Free Underworlds #4: The Ice Dragon by Tony Abbott Page B

Sydney.
    Dana nodded.
    “How inviting,” Jon added.
    Inviting or not, Dana and I stepped inside first, since we had the torches. They didn’t help all that much. Darkness closed around the flames so tightly we saw only a few feet ahead. We had to crouch really low to avoid getting our heads sliced off by the jagged rocks hanging from the ceiling. Step-by-step we pressed deeper into the mine, until the way was nearly blocked by huge, stringy cobwebs.
    “If a giant spider attacks us,” said Jon, “I’m going to be very upset. Of course, I’m starting out pretty upset, so you might not be able to tell the difference. By the way, these mines are abandoned, right?”
    Dana burned the cobwebs away and squinted into the darkness. “Probably.”
    “Probably?” Jon grumbled. “You and the lunch ladies should start a comedy act —”
    “Shh. What’s that?” said Sydney.
    We heard a faint roar from a narrow passage on our left. Cautiously, we stepped in. Soon the roar was allwe could hear, echoing all around us. As we walked, the tunnel opened into a cave whose back wall was a rushing waterfall.
    “Buried by sound?” said Jon, quoting the riddle. “Do you think the Crystal Rune is behind the waterfall?”
    “There’s one way to find out.” Sydney nudged my arm. “Owen, the lyre.”
    I was wondering how long it would be before I’d have to use it.
    Ever since we had “borrowed” the ancient Lyre of Orpheus from a museum, and since it turned out that I seemed to know how to pluck melodies from its seven strings, we’d relied on the lyre to do some pretty awesome magical stuff. The fact that playing it almost made my brain explode either meant that I really shouldn’t be playing it, or that was just some kind of weird price you had to pay to get magic to work for you. Either way, the lyre had saved our lives a few times already, so I endured the pain and sucked it up.
    I handed Sydney my torch and took the lyre out of its holster. Holding it close, I plucked first one string, then another. My head instantly began to throb andmy eyes felt like fireballs. But the melody was working. In a matter of seconds, the falling water slowed, then thickened like ice, then stopped altogether. It looked like an unmoving curtain with the tunnel continuing beyond it.
    “That still impresses me,” said Jon. “How does the lyre have any magic left, after all it’s been through?”
    It was impressive. The lyre had been through a lot. I’d used it as a weapon. Its strings had been busted more times than I can remember, but it still made music. I hoped that whatever today would bring, the lyre would remain in one piece.
    We quietly approached the frozen curtain, until we heard something in the passage behind us.
    Scuffling.
    Scratching.
    Breathing.
    “So,” Jon whispered. “The mine isn’t abandoned after all.”
    Sydney held up the torch. In its glow we could see a pack of doglike creatures pad slowly into the cave. There must have been a dozen of them. They had noskin — just bones and teeth and skulls and slitty eyes. That glowed.



“Skeleton dogs,” said Jon, drawing his sword.
    “ Killer skeleton dogs,” Dana said softly.
    We had no choice but to run.

S YDNEY AND D ANA HURLED THEIR TORCHES AT THE dogs. We ducked behind the frozen waterfall as I plucked the lyre’s strings in reverse order, releasing the rushing water again.
    Eeeeee! shrieked the skeleton dogs. I had a feeling the water wasn’t going to stop them.
    “Go!” Dana cried. We careened from passage to passage, pursued by the creepy sound of bone feetscraping the floor. Without the torches, we ran in the dark. But the problem with running in the dark is that you hit things. Like each other.
    “Ow!” Jon cried.
    “Get off me!” Sydney yelled.
    “Just follow my voice,” Dana called from up ahead.
    “It’s getting colder,” said Jon. “We’re going deeper into the mines, farther from the surface. Farther from … everything!”
    I didn’t