A Hero's Curse by P. S. Broaddus Read Free Book Online

leaving a dull ache in my knees where I fell. The sluggish water of the Mar feels good though. Barely warm, it’s still cooler than the air around us. I let my stick switch hands because my left is tired. My hand trails in the water, and we continue into the narrow gorge, treading deeper into the Valley of Fire.
    We have been walking for what seems like half an hour when a scream echoes up the crevice from behind us. I freeze and listen to the echo. It drags on and on, bouncing around the rocks around us. I reach out to feel Tig—reassurance. He is twice his normal size and spits when I touch him. I jerk my hand back, and he says, “Sorry, you startled me.”
    “What was it?” I ask.
    “It sounded . . .” Tig chews on his thought for a moment, “. . . it came from the direction we just came . . .” he trails off.
    I shudder, “A rock basilisk?”
    “I’ve never heard a rock basilisk,” says Tig. “They say that rock basilisks do scream, but that sounded more like a human to me.” He pauses again to let me catch up. “A man,” he summarizes.
    “Who killed him?” I ask, trying for a joking tone.
    “ What killed him,” says Tig. I reach back out to touch Tig, and his hair is still standing straight up, but he doesn’t hiss.
    “Killed?” I squeak. “You think the guy that screamed was killed?”
    “I know it was a kill,” says Tig. “And so do you. You’re a hunter. You know what a kill sounds like.”
    “Maybe Uncle Cagney came back?” I say hopefully.
    “I doubt it,” says Tig. “That was a hunter’s kill—a big hunter.”
    “What do we do?” I ask.
    “Whatever it is, it’s between us and the mouth of the Valley of Fire now,” Tig says slowly. “I think we should follow the river to its source.”
    “Quickly,” I add.
    “Very,” says Tig.
    We set off at a trot again. It is easier for me to stay away from the sides of the narrow crevice, so I continue to follow the middle of the river, but I feel it slowing me down. The minutes tick by, and the water starts to feel like heavy glue, weighting every step. I move as close to the wall as I dare, keeping a couple of steps away. I can’t trail my hand along the side of the cliff like I’d like to—it’s too rough. I try dragging my stick along the side of the wall, but it clatters and the amplified echoes bounce around us. Tig hisses, but I’ve already quit. I’m still in the water up to my knees. I can hear Tig padding along on the bank, which must be only half a step wide next to the wall.
    The twists and turns continue indefinitely, and my brain screams to know where we are going. My body is tired, but my mind is exhausted. The panic that pushed me into the lava flow is long gone, and my thoughts pound me mercilessly—a rebellion starting with my parents at its center—and they don’t trust me! Uncle Cagney and the troop of thugs—did they catch him? Was it the same group that surprised us at the farm? Uncle Cagney wouldn’t have let that group come up to the farm if he was okay . . . and then to be chased into the Valley of Fire, and now to be running further through the twisted rock labyrinth with no idea where we are going.
    “Stop!” I gasp. I try to find a piece of rock to lean against, but it’s so hot and sharp I change my mind. “We can’t keep going!” I realize that I am close to hysterics. “We have no idea where we’re headed, and we have to get out of here! We never should have come here!” I know this stage of the hunt. This is the part where the prey panics. I’m panicking.
    Tig lets out a low growl, “Where would you have gone? We were being chased. There weren’t a lot of options!”
    “That’s fine,” I raise my voice, “But we have to get out of here now!”
    Tig hisses, a hiss that tells me to be quiet.
    Instinctively, I shut my mouth. For a moment all I can hear is the quiet sound of water, barely moving past my legs. I notice the water is getting cooler.
    “We’re being followed,” says