by Sharon Hinck
As the rocks of Hazor spat us out, I still felt the teeth of Sidian inches from the back of my neck.
Chapter
16
Susan
It’s amazing how an impossible challenge becomes possible when it’s inevitable. I couldn’t manage a climbing wall at my local gym, much less a Kahlarean sheer rock face with tiny handholds and no safety harness, but the assassins weren’t interested in my qualms.
As I followed Rahn and Mark, my shoeless toes struggled to grip the small, smooth indents. Master Voronja and his other apprentice climbed behind me. At least if I fell, I’d take out a few assassins on my way down. I smiled grimly and pulled myself up another step. Thirty feet above the ground, my arms were already shaking, and the wall seemed to stretch upward forever.
Mark wasn’t even breathing hard. Something subtle shifted in him each time he revisited this world. He was still my familiar husband from a Midwestern suburb, but he was also something more. The history of his family, his early guardian training, and his time on the Council all seemed to course through his muscles. Even in his jeans and chambray shirt, he looked like he would be more comfortable wielding a sword than driving a car.
“Not much farther,” he called. “Don’t look down.”
Perversely, my gaze fell to the sharp stones below. Vertigo made the ground waver. I pressed my forehead against the rock, wishing I could burrow into it. When I glanced up to find the next handhold, Rahn had disappeared over the cliff face, and Mark continued climbing, the distance between us stretching.
I had at least another twenty feet yet to climb. My heart jackhammered so hard that I was afraid it would jar me off my perch.
A low hiss sounded behind me. “Keep moving.” The master assassin’s voice barely rose above a whisper, but the clear menace prodded me. Hyperventilating, I threw aside my slow, careful progress and scrambled as fast as I dared, just wanting to get this climb over with, whatever the outcome.
My fingers finally reached a flat surface, and I hefted myself up onto my belly. Mark’s hands pulled me safely onto the wide ledge. As soon as I found my feet, I hugged him. “Too close,” I gasped.
“Hmm?” he murmured against the top of my head.
“We’re still too close to the edge.” I kept my face buried against him, not wanting a glimpse of the long fall beyond the ledge. Even if we evaded the Kahlareans and escaped the enclave, I’d never be able to climb down from this dizzying height. The sensation of a trap closing tighter around my neck added to my trembling.
He chuckled and guided me further in. “Since when are you afraid of heights?”
A jolt of indignation helped me to get control of my rubbery knees and convince them to bear my weight. “That wasn’t like cleaning out a gutter on a nice safe ladder. You’ve gotta admit that was scary.”
“I’m admitting nothing.” He turned me away from the edge. “You can open your eyes now.”
His teasing helped the trembling leave my muscles. I drew a shaky breath and looked around. The polished rock face before us revealed the near-invisible seams of a door. The door matched the surrounding rock, but unlike the rustic caves where we’d entered Kahlarea, this entrance was metallic and mechanical. Mark nudged me and nodded toward a glazed plastic window, tiny as an arrow slit in a medieval castle. Bulbous eyes within followed our every move.
While the remaining two assassins slipped easily onto the plateau and to their feet, Rahn slid aside a recessed panel, pulled a small gadget from his belt, and pressed it against a lever.
Steel whispered apart, revealing a dim hall. “Who are these strangers?” A raspy voice asked from within.
The master assassin glided past us all and through the door. “Visitors. They may be helpful with our recent project.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. When Mark and I didn’t move, Rahn grabbed my arm and tugged me toward the entrance. Mark bristled and wedged himself between the young Kahlarean and me.
Rahn tensed with the stillness of a snake about to strike. Hair rose on my arms.
“It’s okay.” I touched Mark’s arm. “Come on.”
My husband glared at Rahn, but released his breath, a potential explosion averted. Mark’s normal easy-going nature was another thing that shifted when we were in this world. He was never this combative when negotiating a car repair bill or arguing with the city about our property tax increases. Of course, those sorts of battles weren’t actually life threatening.
Realizing the magnitude of our danger again, my stomach clenched. I couldn’t focus on that. We were here for a purpose. We had to get to Jake. One step at a time.
