Page 25 of The Queens and the Kings (The Isles #2)

The steep, unscalable walls would be impossible for a non-winged creature to climb.

Sheets of precarious shale waited to cascade at the first provocation, both announcing and destroying interlopers.

The mountain rock seams appeared continuous from her vantage.

No ridge or canyon to break them up and allow access.

As if a giant rock had descended from the sky, smashed a hole, and bounced away.

If one didn’t walk into this arena through a lucky cave entrance like this, then one must fly.

Wyverns littered the interior, most of them showing various stages of agitation.

Moving slashes on the ground indicated running people.

Wyverns chased them. Their powerful steps accounted for the trembling earth.

Wings sprawled, they screamed after the retreating Keepers, who ducked behind rocks or into other caves.

Her heart leaped into her throat. Those people would die . The wyverns would tear them apart like chicken carcasses.

They didn’t.

If she wanted real details, she’d have to edge closer to the interior oval without leaving the hallway. Biting her bottom lip, she scuttled back into the cave. At first approach, she’d felt a stirring of air from the right side. Tentatively, she returned.

Ah. She’d missed another tunnel. A smaller one that lowered to the right and down.

“Come,” she whispered to Denerfen. He perched on a rock, staring into the newest abyss. “I think we can get closer.”

As before, she walked without the advantage of sight, but trusted Denerfen’s frequent chirps and noises. They eased into the belly of the earth. What felt like an hour later, she emerged out of a steep downhill trail and toward another rare ray of light.

Once in the dim illumination, Denerfen rejoined her shoulder. She hid out of the direct influence of the light, listening. Voices stirred, but she couldn’t make out individual words. This tunnel ended on a low-hanging entrance too small for an adult male. She could fit with grunting and groaning.

So why would it exist? Did someone else spy?

An old, metallic smell filled her nose, like dried blood. Had it been a feeding pit at one time? A tunnel where they shoved food? It could be a chute made by dripping water over years of rain exposure. She prayed it didn’t rain.

Britt crept closer to the voices, staying out of direct sight of the open slit. If the Keepers stared down, they wouldn’t see her.

Their words clarified.

“Livid beasts today,” one Keeper said.

Another guffawed. “They’re livid every day, now that the mineral is late. Again.”

Another cried, “Didn’t even send it, I bet!”

“Agreed.”

“We reported the behavior changes,” said yet another male, his voice rigid. “Not much more we can do. We’ll protect ourselves, let someone else figure out what to do with them. When they’re acting like this, we can only let one fly and do the hunting. At least . . .”

He trailed off.

“Let’s just hope it doesn’t rain anytime soon,” the first commented with a lazy yawn.

Britt glanced at Denerfen. Mineral? Rain?

Why wouldn’t they want rain? Denerfen blinked at her, then tilted his head to the side.

His wings flared upright in the dragul equivalent of a question.

A stirring of wind moved Britt’s hair. The muted glow of light exposed an indent in the wall, just underneath the opening.

Another passage.

Treading lightly, she slipped toward the indent. Firm walls gave way to black air. She hurried inside.

Denerfen flew ahead, leading the way. The annoyed Keeper's voices faded behind her. Another gentle chirrup indicated Denerfen was straight ahead, not above. Within a minute, the telltale glow of an opening appeared. Britt jogged forward, recognizing a corner.

She skidded to a fast stop. Another entrance to the oval, but it wasn’t just an entrance.

A doorway. The circular hole was partially covered by a giant boulder that perched on the right side of the opening, hiding most of the arena.

The other half lay open to her view. Heart in her throat, Britt advanced to the very edge.

Rocks trickled down the slope. She skidded to a stop, landing on her butt.

They were almost on the floor of the arena.

A gap ten steps high separated her from the bottom.

A wyvern, blue-gray in appearance, sprawled nearby.

The mawkish thing was a hideous color, speckled with spots and dirt.

Its leathery skin had a slight sheen she hadn’t noticed from a distance.

Up close, its ferocity was intense, singular. It stared to the west.

Out of sight, two wyverns snapped. They wrestled into view, tackling each other. One nipped a wing. The affronted wyvern raged, tearing into his opponent. Two others cried in response. The nearest paced back and forth, glancing west at every other step.

“Den,” she murmured. “They’re . . . huge.”

He shivered.

The wyvern at Kapurnick had frightened her, but not like this. Several of them clustered together made them bigger. Fiercer. Her imagination hadn’t built them up. They were that gargantuan, that horrifying.

A trickle of rocks skipped away from her feet and trailed down the edge, drawing a wyvern’s attention. He spun, screamed at the billowing dust. Another interrupted the sound by slamming into it from the side. A brawl resulted, but not for long.

Denerfen trilled a noise. The tip of his nose rubbed underneath her ear, like a plea.

“What do you see, Den?”

He flew upward, exposing his back leg. Britt’s attention flipped to the wyverns again. Oh. “Chains,” she whispered.

Gigantic chains, thick enough to be seaworthy, anchored the visible wyverns. They attached to a hind leg and the rock floor. Only a few steps away, the Keepers cast bets on which wyvern would win while the fight settled.

Britt sank to her haunches.

How good was their sense of smell?

Why the chains?

If some had to be restrained, why did others fly loose at sea? They mentioned one hunting, but not the rest. Couldn’t they be trusted?

Her questions would remain unanswered . . . for today. She had hours upon hours of walking before she returned to the ship. The waning daylight meant darkness would fall halfway through her trek, and she didn’t want to be anywhere near the wharf at night.

Reluctantly, she backed away from the ledge.

A rock broke off the wall, crumbling free in a slow trickle.

The wyvern closest to her lifted his head again.

His eye swiveled until it locked on her.

Britt froze. The dark iris narrowed. A growl issued, low in his throat.

The wyvern gathered his legs underneath him.

Britt unlocked. She scuttled back down the tunnel, racing. Denerfen squawked, gripping tight to her dress. A shadow fell over the arena access.

When she gazed over her shoulder, a wyvern eye stared right at her.