Page 112 of The Last One
Jadon takes his eyes off the battaby for a second. “Why are you smiling?”
My cheeks burn. “Just thinking about posies and ponies, puppies and peaches. Also, battabies with orange wattles.”
At the mention of battabies, his thoughts turn darker.
“I hope they’re okay at the cottage.”
We have to keep going—if we don’t deal with the battabies now, they’ll return to the cottage before Jadon and I do, knocking it down, succeeding this time, then attacking Philia, Olivia, and Veril, first by spitting acid at their faces, then by gouging their eyes.
Jadon and I have no choice but to move forward.
We’re surrounded by amber outlines of nighttime creatures that aren’t the battaby we’re chasing, their glows as bright as glass baking in a kiln. Rooster’s shrieks are louder than before. Other battabies farther away respond with their own cries. Soon we run up against a stream.
“We’re close to Azzam Cavern,” Jadon says. “It’s in the middle of this forest.”
There’s a gap in the earth that’s not big enough to walk through, but not so small to require dragging our bellies on the ground. Tangled roots make natural stairs, and I use them to scoot down into that gap and settle onto my hands and knees. Soon the roots of the trees above us space out, and I glimpse a well-lit forest just ahead. More crawling, more scooting and dragging, and just like that…
I’m free!I rest my hands on my knees and recover from all that exertion and from my burnu wounds barking at me again.
Jadon scoots out from the roots and easily rolls to his feet, like all that scooting didn’t set him back.
“You actually look refreshed,” I say, squinting at him.
“Oh, that?” he asks, pointing back at the tunnel. “That was child’s play. Didn’t even break a sweat.”
I grin at him. “I hate you.”
He wiggles his eyebrows. “Oh, Kai, do I make you miserable?”
“Absolutely. Guess we’re even.”
“The cave’s not much farther. Look.” Jadon points ahead to the swirling cloud of battabies disappearing into shrouded darkness.
We march forward, our boots crushing leaves and seedpods, marking our trail with the scent of licorice and sweet greens. Small motes of light, as soft as a song, drift through the canopy. Is this light from the daystar or the nightstar? I can’t tell, since I can no longer see the sky. But it’s beautiful, otherworldly. The quiet is punctured by shrieks and cries.
“Watch out,” Jadon says. “Don’t let your guard down just because we’re close. Look out for wolves that transform into burnu, birch trees that transform into sunabi, bears and snakes…”
And there it is—the small clearing right outside a cave. And there is Rooster, his orange wattle bright against his dark, leathery body, fluttering above the cave’s mouth, daring us to enter. We take a moment to stop and catch our breath.
“Welcome to Azzam Cavern,” Jadon says, crouching. “The worst place in the realm.”
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The cave looms before me, a gaping maw ready to consume my fear—and possibly more than that. The stench of shit, leather, and bile assaults my senses again. The air already feels heavy, and we’re nearly one hundred paces away. Sharp, wet stones and dead leaves litter the cave’s opening. Bones—some snapped, some whole—pile between agate stones.
Jadon finds torches at the entrance among the bones and stones and ignites them with his fire-starter. “We’ll use these to light the fires,” he says. “Protect your eyes, no matter what.”
Damp, cold air whistles and blows from the mouth of the cavern. The smell intensifies with the additions of decay and must, slime and rot. It smells like every breathing, living thing crawled into this cave and died…twice.
“I don’t know if I’ve heard of this place,” I say. “Where’d you learn about it? Old Myrtle’s wall?”
“During Assent. Father Knete warned those who disobeyed that they’d be cast into the darkness of Azzam Cavern by Supreme himself. There, you’ll wander in darkness for a thousand ages until the Vile One ascends from the pits of the cavern and pulls you down and tortures you for a thousand more ages and then, finally, blessedly, burns you up.”
Horrified, I gape at him.
“It worked.” He leads the way, torch up, sword out.
Down, down, down we go. There’s an explosion followed by a chain of smaller booms. The ground shakes. We stand there, frozen, eyes trained on the torch, waiting for the vibrations to stop. Once that booming and banging ends, all that’s left to hear is…chittering.
