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“Yeah, that’s her full name,” I say distractedly. “Now hush.”
Prancing in place, Orianna lets out a sharp yip, and a faint whistle comes from below us.
“That’s them.” Marc takes the rope from Sharpe and knots it around his waist before grabbing his ax. “Tie off the end. I’m making a hole.”
The wet thwack of the ax sprays water in every direction as Marc swings at a frenzied pace.
Sharpe and I scramble out of the hole, and we quickly loop the rope around the nearest tree a few times.
Several minutes pass before Marc lets out a triumphant shout. “I’ve broken through!”
Rope in hand, Sharpe and I return to the edge of the pit, careful of the soft ground at the edges, and peer down. The building water now pours through a ragged hole, exposing the solid root foundation Marc stands atop.
“Hello!” Pen’s voice, muffled and distant, drifts up from the hole. “Marc? Is that you?”
“We’re all here.” He falls to his knees to peer into the small gap. “We’re going to get you out.”
“Be careful! There’s something down here with us!” Darius yells. “And the roots—”
His voice cuts off, and Marc scrambles backward as the roots writhe beneath him, the small hole closing.
Sharpe and I reach down into the hole, pulling him out as the roots claim the ax and drag it under.
Wide-eyed, we stare as the roots settle, and the hole fills with water once more.
“Oh, hell no.” Marc stands and raises his hands. “We’re burning this thing.”
“Just be careful,” Sharpe cautions. “Forest fires can start, even in this weather.”
“I’ll keep it contained.” Fire spreads from Marc’s hands, funneling into the hole.
Black smoke rises, the water inside turning to vapor that smells like scorched earth, then wet wood burning.
At the first brush of flame, the roots writhe again, and the ground trembles beneath our feet.
Sharpe and I back away, taking a firmer hold on the rope, but Marc stands strong, his determined expression painted in flickering red light.
The air around us grows humid and smokey, but the rain helps us now as it washes away the noxious fumes.
When the fire cuts off, Marc’s chest heaves with hard breaths. “Hurry, bring the rope.”
Sharpe and I haul the long end of the rope to the hole. I peer down to see Darius and Pen staring back up, their faces covered in dirt that doesn’t mask the way Pen glows brightly with golden light.
We heave the rope over the edge, and it uncoils as it drops, only to stop a foot above Darius’s head.
Without hesitation, he grabs Pen around the waist and tosses her up.
Pen catches the end of the rope, and Marc braces his feet, gripping the rope still tied around his waist.
Hand over hand, Pen quickly climbs, fear and determination on her face.
As soon as she’s within reach, Sharpe and I lean into the hole to grab her arms and haul her the rest of the way out. She collapses on the muddy ground, gasping in deep breaths.
I rub her back, my hand trembling with the aftershocks of adrenaline.
With Pen free of the hole, Darius leaps up and catches the end of the rope, hauling his body up quickly.
With him on his way, I finally focus on the cave they were stuck in, and it takes a moment for me to realize that the off-white ground isn’t stone but hundreds of bones.
