by Genia Avers
He waited for Pollo, grinning when Subena moved faster. He couldn’t understand why her anger aroused him, but arouse him it did. She didn’t understand his whistle, but his stallion would respond. If possible.
He suspected she was right about Reklaw. He hated the damn duke, but if Tail-Sspin had intended to murder them, they would both be dead.
Kamber walked slowly. Making sure Subena stayed within his range of vision, he whistled every few seconds. Ahead, his wife entered the woods. She would reemerge soon. She might be mad, but she wasn’t foolhardy.
Just as he worried she’d gone too far ahead, he heard a familiar whinny. The big stallion came to a lumbering halt. “Good boy.”
Kamber grabbed the reins. As he started to mount, he sensed a vibration beneath his feet. He knelt, placing his ear to the ground. More equestors.
He straddled the large steed and waited until the riders materialized. He hoped the racing animals belonged to Remington and the guards. If not, he planned to lead the possible pursuers away from Subena.
The equestors came into view. The banner the riders carried filled him with uneasiness.
“What are Creshin's riders doing on Gatsle soil?” he whispered to the wind.
He gave Pollo a swift nudge with his heels. The stallion raced down the road. Kamber looked over his shoulder wondering what happened to Subena.
“Stay hidden!” he shouted to the wind. He’d circle back for her once he lost the riders.
“Let’s go, boy.”
Pollo galloped.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Blasted man.
Enough was enough. After all his preaching about stealth, Kamber had let out a whistle that could resurrect the dead. The stupid man could just get himself killed for all she cared. She burst forth, her surge fostered by vexation.
Hooves. Subena reached for a small tree and clutched at a branch. The sound she heard— that of a trotting equestor—didn’t make sense.
She felt a surge of panic. Followed by understanding.
Kamber had whistled for Pollo.
She grinned. Perhaps her husband wasn’t an idiot after all.
Summoning her reserve strength, she headed back toward her husband. Another sound halted her progress.
More hooves. More than one rider this time.
“Mother of Bockle,” she hissed.
From behind her tree, she watched Kamber and Pollo speed across the open field. A group of men on equestors gave chase.
She hurried to the edge of the clearing and fell to her stomach. Kamber’s gaze darted over the landscape, but she didn’t think he saw her. He yelled, but she couldn’t make out the words over the thundering of hooves.
Immobilized, she kept her head low and peeked over a mound of gray dirt. The riders pursuing Kamber gained ground. The scene made no sense. No equestor could outrun Pollo. Her spouse seemed to be leading the warlord’s soldiers on a merry chase. Why? The riders’ helmets bore Creshin’s emblem.
The riders galloped by and kept running. She wasn’t worried about Kamber. Exactly. If he let Pollo run, the steed would leave the pursuers in the dust.
The presence of the riders did concern her. Why were Creshin’s men roaming freely through the countryside? Had the Gatslian border been breached? What did that mean for Mydrias?
She tried to devise a plan. Taking the main road with only Kamber's cloak for cover was out of the question. “Wet clothes are better than no clothes,” she mumbled.
She crawled behind a thicket and struggled into her damp gown. Should she wait for Kamber? Would he circle back or head toward the palace?
A huge buzzard squawked overhead. Balanced on one foot to step into her sodden gown, the unexpected noise startled her. She fell on her butt.
From her seated position, she stared, fascinated by the large bloodless bird. Its huge tail feathers were tipped with iridescent shades of blue and purple, but the predatory light in the buzzard’s eye proved even more frightening than his hideous face. The flying creature seemed to be an omen.
Her preoccupation with the vulture almost caused her to miss movement in the trees, one hundred meters in front of her. She crouched lower behind her thicket. Finding a small opening, she peered out.
Taslin? “Where are you going?” she whispered.
He wore nothing except the boots which rose to his thighs and emphasized bulging thigh muscles. She kept her eyes averted from his dangling manhood—the rumors hadn’t been exaggerated. She could see why the ladies of Mydrias breathed more rapidly in his presence.
She frowned. Even if he hadn’t betrayed her, all his masculine glory, enhanced by the brilliant Sun-Star, did nothing for her. His assets held no appeal. She just wanted to know what he was up to.
She swore under her breath, “Why didn’t I toss those damn boots?”
He hopped on a large boulder and shielded his eyes, turning his head in every direction. Taslin seemed to be listening. For what?
Her former friend might not want to kill her, but his interests clearly conflicted with her own. She froze, not even flinching when he stared in her direction.
He can’t see me. The dried vegetation might catch fire from the intensity of his gaze, but she knew she remained hidden.
After an eternity of seconds, he turned his head, seeming satisfied. Taslin leaped from his perch and headed straight for a mass of boulders just within her view.
Maybe he hadn’t been searching for her. Why was he running toward the boulder instead of toward the road?
Subena doubted his movement had anything to do with his nudity. The man seemed oblivious to his naked state. And was clearly in a big hurry.
Was Kamber right? Did Taslin have Ronan?
She struggled to button her dress and scurried after Taslin, halting when he vanished behind the largest rock. She hunkered, waiting for him to appear on the other side of the huge boulder.
