He noticed her looking at them and shrugged, a twisted grimace on his face. “I am quite unprepared, for it’s not every day one thinks they’ll be wading through the town’s muck.”
“Better than being murdered by those freaks up there,” she pointed to the underside of the rectangular sewer cap.
“Very true. You Earthlings are wise.”
“Thanks.” Maria looked down the tunnel, swiveling her head left and right. Ever since they’d come down the ladder into the darkness, her orientation had been off. She wasn’t sure which way they should be heading, so she asked, “Which direction to the dungeons?”
Castro weighed the question for a moment, chewing on his chapped bottom lip. His teeth were jagged and discolored, but Maria had noticed on more than one occasion that the old man had a gentle smile, despite the worn look about his face.
Must be all that time spent fishing on Lake Fever. All that time spent in the sun wears on one's face.
He pointed to their left. “If I had to guess…that way.”
“You sure?”
“Pretty.”
“Aw, thank you.” Maria said, giving him a fake curtsy. Castro just scowled.
Whoosh; that’s the sound of the joke going right over his bald head. That’s okay, Maria, you’ve dealt with tough crowds before. Even though this really isn’t a time for jokes. I guess that’s just how I’m coping with my grandpa, dog, and newfound witchy friend being abducted by a bunch of freaks with forked tongues, dragon marks tattooed on their faces, and filed teeth. Man, it never stops getting weird.
She put on a serious face. “All right, let’s go kick their dragon asses…or should I say, tails?”
“Not funny,” Castro said.
Maria threw her arms up, casting blue light on the dripping ceiling. “That’s it, I give up! You just have no sense of humor.”
Chapter Three
They traveled through the sewers for what seemed like hours, but in reality, was probably only fifteen minutes. Rats squeaked and scurried out of their way, some carrying old and rotten pieces of fruit, others with fishbones in their mouths, like small, creepy-looking dogs. Maria didn’t particularly like rats, especially when she was technically in their territory, and especially when the never-ending tunnel was mostly dark. She was, however, not surprised to see that they looked different than the rats of Earth. Their tails were mostly covered in fur, instead of the long, pink worm-looking ones that Earth rats possessed—but their eyes were red and glowing. That was bad enough.
Voices caused the travelers to stop. That meant an exit was nearby; so far, they hadn’t seen one. Claustrophobia had begun to settle in on them both, but now there was a slight relief.
Until the voices registered in her head—then that relief quickly deflated. They were not friendly, and one voice boomed loud above the others.
“Tonight, the intruders will be sacrificed to the Dragon-God in the hope that more blood spilt in her honor will raise her stronger!”
Cheers rose in response.
“The old man, the old woman, and the dog. What a tragedy,” another voice said, this one closer, their tone mocking.
The crowd laughed in response.
Maria felt her face drain of all color. Her stomach clenched with queasiness. Sacrificed? Am I going to be too late to save them because I’m stuck underground, swimming in alien shit? No; no, I’m not, dammit! I’m gonna save them!
“I’m sorry, Maria,” Castro whispered, though Maria barely heard it; she was focused on the voices coming from ahead. “I didn’t think they’d kill them. I swear—”
Maria raised a hand to still his chatter.
In the distant dark, she saw with her squinted eyes a grid of light—their way out. She pointed and jumped off the ledge, splashing in the gray water.
“There!” she said in a raised whisper. “That’s where we need to go.”
“All right,” Castro said. He didn’t instill much confidence with his tone. “But I’m staying on the ledge. My stockings are soaked enough as it is.”
Maria didn’t hang around to make a joke about his ‘stockings,’ which she knew was just another term for socks. Castro wouldn’t get the joke, anyway. Sherlock would’ve had a ball with it, though. This thought made her run faster. She couldn’t live without her family, and she’d die trying to save them if that’s what it called for. She knew that with one hundred percent certainty.
She reached the sewer grate in record time. It was a ways up on the wall, but Maria didn’t hesitate, jumping up to it and gripping the edge to pull herself high enough to see. Nor did she notice the amount of pain currently stabbing through her fingers. The grate’s metal was rusty and bit into her flesh with fangs sharper than the rats’, scurrying below.
She saw a large, looming fountain made of carved stone. It was weathered now, but Maria could make out the faint shape of a flopping fish. Water wasn’t flowing; she had no clue if it worked anymore. Beyond that and past a few buildings, was the shimmering black lake—Lake Fever, the potential resurrection spot of a Rogue Dragon. Her eyes scanned the area until they settled on a platform a bit to the right of the fountain. Crowded in front of the raised platform were the Dragon Tongue, shifting from foot to foot in their black cloaks. Some held torches, others held their swords; but what really drew Maria’s eye, and almost caused her to drop into the gray water below, were the people currently kneeling on the platform with their heads in stockades.
Her family, and they were about to be executed.
Not if I can help it.
Anger flowed through her. So did the hate. Maybe not the best emotions to have when conjuring magic, but they were damn effective. Maria had begun to gain control of her abilities, too, and she planned on using that newfound control to kill all of these freaks…or die trying.
Her hands heated up,
