The Fallen Prince Part 24

"Is it another dimension?" I ask.

A lash of wind blows Signe's hair in her face, and she tucks the strand behind her ear with a shaky hand. "More like a bulge of s.p.a.ce created for all the evil in Teag. Scary enough to make up children's rhymes about it." She wraps her arms around her torso and begins worrying a path into the ground.

Bodog snorts. "Created for unwanted things. Uncontrollable things."

"Like a depository for anything different." Reece shakes his head. "That's messed up on an epic scale."

Signe stops pacing. "Kera cannot be in there. It's horrible."

I don't like the thought of Kera being in there anymore than Signe. The firsts have never been shy about maintaining a status quo when it comes to Teag. They like their land and its inhabitants to reflect the perfection they love. Anything odd or weird would naturally not fit in.

I take a good look at Bodog. There isn't anything odder or weirder than him. With a deep squat, I'm eye level to my strange, little friend. "Bodog, why have I never seen anyone else like you in Teag?"

A troubled expression crosses his face. His stare blurs with water, and his head sinks between his shoulders. "The Unknown."

"They put your kind in there?"

He nods, though his body is wooden, like an old discarded puppet. He's a creature out of place in this realm, much like I was in mine.

I bow my head. How can the firsts possibly justify such a cruel act?

Reece lets out a low soulful whistle. "The more I find out about these firsts, the more I don't like them." He looks at me. "No offense."

I stand, fighting the anger that flares within me. "Not a fan, so none taken."

Signe's curls bounce as she shakes her head. "The firsts are harsh not only on others, but on themselves."

"Are you seriously defending them?" I ask, more than a little surprised. "Because they're part of my family tree even I wish I could disinherit."

"All I am saying is that they have an amazing capacity to love as well as hate. At times, that hate comes with a distorted sense of justice."

Does mine? Kera tried to warn me. She said I was changing. If I'm not careful, could I become as twisted as my father before they locked him away? It's a disturbing thought.

I turn to Bodog. "Is the bridge the only thing keeping whatever's in there in and us out?"

"No bridge."

Reece leans close to Signe. "You see the bridge, right?"

"Are we seeing what's not there?" I ask. It wouldn't be the first time.

"It is there."

And this isn't the first time Bodog has said something that doesn't make sense. "If the bridge is there, then it can be crossed." I walk to where the ground falls into a fairly deep gap. The sensation of needles poking my skin appears. I ignore it and peer over the side. At the bottom, a river rushes over huge rocks and swirls back against itself.

Reece's voice rises above the sound. "My gut doesn't like this."

"Mine's telling me there's no other way," I reply.

I sling my satchel over one of my shoulders and then grab hold of the wooden railing. It wobbles beneath my hand. I place my foot on the bridge and carefully test it with a bounce. It holds. I glance back. The stick lies across Bodog's lap, and he has his hands over his ears and his eyes tightly shut, mumbling to himself again. Signe clasps her hands prayerfully in front of her, while Reece slowly shakes his head, still not convinced I'm making a wise decision, and edges closer.

I can't stop now, not if I can make it across and find Kera. I move my hand along the rail, my grip white-knuckled. The air feels thick in front of me. A sharp pain digs at my side like the tip of a knife slowly grating past muscle and bone. I suck in my breath and press forward. As my foot connects with the board, it splinters apart, jarring me forward. The whole side of the ravine begins to shake and crumble. Signe gasps my name. Reece darts forward. Amid the earth shaking and rolling me toward the gaping hole, I throw myself back. Reece grabs my satchel strap and spins me safely to the ground before letting me go.

I touch my side, sure to find it bleeding. It feels bruised, but the skin is unbroken. My hands shake and I feel sick to my stomach.

Reece braces his hands against his knees and sucks in air. "Next time," he huffs, "we're going with my gut, not yours."

I slowly roll to my knees, and only then do I hear what Bodog is saying. "You cannot cross. You cannot cross."

My head hangs, and I grit my teeth against his fatalistic att.i.tude. "There's got to be a way to cross, Bodog. I'm not giving up." I push myself to my feet and scowl down at the little man. "Either you start thinking of ways to get there, or...leave."

"I know how," a high-pitched voice says.

We all turn to see Halim leaning against a tree, clutching the bag Bodog rejected as he bites into an apple. I slant Signe a questioning glance.

"He was going to follow us anyway." Like that's an excuse.

"Do you want to know or not?" the little nose-wipe calls.

Reece and I exchange looks. He shakes his head, clearly not willing to trust a kid. I know better. I was like Halim when I was younger. I pin the kid with my best stare. "Spill it."

He takes another bite, not in the least bit intimidated. "Do I get to come along?"

"This is no place for a kid," I hear Reece say to Signe.

Being raised in a loving, stable family, Reece doesn't get it. I do. That doesn't mean I'll roll over like a dog begging for pets and let Halim come along. "How'd you get here so fast?"

"I left before you, plus I know shortcuts."

Figures he'd know shortcuts even a magic map wouldn't know about.

"Let me guess. I can't keep you from following us, can I?"

"Nope." His grin makes me want to grin back.

"I didn't think so." I totally cave and wave him over.

He rushes forward, excitement flus.h.i.+ng his cheeks. "It's in the rhyme."

"The children's rhyme?" I ask Signe, and she says it again, but we all come up blank. I turn to Halim. "Why don't you tell us?"

He shakes his head disappointedly. "And you're the heir to the throne? Scary."

"Mind yourself," Reece threatens.

