“Go, I’ll be right behind you.”
There was nothing Shea could do but listen. She climbed faster, stopping only for the briefest second to make sure that Trenton was following her. His face was a mask of concentration as he descended as fast as he could.
Shea was in the shade of the two rocks, her handholds suddenly cool under her hands. She was still several feet up when the sun was blocked by a giant pair of wings. An eagle’s head thrust between the crevasses, the beak closing inches from Shea’s face.
A loud squawk sounded and then the head withdrew only to be replaced by another bird’s, this one smaller with a cream-colored head that shaded to gold near the neck. It had several brown spots around its neck and chest. Using its smaller size, it darted inside, its beak growing larger and larger as Shea watched in horror. She yelped and jerked back as the hard beak brushed against her. That jerk was what saved her, the bird snapping at air as Shea fell the last few feet to the rock pillar.
She landed hard, the breath exploding out of her. No time to hurt. She needed to get moving and protect herself. Rolling to her side, she crouched as she looked above. The eagles both tried to thrust their heads inside, only to get in each other’s way. The bigger eagle flared its wings and let out an ear-piercing shriek. The smaller one answered its challenge with a full-throated cry of its own. It dived to the side, the bigger one following with another shriek. They circled above, intent on a furious battle as they dived at one another.
Shea didn’t question her luck, grateful that the two were more concerned with defending their territory than picking her off.
She turned back to the symbol below her—a circle filled with another circle and bisected by the wavy line. She’d found what she was looking for, now she just needed to make it work.
The eagles above broke off their aerial battle, disappearing as they dove at the ground below. Shea hoped the Trateri out there managed to evade them long enough for her to figure this out.
According to the story that Shea could remember, the entrance responded to the fire of the great eye and the blood of the chosen children. The second part should be easy enough. Whatever made her a pathfinder should open this thing. The first part though—what in all the Broken Lands was the fire of the great eye. Was it fire? That had to be too easy.
“You figure this out yet?” Trenton shouted down at her, his head peering over the side of one of the stone monoliths.
“You’re alive?” The question popped out of Shea before she could censor herself.
“Not for long if you don’t get this thing open.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Work faster.”
Shea dragged her foot across the stone, brushing away any debris that had accumulated over the years. The symbol itself was in pretty good shape, the white paint showing no sign of erosion or damage.
“Shea, you need to get this open.”
“I told you I’m working on it.”
She looked up. Trenton’s face was tilted away from her, but something very close to fear covered the part she could see.
“No, you need to get it open now. There’s a black cloud in the sky coming from the Badlands, and I’m pretty sure it’s not the kind filled with rain.”
Shea grumbled to herself. A bright flash of light near where Trenton crouched caught Shea’s attention.
“What’s that?” Shea pointed.
Trenton looked down, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior. His gaze went to where she was pointing. “It looks like a mirror or a glass of some sort.”
“Of course, that’s it.”
Fire. What was the sun but a massive ball of fire creating heat and light? Shea wasn’t really sure where the eye portion came from, but this place was built right around the cataclysm. There could have been all sorts of weird sayings or religions to explain the world falling apart.
“Trenton, I need you to climb down to that mirror and aim at the middle of the circle.”
“Do you see where that mirror is? How do you expect me to cling practically upside down and then move it? Not all of us are descended from spider people,” he shouted back.
“I need that light to get this entrance open. You’re the one that can see what’s coming; you tell me if it’s possible.”
There was a growl from above and then he threw a leg over the edge, lowering himself over the side. Shea hoped his arms weren’t spent during their impression of mountain goats earlier.
She bounced lightly on her feet as Trenton made his careful way down the side of the monolith he’d been crouched on and across to the mirror. Time was of the essence, and every second he took felt like grains of sand sliding through an hourglass—inevitably bringing doom closer with every breath.
“Come on, come on,” she muttered under her breath. She didn’t want to distract him or cause him to fall, but he was taking so long.
“I’m here. What do I do?” he asked, not looking back at her.
“You need the mirror to catch the light and shine it down here.”
He nodded and reached over to tilt the mirror to catch the sun that shined down at an angle, the beam never touching the pillar on which Shea stood.
“It’s stuck,” Trenton grunted, wrestling with the mirror. He moved over, finding grips in the rock face for his hands and using a leg to kick at the mirror.
“We need that mirror, so don’t break it,” Shea warned.
“I’ve almost got it. Almost there.” With one last kick, the mirror turned with a screech to rival the eagles’ cries.
It glittered as the sun caught it, rotating and reflecting down into the crevasse. Its beam dragged across the rock, closer and closer to where Shea stood.
“There! Keep it right there.” It was pointed directly at the middle of the circle. Shea saw why they’d called it the eye of fire in the story. From this angle, with the mirror reflecting the light it looked like an eye had caught fire.
“Time for my part,” she said in a soft voice. She pulled out a knife and looked at her hand.
“Shea, what are you doing?” Trenton asked in a calm voice. He’d paused in his descent when Shea withdrew the knife.
“It needs sun and blood to work. Don’t worry; I know what I’m doing.” Sort of. She hoped.
“The Warlord is not going to be happy about this,” Trenton muttered.
He was right. Fallon was going to be very upset if he got in here and found Shea bleeding, even if it was from a self-inflicted wound. That was to say, if he survived the eagles and whatever black cloud Trenton had spotted.
She set the knife against the palm of her left hand. Hesitation stayed her hand. She moved the knife to her forearm. She might have need of her hands before this journey was through, and a cut on the palm was an absolute bitch to heal when you used it constantly. Not to mention painful.
“Here goes nothing.”