Now agitated, the cyclops took the lifeless body of the leolf and threw the creature in the direction of the Skinder’s yell. The leolf shattered tree branches, sending leaves and twigs flying about in every direction. The impact of its body against the branches could be felt in the dwarves’ minds as the sounds of its bones breaking into pieces echoed through their souls.

  They were all frozen in time for a moment, unable to comprehend what they just witnessed. It took a short period for Sharp to realize the real danger they were in: there was no longer any cover hiding them from the sight of the cyclops.

  “Run!” he yelled.

  The shrillness of his voice brought Earmeth and Fogrolir out of their collective fogginess – they looked up just in time to see the cyclops coming at them at a great speed, knocking down tree branches as if they were straw.

  The Skinder that was friends with the cyclops’, laughed as the three each bolted in separate directions out of pure fear. Earmeth started toward the cyclops and stopped – he looked back at the Skinder, who was still laughing, and became overcome with rage. He ran back toward the Skinder and using his good arm, grabbed the little man by his hair. He swung him around in the cyclops direction and let him go. The Skinder took an unwanted flight, all the while yelling and cursing at the dwarf.

  The cyclops, so intent on catching the dwarf, swatted everything in his path, including the Skinder. The Skinder’s body went careening through the trees, suffering the same fate as the leolf had before him, as the cyclops stayed focused on the dwarf.

  “Earmeth - Run!” Fogrolir yelled as he darted between trees, hoping to stay out of the cyclops sight. The cyclops continued running straight for Earmeth, unaware that Fogrolir and Sharp were circling around the cyclops.

  “Puny dwarf!” the cyclops yelled as it bent down and tried to snag Earmeth in its grasp. Earmeth darted to the side and threw his knapsack at the creature. It hit the cyclops on the edge of the face, and the beast turned his head to look at Earmeth and try to grab him; Earmeth pulled the small cylinder Sharp gave him earlier in the day from his pocket, and pushed the button on it and tossed it at the cyclops open mouth.

  The beast, not expecting the dwarf to fight instead of run, failed to close his mouth before the device entered it. It passed the cyclops rotten teeth and rolled down its throat. Earmeth waited for a moment, hoping the cylinder would do something, but when nothing happened, he fled into the thicket, desperate to stay ahead of the beast.

  “Over here!” Fogrolir called out. Earmeth heard the dwarf’s voice and followed the sound, as did Sharp. The cyclops also heard the call from Fogrolir, and he stood, turned around, and began searching for the dwarf. He took three steps, and his stomach felt upset. He stopped and growled in pain.

  It was the device – it exploded in the stomach of the cyclops, sending his body in a hundred different directions; pieces of the cyclops littered the treetops, while the shockwave from the explosion crushed trees all around the trio.

  “Well, that was not what I expected,” Earmeth said.

  “Sharp smart, yep! Sharp quick!” the Skinder jumped up and down, giddy as could be at seeing his device work.

  “Remind me not to make him upset,” Earmeth whispered to Fogrolir. Fogrolir smiled; he liked the Skinder.

  “Rawwwr!” the war cry echoed throughout the forest. Earmeth and Fogrolir turned their gaze in the direction the sound came from:

  “What was that?” Earmeth cried out.

  “More cyclops, yep, more cyclops!” Sharp looked about, calmly surveying the area.

  “Stay here we cannot, nope. Out of the forest, we must get, or dead we will become, yep.” He looked at the two dwarves intently, a bit of anguish shown in his eyes; he knew there were only two options left: leave the forest and let the dragon and its rider die, or enter into the ruins beneath the woods and face almost certain death.

  “What are you thinking, Sharp?” Fogrolir asked. He could tell by the look on the Skinder’s face that he was contemplating something very intently.

  Finally, Sharp shook his head up and down, as though agreeing with himself. It was plain to see that he was still visibly disturbed and did not like being in the forest.

  “Save the dragon, yes. We will rescue the dragon, yes.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a few more cylinders. He looked them over and handed a couple to Earmeth, and a few to Fogrolir. He kept the rest for himself.

