Marsh didn’t want to know how he knew that, but she refused to look at either of them. This worked until Ardhur crooked his finger under her chin and lifted her head so he could study her face.
“I’d ask if what he said was true, but you’d likely lie, wouldn’t you?”
Marsh shook her head, making the effort to lift her chin and look him in the eye. If she was going to be this far in the shit, she might as well earn every inch of it.
“It’s true,” she said, and tried to fade into the shadow to prove a point.
She succeeded a little better than she expected, only to have Warven knock her back to human form with a well-aimed blow from a hastily conjured shadow staff.
“Then you’re coming with me.”
Like she had a choice.
“Not going anywhere else,” Marsh managed, her words slurring with fatigue.
Ardhur shook his head. “No, you’re not.” He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her to the other side of the pool and into a chamber whose entrance was hidden behind an overlap of rock.
The chamber wasn’t empty, and Marsh’s spirits lifted at the thought she wouldn’t be alone. They plummeted just as fast, and for the very same reason. How in all the Deeps was she supposed to free all these? It turned out that Ardhur had that covered—and she wasn’t.
He put her down just inside the doorway on her side, placing the splayed fingertips of one hand on her shoulder and the palm of the other hand on the wall. “Be still.”
Be still? Marsh was about to turn her head to look up at him when she felt something creeping off the wall and over her side and back. It was like a tide of lukewarm honey was flowing off the stone wall to cover her. She tried to twist around, but Warven knelt quickly beside Ardhur and pinned her legs and hips.
Whatever was crawling over her flowed just a little faster.
Marsh felt it cover her hair and ears, then run down across her forehead, and realized it wasn’t sticky. Not honey. Not insects. Where it touched it solidified, cooling, blocking all sound from her ears. It weighed on her legs as Warven took his hands away, and then placed them on top of it, and Marsh felt it flow around her calves. She noticed that it didn’t drip like honey, but shaped itself around her, encasing her from both sides until its edges touched.
Where it touched her cheeks and solidified, it cooled, and Marsh knew exactly what it was.
Stone!
She pushed against it, her breath coming fast with fear, but she couldn’t move an inch. When her whole body was covered, Ardhur lifted his hand from her shoulder, letting the stone fill the space it had occupied.
“Close your eyes,” he said, and, when she hesitated, brushed his palm over them, a thin veneer of stone following his downward stroke.
“No!”
Some of the stone cleared away from her ears.
“Steady, girl. You can still breathe. You can still breathe, see?”
It took Marsh a couple of minutes to understand that he was telling the truth and she could still breathe. She wasn’t being crushed, and the stone both held and supported her body. She couldn’t move, though, and couldn’t do anything to help herself.
“I’d sleep if I were you,” Warven advised. “There’s nothing else you can do.”
The thought left her feeling hopeless, but he was right. As much as her mind raced to try and find a solution to her problem, she couldn’t see one. Sure, she could melt into shadow, but the only holes in her prison were the ones for her nose and mouth, and she couldn’t see how she might fit through them. She tried to imagine how to make that work and failed.
“Please…” she whispered, and felt the warmth of a hand laid lightly over her mouth.
It rested there just long enough for Marsh to worry that he’d cover her nose as well, and then it was lifted away. Gulping back a sob of panic, she forced herself to take a deep breath. They hadn’t gone to all the trouble of encasing her in stone, just to kill her. She swallowed. Maybe.
“I’ll let you loose in the morning,” he said, “and this will keep you out of trouble in the meantime. Get some rest, girl. There’s a long day’s travel ahead.”
Oh, there was, was there?
Marsh really hoped Roeglin was coming. She hoped he’d be able to follow her in spite of the distance she’d traveled under the rock. Did mental magic have a limit to how far it could reach? Could he work out where she was just by being in her mind? Would he come?
Sadness welled up inside her, and Marsh panicked by the thought she might cry. If she did, her nose would run…and she had no way to wipe it. Not only were her hands encased in solid rock, but they were still tied behind her back.
