Chapter 12 #2
No time to linger. Finn was still out there. A new passage stretched before me, lined with sconces casting their weak, flickering light. After reapplying rupture to my blade, I restarted counting sconces as I walked.
By my tally, a full day had passed since I’d entered this maze. Exhaustion gnawed at me, but stopping to rest was unthinkable. My fear had evolved into something sharper, more focused. Every moment I didn’t find Finn was a moment he could be dying. Could already be dead.
I couldn’t let myself think that.
As I rounded another corner, movement in the darkness made me freeze. Not a monster…something smaller. A soft chitter pierced the silence.
A brown rat scurried up to my feet, its whiskers twitching as it stared at me. It wasn’t alone. Dozens more emerged from the cracks in the walls, their dark eyes holding an intelligent focus.
“Finn,” I whispered.
The lead rodent turned and scurried down a narrow side passage hidden in the shadows. I followed, hope blooming in my heart.
He was alive. He had to be alive.
A welcome figure stood in the adjoining tunnel. Finn was surrounded by a menagerie of creatures that should have been trying to kill each other. My knees nearly buckled in relief.
He wore ill-fitting leather armor that hung loose on his lean frame. A small sledgehammer with a metal handle hung from his belt.
Nibs was on one shoulder, while the other was occupied by a large crow that preened its feathers. A honey badger, with several rats riding on its back, stood at his heels. A snake wrapped around his arm.
When he looked at me, Finn’s face broke into a grin.
“Thanks be to Aetherius,” I breathed, rushing forward.
He met me halfway, his arms encircling me with bruising force and lifting me off my feet.
Air rushed from my lungs, but I didn’t care.
I pressed my face into his chest. His scent flooded my senses: the wild musk of fur and feathers and something unmistakably him.
Each inhale anchored me to this moment, to him.
His heartbeat thundered against my cheek. Alive. Whole. Here.
I fisted his shirt where it peeked out from his leathers. When we finally pulled apart, my hands trembled as I signed, Are you hurt?
He shook his head. I was so worried, he returned, then cupped my face. His palm was warm against my cheek before it slid down my arm, his thumb brushing the nearly healed gash.
His eyes locked on mine. Concern creased his brow. He looked at me like I was something precious he’d thought lost.
My heart hammered against my ribs. It had nothing to do with the danger.
This was wrong. I had Zane. A mission. A hundred reasons not to linger.
His eyes held a haunted edge. The rats heard screaming. We thought it might be you.
I am fine. My movements were clumsy with adrenaline. Lenore is dead. There are monsters here I have never seen before. I tilted my head. How did you find me? And…what’s with the badger? And the crow?
He beamed, puffing out his chest as he gestured to the honey badger and the other assembled critters.
The grin on his face radiated pure boyish pride.
The crow followed me into the labyrinth.
I named the badger Boris. New friends. Then he looked sheepish.
I had Nibs steal one of your socks before we left.
We gave it to the rats. They are good trackers.
A laugh caught in my throat—half sob, half genuine amusement. Of course he did. So perfectly Finn.
They know this place. They will help us.
I shook my head and gripped his hand tight. “You need to get out of here. Only candidates and their Devotions can enter. If you get caught…”
He shook his head and said aloud, “I'm not leaving you.”
"But—" I started, but his hand clamped over my mouth, cutting off the protest.
"I'm not leaving you," he voiced.
I pulled his hand away, shoulders sinking as the memory hit, and signed, Mathias has a scrying plate. He has already seen this—seen us.
Finn’s eyes flicked toward me, steady and resigned. “Too late, then.” He raised an eyebrow, a clear challenge. I nodded once, acknowledging defeat, and dropped his hand. I let out a frustrated sigh.
Okay. But you are out of this maze before the end. You promise me that.
I promise, he signed.
I tugged at one of the askew shoulder guards. Where did you get the armor?
My friend Marcus. He is a Turned blacksmith. He gave me these when I told him I needed something.
He reached into his pack and pulled out a dense, greasy-looking bar and a waterskin. Here, have this pemmican. You need to eat and drink.
He pressed it into my hands with a look that said he wouldn’t take no for an answer. I bit into it; it was rich and savory, with a hint of dried berries. It tasted divine after choking down all those ration bars. I handed him my vial of blood wine.
As I ate, he drank and explained his rat scouts and his mapping strategy. The familiar cadence of being together settled over me.
Yet underneath, something grew deeper between us in every accidental brush of fingers and the way he stood too close. My eyes kept finding him even when I should have been watching the shadows.
What else did you learn about the maze? I asked him.
The walls shift every fifteen minutes. Rats get confused when passages change, but they alert me if danger is ahead and remember general directions. He pulled out a pocket watch and gestured to the rodents scurrying around us. They know where some of the traps are.
Okay. The plan is simple: Stay alive and take out as many enemies as we can.
He nodded and patted his bag. I have more food if you need it.
We mapped our route while Finn’s rat scouts reported back. Minutes later, their squeaking changed pitch, becoming higher and faster.
Danger coming, Finn signed. We should move.