by David Estes
Of course, I give him one. It’s not like I have a choice. I sign his canteen and he even lets me have a drink from it in exchange. “Thanks. Might be worth somethin’ someday,” he says.
No one else speaks to us this morning. But they do let us walk together this time. I guess they are feeling more comfortable that we aren’t going to try anything, probably because they can tell we are getting weaker from the lack of food and water.
Big mistake.
It’s another grueling march, although it’s broken up when we stop for a break upon reaching the hub, a huge cavern that was carved out decades ago. Four gaping tunnels branch off on each side. We sit on manmade stone benches that were erected for travelers. The men seem less serious, joking and laughing as they eat. They give us small chunks of the dried meat we’d bought a couple of days earlier and a swig of water. The food and water, along with whatever medicine they’d given us the previous night, leaves me feeling somewhat refreshed. If we are going to try something, now is the time.
When no one is looking, I silently draw Roc’s attention with a quick flick of one of my fingers. Right away I can see the fear in his eyes. He is right to be scared: the next few minutes could kill us.
I wait patiently for the perfect moment to launch the plan I have in my head. Half the men have wandered off and are doing a bit of sightseeing, checking out the multitude of intricate carvings etched by travelers into the rock walls. They are spread out, which is bad, but no one is covering the entrance to the tunnel we’ve just come through. That’s good, because I am hoping to go back the way we’ve come anyway. It will make them less likely to pursue us.
Four of the others, including the leader with the deep voice, are engaged in a heated discussion about Tri-Realm politics. That leaves two guys who are sort of paying attention to us, although more and more they are distracted by their friends—I can see their eyes flicking back and forth between us and them.
One of them turns his back to add a comment to the conversation.
Only one guard now.
His eyes are on me, but it’s a blank stare, like he is looking without really seeing. I can tell his mind is on the conversation behind him. I rise silently, trusting it will take a few moments for his brain to register what his eyes are seeing. Before he knows what hit him, I…well, I hit him. Club him over the head with my tied-together fists. I hit him hard enough that he won’t be getting up anytime soon. He doesn’t cry out and the others are too distracted to notice.
There’s a knife hanging from his belt and I manage to extract it by the hilt, the blade naturally gravitating toward my wrist ropes. I caress the blade back and forth, keeping one eye on the group of debaters. I saw through one rope and it falls away. I pull my wrists apart sharply, separating the weakened strands of rope.
The knife slips from my fingers.
I am in a time warp, where seconds tick by like hours. I can see every turn of the knife as it flips end over end to the ground, moving in slow motion. It clatters loudly on the stone floor.
For a second everyone is confused, so I take advantage of the situation, grabbing the guard’s gun—which is conveniently located on the ground between his feet. I point it in the general direction of the cluster of debaters.
I pull the trigger.
The automatic spray of bullets fires wildly above the men, but it has the desired effect. Some drop flat on their stomachs, while others take off running in the opposite direction. Taking advantage of the distraction, I spin and take off the other way. I expect to have to herd Roc in the right direction, but I am pleasantly surprised to see him halfway to the tunnel entrance, carrying our pack and both swords awkwardly with his bound hands. It is a good thing, too, because by the time I reach the halfway mark, the bullets and arrows start flying all around me.
Luckily, as perfect as their aim was when they rescued us from Rivet’s men, their aim is equally off the mark this time, probably a result of the frantic nature of the shots coupled with my erratic movement away from them. Plus, I’m firing haphazard bursts of bullets over my shoulder, which surely distracts them. The closest shot is an arrow that catches a loose bit of my tunic, tearing off a tatter of cloth.
A few more bullets rip bits of rock from the ground at my sides, but nothing gets close enough to worry me. I charge into the tunnel, practically knocking Roc, who is waiting just inside, flat on his buttocks. The next problem: it is freaking dark in the tunnel and I don’t have time to stop and pull a torch from our pack. Even if I did I wouldn’t use it, as it would only draw more attention to our whereabouts.
