Two Renegade Realms (Realm Walkers Book 2) (22 page)
“Well done, Bridger.” Dukmee marched through a doorway, turned right, and hurried down a narrow stairway. He stopped at a heavy wooden door.
“This is it?” asked Bridger from behind him.
“This is it.”
Dukmee read for a moment, then examined the right side of the doorjamb. He pressed in a square tile, then found a matching design on the door itself. When he pressed on that
square, a loud, complicated clicking clattered beneath his fingertips. The door moved, and he was able to push it open.
A waft of stale, damp air hit them in the face.
“Light,” said Bridger.
He plucked a torch from its holder on the wall and breathed on it.
Under its glow, Dukmee stepped into the gloomy room. “We pass through this room, and two more, then come to the one containing the materials we seek.”
A fine settlement of dust coated the floor. No tracks, not even a rodent or insect. The stone walls had been smoothed by men who excelled at their craft.
Bridger cringed.
Dukmee noticed. “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t like having all that rock on top of us.”
“You were all right in the mountain.”
“Well, yes. Primen made the mountain. Men made these buildings.”
“Look at the beams in the ceiling. The men were master builders.”
“Still not Primen.”
Dukmee tsked. “We’re fine. These walls have stood for thousands of years.”
“The ones outside didn’t.”
“That’s because they were exposed to the elements — rain, wind, hot, cold.”
Dukmee took the last steps to the next door quickly. He didn’t want to give the dragon time to work up a stronger case of nerves.
Since he had a good idea of what he was looking for, he managed the mechanical trips for the following two doors
easily. Each room consisted of the same smooth rock walls and beamed ceiling. Each progressive room smelled mustier than the one before.
Dukmee paused in the last chamber. This final door had a different set of instructions. He pushed three right side tiles in the proper order, then the corresponding left side tiles in the reverse order. A lever eased out from the adjacent wall.
Dukmee grabbed hold and pulled, but it required more strength than he had available.
“I can’t do it one-handed, Bridger.” Dukmee nodded to the metal rod. “Push that down, if you will.”
Bridger grasped the lever with his free hand and smoothly moved the rod from a forty-five degree angle upward to a position much closer to the wall downward.
The heavy door grated against its frame and rose into the wall above. The air in this room was no more unpleasant than the last. In fact, the atmosphere was less dank and gloomy. Dukmee ducked under the lifting door, and Bridger followed.
The sound of metal grinding against metal reached their ears as the door finished its ascent.
Bridger lifted the torch and turned slowly. The room appeared to be much like the others, perhaps bigger. And along the opposite wall where another door would have been, round ceramic pipes thrust out from the wall at regular intervals.
“I wonder what those are.” Dukmee took a step forward.
The section of floor beneath his feet sank with a suddenness that upset his balance. He fell forward and dropped the book, which skidded across the floor. The thud of his impact and the scraping of the leather binding across the fine grit on the floor sounded strangely loud in the isolated chamber.
“Are you all right?” Bridger came to his side and bent to examine him, poking and prodding and irritating Dukmee.
Dukmee did a quick check. He’d knocked his chin on the hard floor, slamming his jaws together, but none of his teeth wiggled. One palm had lost a bit of flesh. He’d barked his shins against the side of the hole made by the falling segment of stone. He stood and the front of his legs protested.
“I scraped my shins, but other than that I seem fine.”
He eyed the recess he stood in. One square had fallen, but by design, he was sure. Three foot by three foot, perfectly square, and with the sides made out of identical material.
He took Bridger’s outstretched hand and climbed out of the knee-deep depression.
A screech rent the air, and the heavy door dropped, slamming against the floor. For one moment Dukmee and Bridger stood balancing as the room reverberated.
“Master builders,” said the dragon.
Behind them, trickles of water fell from each of the pipes.
Dukmee’s stomach clenched. “Indeed, they were, Bridger. This is a well-designed trap.”
T
he pipes’ trickling flow increased. Dukmee snatched up the tome before the water could reach it. The pages fell open to the puzzle folds. He turned the page and read on.
In his peripheral vision, he saw Bridger fidgeting, shuffling his huge feet, twitching his long tail, drumming his clawed fingers against his sides, rotating his head every which way, and darting glances here and there.
The dragon twisted his lips. “I don’t suppose knowing how to swim would be helpful, since there’s no place to swim to.”
More interested in the book than Bridger, Dukmee muttered, “Probably not.”
His fingers fumbled through manipulations of the next two book pages. None of his experiments worked.
“Let me try.” Bridger took the book. This time he made triangles of the upper edges, then folded each page in half lengthwise. He handed it back to Dukmee. “The pages after this have been torn out.”
Dukmee sighed. Things just weren’t going smoothly at all.
As he bent over the book once more, Bridger waded through the ankle-deep water to inspect the pipes. His swishing tail sent small waves splashing against Dukmee’s legs.
He held the book higher.
“Whoa, this water’s cold,” Bridger complained.
“Mountain snow melt-off collected somewhere. Brilliant builders,” said Dukmee. He held up the book. “It would have been prudent to have read ahead before entering this room.”
Bridger gave him his attention.
He tapped the bit he’d just skimmed. “These paragraphs explain how to avoid triggering the trap.”
Bridger grunted. “And the pages telling how to get to the next chamber are missing?”
“That’s right.” Dukmee closed the book and turned in a circle, looking closely at all aspects of the room. “No windows, of course. The scholars would not have wanted their work to be submerged in water — soaked, sodden, and unsalvageable. This is not the last room, but how do we get to the next level? And where is it?”
“Up.” Bridger tilted his head to survey the ceiling. “Up, because the water would go down if we opened something in the floor.”
“Could you fly up and get a closer look?”
The dragon placed the torch in a holder on the wall. “I’m not built to hover. I’ll stretch my neck instead.”
