45. Rani
45
RANI
W e move like an endless tide, unrelenting in our desperate quest for safety.
The compound is collapsing. Spiderweb cracks cover the ceiling. It won’t hold much longer. The earth roars, bucks, new crevasses appearing.
We guide the people as fast as we can, sending them into choking tunnels before the supports fail. Stone cracks and splits with every quake, but still the people keep moving.
They must. There’s no other choice. I help a mother lift her small child over a pile of rubble. A sobering thought strikes like a blade.
Where is Elara?
I stop dead in my tracks, heart pounding.
The tunnel roars with noise and desperate movement. I search the crowds but I do not see her. No sign of Ryatuv or Z’leni either.
Did they make it? Did they survive the mission I sent them on?
Panic slices through me, swift and sharp. I grab Khiara by the arm as he emerges from the smoke, hauling an elder on each side.
“Elara,” I gasp. “Have you seen her? Or Z’leni or Ryatuv?”
He frowns, scanning the crowd. “Not since before we marched.”
Cold congeals in my core. Neither have I.
I push through the people, searching the faces of Urr’ki, humans, Zmaj. Some bloody, some soot-streaked, some holding onto children, others guiding the wounded. I don’t find them, not the three I am looking for.
A tremor rocks the tunnel and dust falls in sheets. A woman screams as part of the ceiling collapses trapping her leg. She’s pinned so I rush over and help to pull her free. Then I keep moving. I spy Rosalind at the head of a group, her face pale with grit and urgency.
“We have to go, Queen,” she says as I approach. “If we stay in the tunnels much longer, no one’s getting out.”
“I can’t find Elara,” I tell her. “Or Z’leni. Or Ryatuv.”
Her mouth flattens into a grim line.
“They’ll come. If anyone can survive this, it’s them. We have to trust them.”
Trust. The word tastes bitter, burning my tongue and scalding my heart. I nod, because I know I have no choice. She’s right, but that doesn’t stop the fear gnawing at my thoughts.
Elara is more than a symbol. She’s a bridge. A living answer to a question our people have asked for generations: Can we live together? Can we be more than war? Her bond with Z’leni, with Ryatuv—it’s more than love. It’s the future. She’s hope made flesh.
If we lose them now... no. I won’t allow it.
“Khiara,” I say. “Watch the front. If you see them, signal me. I’ll take rear guard with Janara.”
He nods once and disappears into the crowd like a wraith, his long limbs slicing through the smoke with unshakable grace.
“I will help,” the Al’fa says, materializing from the swirling dust.
“No, your people need you,” I say.
He frowns, his eyes narrowing as he leans in close, his words for me and me alone.
“ You need me,” he hisses, low and fierce.
I stare into his eyes and my knees grow weak. Desire rages in my core, but this is far from the time for that. I touch his face, trailing my fingers along the surprising coolness of his jaw then nod sharply.
He takes the lead and I press on to find Janara. We make our way against the flowing tide of refugees from all our races, rushing to get away from the rapidly deteriorating cavern systems.
The heat is so intense that every breath is painful. The crowds thin and still I don’t see them. I ask after them, but those who pause long enough to answer either don’t know them or haven’t seen them. We reach the end of the line of refugees and I pause. The tunnel rumbles and shakes.
“No!” the Al’fa yells, spinning around he rushes at me.
Before I speak, he grabs me. Crushing me against his chest as he runs, shouting. I look over his shoulder and because of the way he’s carrying me I see it.
A red-orange glow illuminates the tunnel behind us. The temperature spikes incredibly. Too high for words. It’s burning all of the oxygen out of the air.
The Al’fa leans forward, running for all he’s worth. The lava flow surges toward us—fast.
The ground rumbles, shakes, and becomes more violent. We’re tossed side-to-side, slamming into the walls, but he keeps moving, grunting with each glancing blow.
“Move, run!” he yells.
The cavern is collapsing. Swirling dirt, debris, and heat rush towards us. We’re engulfed. Blinded. I clench my eyes shut to protect them, trusting in him to get us free.
Only when he slows do I open my eyes. The air is swirling with dust devils, but we’re alive.
“Are you all right?” Janara asks.
“Fine,” I say, twisting in the Al’fa’s grip. He sets me down. I push my hair back into place, coughing through the dust. Staring at the collapse my heart is in my throat. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. “They have to be alive.”
“There were multiple tunnels being used, they must have taken a different one,” the Al’fa says, speaking softly.
He offers a theory, but his eyes betray the truth—he doesn’t believe it. I see it in his face, in his eyes, but it doesn’t make me angry, which a lie such as this normally would. He offers it in sincerity. Trying to let me hold on to hope for a little while longer. I smile and nod.
“Perhaps,” I agree. Then I sigh, turning my back on the blockage. “For now, we must finish this journey.”
I hold out my hand—an offering of trust. He takes it without hesitation.
Hand in hand we walk towards the surface.