by Sharon Hinck
My breath caught. Could this be an answer from the One? My means to be free of Bezreth and the shrine? This rough, scowling soldier? I gripped the armband tightly, the mangled edge cutting into my palms. Hope escaped my lungs with a groan. “The drug patches. I’ll die without them.”
He snatched the bent metal from my hands again and clenched it in his fist, then studied me through hooded eyes. “All right. I can get you drug patches. Here’s my offer. If you want me to give you another, you cooperate.”
I had little choice. I didn’t know how to find my way out of Sidian, or how to find the drug patches I’d need to survive. Nausea rose in my stomach and I swallowed hard. “You have more?”
He never looked away. “Of course.”
Even though his voice was carefully bland, all my instincts screamed that he was lying.
Chapter
12
Susan
Skidding and slipping on the damp rock, we scrambled back the way we’d come. I didn’t know what the flying grubs would do to us, but I didn’t wait to find out. Far ahead I glimpsed Lazul’s light rod. “Hey, wait!”
Mark still had his light, but we’d never find our way around these caverns without Lazul. I strained to keep the man in sight—our last hope of escape.
Mark grabbed my hand and ran beside me. Maybe Lazul was planning to lose us in the tunnels. Too bad I had no breadcrumbs to drop.
Finally the Kahlarean slowed enough for us to catch up. He looked at us sourly. “I thought you needed to find that precious possession you dropped.”
“Can we get back in there?” Mark asked tersely.
“No. Now that you’ve stirred up the grubs, they’ll go through a whole life cycle. They’ll cover the entrances with their webbing. They’ll fight to protect their eggs. Thanks to you we can’t use that cavern for a full season, and it’s a major passage.” He turned away and stomped toward his grotto.
I pulled a strand of sticky webbing from my shoulder and faced Mark. “You can’t keep barking at him. We need his help.”
He looked at the yawning darkness behind us, then at Lazul’s disappearing back. “What’s your plan?”
“I just think a little diplomacy would help.”
We continued forward, staying far enough back to hold a whispered conversation. Mark threw another glance behind us, clearly torn about leaving the stone.
I reached for his hand. “I’m sorry about the portal stone.” Losing access to this world forever held a finality he’d never faced before. I couldn’t imagine how much it hurt him.
He switched his light rod to the other side and grasped my fingers. “You were right. I shouldn’t have tried to recalibrate them in the first place. If I’d left them the way they were, you could have slipped through to Lyric, checked on Jake, and come right home.”
So it was guilt troubling him, more than the loss of the stone. “Don’t blame yourself. If the portal had stopped letting me through, like it did to you, I would have done the same thing. I’m just glad you’re with me.” And I meant it with my whole heart. This adventure didn’t seem as dark and frightening as the last time I’d come through the portal. Mark was by my side. Together we could tackle anything.
He pulled me in tight for a one-armed squeeze as we kept walking. “Thank you. Now we’d better find a way out of these caves. Sounds like we have a long journey to Cauldron Falls.”
We reached the intersection of several passageways where Lazul once again stood waiting. Mark unerringly strode into one of the tunnels, confident of the way back to Lazul’s family grotto.
“Wait.” Our reluctant Kahlarean companion tilted his head and listened. Beyond the faint trickle of water, the echo of footfalls approached.
“Friends of yours?” Mark asked.
Lazul shrugged. “Some of the soldiers stationed in these under-hills.” He brightened. “They could help you.”
Mark stiffened.
“It might be better,” I said quickly, “if we go on our way without bothering anyone else. Can you show us the shortest way out? We really need to travel back to the clans.” I took a few steps, hoping Lazul would follow.
Lazul gave us a hard stare. “I think it’s better to let someone else take care of you.”
My heart pounded faster, but I took a shaky breath. “Lazul, I have a little girl . . . about the same age as yours. We just want to get back to her, to our other children. Getting soldiers involved will take too much explanation.”
Beside me, Mark held his breath.
