The Glass Gargoyle (The Lost Ancients Book 1) by Marie Andreas

familiar with the ruins but never explored the jungles that hadn’t been cleared yet. As Grimwold found out with my faeries, the jungles can lose people for a long time.
    I debated bringing out Leaf and having her fly ahead, but I didn’t want her spotted. My options were brought up short as a scouting team far too close to me let out a yell. They’d seen me.
    Swearing under my breath, I tore further into the jungle, vines and branches grabbing at whatever they could reach, roots trying to trip me, all doing their best to slow me down but my terror didn’t care. My chest was becoming tight but I had to keep running.
    I kept going long after I stopped hearing them, finally slowing to a walk. This part of the jungle was old growth. Trees that took minutes to walk around clustered like regal giants. The air was almost alive this far in, waiting. I couldn’t even see the tops of most of the trees. Maybe it might be best if I turned around.
    That thought was the last I had before I stepped off into nothingness. I crashed to the bottom of what felt like a giant metal bowl, and dropped into a pit.

 
    Chapter 8
     
     
    The fall stunned me and I came out of it slowly, a tin ringing echoing in my head. Opening my eyes I realized the sound wasn’t just in my head, I was lying crumpled in the bottom of what could only be described as a hammered bronze box. A huge bronze box. I fit in it quite nicely and even stretching out wouldn’t have hit the sides. The archeologist in me jumped with excitement. The container holding me was an ancient ruin. Or rather part of an ancient ruin. This style of metalwork had been found in small pieces in the lowest levels of the current dig. It was speculated to have come from before the time of the mysterious race we called elves. From the group of beings we called only the ancients.
    No one had ever reported seeing a piece this big. Unfortunately, I hadn’t seen it either as
    Then the practical and survival oriented side of me decided to speak up. I was trapped. This box was almost a room, tilted at a slight angle, but its sides were at least ten feet high. And the forest jungle above me was so heavy I couldn’t even see the sky above. Yelling wouldn’t do anything except perhaps bring the guards’ attention. Or even worse, maybe that syclarion would happen to come back unexpectedly.
    A wiggling in my pocket chased back the shivers and started me swearing again. In my running and falling I’d forgotten about Leaf.
    She was tangled up in the fabric I’d carried them all home in the previous night. I was surprised she’d stuck to my command not to say anything, although from the way she was twisted I’d say she’d been fighting to get out for a while.
    I freed her from the fabric. She flitted up into the air, hovering there as she glared at me with folded arms. “You can talk. It’s ok now.”
    “Would have told you, I would, this is a bad place.” She flapped her wings for emphasis, then settled down on my knee. “Not good at all.” She shifted her scowl to the bronze walls around us, continuing to mutter under her breath as she did so.
    “Anything specific? Or just bad?” It had been my experience that the faeries had a lot of knowledge about old things, however most of that knowledge boiled down to bad or good. Asking for an explanation usually just gave me a headache as they couldn’t or wouldn’t expand into words I could understand.
    “Bad. Very bad,” she said with a nod of emphasis. Clearly not a lot of the nuances of faery communication made the leap when they spoke non-faery.
    “Right. We have a problem. Well, I have a problem. I can’t get out of here, and there’s no one nearby for help.” I held her up to my face. “You’re going to have to go bring back help. Get Harlan or Covey. Foxmorton might be able to send someone if you can’t find those two.” Foxy would never leave his bar, but he’d send help if need be. I just hoped whoever she found would be