Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
SERIN
My arms tremble violently with each step, muscles screaming in protest. Sweat trickles down my neck despite the tunnel's chill, as though someone has poured molten metal into my veins.
The wagon's wooden handle digs into my palms, blisters stinging where they have already burst and wept.
Fresh ones rise beneath them, hot little pockets of agony that throb with every heartbeat.
Time has abandoned me to this darkness, leaving only the burn of my muscles and the echo of my breath.
How long has it been? An hour? Three? The shadows swallow every second, digesting them into an endless now where only pain and purpose exist. But I can't stop.
Not until we reach Vessan-Kar and my sister.
Behind me, the wagon moves silently through the darkness, Lurok's massive form a silver shadow in the lantern's flickering glow.
His breathing grows more labored with each passing moment, ragged inhales followed by wet, rattling exhales that make my stomach clench with dread.
Each struggling breath sounds farther apart than the last.
“Almost there," I lie, the words scraping past my dry throat. I don't know if he can hear me, but I keep talking anyway, willing my voice to reach whatever dark corner of his mind still clings to consciousness. "Just a little farther, Lurok. Hold on."
The truth is, I don't have any idea where we are or how far we still have to travel. The tunnel stretches endlessly before us, swallowing the weak light of our lantern like a hungry beast.
For the first time since we entered this passage, I stop to check on him.
My legs tremble beneath me as I release the handle, nearly buckling with the sudden absence of weight.
The momentary relief sends pins and needles racing through my fingers.
I flex them, watching fresh blood well from the raw, angry flesh of my palms.
Lurok lies motionless, his jagged, silver scales dulled with a fine layer of dust and dried blood.
His chest rises and falls in shallow, uneven breaths.
The bandages I applied earlier are soaked through, dark stains spreading like spilled ink across the once-clean linen.
His frosty hair tangling around his ashen flesh.
Even unconscious, pain etches lines around his mouth, his fangs slightly bared as if ready to strike despite his weakness.
"You have to hang on, Lurok,” I whisper, smoothing a strand of hair from his face. My fingers tremble against his scales, cool and dry beneath my touch. "Just a little longer."
I tear two strips from the bottom hem of my dress, the fabric yielding with a satisfying rip that echoes in the silence. Wrapping each palm carefully, I cover the worst of the blisters and raw patches.
I take a water skin from the supplies packed around Lurok and kneel beside him.
His head is heavy as I lift it and cradle his neck in the crook of my arm.
I tip the skin to his parched lips, watching as the liquid slips between his fangs.
His throat works once, weakly, but most of the water escapes, trailing rivulets down his ashen scales.
I wipe his mouth with my bandaged thumb, then tilt the skin to my own cracked lips, the lukewarm water like nectar on my parched tongue.
After tucking the water skin back into the sack of supplies, I lower his head gently back onto the wagon bed and grasp the handle once more.
My shoulders protest as I lean forward, dragging our burden deeper into the endless tunnel.
Squinting ahead, I stop again and unhook the lantern and raise it higher, its weak flame barely pushing back the shadows. The light catches something unexpected. Where the passage should continue straight, a jagged fork splits the path in two. My heart stutters in my chest.
Two identical openings, one veering left, the other right. Both disappear into absolute darkness beyond the reach of my light. Nothing distinguishes one from the other. Both have the same rough-hewn walls, the same packed earth floor, and the same oppressive silence.
"No," I breathe, panic rising in my throat like bile. "No, no, no."
I rush back to Lurok's side, setting the lantern on the edge of the wagon. Its light casts long shadows across his face, making him look more corpse-like than ever.
"Lurok," I say, gripping his uninjured shoulder. "Lurok, please. You need to wake up." I shake him gently, then with increasing urgency. "Please. The tunnel splits ahead. I don't know which way leads to Vessan-Kar."
His eyelids remain tightly closed.
"Lurok!" I whisper harshly. "I can't do this without you. I don't know which way to go."
I press my fingers against the pulse point at his throat, feeling for the steady beat that means life still clings to his massive frame.
It flutters beneath my touch, weak and erratic.
He's not just unconscious, he's dying. The realization hits me like a physical blow.