Lazul sighed heavily. His puckered face made it clear we’d been enough trouble already. “Oh, all right. Follow me.”
I tried to feel sympathy for him, but we’d only disrupted a few hours of his day. Somehow that didn’t compare to the challenges Mark and I were facing.
Even with his disapproving trudge, Lazul moved almost silently. Though I strained to listen, I heard no further warnings of approaching feet. The soldiers must have gone off another direction in this warren of tunnels and caverns.
The Kahlarean led us around a bend and into a new tunnel that glittered with shiny rock chips that multiplied the light in dizzying refractions. What a strange world these Kahlareans inhabited.
“Just through there.” Lazul pointed.
I stopped cold. The roof of the cavern lowered in a massive slab, leaving a passage so small we’d have to crawl. If it grew smaller, we could be trapped. Pinned. Helpless. Like when I’d been captive in a small Rhusican room. Claustrophobia crushed my ribcage. “No. I’m not going in there. Isn’t there another way out?”
Lazul clenched and unclenched his fist around the light rod that he braced against the floor like a cane. “There are no grubs in there.”
“That’s not what I mean. It’s so . . . all that rock overhead . . . and small . . .” It would be like crawling beneath a tilted anvil that could fall on us an any moment.
“Remember why we came.” Mark squeezed my hand. “You can do this.”
Lazul made impatient swishing sounds with his mouth. He exchanged a look with Mark. “I’ll go first. Perhaps you should go last.”
Being sandwiched between them only made me feel more trapped. My breathing sped up into tense hiccupping gasps, but I pressed down the panic. “Lead the way.”
Lazul bent and wriggled ahead of me. I crawled along behind, silently praying crazy, broken phrases. Oh, Lord. One more inch. Another. How much farther? Help me!
An eternity of misery battled against my courage in the first few yards of that narrow passage, and I froze, unable to escape the vision of myself pinned in the dark under tons of rock.
“Almost there.” Mark’s gentle prompt interrupted my panic. Expanding my ribs in a deep breath, I pushed forward, knees scraping in my hurry. Then the cave roof sloped upward and we were able to stand again.
As the tunnel opened to another spacious cavern, light pooled around an opening ahead, and I rushed forward on shivery legs. A few more steps and we were blinking in the soft grey light of the open air. Breathing deeply, I took in the landscape stretched out before us. The mossy hills reminded me of the lands near Shamgar far on the other side of the clans, and a few spice trees with their braided branches dotted the horizon.
“Which way is Cauldron Falls?” Mark asked.
Lazul pointed. “About two days journey past the cup between those hills.”
Hills? They were mammoth. True mountains, but with rounded green peaks and curving slopes.
“All right. We’ll head straight that way until we find the Falls.”
Lazul tensed. “No! You can’t go that way.”
“Why not?”
His eyes widened. “It’s the assassins’ enclave.”
A shard of pain throbbed across my sword arm where a venblade had once poisoned me. Mark paled and pulled me closer, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Then ho
w do we reach the pass by Cauldron Falls?”
Lazul stretched out his light rod like Moses’s staff and pointed out a route that circled far below the two hills. “Go around. It’ll take you longer. But no one dares go through the enclave.”
“You’ll get no argument from us,” I said. “Thank you for all your help.”
Mark looked grim but forced himself to sound cordial as he thanked Lazul. The Kahlarean bobbed his head a few times, then ducked quickly back into the cave, not bothering to hide his relief at being rid of troubling visitors.
“Okay. You heard him. We’ll have to circle those hills.” Mark rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, the color, buttons, and design anachronous in this foreign world. At least the bits of grub cocoon and dirt camouflaged the fabric a little. My sunny yellow blouse made me feel like I was wearing a bull’s-eye. “Let’s go.”
I limped along beside Mark’s aggressive stride.
He stopped and stared at my feet. “Where are your shoes?” His surprise held an edge of annoyance, as if he were picking Anne up from a friend’s house and she had bounded into the car barefoot. Did he think I liked wandering around a strange world in my stockinged feet?
