Page 105 of Lore of the Tides

Just then, she heard a sound other than the slippery bugs. Itsounded from above. It sounded again, and all around her the bugs scattered and fled, disappearing into gods know where.

Lore was almost too scared to look. She hadn’t scared the bugs, but this did? Slowly, she lifted her gaze upward, not knowing what she would find... a spider the size of a dragon? Shit, at this point, would she really be surprised if it was a dragon?

Lore lifted her gaze up, up, up... and then she laughed. “It’s you.”

Perched on a jutting piece of granite was a griffin. A too-scrawny, underfed fledgling with a patchy coat. The runt.

It squawked at her, tilting its head back and forth before flapping ungracefully down to her. It landed on her outstretched arm, and she winced. Its back talons were quite sharp. She ignored the minor discomfort and petted its bald head. “How in the world did you get down here? Did you follow us?” It nipped playfully at her hand. “No, there is no way that Finndryl missed that. He would’ve smelled you.” She supposed it was magic of some kind.

The griffin began to preen what few feathers it had while Lore rummaged in her pockets for jerky. When she looked back at it, jerky in hand, the chick held a feather in its beak. “Here, I’ll trade you, some jerky for this fine feather.” She tossed the jerky into the air and the griffin leapt off her, its beak open. She snatched the feather from the air, brushing her finger along its edge. The quill... she gasped.

The tip of the quill was shaped just like a key.

The griffins had been another test.

With shaking hands, she slid the quill into the lock and twisted. It opened with aclink.

She ripped off the chains and pried open the box. Inside was something wrapped in faded cloth.

She pulled it out with shaking hands. Brushed away a red spider that had tumbled from her shoulder onto the fabric.

The string was tied with an elegant bow.

All she had to do was untie the bow, and she would have her prize. Her fingers shook with cold, numbness, and terror as she gripped the edges of the silken bow.

Until Lore retched, gagging on... oh goddess. No, no, no.

That cloying, rotting stench that lingered underneath the smell of roach dung, of stale cavern air and mineral-rich clay... it tripled, quadrupled.

It filled her nose and mouth. Rotten flesh. Decomposing organs and muscle and sinew.

The smell of death is singular.

The smell of death was here.

Lore dropped one length of ribbon to cover her nose and mouth.

Beneath her knees pressed into the dirt, Lore heard a scraping sound. She scooted backward.

Could she run? Could she...

The hole she’d just dug began to tremble, the earth spreading on its own, a ravenous maw.

Chapter 35

Lore was a hairsbreadth from the exit to the corridor when a door slid out of the wall and slammed shut. One moment it was there, she was running straight toward it... She could practically see Finndryl and Hazen on the other side of the hulking reverie... and then... and then it was gone.

Just a wall.

“No, no, no,” Lore mouthed as she tucked the book under one arm and began to swipe at the damp, mildew-covered walls.

Rough stone, slick muddy water, mildew, moss, algae.

Her exit was gone.

Hadn’t she passed enough tests? Hadn’t this been enough?

Lore heard a gasping, grating sound, something rattling, something viscous from behind her.