  “Life or death, only use, yes.” He stared at the two. They nodded their agreement.

  “Cyclops will come, yep. They will look for a traitor, yep. We cannot stay in the forest, yep.” Earmeth, determined to help the dragon and its rider, began to object, but the Skinder held his hand up and silenced the dwarf.

  “Help you, Sharp will help, yep. Sharp never break a promise to help, nope. We cannot stay in the forest, nope. We must enter ruins, yep. Ruins very dangerous for everyone, even Sharp, yep.” He spun about on the soles of his feet and began to walk eastwardly into the broken tree line; the dwarves followed suit.

  Twigs snapped beneath their feet, and Earmeth noted to himself that Sharp seemed to no longer care about the noise they made. As they continued, they found themselves back into the thick of the hinterlands, hidden away from sight once more.

  “Why are the ruins dangerous, Sharp?” Earmeth inquired.

  “Skinders’ live in Ruins. Skinders’ hate outsiders,” he paused for a moment, and then continued: “Skinders’ hate Sharp.”

  The ruins were a dangerous place for anyone, Skinder or not. They ran deep beneath the island, all the way to the ocean floor, with caverns throughout. It was easy to enter the ruins, but absolute hell trying to navigate through their maze of tunnels. It did not help that Skinders called this dark abyss their home.

  The trio entered the ruins from a small brick-like structure in the woods. The limestone, covered in moss, gave off a peculiar smell in the dank air of the open cavern. Inching into the ruins, Sharp stopped and conveyed the importance of moving slow and keeping their eyes peeled for trouble. The ground was slippery and falling while walking downhill, even the slightest bit, could easily result in death.

  Sharp pulled something from his bag and knelt down on the cold, limestone floor:

  “Go,” he said, “find the dragon and lead us to the beast.” His ability to go from whimsical repetitive mumblings to speaking whole sentences without a hiccup was baffling. The dwarves knew not what to make of the Skinder, though they were beginning to trust him more with every growing moment.

  “Careful we must be,” he said as he tiptoed further into the ruins. “Basilisk lives in ruins, and kills without mercy, yep.”

  It was pitch black once the trio entered fully into the ruins, leaving the daylight behind. Sharp said a few words in a language unknown to the dwarves; moments later, he stood and tossed some form of dust into the air. The earth turned a vibrant golden color, and as Sharp held out his palm, the dust gathered above it, making a tight sphere of light:

  “Well then, let’s go!” Sharp said as he moved forward as though what he had just done was something normal. The dwarves were awestruck for a moment; it seemed this small creature was full of surprises.

  Deeper and deeper into the ruins the three ventured, and for a while, it appeared as though their trip would be uneventful. It was not too long before the device Sharp sent to find the dragons’ location returned to him:

  “Now we follow, and we help your dragon friends.”

  As they made their way through the old ruins, they made sure to keep their eyes open for any enemies. They saw nothing during the first part of their journey and heard even less as the only sound in the cavernous underground ruins were those of the air howling through the hollowness of the center.

  They were just beginning to enjoy the quietness and hallowed emptiness of the caverns when Sharp stopped suddenly:

  “Why are we stopping?” Earmeth whispered to the Skinder.

  Sharp did not reply – instead, he pointed ahead
of the three, into the darkness. Just at the edge of the light, Earmeth saw what Sharp was staring at: a bridge. Not just any bridge, though, for it was apparently built by a creature and not a natural crossing.

  “It is just a bridge, Sharp. Why are you stopping?” Earmeth repeated.

  “Bridge over large gap – basilisk live in cave bottom, a trap I feel ahead.” As he said the words, Fogrolir reached into his pocket to fetch one of the cylinder objects given to him before they entered the ruins.

  “We have these,” he said, “we should be perfectly fine, right?”

  Sharp shook his head. “Basilisk smart – she turns men to stone if they look at her. Cannot throw boom device into her mouth, if seeing her, you cannot.”

