The Glass Gargoyle (The Lost Ancients Book 1) (7 page)

The crashing of brush and shouting of voices grew closer. With a start, I realized the guards were chasing someone else, not coming to grab me. I could sit tight until they blew past.

That thought worked great for about two seconds until the crashing took a drastic—and for me horrific— sudden turn. The man-sized shape that crashed into me knocked me to the dirt and pinned me. It was also well-muscled and disgustingly familiar.

“You!” Both of us yelled at the same moment, grabbing the attention of both the foreman and the guards.

Alric jumped to his feet, pulling me with him. “Run, damn it.” He turned and noisily ran in a different direction, leaving me with a clear path out. I wasn’t about to look a gift rescue in the mouth so I took off in the opposite direction, sticking to the bush as much as possible, but still moving.

I got lost in minutes.

I was familiar with the ruins but never explored the jungles that hadn’t been cleared yet. As Grimwold found out with my faeries, the jungles can lose people for a long time.

I debated bringing out Leaf and having her fly ahead, but I didn’t want her spotted. My options were brought up short as a scouting team far too close to me let out a yell. They’d seen me.

Swearing under my breath, I tore further into the jungle, vines and branches grabbing at whatever they could reach, roots trying to trip me, all doing their best to slow me down but my terror didn’t care. My chest was becoming tight but I had to keep running.

I kept going long after I stopped hearing them, finally slowing to a walk. This part of the jungle was old growth. Trees that took minutes to walk around clustered like regal giants. The air was almost alive this far in, waiting. I couldn’t even see the tops of most of the trees. Maybe it might be best if I turned around.

That thought was the last I had before I stepped off into nothingness. I crashed to the bottom of what felt like a giant metal bowl, and dropped into a pit.

Chapter 8

The fall stunned me and I came out of it slowly, a tin ringing echoing in my head. Opening my eyes I realized the sound wasn’t just in my head, I was lying crumpled in the bottom of what could only be described as a hammered bronze box. A huge bronze box. I fit in it quite nicely and even stretching out wouldn’t have hit the sides. The archeologist in me jumped with excitement. The container holding me was an ancient ruin. Or rather part of an ancient ruin. This style of metalwork had been found in small pieces in the lowest levels of the current dig. It was speculated to have come from before the time of the mysterious race we called elves. From the group of beings we called only the ancients.

No one had ever reported seeing a piece this big. Unfortunately, I hadn’t seen it either as

Then the practical and survival oriented side of me decided to speak up. I was trapped. This box was almost a room, tilted at a slight angle, but its sides were at least ten feet high. And the forest jungle above me was so heavy I couldn’t even see the sky above. Yelling wouldn’t do anything except perhaps bring the guards’ attention. Or even worse, maybe that syclarion would happen to come back unexpectedly.

A wiggling in my pocket chased back the shivers and started me swearing again. In my running and falling I’d forgotten about Leaf.

She was tangled up in the fabric I’d carried them all home in the previous night. I was surprised she’d stuck to my command not to say anything, although from the way she was twisted I’d say she’d been fighting to get out for a while.

I freed her from the fabric. She flitted up into the air, hovering there as she glared at me with folded arms. “You can talk. It’s ok now.”

“Would have told you, I would, this is a bad place.” She flapped her wings for emphasis, then settled down on my knee. “Not good at all.” She shifted her scowl to the bronze walls around us, continuing to mutter under her breath as she did so.

“Anything specific? Or just bad?” It had been my experience that the faeries had a lot of knowledge about old things, however most of that knowledge boiled down to bad or good. Asking for an explanation usually just gave me a headache as they couldn’t or wouldn’t expand into words I could understand.

“Bad. Very bad,” she said with a nod of emphasis. Clearly not a lot of the nuances of faery communication made the leap when they spoke non-faery.

“Right. We have a problem. Well, I have a problem. I can’t get out of here, and there’s no one nearby for help.” I held her up to my face. “You’re going to have to go bring back help. Get Harlan or Covey. Foxmorton might be able to send someone if you can’t find those two.” Foxy would never leave his bar, but he’d send help if need be. I just hoped whoever she found would be able to get around the spelled fence.

