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The Caves of Fire

By K. Berklund-Pagé

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“Wait here.” The guards shoved Fee into the throne room and hurried away.

He hadn’t put up a fight when they’d come for him. It had been two against one—and the
warrior clan bred for size and cruelty.

Flames from a brazier set shadows writhing on the stalagmites that soared around him
like giant pointed teeth. The darkness behind the stalagmites didn’t quite hide the cage that was anchored there… or the prisoner locked inside.

Fee shivered and turned away from the cage. There would be no reprieve, no chance of
escape for the prisoner. He might last another week. Two, if he were unlucky. Then he would die in that cage and it would be Fee’s fault. The thought made his belly cramp. In more than three hundred years of service as a Listener, he’d never been responsible for anyone’s death.

He held his hands out to the flames and glanced at the cage out of the corner of his eye.
The prisoner had been tall and strong when taken. He was still tall, but his strength was waning. The muscles in his arms and legs would soon shrivel to string and the blazing passion in his eyes fade to a dull stare.

The passion was what Fee had noticed first—that, and the distinctive blue and black scarf
he’d worn around one arm. The scarf, along with the key to the cage, hung now on a hook just
out of the prisoner’s reach. There was no need to hide either. Even if the prisoner begged, no one would dare touch them.

But he did not beg. He just stared at Fee with those burning eyes.

Heavy footsteps announced his master’s arrival and Fee quickly knelt and pressed his
forehead to the floor. No one sat in Javerra’s presence. Guards stood. Prisoners and messengers knelt.

Javerra entered the throne room along with two bodyguards, chosen because they were as
tall and broad-shouldered as the largest brown bears of the forest. Even so, Javerra stood two
heads taller still.

Legend said that if his skin were cut, Javerra would not bleed fire like a normal Rix; he
would bleed scorpions and snakes. It was an easy legend to believe. Two serpents grew from the base of his thick neck, their bodies as long as Javerra was tall. They coiled in his horns and fed on the scorpions that swarmed his clothing.

Javerra was massive, but that wasn’t what kept Fee’s forehead glued to the floor. It was
his eyes. Round, unblinking yellow eyes gleamed from cavernous sockets. His gaze drew you in, sucked you dry, and tossed you back to the floor like a dirty rag.

“Welcome, Fee the Listener.” Javerra’s voice was dark as well water, smooth as silk.

“You have long been a faithful servant in my kingdom, have you not?”

“Yes, Master.”

“It is time I honored you then.”

Fee’s belly turned to lead.

“Rise. Come stand before me.”

Javerra’s snakes hissed and slithered toward him. They lifted him to his feet, forced him
forward.

“I have a message for you to deliver. You shall leave Thirsk and go to the land of men.”

Javerra motioned to a guard, who came forward carrying a parchment. “While there, your
identity must, of course, be disguised.” The guard unrolled the parchment to reveal a drawing.
“This is how you shall appear to others during your stay. You may use all of your powers as
needed. You may fly and take on whatever form is useful to you, including your animal form.
You may also become invisible or dematerialize completely as needed. However, you must not,
under any circumstances, reveal your present form—your true form—until I give you leave.”
Javerra lifted his hands, palms out, fingers spread. Fee felt his body shrink and soften.
His muscled arms and chest sagged into a double chin and well-padded belly. His tunic became a vest and pants. Bright red shoes that curled up at the toes appeared on his feet. His scarf wound itself loosely around his head in a colorful turban. Fee found himself staring at Javerra’s knees. The snakes hissed with glee.

Fee’s shoulders slumped. He was half as tall and twice as wide as normal. A disguise,
yes, of course. But why this?

“It is of utmost importance that the one I seek come willingly.” Javerra’s voice hardened
to steel. “Is that clear?”

Fee nodded and the turban slipped down over one eye. He shoved it back up, but it slid
down again. The snakes hissed again and even the guards snickered.

“Good.” Javerra’s voice was velvet again. “I am sure you know what happens to those
who fail me.”

Oh yes, he knew.

“The one—” Fee forced the words out. He had to ask. The last time he’d studied humans,
they had been trying to invent a horseless carriage. He’d never bothered to remember what he’d studied. He was a Listener. Listeners never went to the land of men. “The one you seek,” he began again, “what is his name?”

“The one you must bring me is called Daniel.”

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