Watch, learn, and stay as friendly as possible.
We walked into a cavern illuminated by faint streaks of light-retaining mineral woven throughout the stone. Once we were inside, the Kahlareans removed their hoods and the grey fabric that covered their lower faces. Rahn padded ahead, his short form moving without a sound. Mark and I followed slowly, with the elder assassin close on our heels. The door hissed closed behind us, and my grip on Mark’s arm tightened.
We passed between a few uneven natural rock pillars. Something blurry moved in my peripheral vision.
“Not bad, Clanon.” A touch of humor colored the rasping voice of the master assassin.
Who was he speaking to? There was no one else in the corridor.
A cloaked figure stepped out from alongside one of the pillars. He gave a brief bow to the older Kahlarean.
I blinked. “How do you do that?”
The young Kahlarean ignored me and melted back against a cave wall, disappearing again.
I did a double take, and turned to the master assassin. “That’s amazing. It’s like he has an invisibility superpower. Can you all do that?” No wonder Kahlarean assassins had infiltrated Lyric and Braide Wood without discovery.
A flash of amusement lit the froggy eyes of the old Kahlarean. He rubbed knobby knuckles under his chin. “Distilling poison from scolopendra claw is not the only kind of distilling we do.”
That explained exactly nothing, but I didn’t really expect a Kahlarean teacher to be forthcoming with his secrets.
Mark gave a soft huff, and I glanced at him. His scowl had deepened, and I wanted to rub the worry lines off his forehead before he gave himself a headache. He clearly wasn’t coaching himself to focus on anthropological curiosity like I was.
I didn’t blame him. Men like these—perhaps even Voronja himself—had murdered Mark’s family and friends. I nestled closer to him as we followed Rahn along a smooth hall, deeper into the mountain.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “This must be hard for you. Do you want to talk about it?”
His jaw flexed. “No.”
“But sometimes it can help to let it out, talk about your feelings . . .”
“Not here,” he ground out. He jerked his head in the direction of the Kahlareans behind us. “Not now.”
I’d forgotten about our hosts’ ability to hear so well. I pressed my lips together. We didn’t dare risk revealing who Mark really was until we knew if they had set aside their long-standing vendetta against Markell, son of Mikkel of Rendor.
I did risk one more quick whisper to Mark. “Did you see that entrance? How are we going to find our way out of here?”
His only response was to squeeze my hand where it rested on his arm.
I drew in a strengthening breath. Mark had the gift of infusing courage and calm into me with one deep gaze into my eyes or the low timbre of his voice or the touch of his skin against mine.
Deeper into the cave, the hall expanded into a large arena. Sloping floors led down to a wide area, open except for a scattering of tall pillars that reached upward, some ten feet, some twenty feet. They added soft illumination to the massive cavern like giant glow sticks. Wide ramps led up from the central area to the level where we stood. The b
road path that overlooked the arena held five equidistant openings to halls leading away from the center, and reminded me of the council chambers of Lyric. In Lyric, innocuous offices lay beyond each balcony door, but here I suspected that nothing so banal waited down the various halls.
At the moment, dozens of Kahlareans trained on the main floor like so many masked ninjas. Unlike guardians, who trained with swords and staffs, these men paired off in lethal dances of hand-to-hand combat with daggers. At one side of the cavern, other youths dove and rolled to evade syncbeam blasts. The master gestured us toward one of the overhanging balconies, and I was relieved we wouldn’t have to walk through the main floor.
We passed through a short hall into a smaller room, the size of a small church under vaulted ceilings. Instead of stained glass windows, the only illumination came from more glowing veins in the stone walls, and sporadic light panels that cast a pale, somber glow. Low tables lined the wall to our left, and several Kahlareans worked over heat trivets, with steam rising from bowls and various gauges and odd tools littering the surfaces. To our right, more coved openings led to halls that appeared to lead deeper into the mountain—deeper into the mountain and deeper into danger. My nerves prickled with each step that took us farther from freedom.