  Earmeth felt himself becoming angry as he listened to the Skinders description of this creature that killed by turning its victims to stone. He did not want to admit it to himself, let alone aloud, but he was afraid. Dragons were one thing, but snake-like creatures that hid in the depths of dark caves were an entirely different situation altogether; a situation, he surmised in his own mind, that he would rather not deal with.

  “Why didn’t you tell us what was in here before dragging us into these ruins!” he grabbed the Skinder by the nape of its neck and picked him up from the ground. He yanked the small creature forward, placing him face-to-face with himself:

  “Why have you brought us into these ruins?” the veins in his neck and shoulders began to bulge out of his skin as his anger grew; his breath came forth in short, hard bursts.

  “You want to…to find the dragon?” he sputtered.

  “I want to live!” Earmeth shot back.

  “You want to find the dragon, and live! Sharp tell you, did he not? Sharp says it is dangerous! You want to go…you said we go!” Sharp sensed the dwarf’s anger and knew that he may easily be injured at the hands of this unsure beast. He fetched one of his smaller bombs from his pocket, just in case it would be needed.

  Earmeth saw the movement and shook the Skinder hard, causing Sharp to drop the bomb. It rolled down the hard floor and over the ledge.

  ‘Clang! Clang!’ the device could be heard as it fell, bouncing off sharp crags along the cliff side. The sounds echoed throughout the cave until finally, all went quiet.

  “Stupid dwarf!” Sharp yelled at Earmeth before spitting in his face. The action caused Earmeth to release the Skinder, and Sharp fell to the floor.

  “How dense are you!” he practically screamed, “Did you not know that any wrong press on that device could cause it to…” he never finished his sentence, for at that moment a loud explosion reverberated throughout the cavern.

  Rocks fell from the ceiling and crashed into the cavern below. The trio felt the floor begin to shift at a downward angle as loose rock began to move, filling in the hole on the side of the caverns cliff wall.

  “Get back!” Sharp shouted.

  The trio all ran backward - just as the walkway where they stood only seconds before crumbled in on itself and fell down the rocky cliff side.

  “We shall have to find another way across now, thanks to some nitty and his tomfoolery!” Sharp was indignant.

  “Me!” Earmeth shouted.

  “Yes, you!” the Skinder shouted back.

  “It was you who brought us into these ruins and failed to mention that there may be a giant snakelike creature inside!”

  “You wanted to rescue a dragon! I told you it was dangerous!”

  The two men continued shouting at one another as Fogrolir looked on, unsure what to do. Rocks were still falling in various places of the cavernous ruins, but Fogrolir thought he felt a rumble, as if though something were vibrating against the cliff side walls.

  “Hey, you two!” he said.

  The two men ignored him and continued to argue.

  “Guys!” he called out again, to no avail.

  The rumbling became louder as though a giant ship were running aground, forcing sand out of its way before becoming permanently shipwrecked on the shores. Fogrolir took a couple of steps forward and peered over the edge of the ledge; what he saw nearly caused his heart stop beating.

  A lump formed in his throat and he found himself unable to speak for a moment. He staggered backward and bumped into the two men, knocking Sharp onto his behind while barely moving Earmeth’s leg.

  “What is wrong with you, Fogrolir?” Earmeth bent down, grabbed the young dwarf by his wrist, and pulled him back to his feet.

  “Well?” he asked.

  Fogrolir, instead of responding, pointed toward the ledge, his finger shaking and his eyes widened in fear. Sharp, already back on his feet, wiped the dirt and moss from his silk pant legs and cautiously made his way to the edge of the precipice. He glanced over the edge for only a second and jumped back.

  “Basilisk!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.

  He spun around, his eyes danced furtively above the ruins, the orb of light danced across his pupils as he looked for a route to continue through the rubble.

  “There!” he said, pointing to a narrow walkway, lined on both sides by a sheer rock wall that stretched to the top of the ruins.

  The three bolted toward the walkway, and though it was a very narrow fit, they managed to squeeze themselves between the rocky walls. They inched forward, hoping the walkway would not become smaller, while also hoping it maintained its current restricted status so no basilisk could fit between the rocky walls.

