Artemis's Arc

Chapter 8 of 9

Artemis stood at the open cave mouth and listened. Cool air came out steady against his face. Beyond the first few feet of stone, the dark went flat and total. He could not see the far wall. He could not see the floor. The bird had flown up to a ledge and would not follow. The butterfly hovered at his shoulder, wings slow. He turned to the girl. "Stay close," he said. "Hand on my coat." He took three steps in and the light behind them shrank to a pale slot. He put a hand on the wall. The stone was cold and wet. He slid his boot forward and felt the floor tilt down. The girl's fingers tightened at his back. He could not tell if the passage went straight or curved. He could not tell if there was a drop. He stopped. "I can't see," he said. He said it plain because there was no use pretending. "If we walk blind, one of us falls, or you let go and I lose you." The butterfly lifted off his shoulder. It flew a short way ahead and stopped. Its wings, when they moved, showed a faint blue edge he had not noticed in daylight. Not enough to light the floor. He watched it hover. He thought of the bargain. He thought of what he still had to give. He knelt and opened his palm. The butterfly key lay across it, the small blue wings at its head bright even in the dim. He held it out. "Take the rest," he said to the butterfly. "Whatever's left of what I owe. I need to see." He did not know if it would work. He only knew the key had done its one job and the woods asked payment for everything. The butterfly settled on the key. Its wings opened wide and held. Light came out of them, cold and steady, enough to show ten feet of floor and the low curve of the roof and a narrow path that dropped away to the left into nothing. The girl made a small sound. Artemis closed his hand around the key. The butterfly rose with it, keeping the light. He stood. "Behind me," he said. The girl kept her grip on his coat. They walked. The light moved with the butterfly, and the drop stayed at their left, and the floor under his boots held. Somewhere ahead the passage bent. He did not know what was around the bend. He knew he could see it when he got there, and that the key in his hand was warm now, and lighter, as if something had been drawn out of it and given back as light.