After a full minute, Taslin hadn’t reemerged. She stayed hidden, weighing her options.
After a moment of indecision, she made her way to the edge of the clearing, just for a look. She stopped every few steps, watching, waiting. If she went any closer to the rock, she’d have no cover.
“What the hell?” she whispered. She stood upright and dashed straight for the big rock.
She reached the large piece of granite and flattened her body on the ground. The stone’s bluish surface reflected the light of Sun-Star. The dazzling effects left her disoriented. If she were superstitious, she would have bolted.
No sign of Taslin. It was as if he had vanished in the dancing, mesmerizing light.
Subena crawled forward and studied the dirt around the rock. Taslin’s footprints stopped ten meters from the rock. She could almost believe the large buzzard had carried him away.
Not possible. The bird wouldn’t be able to lift even a small lad.
She peered closer and noticed that the ground had been disturbed around the rock. Taslin had obliterated his footprints. Why?
She followed the swept dirt. Taslin’s attempts to remove evidence of his presence created a path of another kind. One that lead directly to the rock. And ended there.
“Mother of Bockle.”
She was no closer to resolving the mystery than she had been before she noticed the freshly brushed earth. What kind of magic did the duke possess?
Disgusted, she flopped down near the slab. She flinched when her thigh hit a smaller rock. She tried to move the stone, but it wouldn’t budge. She knelt to get a better look. The smooth rock was dull and looked out of place.
She tugged, but the rock wouldn’t budge. Frustrated, she stood and gave it a kick. The jolt pushed the rock forward.
The piece of stone moved. A grinding noise reverberated from the big boulder. She jumped back as the ground opened before her.
The shiny rock functioned as some type of lever. Moving it caused a hidden door to open.
“Could this be Ronan’s tunnel?” If so, Kamber was correct. Taslin was involved.
>
She crawled into the opening without hesitation. If there was any chance she might find Ronan, she had to follow Taslin. She had to overcome her phobia.
She needed something to place in the opening. If the secret entrance closed, Kamber couldn’t find her. Worse, she couldn’t get out.
Best not think about that.
Grabbing another rock, she positioned it as a wedge and jumped down into the passageway.
Dust and mildew invaded her nostrils and a wave of nausea assaulted her. “Mother of Bockle.”
Every instinct screamed, “don’t go,” but Subena forced her legs to move forward, deeper into the underground passageway.
She fought panic. Gads, had she really crawled into an underground tunnel? On purpose?
This is insane. Even if Kamber found the area, he probably wouldn’t see the opening in the ground unless he was standing on top of it. There would be no reason for him to approach a desolate boulder.
Another wave of fear clawed at her body. She was isolated.
“His cloak,” she whispered. She’d leave the cloak by the opening. Kamber would see it, sense it.
She hurried back to the opening. If she climbed out, would she have the courage to reenter?
Not likely. She removed the cloak and tossed it over her head, daring only to look back for a second. Just to ensure the garment had cleared the door.
Taking a deep breath, she plowed forward. She’d gotten through the palace tunnels, but that gave her no confidence. It would be insane to believe she could conquer her unreasonable fear and come out unharmed a second time. She reversed direction. She’d find Kamber and he could search the tunnel.
Before she reached the entrance, her empathy ability screamed with pain. Ronan’s pain.
Someone had hit him. Hard. Her foot caught and her shoulder banged into the wall.
“Mother of…” Groaning, she reversed direction, with one thought. Find Ronan.
When she reached the four-way junction again, she picked the widest passageway and headed deeper underground. After a few meters, she could move without stooping. She ambled forward until she came to another intersection of paths.
She hadn’t entered a tunnel. She’d entered a labyrinth of underground horror. A virtual maze.
Her body cast spooky shadows in the dim light from the tunnel opening. The light grew fainter with every step.
She selected another pathway and kept walking, her faint connection to Ronan driving her forward. The light disappeared.
Subena stopped in her tracks. Had someone closed the entrance?
I can’t do this.
The tunnel in front of her disappeared into darkness. She spun around, determined to get out.
A twinge of pain assaulted her. “Ah, hell.”
She turned again and moved forward. Toward the pain. Toward Ronan. Her senses pulsed with more strength.
“Okay,” she murmured, her voice so low she wasn’t sure she’d spoken aloud. “I will do this.” She had the skill of the ancients, she could navigate the darkness.
She forced her eyes to focus. Even with her heightened eyesight, the walls were barely visible.
Coming to another fork, Subena looked in three directions. She saw only an abyss of blackness. Closing her eyes, she forced steady breaths. Focusing on the direction of the pain, she selected a tunnel. The opening drew her like a magnet, barely overcoming her need to escape the black hole. She feared the darkness as though it were death itself.
Running would keep her from thinking. She sprinted. After fifty meters, she slowed to a trot. Dirt fell around her. Spider webs covered her face. The filament felt like an avalanche. She advanced deeper into the passageway.
The passageway narrowed. She slowed, barely able to take tentative steps.
In her mind, she no longer functioned as a reasonable being. She became an eight-year-old girl, about to die. History repeated itself, but this time, there would be no rescue.
