Trapped (The Iron Druid Chronicles, Book Five) by Kevin Hearne Page B
Authors: Kevin Hearne
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looked in that direction and saw the place he was talking about—I saw the tree on the ledge, anyway.
Awesome. Any animal tracks or other sign in there?
Is the cave deep enough for us to lie down, tall enough to stand?
The difficulty we faced getting up to the ledge only made it more attractive to me once we finally arrived; there was very little chance we’d be disturbed by any humans in a place like this—few people are trailblazersanymore, when it’s so much safer and easier to follow the trails already blazed.
We hopped the stream about thirty yards past the tree, then struggled our way up to the ledge. Oberon waited at the mouth of the cave, wagging his tail. The entrance was completely choked with brush, but it was spacious inside.
How did you ever think to look for this?
I asked Oberon.
Oberon, come on
.
Well, this is perfect. We owe that squirrel for leading you here
.
I was thinking he’d get all the credit and you’d get all the sausage
.
“We’re going to camp here, then?” Granuaile asked, peering into the cave and breaking the silence.
“Maybe,” I said. “Let me scope this out first.” Using the magic stored in my bear charm, I triggered my faerie specs and looked for any indication that there was a magical booby trap here or an alarm that would go off if I drew power from the earth. This cave could be the favorite spot of a cyclops or a nymph or something spookier than an old monster like Agrios. It took a while to check thoroughly; any magic performed by the Greekswouldn’t look like the Celtic bindings of my own work. I found nothing. The ceiling of the cave wasn’t blackened by the smoke of ancient fires, which corroborated my growing belief that we were the first humans to set eyes on this cave in centuries—perhaps the first humans ever.
“It looks good,” I said, shrugging off the straps of my pack. “This might work out perfectly.”
“Okay,” Granuaile said, extricating herself from her pack and setting it down with a relieved sigh.
“Oberon, I’ll need you to scout all possible approaches to the cave. We can see pretty well down below, but we need to know what’s behind us. Would you mind?”
“Don’t hunt yet. Scout all you want, but let’s just establish what’s normal for the area so we can spot any intruders later.”
“Agreed.”
Oberon turned and disappeared with a swish of his tail through the brush. Granuaile began to unpack in brooding silence.
Backpacking is different when you can cast night vision. Items like flashlights and lamps and oil are unnecessary. We had plenty of food—mostly soup mixes and jerky and dried fruit. It was a nutritionally deficient diet, but it was only for a few months, with resupply available at a tolerable distance in Litochoro. Water and wood for fuel were plentiful. The large pine tree would help diffuse the smoke from our cook fires.
Granuaile was yanking goodies out of her pack with increasing force and tossing, then throwing, them down on the ground. She was working herself up for something; the whistle on the old pressure cooker was about to go off.
“Fire
Awesome. Any animal tracks or other sign in there?
Is the cave deep enough for us to lie down, tall enough to stand?
The difficulty we faced getting up to the ledge only made it more attractive to me once we finally arrived; there was very little chance we’d be disturbed by any humans in a place like this—few people are trailblazersanymore, when it’s so much safer and easier to follow the trails already blazed.
We hopped the stream about thirty yards past the tree, then struggled our way up to the ledge. Oberon waited at the mouth of the cave, wagging his tail. The entrance was completely choked with brush, but it was spacious inside.
How did you ever think to look for this?
I asked Oberon.
Oberon, come on
.
Well, this is perfect. We owe that squirrel for leading you here
.
I was thinking he’d get all the credit and you’d get all the sausage
.
“We’re going to camp here, then?” Granuaile asked, peering into the cave and breaking the silence.
“Maybe,” I said. “Let me scope this out first.” Using the magic stored in my bear charm, I triggered my faerie specs and looked for any indication that there was a magical booby trap here or an alarm that would go off if I drew power from the earth. This cave could be the favorite spot of a cyclops or a nymph or something spookier than an old monster like Agrios. It took a while to check thoroughly; any magic performed by the Greekswouldn’t look like the Celtic bindings of my own work. I found nothing. The ceiling of the cave wasn’t blackened by the smoke of ancient fires, which corroborated my growing belief that we were the first humans to set eyes on this cave in centuries—perhaps the first humans ever.
“It looks good,” I said, shrugging off the straps of my pack. “This might work out perfectly.”
“Okay,” Granuaile said, extricating herself from her pack and setting it down with a relieved sigh.
“Oberon, I’ll need you to scout all possible approaches to the cave. We can see pretty well down below, but we need to know what’s behind us. Would you mind?”
“Don’t hunt yet. Scout all you want, but let’s just establish what’s normal for the area so we can spot any intruders later.”
“Agreed.”
Oberon turned and disappeared with a swish of his tail through the brush. Granuaile began to unpack in brooding silence.
Backpacking is different when you can cast night vision. Items like flashlights and lamps and oil are unnecessary. We had plenty of food—mostly soup mixes and jerky and dried fruit. It was a nutritionally deficient diet, but it was only for a few months, with resupply available at a tolerable distance in Litochoro. Water and wood for fuel were plentiful. The large pine tree would help diffuse the smoke from our cook fires.
Granuaile was yanking goodies out of her pack with increasing force and tossing, then throwing, them down on the ground. She was working herself up for something; the whistle on the old pressure cooker was about to go off.
“Fire
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