“Are you sure you heard someone?” one of the soldiers asked.
“Yes,” came a surly reply. “I know what I heard.”
“I’d wager whoever you heard is under that heap,” a third voice said with a snicker. “And no trouble of ours now.”
“I’ll decide what’s our trouble and what’s not, Jenkins,” the first soldier, presumably their commander, barked. “Now see what you can do about that pile.”
Jenkins muttered something under his breath, but soon Ara heard grunts and scraping as the soldiers tried to dismantle the collapsed stone blocking the tunnel.
As they lingered, sweat beaded on Ara’s brow, as she feared discovery. In her own mind her breath sounded like a bellows, and every heartbeat was as loud as a hammer striking hot iron.
But after several minutes their grumbling grew louder, and the commander gave the order to abandon their attempt to clear the debris. She bit her lip when they decided to turn back. The torchlight faded long before the soldiers’ voices did.
Ara forced herself to stay hidden an unbearably long time after silence surrounded her. She hoped long enough that the soldiers had quit the tunnels altogether. Wriggling from her hiding spot, Ara made her way out of the alcove. Her cramped muscles shrieked as she stretched them. With the absence of her torch, the tunnel was dark as pitch.
She moved as quickly as she could, given she couldn’t see, using Ironbranch to sweep the ground in front of her to help her avoid debris, following the shape of the tunnel, finding other tunnels branching off. Her heart pounded as she turned one corner, then another. She didn’t know where she was going.
Thoughts of Teth and Nimhea dogged her steps, making her falter, adding more weight to the weariness. Injured, captured, dead. Images of the worst things that could have happened to them wrapped around her mind like chains, trying to drag her down and imprison her with the dead.
She turned her focus to her feet, to each step she took, and to Ironbranch showing her the safest path. She walked and walked until it felt like she’d been wandering for miles. There was nothing to do but keep walking. She stopped only when she thought she felt a whisper of air lift the tendrils of hair that had escaped her plait. As soon as it was there it was gone. Ara froze, waiting, silently begging the tunnel to breathe again.
A minute passed. Then another. Her chest cramped with disappointment.
But there it was, fresh and sweetly scented, pushing through the otherwise stale air. It came from her left.
Ara turned and moved in the direction of the trickle of air. She pushed forward. Hope edged in, making her imagine the tunnel was getting lighter. Then she wasn’t imagining it. She could see Ironbranch in her hands and the slope of the tunnel pitching up. The dead no longer filled the walls; there was only stone. The light grew, and Ara’s blood surged with relief. Soon it would be safe enough to run.
Suddenly there was a figure in front of her, blocking the way. Ara jumped back. It took all her will to stop herself from striking him with Ironbranch. She braced herself, waiting for his attack, but instead of lunging at her, the figure said:
“Thank Nava.”
She had not expected to hear those words. More than that, something about the man’s voice was familiar. She squinted in the dim light, but couldn’t make out his features.
“Are you hurt at all?” he asked.
“No.”
“Then let us hurry,” the man urged. “It isn’t far to the surface.”
“What about my friends?” Ara asked.
He turned away without answering and moved up the tunnel with long strides. Infuriated, but seeing no better option, she followed.
The tunnel grew brighter as they climbed. In the distance a sliver of light grew larger and larger. The tunnel transformed into a cavern, and at the apex of the slope a long crevice, wide enough for even a large person to crawl through, split a rock wall.
The man passed nimbly through the crevice. Ara paused for a beat, then scrambled through the rock face. Sunlight greeted her as she emerged from the cavern. She shaded her eyes against its brightness.
A familiar whicker called to her, and Ara was surprised to see Cloud standing beside another horse.
“I was able to retrieve your mount.” The man stood to her side. “Nava has been known to reward the hopeful in dark times.”
With her eyesight adjusted to the sunlight, Ara could see him properly. It took her a moment to place the light brown hair and hazel eyes set in a fair-skinned Keldenese face. The twitch of a smile in the corners of his mouth and the sardonic gaze when he realized she was trying to remember him settled it.
