Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 169943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 850(@200wpm)___ 680(@250wpm)___ 566(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 850(@200wpm)___ 680(@250wpm)___ 566(@300wpm)
The basket jerks and we all give a little scream. Well, except Magpie, who just laughs at us. Then it begins to lower slowly, and again, I feel like I’m being sent down a well. I crane my head (even as I cling to the side of the basket) and eye our leader. “So how does this work? How do we get back up?”
“Someone always monitors the basket lines,” she says. “Rain or shine, morning or night. We run one of our flags up the rope and they’ll send a basket back down for us.”
It sounds like an imprecise system and I have a million questions. Like, what happens if we can’t send the flag up? What happens if a rope breaks? What happens if we’re down here too long? Magpie’s short with her answers and dismissive, as if she’s bored already. I’ll have to ask Hawk when I see him again.
If he doesn’t hate me, that is. If he feels like talking to me after our alley incident.
Then again, I’m his wife. He’ll have to at least talk to me to say “I want a divorce” even if he doesn’t want to knot me anymore. My thighs tighten at the thought. Surely he’ll want at least that, right? Surely…
My mind blanks out as the basket lurches lower, and then faint lighting glimmers through the cave. As we go down, I see a pocket watch hanging on a nail, the face of it glowing bright and lighting the cave. Farther down, there’s a teacup hanging by the handle, also glowing. More scattered objects light the way down, artifacts that have been determined to be useless except for their ability to light the well of the cavern, and I want to grab each one and examine it to see the glyphs. What symbols did they use for the magic? Are they Late Prellian or Early? Why would you want a teacup to glow with the brightness of the sun?
The basket creaks lower and lower, and I crane my head to glimpse each artifact as we sink lower. I’m pretty sure I see Magpie raise a flask to her lips, but I say nothing. I don’t want to lose a moment of this.
Because the narrow “neck” of the cave that we’ve been descending—Drop Thirteen—opens up, and then I can see the enormous cavern that is the ruins of Old Prell. Tears spring to my eyes as the sight spreads before us.
It’s the most beautiful, wondrous thing I’ve ever seen.
I’ve heard all the stories a thousand times. That Prell was a mighty kingdom full of wizardry and magic, and that a thousand years ago, the gods (or a nasty earthquake) struck and it sank below the earth. It turns out that the city itself was built upon a network of caverns, and so the ruins themselves are scattered in a warren of tunnels, some big and some small, and it’s this that the guild guards so fiercely.
There’s a large open chamber in the cavern, and the ruins of ancient buildings spill from every rocky ledge. Toppled columns are covered with moss, and water drips onto broken pieces of statues. Everywhere I look, there are pieces of Old Prell scattered like a puzzle, and I’m left with the impression that if only I had the time and strength, I could pull it all together again and remake the city once more. I can’t wait to get out and explore.
But then our basket continues to descend, and I have to bite back a whimper of protest as we pass through the massive, fascinating cavern and keep going lower. The walls grow tighter, our basket smacking against the side and jostling us.
“Not much farther,” Magpie says as it gets dark again. There are no artifacts this deep to light the way.
“Can’t we go back up?” I ask. “I’d love to get another look at the big cavern.”
“It’s all picked over. Trust me, there’s nothing there.”
A faint light gleams from below the basket, bleeding through the slats we stand upon. It grows brighter as the basket lurches farther down, and the well opens up wider. A crystal egg gives off faint light, illuminating the newest tunnel and showing more ropes off to the side and what looks like a side tunnel.
“Everyone hold on,” Magpie says. “This next part requires some skill.”
She pulls a giant staff from the side of the basket. There’s a hook on the end of it, and she maneuvers it out to the ropes dangling nearby. When she hooks it, she pulls hard, and we surge forward to the lip of the side tunnel. Everyone clings to the edges of the basket, but I’m relieved to note that we stop descending, and Magpie slowly pulls us toward the side.
Once we’re close enough, I see additional rope loops hanging from the walls, and at her indication, we reach for them. With a few more tugs, we manage to pull the basket onto the edge of the platform of the side tunnel.