I loop the gun strap over my shoulder to free up my hands and help Roc sling the pack around his neck. I tuck my sword into its scabbard and use Roc’s sword to cut his hands free. I am wasting too much time, but it will be easier with neither of us bound. I’m not embarrassed to say that I grab Roc’s hand at this point to ensure we can stay together.
Although I was quite observant as we approached the hub—looking for side passages, dangerous obstacles, etc.—I am still worried that at any moment we might slam directly into a rock wall or boulder, ending our smooth escape and breaking our sun dweller noses.
I count the strides as we run, trying to estimate where the first side tunnel is. I know we are getting close. “Slow up, Roc,” I say. I pull him to the left until I brush against the tunnel wall. “Stay along the wall.”
I release his hands and feel along the wall, moving more quickly now that I have something to guide me. We hear a cry from behind, as one of our pursuers enters the tunnel. They can’t see us, but we can see them—a half-dozen torches glow behind us.
Suddenly the wall gives way to my left. “This way,” I hiss, turning the corner and continuing to use the wall as a guide. I know our only hope is to make enough turns that they’ll have to continuously split up to ensure they don’t miss us.
“Faster,” I whisper. I pick up the pace, moving rapidly along the wall. Roc is awesome, obeying my commands to perfection and moving noiselessly behind me.
“Switch sides,” I say, pushing off from the wall and wandering blindly until I find the wall on the opposite side.
I hear voices behind us. They aren’t cries from the chase anymore—more like a discussion. Deciding what to do at the side tunnel. Who will search it versus who will continue down the main tunnel. I ignore them and keep feeling for the next gap.
It comes soon, leading off diagonally to the right. “Bear right,” I say, moving into a new tunnel. If the men do what I expect them to do—continue cutting their numbers at each fork in the road—it will mean that six will follow us down the side tunnel, and now only three will pursue us into the angled tunnel tributary.
I move even faster, running now, praying it’s not a dead end. If you’ve never run at full speed in complete darkness, you should try it sometime. It’s exhilarating. Even if you know you’re in a place where there are no obstacles, nothing to smash into, it’s a real rush. In our case we have no idea what’s up ahead. At any moment we could fall into a deep pit, crashing onto jagged rock spikes at the bottom. Or we might plunge into the depths of an icy underwater river with a fierce current, sucking us deeper underground where we’ll drown.
Because of fate, or the blessings of a higher power, or just plain old dumb luck, none of those things happen. In fact, the best possible thing happens: we reach a small tunnel hub. The rock wall gives way to my right, but I can tell it isn’t a new tunnel because of the arc of the wall. Typically a tunnel hub links between four and eight other tunnels. I have no idea how many this hub will have, but it doesn’t really matter. As long as the guys behind us don’t guess right.
“Hub,” I say for Roc’s benefit. “Count with me. We’ll take the third side tunnel on the right.”
“Yes, sir,” Roc says, managing to mock me even in the worst situation.
I pass a gap in the hub wall. “One,” I say.
“One,” Roc parrots.
The next gap is almost immediately after
the first. “Two.”
“Two.”
The third gap is a bit further, but only by a yard or two. “Three,” I say, cutting sharply to the right.
I barely hear Roc’s muffled, “Three,” as the floor drops away beneath me.
Chapter Fifteen
Adele
I wonder how much of attraction is based on looks. I’d never felt anything for Tristan before—not from seeing his pictures on billboards, at least. But now I feel pulled toward him. It’s everything: his looks, his smile, the way he carries himself, those eyes that look at me with an intensity, a yearning, as though without me he will surely perish. The way he said my name—Adele!—his tone filled with such longing.
I can’t hope that he survived the encounter with Rivet and his men. But I can’t stop thinking about him either, which is dangerous. I feel like I need to start detaching my mind from him or I’ll go crazy. Easier said than done.
Elsey is saying something beside me, but I’m not listening. Then I realize her head is cocked to the side and she is staring at me as we walk. She’s asked me a question.
