Previously: Digger was trapped in the City of the Moon by a cave-in, while Twain escaped through time, thanks to the shattered Cup of Regret. And now…
Digger coughed and backed away from the rockfall trapping him inside the Grand Cathedral. The air was full of dust, and with no ventilation, it just had to settle back to the ground on its own, like a snow globe. He could barely make out the glow of the crystals through the swirling dust, as if the world had suddenly been replaced with a grainy movie.
He had to find a way out of here, he realized. Trapped with no food, water, or fresh air, he wouldnâ€™t last long. Or maybe he would. He still wasnâ€™t familiar enough with his new powers to know just how long he could survive in a situation like this.
If only Twain had thrown him the mask before the ceiling collapsed, he wouldnâ€™t have a problem. Damn Twain anyway. He was due for a serious asskicking when Digger got out.
If Digger got out.
First order of business: explore the Cathedral and look for an exit. He picked his way back toward the section he thought of as the Altar and fell down. He had tripped over some dark lump on the floor next to the altar. He reached out to touch it. â€œNo freaking way!â€
There was a flash of brightness that made Twain look away, and suddenly the juice was splashing across the entire side of his head. Which was strange, because he could feel the juice splashing onto his hand, which no longer held the shard of quartz.
[blockquote type=”blockquote_quotes” align=”right”]According to Yi Fan, he was supposed to be on the ridge near the entrance to the City of the Moon on the night he was first captured by the Czar. Instead, he was standing in an unfamiliar forest in the daytime, and it was raining lightly…[/blockquote]He opened his eyes and looked around as thunder rumbled in the distance. This was all wrong. According to Yi Fan, he was supposed to be on the ridge near the entrance to the City of the Moon on the night he was first captured by the Czar. Instead, he was standing in an unfamiliar forest in the daytime, and it was raining lightly. He looked around for any clue to where he was.
Up a slight rise, he saw a thick stand of Chinese cedars, tall and thin, with thick, man-high undergrowth clumped at their bases. Immediately beyond them, a sheer cliff wall rose over 200 feet. As he drew closer, feet squelching in the mud, he saw a dark opening in the cliff wall, almost completely hidden by the undergrowth.
â€œJeez, another cave?â€ he muttered, but pressed on anyway. Thorns tore at his clothes, but couldnâ€™t pierce his skin. His still-blue skin, he realized, but pale blue, like Shiva. He swiped wet hair out of his eyes and unleashed a blue bolt that burned a path through the undergrowth ahead of him, raising a cloud of steam.
When the steam cleared, Twain saw the cave in more detail. Some sort of temple lurked just inside the opening, in the cool shade under the cliff. He stepped in out of the rain, ran fingers through his wet hair and entered the temple.
Before his eyes could adjust to the darkness, he heard a familiar voice ask, â€œWhat is it you seek?â€
It’s all starting to come together now. Maybe two, three more weeks and we’re done. Don’t miss next week’s chapter, Week 41: “Time Travel Never Helps!”
To read from the beginning, click here…