One of the men at the tables turned and walked toward us with a spring in his step. I recognized Trennor, the angry youth who had killed the scolopendra. “Master, I’ve begun the distilling process. Can I choose a venblade from the armory?”
The elder Kahlarean looked up in a very human expression of exasperation. “You have ten days before the poison is ready. Ask me then.”
I’d once wondered why Kahlareans used more traditional weapons when they had the incredibly lethal venblades at their disposal. If they had to hunt a monster scolopendra for the poison, it was obviously not easy to produce. Perhaps the use of a venblade was reserved for rare occasions.
Trennor bobbed his head, then turned toward Rahn. “I already cleaned the talon.” He held out a scarlet claw, hung from a leather cord around his neck. Clearly his status had risen among the other students, and his mood was unquenchable.
“Congratulations,” I offered quietly. “And thank you again for saving my life.”
Beside us, Rahn made a snorting laugh sound.
Trennor scowled. “I didn’t,” he said indignantly. “Not on purpose. I just got you out of the way of my hunt.” He cast pleading eyes at the master. “I didn’t mean to save her life.”
I bristled. “I’m only trying to be grateful.” Someone should teach the boy some manners.
Trennor clenched his chinless jaw, making his cheeks puff out in anger and giving his face an even more froglike appearance.
Mark wrapped a hand around my shoulder and gave a soft squeeze. “Honey, this is an assassin’s enclave. It’s probably not a compliment to thank someone for saving your life.”
Now Voronja snorted several chuckles. “Yet it’s true his hunt inadvertently saved you and necessitated this visit.” He pointed at Trennor. “So I find it appropriate for you to escort them while they are here.”
Trennor let the talon drop from his fingers, and it dangled against his grey tunic. The skin around his eyes took on a greenish cast. “Master, no. Please.”
“Take them to the eating hall. See that they have food, then find them a sleeping quarter. And ponder how each of your actions has consequences.”
The youth’s bluster deflated, and he gave us both a glare of undisguised malice. I almost felt sorry for him.
“We’d appreciate a meal, but there’s no need for a place to sleep,” Mark said to the elder. “We need to be on our way.”
“Go with Trennor.” The master used a tone that brooked no argument, then strode away, back toward the large training arena.
Uneasy, I looked at Mark. “Guess he told us.”
Trennor shot us another sour look. “No one questions the master. This way.” He gestured ahead to a hallway. Mark and I preceded him, with Trennor clearly as reluctant to be stuck with us as we were to go with him.
Suddenly a figure dropped from the ceiling in front of me. I squeaked and stumbled to a stop. The figure rose from a crouch, and I realized it was another small, young trainee. His eyelids drew together in a squint, and I suspected that the grey fabric covering his lower face masked a snicker.
“Ripon, practice hiding in some other corridor.” Trennor glided past me and shoved Ripon aside. The boy scampered away with a wispy laugh.
As we followed Trennor, I kept glancing nervously at the roof of the hall. I began to expect Kahlareans to pop out of every shadow. “I still don’t know how you manage to be so inconspicuous.”
“Cub games,” Trennor’s disgust toward us expanded to include the less experienced trainees. He reminded me of my junior high son scoffing at our grade school daughter’s homework. “They aren’t allowed to use Rhusican blood until they’ve had twelve seasons of training.”
The skin on the back of my neck prickled, and I reached for Mark’s hand. He squeezed it, steadying me. I managed to keep my voice conversational. “Rhusican blood?”
Trennor led us into a large dining hall with long tables and benches that were empty at the moment. “Another poison we can distill. Sit there.” He pointed at one of the benches, then stomped to a pass-through along one wall, and brought back a large platter of rolls, fish, and some odd-colored vegetables.
Fighting to keep my tone casual, I helped myself to a roll. “So what does the Rhusican blood do for you?”
He puffed out his chest. “You don’t know much, do you? Everyone knows the Rhusicans can bend reality.”
I bit down hard on the inside of my lip to stop myself from blurting out just how much experience I had with that Rhusican skill. “And you can do the same if you use their blood?”