Before she could respond, a rumbling tremor shook the ground. More specifically it shook the box. I slid to the side and tried to hang on but the walls didn’t have enough texture. The box started sliding and my hopes improved, maybe it would tip over completely, and I could get out on my own.

Whichever deity I’d pissed off to cause the last few weeks was still playing rough apparently. The box slid, while staying mostly upright, and felt like it was slithering down a steep slope. I tried pushing my weight to the downward side, still hoping I could tumble out. Unfortunately, whatever the box was careening through wasn’t hard ground and suddenly the bottom dropped out from under me. Leaf took off like an arrow flying free of the dropping box. I had no such option.

The roar of the passage through the tree limbs, over roots, through shrubs was as impressive as it was terrifying. The weight of the box I was trapped in must be substantial to carve through everything so easily. Even with the speed it had picked up, the landing wasn’t as hard as my initial crashing into the box. I even stayed conscious this time. But, I was now in a dark pit. And the new sound of rushing water was possibly one of the last sounds I wanted to hear. I had been terrified of water as long as I could remember, even before the deaths of my parents in a boating accident. Icy rapids were speculated to run under the full length of the ruins, at least the areas mapped out so far. The origins of these frigid streams were lost in time, but they appeared to have been created, not natural. Most were deep beneath the ground and had few exit points. I would be fascinated about finding one if my heart wasn’t busy trying to crawl out of my chest.

And my box had managed to land right in the middle of one.

A sharp, freezing attack on my rear told me my box wasn’t waterproof and had gathered at least one hole on its recent adventures.

“Leaf!” I screamed, my fears of drowning making me sound like a frightened child.

I couldn’t see her, but let out my breath when a small chittering mass landed on my shoulder.

“Leaf, you have got to go get help now, I don’t care who.” I felt along the bottom of the box where the water was coming in. It wasn’t coming in fast which was good and bad. Good that I would probably freeze to death before I drowned, bad because it meant there probably wasn’t a hole big enough for me to widen to escape though.

Leaf patted my head gently. “Will find someone, worry no.” With a final soothing rub to my head, she flew off. When she didn’t return in a few moments, I let out a sigh of relief. She should be able to get out of whatever cavern we were in.

I stomped my feet around, trying to keep some feeling in them. The water was now covering the top of my feet. While my boots were spelled waterproof for digging, they weren’t going to hold out against that cold for long. Movement brought some feeling back so I began walking laps around my box. I studiously ignored the water as it sloshed around because of my movements and the still subtle shifting the box seemed to be making.

Denial of a potential watery death in full force, I wondered if it was the elves or the Ancients that might have made this thing. And why. The race most of us called the elves disappeared probably a thousand years ago, the ancients, if they even ever really existed, closer to three-thousand. There were huge debates about it, but I only cared about what they left behind, who they were, what lives they led, not how long ago they’d vanished.

The water was now lapping my ankles, but I continued ignoring it.

I rubbed the hammered bronze wall as I passed. The condition was amazing. It was filthy, but the bronze underneath was immaculate. Or whatever they’d used that looked like bronze. That was a debate as well. The small pieces found hadn’t responded properly to bronze testing.

The water was now swirling around my knees.

All of my distracting thoughts about ancients and elves hadn’t done enough to make me forget my situation. I was losing feeling in my feet and each step was becoming more problematic. My feet were almost burning with the cold now and the pin-pricks were traveling up my legs. If I kept moving, I ran the risk of slipping as the burning turned to numbness and falling into that freezing liquid. But if I stopped moving, I might lose all ability to move as waves of terror started eating away at my carefully constructed wall of denial.

I held still as long as I could, but the numbing pain was too much. I made two more laps before my left foot decided to sell me out.

Even walking in it had been no preparation for the stabbing cold that drove directly into my bones as I fell to my knees. My hands dropped as well, slamming into the ice water as I fell forward.

This wasn’t how I wanted to die, but freezing was far preferable to drowning.

I debated trying to stand again, but sluggishness crept in, overtaking the pain. Standing felt like far too much work.

I wished I had more people to think about before I died, but with my parents gone, I had no family. Covey, Harlan, Foxy, and the regulars at the Shimmering Dewdrop were about all. And the faeries. They’d find someone else to mooch off of soon enough though.