“On the rug by the front door. The portal didn’t exactly give me time to pack, did it?”
“You can’t hike across Kahlarea like that.”
“If you’d been a little friendlier, Lazul and his family might have helped us. We could have used some other supplies besides shoes.”
He stared at the light stick Lazul had given us, as if he’d forgotten it was there. His clear gaze swung to meet me. “Do you want to go back?”
Narrow tunnels. Kahlarean soldiers. Morphing grubs.
I shuddered.
“No thanks. I’ll manage.” I stripped off the damp socks and waggled my toes. “Besides, I just read a news story about how it would be better for our feet if we all went barefoot more. In fact, there’s a whole group that is fighting for the right for people to work in offices and go into stores and restaurants without shoes. Podiatrists say . . .”
I kept chattering as we made our way toward the distant hills. Mark shook his head, and his smile grew.
I stretched my gait to keep up with him, fists on my hips. “What?”
He grinned. “Nothing.” But his low chuckle kept up a counterpoint to my dissertation about the benefits of bare feet. As we hiked, I found the cushiony moss of these lowland hills was actually comfortable under my toes. There was something about this world that made me feel young, that made me almost enjoy bounding barefoot over the hills. The spires of the city of Lyric sang of beauty that was still close to the source of all artistry. The forest around Braide Wood refreshed wanderers with the scent of pine and honey-spice. The Grey Hills in their haunting sadness still murmured of hope and opened my heart to vastness as they stretched into the horizon. Even the harsh granite of Hazor stirred boldness and vigor. And Rhus—
My sense of wellbeing dissolved. Thank the One I was on the complete opposite side of the clans from that nation. Their green tapered trees, gardens, and fountains boasted a contrived beauty to rival any place in this world, but my memories held only horror and intense relief that I’d escaped.
Mark quickly settled into a ground-eating pace. This was another of the many times I wished this world had a written language, cell phones, or some other quick way to get a message to our friends in Rendor, Braide Wood, or Lyric. Relying on messengers seemed to work for them, but there weren’t any messengers here.
I skipped a few steps closer to him, the darkening sky warning that we’d need to find shelter soon. “So what do you know about Kahlarea?”
“Besides the obvious?”
“I mean are there any scary monsters I should know about?”
He didn’t answer right away. We crested a low swell of land and stopped to get our bearings. We’d be visible for miles around on this barren slope. How close could we get to the hills before being in too much danger? As far as I was concerned, anywhere within a hundred miles of Kahlarean assassins was too close.
“There were stories.” Mark pointed toward a clump of trees far to our left. “Let’s head there until morning. I don’t like being out in the open.”
“Stories?”
“Sure. You know. Living in Rendor with the Kahlareans right across the river, everyone had theories. Mostly, we just had to be careful of the usual. Rizzids liked to sun on the rocks. There were some bears and mountain cats, but they usually stayed far from the city. The ground-crawlers weren’t so much of a problem because of the rocky soil. They’re a lot worse in the lowlands.”
“And those monster-flying-grub things?” Just talking about them conjured creepy crawlies up and down my back.
He ran a hand over his head. “Nope. That’s a new one. Never saw those in Rendor or anywhere else in the clans. Let’s hope they only live in that cave system.”
“Amen.” For a moment we walked in silence as I tried to banish the feeling of sticky grub filaments against my skin. “But you mentioned stories.”
He sighed. “All right. Mind you, I don’t know who started them. Probably some guardians who got a little punchy from too many patrols up by the Falls.”
“Understood. Myths, legends. Might not be true. Go on.”
“Well, you know how the assassins can move silently, almost invisibly?”
I glanced to our right where the gap between the mountains seemed to swallow light. I didn’t answer.
“The story goes that as part of their training, they hunt a scolopendra. It’s sort of like a centipede.”