“We can’t fully duplicate the ability to create realities, but we can distort the vision and perception of others a little. Enough to seem invisible.” Trennor grabbed a fistful of vegetables and stuffed them in his mouth.
“Resourceful.” Mark leaned his forearms on the table. Now he was doing a much better job of showing casual, non-threatening interest than I was.
I chewed a small bite of my roll and studied the other food on the platter. How could Trennor eat the vegetables without teeth? I tentatively reached for a slender red stalk that was resting on top of the pile. It looked somewhat like a mix between a carrot and rhubarb, and was cooked to tender softness, so soft that it almost fell apart in my hand.
Trennor gulped and his narrow lips tilted up. “We trade for the best from all other nations. Syncbeams from Hazor, mental powers from Rhus.”
“And from the clans?” Mark rubbed his chin.
Trennor’s lids half-closed over his oversized eyes. “Your people have been much harder to trade with. But we have finally made some progress.”
I tensed, waiting for his next revelation, but Trennor sprang from the bench and went back to the pass-through for a large mug of some steaming liquid.
“I hope he keeps talking,” I whispered to Mark. “At least we’re learning important things about the Kahlareans.”
Mark’s hand closed over mine gently. “I wish we weren’t.”
“Why?” I turned to him.
His deep, silver-blue eyes stared into mine. “They’ve let us see too much. They’ve let an indiscreet student run off at the mouth too much.”
So? The Kahlareans had been careless. It was all to our benefit.
“Susan, they don’t plan to let us leave.”
The tightness in my chest contracted an inch further. I hadn’t wanted to follow my thoughts along to that obvious conclusion. “I know. But we’re here for a reason. We’re going to find a way out of here, to the River Borders, back to Lyric, and to Jake.”
He forced a half smile, but I still saw the worry lines around his e
yes. Now it was my turn to pat his hand and change the subject. “It’ll be okay. I wonder what weapons they’re trying to get from the clans. I don’t think they need swords or any other weapon the guardians use.”
“You’re right.” Mark’s baritone rumbled tight in his throat. “There’s only one advantage the clans have had that the Kahlareans might want. The one thing they’ve been after for generations.”
A fist squeezed my heart. I no longer had to remind myself to whisper, because I could barely coax a sound through my constricted throat. “A Restorer.”
Chapter
17
Susan
“We were smart to rest for a night and build up our strength.” I splashed water on my face from a tiny sink in our guest quarters, a room as spartan as the rest of the Kahlarean enclave. Blotting my eyes with my sleeve, I turned to Mark.
His crooked grin evoked crinkles around his eyes. “Right. Let’s go with that. It was our brilliant decision instead of something we had no choice about.” Lounging on the sleep pallet in the small, bare room, he rested a forearm on his raised knee.
I flicked some water his direction. “Really? You’re mocking your only ally?”
He reached up, grabbed my arm, and pulled me down beside him.
My squeak turned into a giggle, and then into a low hum as his lips found mine. For a blissful minute, the rock walls, the enclave full of enemies, and the anxiety about Jake and the journey ahead all faded.
“Good morning to you, too,” I murmured when he lifted his head. “Now, what’s the plan?”
He snuggled me in against him and stroked my hair as I rested on his shoulder. “We talk to the One.”
I nestled my hand into his. Mark bowed his head. Instead of a soft murmur, he spoke clearly. If Kahlareans were eavesdropping beyond the door, they could just pray along.
“Holy One who spun the universe and shaped the clans, guide our steps as we follow You today. Keep us safe and show us why You brought us here.”
I squeezed my eyes tighter. “And, Lord, be with Karen, Jon, and Anne.” Though each time I’d gone through the portal, I’d returned to find almost no time had passed for my children at home; when I pressed my bare feet against the hard rock floor, I felt the thick barrier of mountains between us, the danger, the enemies, the days of travel to get close to the Lyric portal, and my heart twisted. “I can’t reach them, Lord. But You can. Take care of them, and help us return to them. And whatever is going on with Jake . . .”