Just as I was settling in for a nice maudlin slip into death, a buzzing sound followed by a thunk hit my head.

“Found help, found help did I.” Leaf was jumping up and down on my shoulder, one of the few places still dry, and pulling my hair.

“Thank you.” I tried to pat her but my arms wouldn’t work. “Where is this—?”

“Can you see my rope?” A familiar voice echoed out of the darkness. Alric.

I debated sliding into the water and ending it all. Luckily my overwhelming terror of a watery grave shook some sense into me.

“I don’t know how good your eyes are. But mine need light.” Hard to be flip when one’s teeth are trying to chatter themselves to dust, but I kept up the good fight.

“Close your eyes.” His voice echoed, clearly the cavern we were in was huge.

I shut my eyes an instant before a flare flashed. Even through my closed lids the light was brutal. I slowly cracked them open and a thick rope dangled a few feet from me.

“I see it,” I said as calmly as I could. The water was coming in faster. “But there’s a problem. No way can I grab that. Let alone hold on for you to pull me up. I’m freezing.”

A few mutters later, the rope was jerked back out of sight.

“Try this,” he said as he lowered the rope closer to me. It now had a large loop. But it was still almost a foot away. Unfortunately, wherever he was throwing it from I don’t think he could see me. Taking a deep breath, I rallied my frozen limbs to flop toward the rope. The first two attempts just got me wetter, then I gave one more lunge at throwing myself into the loop. I almost cried when I felt the rope tighten around me.

I slid to the side of the box, and slowly started rising as Alric pulled me up the side.

Once he got me free, he pulled me to the ledge he was standing on right above my almost watery tomb. It was a slab sticking out of an ancient and ginormous smooth cave wall. I couldn’t see the top of the cavern at all, nor anything past the box. Digger curiosity reared its head and I turned for a final look at my box. The outside was gorgeous, the water had cleared free eons of grime, and an intricate etched hunting scene appeared in the fading glare of the torch Alric held. I closed my eyes to keep myself from trying to run back to it. Such a find, even an unsanctioned one, would have set my career for life. Not to mention it was truly a thing of beauty.

“No time for that now. That sarcophagus doesn’t need another resident.” Alric turned my head toward him and removed the rope. He tried rubbing my arms, but I still couldn’t stop chattering. I was surprised when Leaf flew up and settled on his outstretched hand. They must have made a truce of sorts.

“I need you to get this note to your friend Harlan.” He held her close to his face and murmured a few more words.

Leaf chirped, zoomed around my head, and was gone. I didn’t know who I was more surprised at— Alric or the faery.

“Come on, I’ve got a fire.” Without any effort, he swung me over his shoulder and started moving down a level path. From my undignified position, I noticed how smooth the walls and floor were. Clearly the speculation of these channels being created by hands not nature had merit. Harlan would be proud that even in the face of certain death I kept thinking about artifacts and ruins.

From my upside-down position, I could see Alric had carried me into a small cave. Although this one had an odd little shack in it made to look like part of the wall. At least upside down it looked like part of the wall. Alric pressed his palm on a stone and the door opened, letting light, and warmth flood over me.

Without ceremony he dumped me on a small cot and shoved a bottle in my hand.

“Drink,” he said as he grabbed a few thin blankets and started laying them around me.

I took a whiff and rocked back. Whisky or dragon bane as some folks called it. Not that there were any real dragons to test it on anymore. They’d all vanished before the elves. If they even existed at all.

“No thanks, bad things happen when I drink that.” My shivering was getting worse, and I still felt the call of sleep. Alric pushed me back upright when I tried to tip over.

“You need to warm up, fast. If you fall asleep right now you’ll die.” He shook me as my eyes started to close. Then shoved the bottle against my lips. “This goes in, clothes go off, and blankets go on.”

I wasn’t worried about the clothing going off. If he wanted to take advantage of a half-dead frozen woman he had more issues than I thought. But I wasn’t drinking that whisky. I’d only had it twice since I’d moved to Beccia. Both times I had no idea what had happened and the people who did weren’t talking. Nor were they in my life anymore. The first time I’d no idea it would hit me badly, the second time was to verify the first. Even though I’d never had a problem before moving to Beccia, I clearly couldn’t handle the stuff now.