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I nodded. Rock climbing wasn’t really my thing, but I’d once been attracted to a man who was deeply into it and had joined his climbing club in an effort to impress. He wasn’t, so I quit after my first climb.
I might not have had tons of lovers in my past, but I’d done some seriously dumb things in the pursuit of them.
Lugh double-checked Cynwrig’s gear, then said, “I’ll head down first.”
“How do we know the rope is safe?” It looked okay from where I was standing, but that didn’t mean there weren’t frayed edges hidden by all the coils.
“The operators said it was checked and replaced a week ago,” Lugh said, “and there hasn’t been anyone else in here since then, apparently. It will be fine.”
I nodded and crossed my arms, watching as he threw the end of the rope over the ledge, attached himself via the descender, and then cautiously made his way over the ledge. I crept closer and watched his headlamp slowly descending. It was barely visible by the time he stopped.
“Dropped into water, and it’s thankfully shallow.” His voice was distant and echoing. “It’s a big old cavern with lots of mining leftovers and no hint of anything dangerous as yet. Beth, you come down next.”
I attached myself to the rope, had Cynwrig double-check it for me, and then carefully worked my way over the ledge. My descent was long and slow; I could have gone faster but I was wary of losing control or the autostop failing. Lugh would have checked all the gear, I knew that, but my pessimistic streak had risen again.
I made it down safely. Once detached, Lugh shouted the all-clear for Cynwrig’s to come down.
I glanced up, watching as the starlight twinkle of his headlamp appeared far above us, then swung around to study the cavern. The water was calf deep and a clear blue-green in the light, and the rough-cut walls a mix of grays with the odd splash of green. There were three viable exits, and one that was closed off by thick old timbers and a big “Danger, Do Not Enter” sign nailed to the front of them. I splashed across and pressed my fingers against the timber. Its song had been drowned out long ago by the darkness and the water.
Cynwrig made it down a lot faster than me. We left the harnesses on and followed a rusting set of narrow rail tracks into the middle tunnel. The descent was slow and the ground underfoot wet and slippery, but the tunnel itself was high and wide enough to walk unimpeded.
By the time we reached the final level of the legally accessible part of the mine, hours had passed. I perched on the rusted, skeletal remains of an old mine cart to rest and contemplated the three blocked-off tunnels. Like the one on the upper level, the barriers here were thick-cut wooden pit props darkened to almost black by time and moisture. No song help from them, I thought.
A cup of coffee and a small chocolate bar appeared in front of my nose. I flashed Lugh a smile and accepted them gratefully. I wasn’t particularly cold or even hungry, but better to consume both now, while I could.
And I had no intention of exploringthatparticular thought any further right now.
Cynwrig was listening to the ground again, but after a few more seconds, rose and wiped his fingers on his caving suit. “There’s a large mass of water in the bottom reaches of both middle and left tunnels. Can’t feel an island in either, but that might just be because it’s magically protected.”
I placed my coffee on the ground and tore open the chocolate bar. “What makes you think it’s magically protected?”
He accepted the mug Lugh handed him with a nod. “Because of what happened with the sword.”
“That had more to do with the properties of the sword itself than external protections.” The Annwfyn attacking us at the same time was just a “fun” bonus. “The crown wasn’t protected in any way.”
“Aside from the Annwfyn, you mean,” Lugh said. “We can’t discount the possibility of their presence here, given what has happened the previous two occasions.”
“Surely to gods we’ve had more than our fair share of Annwfyn attacks recently,” I muttered.
“The gods,” Cynwrig said, “have not been in a generous mood when it comes to handing out good fortune of late.”
“Were they ever?” I asked wryly.
“For most fae, no,” he replied. “But let’s be honest here, Aodhán pixies have held the favor of the old gods more often than not.”
I guess that was certainly true. At least until my ancestors had totally thrown a spanner in the works.
I finished my coffee and chocolate and handed the mug back to Lugh. As he repacked everything, I unzipped my suit and tugged the chain holding the Eye from under multiple layers of clothes. It twinkled brightly under the light coming from my headlamp, the lightning that split its dark heart pulsating in readiness.
I clasped the stone, pressing it hard into my palm as I pictured the island and the treasure chest I’d seen in my dreams.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then, with a suddenness that had my stomach lurching, the images in my mind spun away and were replaced by new ones. I saw the chest, this time free of the incandescent green fingers, then the island, which was barren aside from rusting, rotten mining paraphernalia that acted like a fence. The dark water loomed, still and oddly luminous, then the vision picked up speed, racing into a wide horizontal mining shaft, out onto a narrow path that followed a fast-flowing river, then into another shaft that was narrow and full of twists and turns. Then it exploded through a barrier and suddenly I was seeing me, sitting down, my eyes closed and my face pale. But in this vision, my clothes were wet and torn, and there was a ragged, bleeding cut following my hairline from my right temple to just under my ear.
It felt so real that I swiped gloved fingers along the side of my face, fracturing the vision and returning me to the here and now.
I gulped and released the Eye.