"Fine. 'Where flesh and bone take flight from thee.' Flesh and bone take flight. It's right there for anyone to hear." His face brightens as if he's found a fortune of gold in his own belly b.u.t.ton. "We have to fly."

Signe bites her lip and shakes her head, a ghost of a smile showing. "Well, that's a relief. It's a lot less gruesome than what my father always said it meant."

"Makes sense," Reece adds. "In a bizarre fairy-tale way."

They're all forgetting one thing. "Where are we going to find something big enough to fly us across?"

Signe shakes her head. Bodog stops groveling on the ground long enough to give it some thought. When I turn to Reece, he's staring at a grinning Halim.

Reece clamps his hand on the boy's head and turns his face up to his. "You've got an idea, don't you?"

Halim's dirt-encrusted grin widens even more. "How do you feel about griffins?"

Winging It.

The look on Reece's face telegraphs exactly how he feels about griffins, and if that's not enough, he flat-out tells us. "Birds smell funny."

I'm just as hesitant but for different reasons. I've seen a griffin-impressive in a scary, there's-no-way-I'm-getting-on-that-thing kind of way. I won't tell Reece that. Instead, I do what all guys do to hide their fear. Play like it's no big deal. "It's only half a bird."

"Still." He crosses his arms over his chest and scowls.

Signe steps between us and puts a hand to each of our chests, getting our attention. "It doesn't matter. We would never find one. Griffins are not social creatures."

"I know." Halim bounces on his toes, his face alight with news. "He's not supposed to, but Kera's father still has the one from the cleansing ceremony."

Does the boy have a solution for everything? "How do you know that?"

"I get around."

I bet he does.

"Well?" I turn to Signe, asking the only person qualified to answer the obvious. "Is it doable?"

"A griffin can carry one, two at most depending on weight. If Lord Hadrain has one, then we are truly fortunate. But he's a scholar, not a warrior."

I know exactly what she's saying. "He'll overthink the situation until it's too late."

Her eyes dim a little. "He won't mean to. It's how he is. Cautious."

"That's settled then," Reece says in his gruff voice. "We borrow the griffin without him knowing."

"And how are we to do that?" Signe asks, doubt showing clearly on her face.

A loud snuffle and cough sounds. We all turn to see Bodog's large, googly eyes blinking innocently up at us. "Bodog knows."

I was hoping he'd say that.

Bodog's network of tunnels runs as damp and dark and smelly as I remember. Most are still in good shape, but others have collapsed or have been taken over by nests of bugs even Bodog doesn't find appetizing.

The light Bodog holds out in front of him is more of a speck, especially when the tunnels shake, knocking dirt free. We're deep beneath the surface, but something is hammering away at the earth. It's not a comforting situation. One tunnel collapsing could create a chain reaction and bury us. I don't know if I'm strong enough to keep us all alive.

The sound of us walking, our ragged breathing, fills my ears, and I flinch when Halim tugs on my s.h.i.+rt to get my attention. "Are you as powerful as they say?"

Leave it to Halim to say what's nagging at my mind.

"Moreso," Bodog snaps from the front of the line. The tap of his walking stick echoes eerily as he moves along. "Whatever he wishes, he gets. The world is at his command."

That's news to me. "Bodog..."

"Then why does he need us?" Halim challenges.

"He doesn't."

"Yes, I do."

Bodog snorts at my admission, and I ignore him. "I have power, but it's not endless." Though I do have more than my fair share.

Halim drags his hand along the wall, skimming over rocks and a scattering of bones from things long dead that are embedded in this section of the tunnel. "Kera has power, more than anyone I've ever known, and I know a lot of people. Still, she's stuck in a bad place. What if they stick us there, too?"

Bodog thumps his stick on the ground and glances over his shoulder toward Halim. "They won't."

We come to a fork in the tunnels and veer to the left, all following Bodog like a troop of ants after a picnic.

The little man's confidence perks Halim's curiosity. "Really? Why not?"

"Dylan they will take. Us they will kill."

Halim staggers to a stop, and we all call Bodog's name in that disapproving voice all adults use on kids when they shouldn't speak the truth.

True to his impetuous nature, Halim pulls out a knife and waves it around. "I won't let anybody get that close to me."

He stabs and twists in the tight s.p.a.ce, causing Reece to grab Signe and yank her out of the way. "Take that thing from him before he stabs one of us or himself."

I push Halim against the wall, wrench the knife free, and hold him still as he struggles. "This isn't a toy." Like the boy, his knife isn't very big, but the blade is sharp and strong. I let go and hold it in front of him. "You asked me how powerful I am?"

He nods. His eyes are overly bright and his Adam's apple spasms within his throat.

Power rushes forward, invading the tunnel, raising the hair on our arms. It thrums against our eardrums. As serious as I've ever been, I say, "This is how powerful I am."

I call the heat that burns in my bones to my hand. The knife starts to smolder, then catch fire. The wooden handle is ashes in less than a minute. The metal blade oozes into a puddle within my palm. I close my fist and roll my fingers until hot ash pours out of my hand to the ground. When I open my hand, nothing but dust remains. I do it all without taking my eyes off Halim.

"That's what happens to little boys who play with knives. And if you ever pull a stunt like that again, I won't hesitate to teach you a very painful lesson."

The boy's awestruck gaze rises from the smoking dust in my hand and moves to each of us. He looks small and vulnerable and every inch his age. "I'm sorry."

Signe pushes away from Reece and cups Halim's cheek, lifting his head. "We know."