“Merde,” she whispered. “Merde. Merde. Merde.”
Fingers trailed over her lips and she gasped, trying to pull her face away from them and getting nowhere. Again the stone shifted around her ear, and sound flooded in.
“I will be here. Now, sleep.”
Whether Ardhur meant that to be soothing, Marsh couldn’t tell, but she pressed her lips tightly together, unable to nod and not trusting her voice. She was well and truly trapped, and her heart was beating like a moth against a lantern. In spite of her fatigue, it felt like forever before she could convince her body to sleep.
Marsh woke with a start to find her body still trapped. Air moved against her mouth and nose and then stilled, but not a smidge of sound made its way through the rock now sealed close over her ears. She tried to open her eyes, but Ardhur knew his work, and the stone held them closed. Panic ran along her arms and legs, and Marsh tried to wriggle free of it, only to find movement impossible.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she became aware she was screaming, then fingers laid themselves over the slit above her mouth. She stilled, breathing hard as the touch made her fear fade. This time the stone above her ears did not thin, and no sound made it through. When her breathing had calmed, the fingers went away.
She must have made some sound of protest because they returned, resting lightly on the stone, where she could feel their warmth but not their touch. Marsh hated herself for needing them there; hated the fact she couldn’t escape the confines of stone. Couldn’t…
She drew a deep breath.
Aisha could talk to stone and blend her body with it, and Tamlin talked of a traveler who claimed everyone could do magic. And then there’d been Lennie with her need to heal. There was no reason Marsh couldn’t do the same.
Except that she couldn’t. She tried talking to the stone but the hand covered her mouth, and, when she persisted, it pinched off her nostrils. It had been brief, but Marsh had gotten the message: no talking. Her next attempt was made without the use of words, and it failed, too.
She couldn’t imagine how Aisha could get the stone to do her bidding without talking to it and tried to remember another occasion when she’d seen someone manipulate rock. The Stone Master had, but she’d used her hands—and even she’d spoken as she’d worked. Marsh sighed and tried to wiggle her fingers. Maybe she could convince the rock encasing them to move aside, even just a little bit.
She tried, but it was like recharging a glow. The effort of trying to will the rock to do her bidding was exhausting. Marsh kept at it until her body trembled with fatigue, then let herself relax. If she wasn’t going to be able to talk to the rocks, then she was going to need to be awake when she was free of it. She had to be rested if she was going to be able to take advantage of the next opportunity.
16
Captive Journey
Marsh was woken by the feeling of stone slithering away from her limbs, and pushed away from the wall in a panic just as soon as she was able. A large hand grabbed her hair as she tried to slide around a horribly familiar pair of boots, and Ardhur dragged her to her feet.
“And where do you think you’re going?”
“Latrine?”
He sighed and handed her to one of the female guards. The woman didn’t ask what was required but took Marsh where she needed
to go, helping her get through her morning ablutions without undoing her hands. Twice, Marsh tried to ask. The first time she was met with a scowl, and the second time she received a fist to the gut.
She didn’t bother asking again; the answer was clear. When she arrived back where Ardhur was waiting, most of the other prisoners were eating small shroom-bread rolls and drinking water from a shared flask. The guard deposited Marsh beside the rock mage with a sour glare.
“Tell her how it works,” she snapped before wheeling around and stamping away.
Ardhur turned his head and held up a roll.
“Hungry?”
Marsh nodded but kept her eyes on his face rather than the roll.
“Best eat fast, then,” he said, and dropped the roll at her feet.
Marsh dropped to her knees after it but stopped. There was no way she was going to chase after it with just her mouth. She glanced up and caught the look on his face, then she glanced across at where a small knot of guards had gathered and was waiting in eager anticipation.
“You are one set of sick shroomies,” she said, looking up at the rock mage and sitting back on her haunches.
