Adventurers Wanted, Book 4: Sands of Nezza by M. L. Forman Page A

drag me down with their numbers, the weak voice answered.
    Alex tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. He ran his tongue over his lips and it felt like a piece of sandpaper. Cold sweat ran down his back, and his whole body shivered.
    I’ve seen rats before, and I’m not afraid of them. I don’t have time for this, the stronger voice said. I can see a path on the far side of the room. I need to hurry, so stop complaining and get moving.
    Alex tried to move but he couldn’t. His muscles were tight, ready to break into a run, but they would not obey his commands. A strange, squishy, splatting noise pulled his eyes to the rat-covered pile at the center of the room. He looked up and saw a faint light coming from the ceiling. There were holes in the ceiling. The light seemed to flicker, and then shadows fell onto the pile below.
    I must be under the kitchens, said the strong voice. They are dropping their garbage into this room to get rid of it. That’s why all these rats are here. I’m close to the surface now.
    They are breeding the rats to destroy anyone who tries to escape the dungeons, said the weak voice. If I go too close, they will swarm over me. Rats will eat anything they can get their paws on—dead or alive.
    No. This is Magnus’s magic, Alex’s O’Gash said. It has slowed your mind and magnified your fear.
    I’m not afraid of rats. I just don’t like them, said the strong voice in Alex’s mind. The rats won’t do anything if I move forward. They are too busy with their trash pile to care.
    Something terrible will happen if I go in there! the weak voice shrieked.
    Alex tried to move forward, but it was almost impossible. His right foot slid a few inches across the ground and stopped. His left leg didn’t move at all. Magic or not, the fear in his brain was holding him in place.
    I feel happy, I feel sad, I feel angry, I feel afraid. Fear is just another feeling. It can only hurt me if I let it, Alex’s strong voice reasoned.
    It is real, the weak voice whined. I . . . I can’t . . .
    Alex dragged his left foot across the step, and he moved forward. A second effort pulled his right foot to the floor of the room. He closed his eyes, not out of fear but in concentration. He had to move forward in order to break the spell of fear that held him back. Again and again his feet shuffled forward, and with each painfully slow step, the weak voice at the bottom of his brain howled for him to run.
    After what seemed like forever, Alex opened his eyes and found that he was only a few steps away from the far side of the room. The tunnel he had been following was in front of him, and he almost jumped into it. He paused to look back into the room. The rats were still swarming the trash pile, unconcerned with Alex and the battle he had just won.
    Alex followed the tunnel, changing directions and climbing one last steep section using his hands and feet. He was breathing hard and sweating, but he’d found what he was looking for. In front of him the tunnel wall dropped down, leaving a much smaller opening. Pale light shined through the opening, and he could smell fresh air. He put out his weir light and stood still for a moment, catching his breath. When he felt like he could move quietly, Alex dropped to his knees and crawled through the opening.
    Alex looked up at the night sky. Only ten or twelve feet above him was an iron grate that covered the stone box he’d crawled into. With no time to waste, Alex became a swallow, fluttering up and through the iron bars.
    Landing, he found himself in what looked like a forgotten garden. Roses grew across stone paths and clung to small stone statues. A quick glance told him that he was in the center of some large building. He flew up into the open air and got a better look at the city around him.
    To Alex’s surprise, he was still on the island in the middle of the river. The building he’d just left looked like it might have been a palace once, but it was shabby and