Wildwood (Wildwood Chronicles 1)

Seamus grew serious, his face beet red. “Okay, so off to Angus?” he asked.

Curtis nodded.

Seamus puffed up his red cheeks into blowfish proportions and began swinging Curtis’s cage by the nearly ten-foot length of rope remaining. Curtis’s stomach dropped out with every swell as the arc of the swing started small and grew. At the crest of every upswing he could see Angus, some five feet above him, belly-down on his cage floor, his arms extended to catch.

“And . . . NOW!” shouted Curtis.

Seamus gave a bellowing cry as he heaved the cage airborne and Curtis, aboard this flying vessel, was thrown toward the waiting hands of Angus.

Angus, his eyes bulging, threw his arms forward, his hand grasping at the bars of the cage.

First grasp: missed.

Second grasp: missed.

In this moment, every fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a second felt like it lasted minutes, hours, eternities.

Third grasp: both hands extended, flailing for the cage, and Curtis’s free fall was stopped with a sudden jerk as Angus’s hands gripped at the rope.

Angus let out a heroic sigh of relief. It sounded like an ocean breaking a flood wall.

“Oh. My. God,” intoned Curtis.

Seamus laughed from behind them. “Your god’s got nothin’ to do with it! Them’s a bandit’s nimble fingers! Nice catch there, Angus!”

Angus was silent. His eyes were closed. “I think I may’ve wet meself,” he whispered.

Curtis allowed himself now to look down at the cavern floor. There was easily a fifty-foot drop remaining. A pile of rocks topped by a particularly jagged-looking boulder lay directly underneath his cage. He looked over at the ladder leaning against the wall. He hadn’t been much of a hand at physics—at least the introductory chapter they’d studied in the last week of sixth-grade life science—but if his estimates held true, if Angus was able to swing Curtis’s cage to its highest arc and get his own cage swinging as well, Curtis would be able to make the leap to the ladder.

“And then I’ll just climb down,” he said aloud.

“What’s that?” asked Angus, his voice straining as he concentrated on his hands’ tight grip of the rope. He’d managed to get the end looped once around his wrist—it looked to be a solid hold.

“I said I’ll just climb down the ladder,” said Curtis. “Once I’ve jumped to it.” He looked up at Angus. “But you’ve got to swing me as high as you can—and get your own cage swinging too.”

“That’s goin’ to be the easiest part, boyo,” Angus said, smiling. “As for you, ye’ve got a bit of a jump there.”

Curtis nodded seriously. “Okay,” he said. “Here goes nothing.” Using Septimus’s keys, he began testing each one in turn in the lock of his cage door. A long silver skeleton key turned out to be the one; it undid the bolt with a dull metallic click, and Curtis was able to swing the door open. The ground swayed far below him; was that a skull dashed on those jagged rocks? He closed his eyes to the sight and focused on the task at hand. He secured himself in the now-open doorway, the balls of his feet positioned on the cage floor edge, his hands gripped to the outside bars.

“Okay,” he instructed.

Angus took a deep breath above him, and with a grunt began swinging Curtis’s cage. It moved in small, quick arcs at first but soon began gathering speed and swing. Angus’s cage began swinging as well, and soon the two cages were a long, articulated pendulum, sailing through the air of the domed cavern. Curtis judged the distance to the ladder with each upswing.

“A little higher, Angus!” he shouted.

“Aye!” responded Angus, his sinewy arms flexing with each arc. After a few more swings, Angus reported, “Think that’s as high as you’re goin’!”

Curtis looked at the ladder as he swung toward it. It was a little farther away than he’d hoped, but no matter.

“Okay, Angus,” he shouted. “When I say ‘go,’ I want you to toss the cage with all your strength.”

“Got it,” said Angus.

Eamon, several cages away, offered this encouragement: “’Tis like the hammer-toss, Angus—you’ve done it a hundred times!”

“Aye, but I never done the hammer-toss lyin’ flat on me belly!” He waited for his command.

“Okay . . . GO!” shouted Curtis, and in a flash, the cage was airborne. He waited until it had reached its highest point—it happened in the blink of an eye—and with a heave, he pushed away from the cage, his arms and legs vaulting him from the open doorway. Before he knew it, he’d cleared the distance and his hands were scrambling to find a grip on the top rungs of the ladder. His body slammed against the rough wood, and his left foot landed squarely on the sixth rung from the top. He was about to holler a report of success when he suddenly felt gravity shift under his weight, and the top of the ladder began to pull away from the cavern wall.