The Golden Key (Book 3) Read Online Free

long tunnel, and he would have dropped even further
if he hadn’t landed on something that hadn’t melted. A rock shelf? A ledge? The
thing pressing into his lower back was rough like a rock, but it could be the
sharp end of a broken bone.
    He set the wand down beside him and began the slow process
of checking his wounds. He started by tentatively probing his chest, fully
expecting to find tiny barbs of bone sticking out at odd angles. But there were
none. He frowned; it felt like he had broken ribs, but his fingers were
telling him differently. He ran them over his chest, pressing down more firmly
on his ribcage, but there were no breaks, no cracks, no pain. He took a deep,
welcome breath, one that felt normal, healthy, except for the throbbing in his
back and the resurgent, sharp pain in his right shoulder as he shifted slightly
on the rock shelf.
    Why did his chest feel like it had been crushed when it
hadn’t been? It didn’t matter; it wasn’t crushed, and he needed to focus on the
injuries that were real. He reached across his chest and gently touched his
right shoulder. Pain shot down his arm and up his neck. He winced and beads of
sweat formed on his forehead. At the very least, his shoulder was dislocated,
but what about the arm? After a moment, he gritted his teeth and continued his
gentle exploration. It didn’t last long; his arm was bent backward and lay at
an odd angle beneath him.
    Still the mind , he thought, wondering if he would
ever be able to use his arm again. Still the body. If he couldn’t, how
would he cast spells? Almost all of them required two hands to manipulate the
magic into their knotted patterns. Still the mind . Still the body. He focused on the mantra for over a minute before he was able to continue his
diagnosis.
    His right arm was a mess, but he didn’t know any more than
that. His ribcage felt like it was in tatters, but it wasn’t. He reached inward
with his mind, looking for the magic that he had lost and found a faint wisp of
a response. It wasn’t the magic he was familiar with; rather, it was like the
afterimage of a candle’s flame plastered on the eyelid after turning away from it.
It was as if he were seeing the magic from a great distance, and it had an unfamiliar
quality to it. He tried to bring it into focus, but it stayed at the fringe of
his awareness like a hazy, smoky memory that he couldn’t quite dispel or bring
to the forefront of his mind.
    He shifted his legs slowly, one at a time, beginning with
his right leg. The throbbing in his thigh was mild compared to the wretched
pain that gouged into his lower back as his weight shifted. He would have to
move soon, before the sharp edges of the rock bit more deeply into his flesh.
    He still couldn’t feel his left foot, but there was no pain
in it when he straightened his leg as best he could. What could be wrong with
it? It felt like it had fallen asleep. Could it be as simple as that? Would it
tingle to life when he started moving? Or was it something worse, much worse?
He flexed his left leg for several seconds as he tried to will sensation back
into his foot, but it did no good.
    The rock bit a little deeper into his back. He would have to
move, but there was little room to maneuver. The tunnel above him was scarcely
large enough for him to squeeze through, and the little spot that had melted
around him was as closed in as a coffin. Still, he was in a more comfortable
position than he had been, and if he could roll over on his belly, it might
free up his right arm for a close examination of the damage. But which way to
roll?
    He turned his head slightly to the left. There was a 20
degree upslope, perhaps more—and then to the right. His weight shifted as he
turned his head, and the rock digging into his back suddenly gave way. He slid
sideways, tilted, and most of his weight pressed down on his right shoulder as
he tipped over into a shallow pool of water. His right arm dropped limply down
beside him as if it