Ardhur’s lips tightened and he set his foot on the roll, grinding it under his heel.
“Maybe that will help,” he said, but Marsh got her feet under her and stood.
“I’m not that hungry,” she declared, although her stomach rumbled loud enough to give away the lie.
Ardhur smirked.
“Suits me,” he said. “Less you refuel, less trouble you’ll be.”
Man had a point, but not enough of one for her to try eating the mushy smear of crumbs that should have been her breakfast. She watched as he lifted a flask of water to his lips and took a long swallow, and was not surprised when he waved it toward her.
“Thirsty?” he asked, and Marsh gave him a single nod, wondering what he’d do next.
To her surprise, he placed the bottle against her lips and tilted it.
“Wouldn’t want you dying of thirst, now would we?”
Marsh rolled her eyes, but she didn’t stop drinking until he took the flask away. When he held up the gag, she took a step back, but he snaked out a hand and grabbed her by the scruff of the neck before she could move too far. He soon had the filthy cloth in place.
“There’ll be no speaking to the dark for you,” he said, and Marsh glared at him.
She didn’t need to speak to the dark; she could just step into the shado—
A staff slammed into the middle of her back, jolting her back into the real and knocking her back to her knees. This time her attempt to stand was stopped by the end of the staff resting between her shoulder blades.
“You’ll walk like the rest of us,” Warven told her and poked the staff into her back.
Marsh gasped and bowed her head. It looked like she’d have to work out another way to get free. She really hoped Roeglin would catch up to her, soon. As much as she dreaded what the master was going to say about her sneaking off again, she didn’t care. She needed to see him. She couldn’t just disappear into the caverns.
Her mind drifted to her uncle. It would be just like her parents all over again, and that was if it wasn’t already like that. After all, he couldn’t know she’d escaped the attack on the caravan. He might not even know there had been an attack. All he would know was that the trade route to Ruins Hall was closed, and there’d been no news of her since.
She had to get to him. She had to let him know everything was all right.
Marsh gasped as Warven poked her again. Honestly, when she got free, she was going to take that stick and…
Except it was shadow, and would bleed into nothing the minute he let go of it.
“Get up!”
For real this time? she thought, remembering that he’d been the one to put her on her knees in the first place. The staff struck her once more, harder this time. Fine—for real. Marsh struggled to her feet and got into line with the rest. It didn’t help that she was at the back, the worst place to be in any caravan, just like she’d been the last time the shadow monsters had attacked.
Only this time, she was in a caravan of slaves run by the very people who’d summoned the shadow monsters. Maybe this time, she’d be safe from that. She could only hope, especially since there were plenty of other things she should be worried about. She sighed, and Ardhur stepped in close and fastened a collar around her throat.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, he clipped three ropes to it. One he fastened to the collar of the person in front of her, the second he passed to Warven, and the third he tied to his own saddle.
Huh, Marsh thought. Looks like they don’t want me to go anywhere.
Trying to think of a way to do exactly that kept her mind occupied as the raiders got them moving. It also stopped her fretting over Roeglin’s absence from her mind or testing Warven’s vigilance. So much for “walking in the dark like the rest of us.” the shadow mage was riding a mule to one side of her, while Ardhur rode on the other. Talk about a statement of power.
As they left the campsite, Marsh wondered where this trail led. It seemed well traveled despite not having any glows, which begged the question of where it went and just how long it had been in use. Her questions were only partially answered when the trail came to an abrupt end in a tunnel that had been constructed in the time before the world went mad.
Marsh swept her gaze over the walls, wishing she could reach out and touch the ragged chunks of manmade gray stone that clung in random patches between clusters of shrooms, toadstools, and moss. The ground beneath her feet showed two dull and rusty strips of metal, and she wondered why it hadn’t been mined, and just how long it had taken for the dirt and debris to fill the gap between them and be packed into the hard trail beneath her feet.