My vision blurs, and I blink rapidly, fighting back the tears that threaten to fall.
I force myself to breathe deeply, to think past the fear clutching at my throat. If we stay here, Lurok will die. If I choose the wrong path, we may never reach Vessan-Kar in time to warn them about Father's plan. Lives hang in the balance, teetering on the edge of my next decision.
A sound drifts from the left tunnel, faint, almost imperceptible. I freeze, straining to hear. There it is again. The soft echo of voices, the distant scrape of movement against stone.
My blood turns to ice in my veins. Are they human or naga?
Either possibility means danger. If they're Father's soldiers or his naga traitors, we'll be captured or killed on sight. Without Lurok’s help, I can't distinguish friend from foe among his kind.
Better to reach Vessan-Kar and find Leira or Varok rather than gambling our lives on strangers in these tunnels.
The voices grow louder, though still too distant to make out words. They're approaching. Whoever they are, they're coming this way.
My hand touches the knife I tucked into my belt. The blade is painfully inadequate, but it's the only defense I have.
I look again at Lurok's still form, at the blood darkening his bandages, at the labored rise and fall of his chest. I've come too far to fail now.
I return the lantern to the hook and grab the handle of the wagon and heave, taking the tunnel to the right, my muscles screaming in protest. The wheels groan as they begin to turn again, leaving a trail in the dirt that anyone could follow.
There's no hiding our passage. Our only hope is speed and distance.
Fear floods my veins as I lean forward and run, actually run, dragging the wagon behind me like a woman possessed. My lungs burn, throat raw from the dusty air, but I don't slow down. Every shadow behind us could be a pursuit, every echo a threat closing in.
"Just hold on," I whisper to Lurok's unconscious form, the words a prayer as much as a command. "Just a little longer. We're going to make it."
Hope tastes bitter on my tongue, but I cling to it anyway. I have to believe we'll reach Vessan-Kar, and I haven't doomed us both by turning right instead of left.
Behind us, the voices fade, swallowed by distance and the winding passage. I lean into the handle, tightening my grip as my blood slicks the wood. My shoulders scream, muscles stretched beyond capacity, but I don't stop.
Time loses meaning in the endless black ahead. Minutes might be hours; distance becomes impossible to judge. The lantern's flame gutters, the light growing weaker with each passing second as the oil runs low. Soon we'll be in complete darkness, guided only by touch and desperate hope.
"Stay with me," I pant, glancing back at Lurok's still form. "Just stay alive."
I stumble over a jutting stone but catch myself before I fall. The momentary hesitation sends pain shooting up my arms. I've been gripping the handle so tightly that my fingers have locked into position, curved like claws around the rough wood.
"Leira and I used to explore this tunnel when we were children," I tell him, the words coming between ragged breaths. "Not this deep, of course. We never got as far as the junction. We pretended we were searching for buried treasure."
My whispered words echo in the void, bouncing from unseen walls. Talking hurts my dry throat, but the silence hurts more. As long as I'm speaking, I'm moving, breathing, alive—not imagining Lurok's final breath.
"She was always braver than me," I continue. "Always went first. Always pushed farther.”
The wagon catches on something else, jerking against my grip.
I pull harder, my body bent almost double with the effort.
Sweat stings my eyes, salt mixing with dust to form a gritty paste that blurs my vision.
The lantern sputters, the flame shrinking to a tiny blue point before flaring briefly back to life.
"We must be getting close," I lie, because the alternative is unthinkable. "Soon we'll see the naga city. Your home."
Another stumble. This time, my knee buckles, and I barely catch myself with one hand against the wall. The stone feels strange beneath my palm, smoother than it should be, almost warm to the touch. I pull away quickly, fear of the unknown stronger than curiosity.
"Tell me about Vessan-Kar," I beg the unconscious naga as I force myself to keep moving. "What does it look like? What will I see first? Will there be guards? Hopefully, they won’t kill me before I can explain who I am."
The questions tumble from my lips, a litany of fears dressed as curiosity. I don't expect answers. I don't even know if Lurok still lives, if his spirit clings to his battered body, or has already slipped away while I drag his corpse through endless darkness.