The tight thrill of fear forming in my midsection evaporated in a bubble of laughter. Here I was bracing myself for scary tales of danger. “You’re not telling me that assassins train by chasing after bugs?”
He was silent for a few seconds. “They say these are as large as lehkan. It takes days of stalking, total silence to approach them, and the armor of their bodies makes them nearly impossible to kill. Of course the bite is poisonous, but they also have clawed tentacles that can rip a caradoc apart.”
I inched closer to Mark and matched my stride to his.
He slid a glance my way and gave an apologetic grin. “Remember, it’s probably just a legend designed to keep kids from wandering. You know how fearless the people from Rendor clan are. The moms had to invent some sort of story to keep kids close to home.”
“Well you’ve succeeded in creeping me out,” I grumbled.
“You asked. Besides, we should be more afraid of the assassins who train by killing scolopendra than by the centipedes themselves, don’t you think?”
I made a face at him. “That doesn’t cheer me up. Is this really what passes for a fairytale among the clans? You’re pretty dark and twisted.”
That surprised a bark of laughter from Mark. “And what exactly would you call the Grimm brothers? Or Disney movies? Have you ever noticed how many moms are dead in those? Bambi is the worst.”
I giggled. “I can’t believe you’re comparing Bambi to giant poisonous centipedes.”
In spite of our attempts to joke, I was relieved when we drew into the cover of the forest. Night was approaching quickly, and I didn’t like being in the open, whether scolopendra were fact or myth. Making camp didn’t take much time since we had no tents to pitch, no heat trivets to set up, and no food to cook.
Instead, Mark showed me some berries – smooth as grapes, but with a mottled orange and yellow color that made them look as if they’d been tie-dyed. They had a heartier texture than most fruit, almost like a rich applesauce muffin.
“Try to get a little sleep.” Mark said after we had eaten our fill. He sat with his back against a tree, and I settled beside him, craving his warmth, though the air wasn’t particularly cool. Like everywhere else on this world, Kahlarea’s climate seemed temperate. But with darkness falling, a different
sort of chill prickled my skin.
I wanted Mark to keep his arm around me. His shoulder was my favorite upholstery, especially after he fiddled with the light rod, and it dimmed and went out. I realized a glowing light rod in this isolated place could attract unwanted attention, but I still hated to see the artificial illumination disappear.
“You can sleep.” Mark’s voice rumbled. “I’ll keep watch.”
How he could watch in the pitch black, I didn’t know, but I closed my eyes, resting one hand against his chest, where I could feel his strong heart beat in a soothing rhythm.
When I next opened my eyes, the sky had lightened to the pigeon grey of predawn.
“You awake?” Mark whispered hoarsely.
I shifted away. “Yes. You should have woken me sooner. I could have taken a turn keeping watch.”
He stretched his arm, rubbing kinks from his shoulder. “If you keep watch now, I could use a short nap before we head out.”
“Sure.”
He closed his eyes and was asleep in seconds.
I wasn’t guardian-trained like Mark. I didn’t have the discipline to sit still and alert. So I eased away from his sleeping form curled beneath the tree. I walked the perimeter of our small clearing, around the tree that looked like a corkscrew reaching to the sky, over to the braided spice tree, and from there to the patch of berries. I stopped to eat a few more, then ambled back to the tree where Mark rested on a bed of pine needles.
Turning, I circled back the opposite direction. There was no way to judge the passing of time other than the subtle changes in the light, but I wanted to give Mark a decent nap before we headed out. To fight the temptation of waking him, I set a slightly wider perimeter and circled again.
On my fourth or fifth lap, I heard a mewling sound, almost like a baby’s cry. It stopped, then started again with a plaintive whimper. Surely a baby couldn’t have been left out here in the woods. Maybe it was the sound of a tiny caradoc lamb separated from its ewe. I glanced back at Mark, who was still sleeping hard.
The cry sounded again—so like a baby. My feet moved toward it. Just a quick look. I could always wake Mark if I needed him.