Going home. Back to a place where he would have been happy. A place that disappeared, perhaps even fracturing his herd, as they were forced to hunt for new territory.
This certainly doesn’t solve the mystery of the river, but it gives new information that I can take home to scholars. And I think it was important to Doscach to see this place again. If it was important for him to show it to me, then I am honored, and I forgive him for the way he went about it.
I peer up at the glowing walls. As long as I’m here, I might as well try to gather some specimens and have a closer look at the bones Doscach brought me to see. I map out a safe path and ask Jacko to stay where he is, on the deep ledge, inspecting the encantado skeletons.
I climb with care, until something slices my hand. Luckily, I’m prepared for that. Now that I know where I am—in a former water basin—I’m more aware of the possibility of sharp barnacles and broken shells. So when I do cut myself, it’s only a shallow slice, my caution stopping me from grabbing too forcefully at things I cannot see.
Whatever cut me is wedged into a crevice I used as a handhold. I tug myself up and squint. At first, I see nothing. Then I gasp. It’s a scale as big as my palm. It seems jet-black, but when I move, it catches the light as if the covering is iridescent.
I carefully wiggle it free. It is indeed the size of my palm. A massive fish scale. My mind races with possibilities, all the aquatic monsters in my bestiary books.
Sea serpents? Those are ocean beasts.
Is it possible I’ve discovered a new monster? A freshwater version? One so big it lived and died in this cavern?
I don’t have an easy place to carry the scale, so I tuck it back where I found it. Then I go higher, hunting for more scales or—better yet—part of a skeleton. I see plenty of the latter, but only from smaller fish and animals. When I reach the glow, it turns out to be a moss. I touch it and look for any irritation on my fingertips, in case it’s toxic, but they seem fine. I tuck two handfuls of the moss under my sleep tunic. Then I retreat, retrieving the scale as I go.
Once on the ground, I set the scale down where I can find it again. Then I return to the ceffyl-dwr bones. With the glowing moss in hand, I examine them. It’s one skeleton, fallen to pieces. Several ribs are broken, and there’s a sharp rock the length of my leg beside the ribcage. Did it fall on the ceffyl-dwr before it could escape? Did whatever happened to stop the water cause this rock to tumble down and mortally wound the beast?
“Thank you for showing me this.” I put my arms around Doscach and hug him tight. “You are forgiven for scaring me half to death. I know this was important, and I wasn’t listening.”
I give him another pat and then step away. “Let me get the scale and then we’ll—”
Doscach takes off, hooves clattering on the rock as his dark form disappears.
I sigh and hoist Jacko onto my shoulders. “Seems we aren’t quite done here yet.”
I lift the moss, and when I can make out Doscach, I walk over. He’s against a wall, his head stuck into a wide crevice. He pulls back and I peer inside to see it’s actually a tunnel. More moss glows deep within it.
“Ah,” I say. “So there’s a back door. One that doesn’t mean plunging into freezing cold water and terrifying a non-swimming jackalope. You could have mentioned this before, you know.”
I head inside, and Doscach follows. It isn’t long before I see why we didn’t come in this way. He only fits for about the first twenty feet. Then the ceiling slopes until it brushes Jacko’s antlers. Doscach’s being thoughtful and giving us another exit, one he can’t take.
“All right,” I say, patting his nose. “We’ll meet you on the other side, then?”
He nudges me forward, and I laugh.
“Yes, yes, Jacko and I will happily take the dry route. Believe me, this will make us both much happier.”
I wave a farewell and bend to crawl along the blessedly dry tunnel.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I don’t get far before the ceiling shoots up again and I can walk. The tunnel walls are smooth as glass. The ones in the cavern had been worn by water, but these are even smoother. Worn by running water? There aren’t any barnacles here. No dead vegetation either. Could this have been a waterway into the main pool?
The geological sciences aren’t my speciality. I remember the books in Sarika’s pack. This cavern and its waterways could answer so many questions about the Michty River. If something stopped or diverted the flow, is it possible to restart it? Is it even wise to try? Nature has already moved on, the riverbed filling with fresh life.
I’m musing on this when Jacko chatters a quiet warning. I slow and then come to a stop.
As I peer down the tunnel—dimly lit by the phosphorescent moss—a sound echoes through the chambers. A rumble. Almost like a groan, but so loud it’s more like distant rolling thunder.
“Is that what you heard?” I ask.
Jacko has gone still on my shoulders. I can hear him sniffing, then he scrambles to dismount. Another sound comes. A…cry? I hesitate to call it that, even as a chill runs through me. It did sound like a cry. Like some animal I don’t recognize.
No, a monster. My gut says monster. Which one, though? It’s an almost birdlike noise. An image of wings flits through my head.
Birdlike. Wings. Monster.
A gryphon is the obvious answer,
