Draxin Alistair (16)'s Arc

Chapter 18 of 22

The buried ridge groaned behind them as the crew ran. Dante kept one hand on his gut, the other on Draxin's shoulder for balance. Mimi took point. Spike dragged the wagon by its harness because the mule had bolted. Zag clung to Draxin's collar, shaking. "He'll dig out," Dante said. "Sooner than we want. Move." They reached the cave mouth by dusk. It cut into the base of a black cliff, wide enough to swallow the wagon. Old Burn crew marks were scratched by the entry — a circle with a slash. Dante's mark. The haul was here, buried years ago. "Torches," Dante said. Spike lit two. The light showed blue ice down the walls and a floor slick with frost. Their breath came out white. They went deep. The passage opened into a chamber stacked with crates half-frozen to the ground. Gold spilled from a split lid. Relics wrapped in oiled cloth sat in a pile. Spike whistled low. "Load fast," Dante said. He sat on a crate and pressed the Veyra thornbush against his stomach wound. His face was gray. Then the ice moved. A shape peeled off the wall. It was shaped like a man but built from blue ice, with black hollows for eyes. Two more rose behind it. Their arms ended in jagged points. "Dwellers," Spike said. He spat ink onto his palm. "Been sleeping in here." The first one charged Mimi. She slid under its swing and drove her heel up into its jaw. The head cracked and fell. The body kept coming until Spike hit it with a black spray. The ink ate through the chest and the thing dropped in pieces. Another came for Draxin. He raised his arm to guard. Yellow scales flickered up his wrist and died. He rolled instead. Mimi's boot took the creature's knee out. Draxin grabbed a shard of gold from the floor and drove it through the ice-thing's neck. It shattered. Three more crawled from the ceiling. "Keep loading," Dante growled. Smoke curled off him, thin and weak. He flashed once and dropped two. Spike caught the third with ink. The chamber went still. Draxin's chest heaved. He stared at his own hand. No scales. Just skin. "Load the wagon," Dante said again. He didn't get up. Draxin lifted a crate. As he turned, he heard it — a small clean sound, like glass tapped by a fingernail. It came from deeper in the cave, past the chamber. He stopped. Mimi looked at him through the mask. He shook his head at her. She went back to loading. Draxin set the crate down and stepped past the torches. The sound came again. Closer now. He walked around a bend in the ice. At the end of the passage, low to the ground, something glowed red. He stared.