Chapter 12
Chapter twelve
River of Souls
Five Royal Guards dressed in full armor and wielding massive swords approached us, less than a stone’s throw away. The tallest one in the middle drew his sword. “Die, thieves!”
An instant later, two of the guards unsheathed their daggers and threw them our way, the blades spinning as they flew.
Darion drew his short sword with the fluidity of a practiced swordsman and sent one dagger clattering harmlessly to the ground. His speed and accuracy were impressive.
I ducked, and the second dagger flew over me, the edge of the hilt barely glancing off my shoulder. I drew a vial from my belt and threw it directly in front of the guards, sending a massive cloud of smoke billowing throughout the crypt. Coughs and the clash of armor on stone rang out.
I ran for the exit on the far side of the room, Darion on my heels.
No matter how tonight ended, one thing was clear: we worked well together, coordinating without even speaking like two pieces of a well-oiled machine.
Despite the chaos, I couldn’t help but marvel at the fluidity of his movements, the confidence of every decision.
As we raced through the corridor, horns blared in a staccato rhythm behind us, echoing through the catacombs.
“Dust,” I said. “They’ve raised the alarm.”
“This whole crypt will be crawling with Royal Guards in no time. We can’t go back the way we came.”
Darion was right. Any moment now, the guards would overtake us. But there was another option—one I would consider only in the direst of circumstances, but this situation fit the bill.
“There is another way out of the catacombs,” I said. “But it won’t be easy.”
“The River of Souls,” Darion said grimly.
I nodded. “It might be our only option.”
The River of Souls was fed by an underground spring and ran under the catacombs, where priests used it to cleanse bodies as part of the burial ritual.
Fortunately, the preparation chamber and entrance to the river were not far away.
But the river was dangerous, verging on deadly, with a strong current.
Some of the tunnels were entirely full of water, and there were jagged rocks ready to tear our flesh to tatters.
“I’d rather face a raging river than a hundred blades,” Darion said. “Lead the way.”
“We’re already halfway there,” I said as I navigated us from room to room.
With the sound of blaring horns and marching boots behind us, we passed through several antechambers filled with the tombs of lesser royals, bishops, and wealthy merchants.
Soon we came to a room with several waist-high tables, each with a channel running along the perimeter, emptying into a trough that ran between them.
The stone was stained the faded brown-red of old blood, and the scent of incense was stale in the air.
We had entered the body preparation room.
Along the far wall were six nondescript wooden doors.
“Where now?” Darion asked, with utter faith in my memory.
I had no idea. The map I had memorized hadn’t specified. With his fate in my hands, I simply guessed. “Third door from the left.”
We passed through the door, shutting it just as the sound of clomping boots grew louder outside. The footsteps paused for a moment, and then a deep voice barked, “Check them all!”
The room we had entered was small with just a rectangular hole in the ground, slightly larger than a typical man.
A strong current of water rushed past just a few feet below the lip of the hole.
A wooden pallet hung from a pulley mechanism above the hole, presumably to lower the bodies and bathe them in the sacred water.
“We found it. Thank dust for your memory,” Darion said, gesturing toward the entrance to the River of Souls. I didn’t dare tell him that I had guessed. Sometimes it was better to be lucky than smart.
The sound of splintering wood came from just outside. Our door could open at any moment.
I looked at Darion, whose face was steely and resolute, full of bravery and determination. How had I led this beautiful man to such a horrible fate? Would I ever see him again?
“No time to think this through,” I said, grabbing hold of his hand. “Let’s try to stick together.”
Darion cupped the back of my neck and pressed our mouths together in a hasty, sloppy kiss.
I was so shocked that I scarcely knew how to react.
His lips were soft and welcoming, and his stubble scraped against my cheek.
For a brief moment, the tumult of the world around us drifted away, and it was only the two of us.
I didn’t want this. And yet it was also everything I wanted.
We separated, and the world came crashing back.
“For luck,” Darion said.
“For luck,” I echoed, half dazed, touching my hand to my lips. Then I snapped back to reality. “Let’s go!”
Below us was churning white water and darkness. We jumped together, hand in hand, plunging into the torrent.
The first sensation was one of bitter cold as the icy water instantly filled every crack and crevice on my body, including my nose and ears.
The only warmth was that of Darion’s hand, which gripped mine like a vise.
Rushing water pushed us swiftly down a narrow tunnel, barely illuminated by my vial.
I fought to keep my head above the surface, gulping precious air at every opportunity.
The tunnel twisted and turned. The ceiling of the cave undulated over us, towering far above us one moment, plunging the next so that we had only just enough room to breathe.
The current picked up. Darion shouted something, but the splashing water was far too loud for me to make out what he said.
Just ahead, the ceiling of the tunnel dropped below the water’s surface.
I had just enough time to take a deep breath, then pulled my hand away from Darion just in time to push against the top of the cave and duck below the surface.
Under the swirling water, avoiding the rocks took every bit of concentration, the vial’s glow providing barely enough light to keep me from crashing into them.
I kept my hands out in front of me, feeling for craggy edges, dodging each time a rock threatened to bash my head in.
A sharp edge scraped my leg, most likely drawing blood.
My lungs burned, hungry for air, and I desperately wished the tunnel would end.
But it continued, and the pain in my chest consumed my every thought.
Panic wrapped its fingers around me as if trying to squeeze the last bit of air out of my lungs.
Had I drawn my last breath? Was this to be my watery grave?
An unexpected warmth flowed through my body like the golden glow of the sun.
My mind calmed. My heart rate slowed. The burning in my lungs diminished.
For a moment, I wondered if I had died and this was the afterlife.
But if this wasn’t death, perhaps I could last a little longer.
Maybe a few more seconds. Maybe enough to live.
The tunnel forked again, the left channel pulling at me with a ferocious energy. I had no choice but to submit, and the current sucked me through, plunging downward faster than ever.
I was at the end of my endurance. I needed a breath. A gasp of water would end everything.
And then it was over. The river leveled out, and the shiny luster of water against air appeared above me. My head burst through the surface, and I gasped for air, lungs sucking in oxygen as if they’d never tasted its sweetness before.
I’d made it. I was alive.
“Darion!” I called, coughing up water as I yelled.
Only echoes replied.
The river still moved swiftly, but it had slowed enough that the surface was calm. I treaded water and looked around as I floated through a wide, tall tunnel that grew larger as it went. Just ahead, a large opening revealed a sky full of stars glimmering off Analon Bay.
“Darion, where are you?” I cried.
He would surface any moment. He had to. He must be right behind me.
But with every moment that passed, the panic I’d felt in the throes of the tunnel increased tenfold. Had he met the fate I had narrowly escaped? And if so, could I live with myself? My heart shouldn’t have hurt this much for a man I’d just met.
I had made it through alive, but Darion was nowhere to be found.