blow stung.
“Stand, knight,” the king said.
Wencil stirred in the bed. Had he heard the ceremony? Had he felt a moment of pride that his last student had become a knight?
Alder felt tears running down his face. His mind was a whirl of emotion. His legs felt weak.
King Karel squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sorry, young knight. I would stay, but I am not so well myself.” He smiled sadly and walked from the room. His gait was slow, and Alder saw that one of his hands shook uncontrollably.