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The djinn led the way into another series of passageways and rooms. He didn’t so much walk as lope on all fours, barely marking the sand. Tom found him unnerving, and tried not to focus on his long black claws, which looked as if they could rip Tom’s innards out with ease.
Tom stumbled on the uneven ground, and as he was regaining his balance a shake and a roar shattered the silence. The djinn turned and shouted, “Move boy, the mountains may erupt at any moment!”
Staggering to his feet, Tom ran after the djinn, fearing that if they didn’t get there quick enough, not only would the moonstone be gone, the portal would be destroyed too.
Tom sweated as he scrambled after the djinn, stumbling into a sand dune piled across a room, and sinking up to his knees. Within minutes the djinn had disappeared ahead of him.
After a few seconds of panic, Tom pulled himself free and for the first time thought of Woodsmoke and Bloodmoon. He hoped they hadn’t followed him. It was so weird here – Tom had the feeling there was more to this place than he was being told.
He stumbled after the djinn, winding around towering piles of stones and along tightly woven paths between broken buildings, the way lit by the smoky light of his torch. The city was a warren here. Occasionally, a broken wall revealed a glimpse into a courtyard, or a room, still partially furnished.
He stopped suddenly when the djinn reappeared.
“We must tread carefully now,” he said. “Or rather you should. There are crusts of river fire here; if they are too thin ...” His words hung in the air.
“I get it,” Tom said, just wanting to find the moonstone. How he would get it through the fallen ceiling and rubble wall was another matter.
The djinn led Tom to a large stone archway. Beyond was a large chamber with a flat roof that had withstood tons of sand, lava, and volcanic eruptions. Broken windows leaked in rubble and sand, and through one a river of lava oozed like a living being, splitting into tributaries across the floor, bubbling and licking in the channels it had carved over hundreds of years. Beyond that, Tom recognised the other side of Giolladhe’s cave.
He took a deep breath. If he got this wrong he would be burned alive, and not even his bones would remain. Was that what had happened to Giolladhe? Were his bones now ashes?
He tentatively set off, stepping gingerly on the stone floor, until he came to the lava rivers. The first few were narrow, and he stepped over them, hoping the ground beyond was firm. The djinn bounded away in front of him, leaping easily over the fiery pits, each time looking back at Tom with a vicious grin.
Ignoring his spite, Tom kept going, until he found a larger river ahead of him. He headed left to where it narrowed, enabling him to jump again. But it was getting more difficult. Thick crusty blackened lava made lumpy islands in the middle of flowing rivers, and at one point Tom was blocked, a blackened lump the only way across. He leapt with a spring, knowing he couldn’t linger. As he dropped to the ground, the crust started to snap, and Tom leapt again, terrified he would fall in. He landed with a thump on the other side, his nose almost in the lava.
He stood breathing heavily. Sweat stung his eyes and he wiped it away with his shirt, blinking furiously, ready to jump again. With relief he saw he was almost there. Just as he made ready to jump again, another huge rumble ripped through the air, and lava started to bubble and ooze furiously; the smell of sulphur was suffocating. Without stopping to think, Tom leapt again and ran into Giolladhe’s cave.
The djinn smirked. “Well done! I didn’t think you’d make it.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Tom said, annoyed and exhausted.
“It’s not personal. I have little faith in humans.”
Ignoring him, Tom quickly found the shelf he had seen earlier, and with relief saw the white stone, covered in ash. It was bigger than he’d expected. He pulled it to the edge of the shelf and then lifted it down, staggering slightly under its weight.
The bottom was flat, but the top was domed with a slot in the centre. He placed it on the floor, brushing away the ash. Underneath the dirt, seams of gold and silver wrapped around the moonstone in an intricate pattern.
“Now I just have to get it through there,” he said, gesturing to the rubble wall. “After you wake Galatine.”
Another rumble followed, and Tom’s stomach started to knot. “Can we hurry please!”
The djinn smiled. “Give me the sword.”
Tom wondered if this was a trick – he could lose the sword and the stone. But no, the djinn could easily take it from him. And besides, what choice did he have?
Tom pulled Galatine free and handed it over.
The djinn stroked it reverently. “This was made using fire magic, and the inscription was burnt in by djinns’ tear diamonds, you know.”
“No, I did not know,” Tom said, wishing he’d just get on with it.
“Few fey make weapons like this any more.”
Another rumble made the cave tremble.
The djinn ran a long talon across his own palm, producing a stream of green blood. Holding his hand in a fist he squeezed the blood onto either side of the blade, rubbing it into the engravings. He said something Tom couldn’t catch, then a flash of black flame engulfed the sword and the engravings glowed. The djinn smiled with satisfaction. “Now, put the sword in the stone.”
Tom took Galatine and gently pushed it into the opening in the moonstone. It sank in, halfway up the hilt.
Immediately the moonstone started to emit a soft white light, and the silver and gold metalwork started to glow red as it heated. The glow spread up through Galatine, the blade turning white with heat, and as it reached the hilt the stones either side blinked open like eyes. The glow intensified until a blinding flash engulfed the sword and stone and a screech echoed through the cave.
Tom scrunched his eyes closed and covered his ears for a few seconds, and then tentatively peeked at Galatine. Both the sword and the moonstone had returned to normal, although the opals now swirled with an inky blackness.
“Can I touch it now?” said Tom.
But the djinn looked past him towards the door beyond, and the rivers of lava. “You’d better go, boy. We have woken the dragon.”
Tom grabbed Galatine, the hilt warm to his touch. And all of a sudden he heard it. A low guttural growl that made the floors shake, and the word, “Galatine.”
“Did you hear that? Did the dragon just speak?”
“It spoke to you,” the djinn said, still watching the entrance. “I only heard the growl.”
Tom looked at the sword in amazement. It had worked. He could hear the dragon’s thoughts. And then an enormous crashing sound reverberated through the chamber, and a burst of flame erupted in the room beyond. “I have to get the moonstone out of here!”
“Make a wish, boy,” the djinn said. “Quickly. Before I become too distracted.”
Of course, djinns granted wishes. Tom scooped up the moonstone. “I wish to be on the other side of this wall, in front of the portal to Earth.”
As he spoke a blast of flame shot across the room beyond, licking the workshop entrance. With a flick of his wrist the djinn produced a long black whip with multiple tails that flickered like smoke and flame. He cracked it into the room beyond, and with barely a glance to Tom said, “Safe travels, boy.”
In a flash, Tom was on the other side of the wall, and the portal was in front of him. He could hear the now slightly dulled roar of the dragon. Hoping the djinn would be all right, he hugged the moonstone tightly, checked Galatine was safely in its scabbard, and, before anything else could happen, stepped into the portal.