“Ioth.”
The Resistance leader from Kelden grinned at her. “I’m honored that I didn’t have to tell you my name a second time, Loresmith.”
Her eyebrows lifted at his use of her title. “You’re taking me seriously now.”
“After what’s been reported, we had little choice,” Ioth replied. “I confess I still find your companions’ tales hard to believe, but neither do I doubt they speak the truth.”
Ara’s breath caught. “Teth and Nimhea were in the tunnels with me. What happened to them?”
Ioth grimaced. “My companions are searching for them, but when we parted, the princess and the thief were still missing.”
Her throat felt raw. “How did you know we were in trouble?”
“We received intelligence that the Below had been compromised and knew you were in immediate danger,” Ioth told her, failing to answer her question. “I came with three of Lucket’s agents to get you out of the market.”
“What do you mean the Below has been compromised?” Her expression was bleak.
That could mean so many things, none of them good. Had the Vokkans simply been given the location of Nava’s shrine, or did they have specific orders to hunt down Nimhea, the heir to the River Throne, Teth, the adopted son of the Low King who’d struck an alliance, or herself, the Loresmith? Each of them represented a different kind of prize. Ara closed her eyes against the pain and fear of knowing Teth or Nimhea, or both, could have been taken by the Vokkans.
She forced herself to look at Ioth, who was watching her with an expression of concern. “Tell me.”
The roughness of his voice made plain his own devastation at the news. “One of the Low Kings forfeited the others, hoping to gain the empire’s favor. Vokkan soldiers have been raiding hideouts, ransacking safe houses, and arresting anyone they can get their hands on.”
Iron bands tightened around Ara’s chest, making it hard to breathe. What did that mean for Lucket? For Teth—if he hadn’t been captured already, or killed? And the Resistance—she didn’t know if it could recover from such a blow. If the Below’s secrets now belonged to the empire, they would be able to find Resistance hideouts and agents. The rebellion would be crushed before it could raise an army. And her own quest . . . how could she carry on without her friends? Did the Loreknights even matter without Nimhea on the throne? It could be the end of everything.
Ara fell back against the stony hillside. She couldn’t speak. She could barely breathe. Black spots clouded her vision. Leaning her head back, she struggled for control of the chaos in her mind and the wrenching of her heart. With great effort she caught her breath, opened her eyes, and made herself focus on Ioth. Only Ioth.
He turned toward her, leaning his side against the rock face, and after gauging her expression, he continued his story. “When we reached your trading stall, the summoner and the Koelli were already gone, and I don’t know if they’ve been found yet. Your horses were still picketed nearby. You, the princess, and the thief had made your way to the temple by the time we discovered where the empire’s raid was focused.”
A flash of anger made her want to remind Ioth that her friends had names, but she held her tongue.
So Lahvja and Joar were already gone. She co
uld only hope that they’d escaped rather than being captured.
“We couldn’t reach the temple ahead of the soldiers.” Ioth grimaced. “And we could do nothing but wait until they’d finished the raid. One of the temple acolytes managed to escape and crawled out of the tunnels. She was wounded, but she was able to tell us that there were two paths of escape through the catacombs. That’s why I’m here. Now we need to rendezvous with the others and hope they’ve found your friends.”
Ara nodded. Her throat was tight at the thought that her friends might not be found.
I’m the only one.
He walked to Cloud, led the gelding to Ara, and handed her the reins.
“We need to go.”
Cloud nuzzled Ara’s hand, but she couldn’t take comfort in the gentle touch.
Ara ground her teeth. No matter how viciously fear attacked her, she couldn’t give in. Numbness crept over her, and her heart hardened until it was a stone. It had to be this way if she wanted to carry on. And she had to carry on.
Taking a fistful of Cloud’s mane, Ara swung up into the saddle and nodded to Ioth.