Overhead, the tunnel formed a perfect arch, and she twisted her head, following its curve. Despite her situation, she was in awe. It was no wonder Mikel brought in the best artifacts, and a wonder he’d brought them to Kearick at all. It puzzled her as to why he would when he could access Madame Monetti on his own. Why go to the dealer instead of directly to the customer?
Marsh chewed that over, almost missing when the folk ahead of her slowed and a low moan of despair rode back along them. The sound made her look to the front, even as the guards up front poked and prodded the reluctant leaders forward into a much more open space. She had almost reached the point at which the first of the prisoners had balked when Mordan crashed into her head.
I am here. I follow. I can take the stragglers. Marsh had a clear impression of Ardhur on his mount and the swift desire to see him fall between her sharp teeth and claws before leaping over Marsh’s head to snap the neck of the “little one in black.”
No, Marsh thought, answering the kat even as she jerked to a halt, looking around to see where Mordan was hiding. Stay hidden. Follow, but please stay hidden. No hunting.
Warven’s staff slammed into her. Once. Twice. A third time, flattening her to her knees, her head ringing even as Ardhur’s line stayed taut and she choked for breath. A low snarl rumbled down the passage, and the mules shied and danced.
Marsh tried to send soothing thoughts to the kat, but she couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t… Warven hit her, again and she curled over her knees, waiting for it to stop. She was glad when Mordan remained silent, even though she could feel the kat’s disapproving presence in her skull.
“Up,” Ardhur commanded, jerking on the lead when his mule had settled down.
“Up,” Warven repeated, jerking on his lead and prodding her with the staff.
Marsh “upped,” thinking of what she’d like to do to them, staff and mules included. Ahead of her, the man she was linked to also rose, as did the one in front of him and the woman in front of that man. Watching them, Marsh saw there had been more consequences to her beating than she had realized.
“I’m sorry,” she tried to say, and choked on the gag.
Warven’s staf
f nudged her forward, and the whole line started to proceed once more. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift to the link she had with the hoshkat. Behind her, in the dark, Mordan stalked them, keeping her scent in range and assessing the essential prey keeping Marsh captive. This time, Marsh refrained from saying anything. She just kept putting one foot in front of the other.
As she did, her thoughts turned to Roeglin and the annoying presence he usually was. Curious to see if he was still in her head, Marsh sought him in her mind, but he was nowhere to be found. She tried to reach out to him but couldn’t, and fatigue spread through her limbs. She stopped, trying not to think of how much she would miss it if she never heard his voice again.
Her thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt when she ran into the back of the man in front of her. He gave a soft oomph and stumbled forward, just as Warven and Ardhur pulled their leashes tight. Marsh’s eyes snapped open, and she backed up a few steps. She was mumbling apologies behind the gag when Ardhur slipped from his mule and took the two paces needed to reach her.
As he raised his hand toward her, Marsh flinched away, but he merely unclipped his lead from her collar.
“We’re here,” he told her, unclipping the rope that linked her to Warven’s mule. “Follow the others—and behave. We’ll be watching.”
With a shift of his eyes, he indicated the two closest guards and Warven. Marsh followed the look and then looked back at him, but Ardhur wanted an answer and gripped her shoulder.
“Understand?”
Marsh repeated the track her eyes had taken over the guards and Warven, taking in the staves carried by each. This time when her eyes returned to Ardhur, she nodded. There was no point in trying to say anything since he’d left the gag in place.
To her surprise, he pulled his dagger and stepped behind her, cutting the ropes binding her wrists and forearms. The pain as her circulation returned brought a whimper to her lips. Marsh stifled it, rubbing her arms until the pain subsided. When she didn’t reach for the gag, Ardhur slipped it from her head.
Magic Below Paris Complete Series Boxed Set (Books 1 - 8): Trading Into Shadow, Trading Into Darkness, Trading Close to Light, Trading By Firelight, Trading by Shroomlight, plus 3 more Page 41