The Rise of Fortune and Fury (Chronicles of the Stone Veil #5) - Sawyer Bennett Page 0,50

drafts of air. The walls shimmer with slime, so I try not to touch them as I walk the narrow passageway to the next room.

When I reach the threshold out of the passage, I note it’s considerably darker in here as there’s only one torch on the wall opposite me and I can see by a darkened shadow there’s another opening there to walk through.

Unfortunately, that one torch casts little light between it and the one in my hand, and I can’t see what lies between me and the next opening.

Taking a deep breath, I hold the torch out in front of me about waist high, enough that light touches the ground and the immediate space before me. I take one hesitant step on the illuminated hard-packed dirt before I stop.

Tipping my head to the side, I listen.

At first, it’s almost as if the darkness itself is making noise but then the hair stands up straight on my arms as I take in the rustling, hissing sounds.

Another step forward, moving my torch lower to the ground.

One more step, and that’s when my heart nearly explodes from my chest as I scramble backward.

Did I just see what I think I saw?

Leaning forward, I hold the torch out as far as I can and force myself not to recoil.

For before me, the floor is covered with snakes.

And I mean covered. As in I can’t see a speck of the dirt upon which they are all entwined. They’re all different colors. Some seem calm, just lying there, while others are actually attacking each other.

I take a deep breath.

I’m not ordinarily scared of snakes, at least not in a one-on-one situation. Now, show me one tiny spider and I’ll go running, but a single snake I can handle.

I don’t know how to handle thousands, though, and there has to be at least that many if they are covering the entire floor between me and the next opening to walk through.

I have to see if there’s room around the perimeter, so I carefully walk to my right, keeping the cave wall at my back and the torch to my front which keeps the snakes at bay. I walk all the way to the edge of the room before I come up against the next wall, but the clear perimeter stops. The snakes cover every bit of the floor.

“Shit,” I mutter, bringing the torch up briefly to examine the wall. If it’s craggy enough, maybe I can climb across, but it’s fairly smooth and also covered in slick slime. That’s not an option.

I remember the old Indiana Jones movie I watched with my dad where Indy got thrown into a pit of snakes. Fire seemed to hold them at bay a little bit, but no way was I going to take them all on with one little torch that could snuff out at any minute.

I could potentially bend distance across to the next opening, but it’s incredibly dark and I don’t know if I’d be stepping out onto a pile of snakes.

And then the proverbial light bulb goes off in my head, and I realize I have the solution readily available as I’ve had to cross dangerous territories before.

The Crimson River—I built a bridge and tunnel that kept us safe from attacking, tormented souls.

While I don’t need the same level of architectural engineering to cross the room, I do take a moment to think about what dangers might happen.

Can snakes jump up?

Can they fly?

I decide to take no chances as I gaze up at the ceiling above me. It’s pitch black and I have no clue how far up it extends, so I don’t know how high I can make my bridge.

I’m going to have to take it a step at a time.

Holding my torch in one hand, much like Elsa built her staircase of ice, I conjure in my mind one built of solid wood with a thick railing for stability. It rises a few steps at a time and I walk up them as they appear, at first testing that they are solid and will hold me, and then moving with a little more assurance.

When I’m a good ten feet above the floor, I hang over the railing and dangle my torch down. No snakes appear to be jumping or ready to take flight.

I glance at the opposite edge of the room, and I decide to trust my magic and make haste.

I conjure a wooden walkway with railings to keep me from falling and