Ronan. Focus on Ronan. Using every ounce of reserve strength, she moved again. A few steps later, she saw walls. Her increased vision encouraged her to push forward.
A muffled noise brought her to a halt. She strained to hear. It could be help. It could be some horrible creature living in the dank, musty underground.
The sound grew louder. The clear echo of boot heels on the rocky floor reverberated through the air.
Her heart lifted. Then deflated.
It didn’t sound like Kamber. Or even Taslin. She could identify both males by the sound of their footfalls.
The clicking grew louder. Subena flattened herself against the wall. Whoever walked toward her probably wasn’t a friend.
The sound of heels meeting stone increased in amplitude. The boots paused. She waited.
The clicking resumed but the volume decreased. Only slightly. The person had turned.
He must know the way out. She could follow the sound.
Hope pumped energy into her panic-stricken body. She hurried, ignoring the hard stone that rose up to pound her cold, sore feet. If she reached the opening—no, when she reached the opening—she couldn’t just waltz up and say hello. She would be at the mercy of the monster in the tunnel. Probably the same fiend who’d tried to kill her at least three times. If that person trapped her beneath the earth, she’d simply disappear.
Without warning, light flooded the tunnel. She instinctively ducked behind a wide support column. Her concealed location prevented her from being seen. It also prevented seeing. She heard voices. One of the speakers was Taslin, but the other voice echoed without identity, a blur of murmurs.
She heard sketchy portions of Taslin's conversation. His tone sounded defensive.
The muttering continued. Taslin’s voice rose. One sentence reverberated with clarity. “I won't kill her.”
Bockle. Is he talking about me?
The heated conversation continued but Subena could decipher nothing. Her sensitized hearing enabled her to hear distant sounds, but the conversation echoed and merged with drips, insect noises and other unidentifiable things. She couldn’t understand a single word.
A second later, heels clicked again. Two sets. One emanated from Taslin’s boots.
Click, click, click. The sound disappeared. The tunnel faded into blackness.
Subena clasped her hand over her mouth to subdue the echo of her moan. Why hadn’t she gotten closer? Being discovered had to be better than dying alone in the tunnel.
She rushed toward the spot where she’d heard the voices. Maybe the entrance was close.
After two steps, she encountered a wall. The tunnel forked, but both passageways led away from the sound of voices.
She sank to the floor, feeling woozy. She put her head between her legs, well aware she teetered on the verge of losing consciousness. Maybe losing her sanity.
Get up. She raised her head, wheezing for air. After an imagined eternity, she summoned the courage to stand.
She expelled a breath and stepped forward. And fell into spider webs.
Knowing her panic was irrational didn’t prevent her from running wildly. She bumped into another wall. The tunnel closed in around her.
The panic gained on her—she could feel it. She could taste it. She rounded a corner and saw a dim light.
The smell of lighting fuel assaulted her senses. Oil from a torch, in the distance.
Her panic retreated. Following the footsteps had led her in a circle. She approached the rock where she’d first entered the tunnel. The opening. She’d found the opening.
Air burned as it rushed into her lungs. Joy. She could get out.
She had to wait until the people she’d followed departed. Then, she could escape.
Ronan was alive. She’d find Kamber and together they’d search the tunnel.
She remained totally still, needing the oxygen that raced through her rubbery muscles and absorbed into her blood.
Without warning, the light vanished. A door closed. A bolt snapped into place.
“No!”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Kamber let Pollo slow. Calculating the best route to circle back and retrieve Subena, he almost galloped straight into another posse waiting at the fork.
More Creshin mercenaries? He signaled for Pollo to halt. The stallion reared at the unexpected restraint.
He stared into the distance, puzzled. The riders waiting ahead did not move. Two men dismounted and gestured toward him.
Kamber glanced at the group behind him, surprised to see his pursuers had slowed to a trot. Then, those pursuers abruptly turned. And fled.
He scratched his head. He considered himself adept at field maneuvers, but could find no explanation for what he’d just observed.
He counted the men waiting at the fork. Fifteen riders. Should they come after him, the odds weren’t in his favor.
He decided to wait. Let the riders ahead make the first move. Every second he waited was time Pollo could rest.
Every soldier waiting at the fork ceremoniously dismounted. The warriors stood next to their equestors. And kneeled.
What the devil?
Two soldiers got back onto their equestors. One hoisted a white flag. The emblem of surrender fluttered next to Creshin’s colors. The second equestrian, the one who trotted ahead, carried a banner with the Gatsle crimson.
“What do you think, Pollo?” he whispered to his horse, wondering what game was afoot.
He pulled the knife out of his boot but kept the blade hidden. He watched either a peaceful overture, or one of the best tricks he'd ever encountered.
As the riders approached, Kamber realized that the second rider was indeed a Gatslian guard. Was the man accompanying the Creshinites? Or a hostage?
When the riders were within range, both men got off their equestors and knelt. Kamber waited, still not certain the warriors weren’t assassins.
The Gatsle guard said, “Prince Kamber. These soldiers request an audience. They are allies.”
Allies?
The Creshin mercenary nodded, his nose twitching. “We come in peace.”
“Sire,” the guard said. “We have been looking for you most of the day.”