After only a minute, Bridger announced, “I don’t see anything.”
Dukmee stood in water up to his knees. “How about along the top of the walls, just under the ceiling?”
Bridger eased his head over to the side and began a
studious search along the walls. He sidled through the water. As he approached the closed door, Dukmee remembered the hole in the floor.
“Be care —”
Bridger fell into the pool.
Dukmee dodged, unsuccessfully avoiding the splash of cold water. He managed to protect the book with his body.
Bridger’s neck telescoped back to its normal length as he thrashed awkwardly.
“Calm down,” said Dukmee. “Just put your feet under you.”
Bridger stood, looking sheepish.
The water now covered Dukmee up to his waist. He held the book out from his soaked shirt. He was almost as wet from the dragon’s splashing as Bridger was from his dunking.
“Come on, hoist yourself up. We need to find a way out of this predicament.”
Bridger lurched but didn’t gain higher ground. “My foot’s stuck on something.”
Dukmee pushed his way through the water to Bridger. “There was nothing in that hole when I was in it.”
“Something has my foot.”
“Something alive?”
“No.” Bridger struggled.
“Well, at least that’s good news.” With a sigh, Dukmee took Bridger’s arm to help him balance.
The dragon twisted, his tail popped up for a moment and managed to knock the book out of Dukmee’s grasp. Dukmee clamped his teeth on biting words of annoyance and only let out a heartier, blustering sigh. If they drowned in this trap, the book wasn’t going to do him any good, anyway.
With both hands wrapped around Bridger’s skinny arm,
he tugged. His feet slid across the smooth floor toward the hole. He quit pulling and the dragon surged upward.
“I’m out,” he said, “but something is still wrapped around my ankle.”
He leaned back, presumably on his tail, and lifted the entrapped limb. A chain dripped water as he raised it above the pool.
“Now, what’s that hooked to?” Dukmee took hold of the chain and tested its strength. “Point your foot. I’ll try to slip it off.”
Bridger tried, but it was a clumsy maneuver getting the foot out of the water and allowing Dukmee to manipulate the chain. He fell sideways with a splash. The chain jerked taut, then suddenly relaxed.
Dukmee pulled it out of the water, revealing a large metal disk, while Bridger righted himself once again. The pool’s surface undulated with waves. Bridger shivered, and tiny droplets sprayed Dukmee’s face. He wiped a hand across his eyes to clear his vision.
Dust filtered down from above. Both turned their faces upward, blinking the grit away as they watched a shaft open in the ceiling.
“Look.” Bridger pointed. “There’s light up there.”
“I see.” The water now touched Dukmee’s chin. “I also see some problems with this escape hatch. You’re too big to squeeze through, and the sides are smooth — nothing for me to hang on to as I climb.”
Bridger smirked. “Obviously, these master builders weren’t expecting one of their captives to be a shapeshifting dragon.”
The dragon changed swiftly. He propelled his head upward as he elongated his entire body. His top half had disappeared
up the shaft by the time his tail left the water. The tail, now resembling a thick rope, wrapped snugly around Dukmee, pinning his arms to his sides. Bridger pulled him along and, once Dukmee popped out of the shaft at the top, put him down gently.
Dukmee frowned as Bridger dipped his tail back down the shaft. He heard swishing, and just as he was about to ask what the dragon was doing, Bridger pulled his tail up. The dragon had retrieved the water-soaked book. He gave it a shake, sending a scattering of droplets around the room, then laid Dukmee’s treasured tome on the floor.
Bridger returned to his normal shape and looked around. “Great. We’re in another room with no exit.”
Dukmee grinned at the dragon’s doleful expression. “Except the one at our feet.”
He shivered, still wet and cold. If they got to the surface, the warm summer air would be welcome.
Bridger stood erect, pursed his lips, and blew. Dukmee cringed, but instead of a blast of fire, a pleasant, drying breeze issued from the dragon’s mouth. Dukmee turned, eyes closed, soaking in the luxurious warmth that chased away the goose bumps. His hair, no longer plastered to his scalp, responded to the tepid air with ripples like grass in a sundrenched glade. His clothes dried and undulated under the flow of Bridger’s breath.
“Thank you, Bridger. I’m comfortable at last.”
The dragon smiled, took in a deep breath, and sneezed. A spout of flame licked Dukmee’s arm, leaving a scorched stretch of sleeve.
Dukmee flicked his fingers over the cloth. “No harm done. No harm done.”
He turned away, avoiding eye contact with Bridger that might add to his embarrassment.
A buzz of excitement quickened Dukmee’s breathing as he scanned the walls. Neat printing and pictures covered every inch of the floor, ceiling, and four walls. “This is it, Bridger. We found the mother lode.”
“Can you read this?” Bridger peered at the words on the wall. “It’s different.”
“It’s written in code, but I already broke the code in a volume I found in the Library of Lyme.”
“So are you going to copy all this down? Or can you memorize it like Bixby can? And what good is it going to do if we can’t get out?”
“Oh, there are bound to be instructions among all this. We’ll get out.”
“I hope you have a hamper of food with you.”
Without commenting, Dukmee removed a storage sack from his inside pocket and handed it to the dragon. Bridger sat and explored the contents, chomping on his favorite foods as he pulled them out, putting others aside.
A companionable silence fell over them. Bridger contentedly eased his hunger. Dukmee strolled around, reading the words and examining the pictures inscribed on the walls so very long ago.
The light in the room never varied. It occurred to Dukmee that there must be an unusual source. No one object supplied the soft glow. The only oddities in the room were the hole in the floor and an orb stuck to the ceiling.
“I wonder what that is.”
Bridger, sated and collapsed against one wall, opened his eyes and squinted in the direction Dukmee pointed. “Is it important?”