“Let’s go.”
26
Ara turned back to gaze at the hulk of the Great Market fading in the distance. She twisted in the saddle every few minutes, searching the road behind them for any signs of her friends among the northbound travelers on the road.
It didn’t matter that she was distracted from the way ahead. Cloud knew to follow Ioth’s mount as he led them to a rendezvous site where the others, if they had escaped the Great Market, would meet them.
With each passing mile, Ara’s blood grew colder; she couldn’t stop herself from feeling like she was abandoning her companions no matter how irrational that impulse was. Ioth had assured her that they’d reach the meeting point around sunset, but she couldn’t keep her focus on the way ahead. Her heart wasn’t with her on the road; she’d left it with her friends.
Treachery. The revelation was like a saw on her bones. That one of the Low Kings had turned against the others. She couldn’t fathom the magnitude of it. Compromised wasn’t a strong enough word for what had happened. It was a gutting, sickening betrayal. Despite the hardships and trials she’d faced, Ara understood now that she’d begun to embrace hope. She would be Loresmith. Nimhea would be queen. The Vokkans would be forced out of Saetlund.
But the act of this traitor crushed her budding dreams.
Horrible questions chased after one another in her mind:
What if Joar and Lahvja haven’t gotten out of the city?
What if Nimhea is lost or captured or worse?
What if Teth—
She wouldn’t finish the question of Teth; even considering that something might have happened to him was too much to bear.
So she stopped herself and tried to clear her mind, willing it to be blank as her horse walked north until, inevitably, she turned to look back again.
* * *
Ioth turned off the main road, leading the way down a short path that ended in front of a small farmstead that had been converted to an inn. They took their horses to the stables, but he didn’t head back to the inn. Instead, he led Ara to an outbuilding behind the barn.
Pausing in front of the door, Ioth rapped on the wood in a strange staccato pattern and then waited. A few moments later, the door opened an inch and a woman’s voice floated out.
“Do you like your cider tart or sweet?”
“Neither,” Ioth replied. “I prefer it hard.”
The door swung open just enough to give them entrance. Sunlight filtered through slats in the walls, revealing a storage shed filled with abandoned, rusting farm tools. Ara recognized the woman who’d let them in as one of Lucket’s agents who’d been with him at the fort north of the Gash.
“Loresmith.” The woman inclined her head briefly. “Glad you made it.”
Ara barely remembered to be polite. “Thank you. What about the others?”
“No word yet,” the woman answered. “You’re the first to arrive.”
Biting her lip, Ara could do nothing to quell her disappointment.
“My name is Elin.” The woman made a careful study of Ara’s face. “There’s a table and chairs at the back of the shed. I’ll go to the inn and scrounge up something for you to eat.”
Ara nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She didn’t object when Ioth guided her to one of the chairs.
“How bad were the raids?” Ara asked him. It hadn’t been safe to discuss recent events while they were on the road.
Passing a hand over his weary face, Ioth replied, “It would have been much worse if we hadn’t received a warning from the Dove.”
Ara nodded. “Your man with the Vokkans.”
“Word arrived only a few hours ahead of the soldiers,” Ioth told her. “The Low Kings did their best to evacuate their hideouts and protect their agents, but hundreds of arrests have been made and countless assets stolen. We lost the Low Queen of Sola. She was still burning documents when the raid hit her hideout, and she wasn’t able to escape.”
Ara rested her elbows on the table. “What does it mean for the Resistance?”
“It’s hard to say,” Ioth replied, choosing his words carefully. “Obviously nothing good, but as far as how bad it is, only time will tell. We don’t know what records the Vokkans got their hands on, how much we’ve been compromised.”
Her expression must have been worrying, because he reached over to briefly cover her hand with his.
“We don’t despair, and we don’t lose hope. When you’re part of the Resistance, you expect to get knocked down. Some hits hurt more than others, but we always get back up.”