“Wha…what?” I say. She gives me a look. “Sorry, I’m just a little…distracted.”
“Have you met Tristan before?” Elsey isn’t helping with my little detachment project.
“No,” I say.
“Then how’d he know your name?”
“From the news I s’pose.”
“Do you think he’s de—”
“No!” I exclaim, louder than I’d planned. My voice echoes dangerously through the caverns. Ahead of us, Cole and Tawni stop and look back—Cole glares at me while Tawni stands with her hands on her hips.
“Sorry,” I whisper. “No more talking for now, El.”
We walk for the next three hours in silence. We don’t take any side tunnels, afraid that we’ll get turned around and end up going in circles. The tunnel gradually gets thinner and the ceiling lower, until we are forced to march in single file, slightly stooped, Cole then Tawni then Elsey then me. It’s claustrophobic.
When my back begins to ache so badly from the awkward posture that I think I can’t go any further, I hear an elated cry ahead of me. I hasten my steps, realizing I’ve fallen quite far behind. A minute or so later, the tunnel emerges into a small alcove. By small I mean the four of us are barely able to fit. But that’s not what made someone—Tawni, I think—cry out.
I gasp at the wall of water before us. Our path is completely blocked by a waterfall, streaming so effortlessly from above that it appears as smooth as a mirror, the surface marred only by Tawni’s hand, which is stuck into the flow.
“It’s cold,” she announces, cupping her hand and taking a small sip. “And clean, too, I think.”
After our long day of marching, we don’t need further invitation. We line up along the waterfall, drinking until the water is dribbling down our chins, soaking our clothes. It feels wonderful. After we satisfy our thirst, we wash our arms and legs and faces, feeling refreshed for the first since escaping the Pen.
It is as good a place as any to stop, so we do, rationing the food in our packs, which are feeling lighter and lighter.
“What should we do?” Tawni asks. I dread backtracking, trying to find another tunnel to go down, more of the same rough rock walls and single file marching.
“I’m going to see what’s behind that waterfall,” I say, standing up.
“Be careful,” Tawni cautions, “it might drop into a pit.”
“Cole, hold me back,” I say.
Cole joins me at the waterfall and holds my left arm with two hands, lowering himself into a well-leveraged crouch.
I push my hand into the streaming water. It tickles my skin and splashes me in the face, so I turn my head to avoid getting water in my eyes. I force my arm further in, until the water is hitting my elbow, and then my shoulder. Still my hand hasn’t made it through.
“You got me?” I say.
“Yeah,” Cole grunts, straining a bit. “Not too much further though.”
With a deep breath, I duck my head into the icy stream, gasping slightly when the water hits me. All of my weight is being held by Cole now, as I lean over the edge of whatever abyss the falls empty in to.
And then I am through. Although the water is all around me, I can tell that my fingers aren’t being pelted anymore. Mission accomplished. I try to lean back, but gravity’s hold is too strong. In fact, I feel like I’m being pulled downwards. Behind me I can feel Cole’s fingers slipping off my arm as water pours down my head and shoulder.
I am going forward, not back, that much I know. If I let myself simply slip from Cole’s grasp, I will fall awkwardly, potentially hitting my head on a rock, and will most definitely end up taking a dive to wherever all the water is going. I have no other choice.
I wrench my arm free from Cole and leap.
The water pummels me from above as I fly through the air. It is like the liquid has suddenly grown arms and is grabbing at me, trying to pull me down. For all I know, there might be nothing behind the waterfall, just a big dark void, spiraling downward all the way to the earth’s molten core.
My foot lands on something hard and twists to the side. I let out a slight cry and tumble over, skinning an arm on the unforgiving tunnel floor. Complete darkness surrounds me. I don’t have a light. I lie on the ground for a moment, panting, my heart beating faster than a miner’s in a rock cart race. I can hear water rushing all around me. Not just behind, but in front, too. At first I think it’s just the echo of the waterfall I jumped through, but when I crawl forward a few feet, I find that another waterfall blocks my way.
