Rook Fenwall's Arc

Chapter 3 of 11

Rook stood on the ridge and looked for a way down. The stone dropped away in a sheer slope, loose and steep. No trail, no ledge to hold. He tested one step and his boot slid. Rock skittered into the dark below. In his iron armor, one fall would break a leg or a hip. Then he would lie broken in the hollow, waiting for the thing that had killed his people to find him. He needed to reach the bottom whole. He had no rope and no road. He searched the ridge for another path. Near the iron-gray trees, a shape moved. An elk stepped from the grove. Its coat was dark as smoke, its eyes lit with a dull gold light. Sweeping antlers rose above its head. It watched Rook without fear. Then it turned and walked along the ridge, unhurried, and stopped where the trees leaned over the drop. Rook followed. The elk led him past the iron trees to a broad ledge he had not seen. Something rested there, curled against the stone. It woke as he came near. A wyvern lifted its head. Its scales were rough gray plates, like set stone. Wings folded along its back. It fixed one gold eye on Rook and did not flee or strike. The elk dipped its antlers toward the beast, then melted back into the trees. Rook understood. The elk had brought him here on purpose. He stepped toward the wyvern, slow, both hands open. The beast let him close. He set a gauntlet on its neck. The scales were cool and hard. It did not pull away. Three years he had turned every creature back from the forest's edge. Now he asked one to carry him in. He climbed onto its back between the wings. The wyvern took his weight without complaint. He gripped a plated ridge along its neck. "Down," he said. "Take me down." The wyvern spread its wings and dropped off the ledge. Air rushed past. Rook's stomach lurched. The dark trees rose up fast. The beast beat its wings once, twice, and slowed. It glided the last stretch and landed on soft ground with a heavy thud. Rook's boots met the floor of the hollow. Whole. Unbroken. He climbed down and stood on level earth. The wyvern climbed back toward the ridge and was gone. Rook drew his breath and looked around. The trees stood close and black on every side. No trail out that he could see. Above him the ridge was a wall now, too steep to climb in armor. He had crossed it, but he could not go back the same way. The stillness pressed in. Somewhere in the dark ahead, the thing that had sensed his coming waited. Rook had reached the hollow at last. Now there was only forward.