She offered him a weak smile.
Another syncopated knocking sounded at the door. Ioth stood up and went to answer it. Ara expected that it was Elin returning with food, but Ioth didn’t immediately give entry to the knocker. Instead, he ran through the same exchange of phrases they had upon arrival.
When Ioth opened the door and stepped back, a man and a woman entered followed by—
“Nimhea!” Ara leapt out of the chair so quickly it toppled to the ground. She threw herself at Nimhea and flung her arms around the princess. “Thank Nava you’re all right.”
Nimhea squeezed her tight. “After the tunnel collapsed I was so afraid. I couldn’t hear you. I didn’t know if you’d been hurt. I tried to dig my way back, but it was impossible.”
“I know.” Ara stepped back, but kept Nimhea’s hands in hers. “I tried, too.”
Turning her head, Nimhea searched the space. Her face drew into a tight, bleak mask. “No one else?”
“Not yet.” The fear in her voice was mirrored in Nimhea’s gaze.
Ioth joined them, bowing to the princess. “Your Majesty.”
Nimhea scrutinized him for a moment, then said, “Ioth of Kelden. I’m glad to see you again.”
“Not as glad as I am to see you,” Ioth replied. “We feared the worst.”
Nimhea’s jaw clenched when she nodded.
Another knocking came at the door, and Ara’s heart leapt into her throat, but this time it was Elin with a tray of hot tea and sandwiches.
Ara and Nimhea settled at the table and drank cups of tea, but only nibbled at the sandwiches. It was easy for Ara to assume that, just as her own had been for hours, Nimhea’s stomach was in knots. They spoke little, knowing all they had to say was how afraid they were for their missing friends.
Ioth joined them, telling Nimhea what he’d already told Ara about the raids on the Below and their impact on the Resistance. Then Ara listened as the two of them fell into conversation about the activities of the Resistance in the weeks since Nimhea had left them.
Lanterns were lit as sunlight faded. The deeper the shadows grew, the tighter the fist became around Ara’s heart.
“We can
hope they arrive in the night or tomorrow morning,” Ioth finally said. “But you should both try to rest. I’ll set up bedrolls. You don’t have to worry about taking a watch. We’ll see to that.”
Ara’s knee-jerk reaction was to dismiss the suggestion, but she realized there was no point. She might not be able to sleep, given the circumstances, but there was no reason to insist on sitting in a chair all night.
Ioth brought the bedrolls, and Elin surprised them with pillows from the inn. When Ara’s head sank into the down, she stifled a moan of pleasure. She’d forgotten how lovely a pillow could feel, especially after weeks of resting her head on rolled-up clothing.
Despite being certain fear would keep her awake, physical exhaustion won out over anxiety. Within minutes of stretching out on the bedroll, Ara had fallen into a dreamless sleep.
* * *
No knocks came in the night. Nor did anyone appear while they broke their fast shortly after sunrise.
At midmorning, Ioth came to Ara and Nimhea, wearing a grave expression.
“We shouldn’t linger here,” he told them. “Staying too long in any place is too much of a risk.”
Ara bowed her head against a wave of grief. She knew he was right, but the thought of leaving without knowing what had befallen Teth, Lahvja, and Joar was unbearable.
“Will we go to another rendezvous point and wait there?” Nimhea asked.
Before Ioth could answer, Ara lifted her face and said, “No.”
Both of them looked at her in surprise.
“Nimhea,” Ara said, a stony resolve filling her. “We have to go on. Without them.”
The princess stared at her. “But we can’t . . . Lahvja . . . I need her.”
“I know.” Ara rested her hand over Nimhea’s. Her voice trembled with grief. “I know.”
Taking in a deep breath, Ara pressed on. “But we must. Bothia told us that the trial in Nava’s Ire is for you and me. We can’t wait for them, especially now that the Below has been invaded. Lahvja would want us to go on. You know that.”
Cast in Secrets and Shadow Page 29