Suddenly, I have a desire to leap through the next waterfall. And then the one after that, if there is one. Hesitating for a moment, I come to my senses and feel my way back to the original waterfall. Through the tinkling water, I can hear faint voices yelling. I jump back through.
Slam! I crash into Cole, who is just on the other side. His reflexes are quick and he manages to half catch me in his big arms, dragging me to the ground with him as I bowl him over.
The reaction I expect is, “Wow, what happened, what did you see?” It is stupid of me to expect that.
Cole is on his feet in a second, his face darkening even more than it already is. “Of all the stupid, childish things to do!” he roars, looming over me.
Of course, being me, I am shocked by the reaction and just stare at him, hoping that if I don’t move he won’t be able to see me or something.
I look around slowly and see that Tawni is hugging Elsey, who is crying, tears rolling over her lips. Then it dawns on me. They thought I was dead. I jumped through a mysterious waterfall, let out a scream, and then they didn’t hear anything from me. I hadn’t even thought to—or bothered to—yell back to them that I was okay.
“I was going to fall,” I say dumbly.
“Tawni was about to help me pull you back when you jumped.”
“Oh.”
“You scared your sister half to death. All of us, Adele.”
“Sorry,” I say weakly.
“Not good enough,” Cole says.
“Really sorry?” I say it like a question, which also is not good enough. “Look,” I continue quickly, “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking. It was really, really stupid. Please forgive me. El?”
Elsey pulls herself away from Tawni and runs to me, throwing her arms around me and holding me so tightly I can barely breathe. By the time she releases me she is almost as wet as I am. “Of course I forgive you,” she says. “I thought you were gone.”
“I’ll never leave you,” I say.
“You will if you keep doing stupid things like that,” Cole grumbles.
His forgiveness will take longer to earn.
Tawni comes over and puts an arm around me. “Try to be more careful. We’re like family now.”
A wave of emotion wells up unexpectedly. I get choked up, literally trying to swallow her words down as they seem to get stuck a dozen times in my th
roat. I am teary-eyed, but not to the point of overflowing. It’s been so long since I’ve had any real friends and now I’ve grown closer to these two in just a couple of days. Wild, thrilling, scary, emotional days, yeah, but still only days.
I realize I love them both. Tawni for her good heart, logical mind, and overflowing compassion for others. Cole for his quiet strength, fierce loyalty, and righteous anger—I don’t even mind his temper.
This might sound cheesy, but all I want is to be close to my new family. I wave Cole over, and after a few seconds’ pause, he joins us in a group hug. I’ve never felt more loved in my life.
It only lasts about a minute—a glorious, beautiful minute—before Cole gets embarrassed. He releases us and says, “Uh, what was behind the water anyway?”
“A landing and then another waterfall,” I say.
“This has the makings of a comedy sketch,” he says, managing a slight grin. His face has returned to its normal dark color.
Note to self: group hugs diffuse tempers, I think.
I grin back. “Why don’t you and I go check it out?” When Cole gives me an I-don’t-think-so look, I quickly add, “No more insane leaps of faith, I promise! I just have a good feeling about where this might lead.” And I do. Something about it just feels right. Or at least more right than going back. Plus this tunnel will be safe for us. No one who actually knows their way around the Lonely Caverns would ever think to go down this particular tunnel.
“Fine,” Cole says grudgingly. “How far is the jump?”
“Maybe five feet,” I say.
Cole nods. “Ladies first. When you get across, move back and I’ll jump five seconds after you.”
Elsey looks worried so I give her an extra hug. “It’ll be okay. We’ll be back in just a couple of minutes.”
“I’ll never forget you,” she says dramatically.
“Yeah, you, too, El.”
I grab two waterproof flashlights, hand one to Cole, and then easily leap through the waterfall onto the landing. I flick on the flashlight and move back. A few seconds later Cole splashes through the liquid wall.