  The beast moved slowly, methodically, as it pushed itself up the rocky cliffside toward the voices. Over fifty feet in length and its girth the size of a fully-grown bull, the basilisk was a freaky force of evil with the vilest of intentions.

  The thick, almost metal-like scales, sounded like small key tumblers as its underbelly slid over the rocks, the metallic clinking echoed throughout the cavern until at last the snakes’ body came to rest on the ledge. Hidden in the darkness for so long, its coiled body ached from the sudden burst of movement it was forced to make as rocks, pebbles, and other debris began falling from the ceiling when a small bomb exploded just above its backside. Its eyes, accustomed only to the darkness, were easily blinded by any source of light.

  The basilisk lowered its head as a flicker of light bounced off a cavern wall, casting shadows as the trio moved further between the rocky crevices. The beast wanted to attack but knew better. The light would surely blind it, giving its prey ample time to run ahead and seek better shelter. No, this beast would go about things differently. Knowing the trio was untouchable while in the narrow passageway, the basilisk slowly uncoiled and began to slither about the topside of the ruins. It knew these caverns better than anyone else did, and it was sure of just where the rocky crevice would let out.

  The clinking noises of the serpent’s scales as they slithered across the ruins floor, crossing rocks, moss, and other obstacles, was almost petrifying to the trio as they stood frozen in the passageway. Sharp and Fogrolir were the only two who got a glimpse of the beast, and luckily, its eyes were not focused on them when they did so, or they would have been turned to stone instantaneously.

  “What do you suppose we do now, then?” Earmeth whispered.

  Sharp shook his shoulders as if to say he had no idea what they should do. None of the men spoke, though Fogrolir began to whimper a bit.

  Earmeth turned his face from one side to the other, his nose scratching against the wall, cutting it a bit, and he looked down at Fogrolir. The young dwarf was trying his hardest not to cry but to no avail.

  “Hey now,” Earmeth said, “Worry not, Fogrolir. Remember you told me you wanted adventure; well this is an adventure, just not on the back of a dragon. We will make it out of this, you will see!”

  He took his hand and tasseled the dwarf’s hair a little bit, making him smile. Inside his own mind, however, he was terrified. He had no inkling as to what a basilisk was or how to combat one, and the thought made his stomach churn.

  Sharp took the orb of light, which he kept just over his hand, and moved it
inside his little overcoat. The idea was to darken the way so the serpent would not know where they were along the trail. He inched forward, and the dwarves followed him. So engrossed in listening for the basilisk were the trio that they completely forgot about the skinders that lived within the ruins.

  The skinders, which coincidently, managed to stay alive and not be turned to stone in the very ruins in which the trio was now trapped.

  As they continued inching forward slowly, they became aware of a loud thud, striking nearby, repeatedly. At first, the three assumed it was the basilisk trying to break through the solid side and snare the group within its poisonous grasp; the men soon realized, however, the thump was coming from above their heads – not from the inside of the ruins. They began inching along faster, determined to get away from whatever was causing the sound, which now was loosening graphite and stone from the ceilings.

  Rocks fell and hit the trio as they inched forward. They each placed their hands over their heads in hopes of preventing any larger rocks from hurting them as they hurtled downward, broken loose from whatever was hitting the surface high above.

  A clan of Skinder men, using their gadgets, interlocked with their own degree of magical connotations, stood above the ground, commanding two of the biggest cyclopses ever seen, to break through the earth and into the ruins.

  The leader of the clan, a skinder with short black hair and a goatee, stood with his arms crossed as his golden colored robe fluttered in the warm summer breeze that swept through the trees.

  He furrowed his brow: “Keep at it! I want them alive! They know where our goddess is!” he spat, indignantly. The two cyclopses were outfitted with armor that would allow them to look upon the serpent without turning to stone.

  Gold bracelets adorned their wrists, with chains that fed through a specially made eyelet attached to their leather shorts about their waist. The chains were in the hands of one skinder, thoroughly mesmerized as though he were in another world. Atop the cyclopses’ heads were a special helmet with an eyehole that refracted light. It allowed the cyclops to see out through the cut in port while blocking anything from making direct eye contact with the beasts.