Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Noah blinked, his eyes gritty from lack of sleep and hours of poring over his hand-drawn map of the Citadel in the dim candlelight.
Too many blank, unexplored places remained.
Without Skye he’d never be allowed to wander the fortress.
He had to devise a way to get past the guards and get deeper into the underbelly of the stronghold, where he suspected the portals might be.
Time was running out. His family would arrive soon—today, perhaps, or tomorrow—and he still had no concrete evidence of the portal’s location. Worse, the thought of facing Emily’s deteriorating condition without answers had his stomach churning with familiar panic.
A knock at his door made his pulse jump. Skye? The thought of seeing her sent warmth through his chest, even now, when he needed to focus on his search for a portal. He couldn’t afford further distractions, yet he found himself hoping it was her.
“Just a moment,” he called, scrambling to fold the page he’d torn from the back of Skye’s book and hide his partially drawn map in the narrow space between the wardrobe-press and the stone wall.
Hurrying, he pulled open the door. “Sk—” His greeting froze in his throat.
A bent and weary-looking woman of indeterminate age, obviously from the kitchens, held out a heavily laden tray. “To break your fast, sir.”
He took it quickly, one hand still on the door, and wondered how she’d managed to carry it this far.
The last thing he wanted was food, but his days here had taught him his guard would greedily accept anything Noah didn’t want.
And the gaunt man looked as if he needed it.
A poor choice for a guard if anyone cared for his opinion, but perhaps they’d simply sent the most expendable of them.
In that instant, he devised a plan. With a simple twist of his wrist, he let the tray and its contents tumble to the floor.
While he managed to look shocked and regretful, the expression on the guard’s face was one of near agony, and the gasp from the woman revealed her devastation at the prospect of having to not only clean up the mess but prepare the meal all over again.
“Forgive me!” Noah cried, pasting the most remorseful look he could manage on his face. “That was inexcusably clumsy of me.”
“N-no,” the woman muttered, close to tears as she gazed at the splattered porridge, congealing eggs and scattered bacon and biscuits. “The fault is mine. I’ll get something to clean this up right away and then prepare a fresh tray.”
The guard’s eyes were fixed on the two strips of bacon lying closest to his boot.
“Let’s see if we can fix this entire incident as simply as possible,” Noah soothed.
“I’ll follow you back to the kitchen and while you’re preparing something fresh, we’ll send someone back to help this good soldier clean things up.
” He winked at his guard, knowing full well he’d opt for the bacon and biscuits rather than voice any protest. “No need for you, madam, to trudge all the way back here. I’m perfectly happy to partake of my breakfast there. ”
With the guard content to forgo guard duty for food, Noah followed the woman through the corridors to the kitchens, praying he wouldn’t run into The Keeper, Austin, or even Skye. He needed time alone to explore.
Once they’d reached the central area next to the kitchens, Noah stopped to address the woman. “I’ve a notion to have my breakfast on the west terrace. I’ll wait out there while you prepare a fresh tray. I’d enjoy eating it beneath the morning sun.”
He smiled charmingly to soften her anxiety while he scrambled for a way to keep her longer in the kitchen while he searched the adjacent corridors he’d seen when Skye brought him here.
“And I’ve a request if you don’t mind.” He added another smile for good measure.
“I’d like a glass of milk with my meal, please. ”
The woman looked stricken. “Milk, sir?”
“Yes. I confess I’ve developed an abnormal fondness for the stuff.” He gave her an exaggerated shrug. “But if it’s too much trouble…” he paused, waiting for her reply. When she merely blinked at him, he continued. “…to find cow’s milk, goat’s milk would suffice.”
“Goat’s milk,” she murmured under her breath, as if the words were foreign.
They probably were, he guessed. To her, at least. All the better. “I’d prefer you delay cooking my meal until you’ve procured the milk, so I might enjoy the two together. Take your time. I’m in no hurry this morning.”
With her forehead creased in bewilderment, she finally managed a quick bob acknowledging his wishes and fled through the arch to the kitchens.
None too soon Noah groaned, estimating he had no more than an hour before she returned with news of her failed quest. Or before his guard, or even Skye came looking for him.
He glanced at the openings to several corridors, knowing he didn’t have time to explore them all. But he couldn’t waste time wondering.
Taking the one to his left, he traveled past well-spaced torches down a gentle slope that grew colder with each step.
Parts of the stone walls wept with moisture, and soon he caught the metallic scent of blood and the smell of preserved meat.
His suspicions were confirmed when the passage opened into a natural cave used for cold storage.
Sides of venison, hogs, and whole birds hung from iron hooks driven into the rock ceiling, their surfaces glistening with frost. Wheels of cheese sat on wooden shelves braced against the stone walls.
Noah cursed under his breath. A dead end, and not the kind he was looking for.
He retraced his steps quickly, keenly aware of time slipping away. The kitchen woman would eventually return with his impossible milk request, and questions would be asked.
He grabbed a torch from the central hall before he entered the second corridor.
It angled upward, its walls lined with doors that opened onto storage rooms filled with grain sacks, barrels of oil, and crates of preserved goods.
Some familiar. Some not. Useful to know for future reference, but again, not what he sought.
By the time he backtracked and entered the third, more obscure passage, he battled disappointment and desperation with every step.
Sweat beaded his forehead despite the cool air as he slowed and studied his surroundings more intently with his torchlight.
This corridor felt different from the moment he stepped inside.
The walls were rougher, more ancient, as if they predated the rest of the fortress.
The floor sloped downward into darkness, and the air carried a strange quality, not stale, but moving, as if it led somewhere vast.
Noah’s pulse quickened as he pressed forward.
The worked stone of the fortress gave way to natural rock, and soon he was walking through what could only be described as a tunnel.
The walls showed signs of recent instability.
Large chunks of stone littered the floor, and fresh cracks fractured the ceiling.
But amid the debris, he could see clear signs of passage: boulders pushed aside to create a narrow path, footprints in the rock dust, and most telling of all, torch brackets hammered into the walls at regular intervals.
The soot stains above them spoke of long-term use.
His pulse leaped. This had to lead somewhere important.
Picking his way carefully through the fallen rocks, Noah followed the winding path deeper into the mountain. The tunnel curved left, then right, always descending. The air grew warmer, and he thought he caught a strange shimmer in the darkness ahead, like heat rising from sunbaked stone.
Something else caught his eye, something partially tucked beneath a fallen boulder.
He moved closer, bending with his torch to get a clear view before reaching out to touch it.
A scrap of fabric. As he rubbed it between his fingers, his blood ran cold.
This wasn’t just any fabric. It was blue denim.
Paige had repurposed what she’d called a pair of denim jeans into a smaller pair of trousers for Brody.
When Noah asked about the strange but sturdy fabric, hoping for a pair for himself, she’d explained she’d been wearing the jeans-trousers when she time-traveled to Havenwood with Taran.
They came from her own time, and there was no more like them to be had in this world.
This material, caught beneath a boulder, though worn and faded, was unmistakably the same kind.
Unmistakably not from this time period. Noah dug beneath the boulder and tugged the scrap free with trembling fingers, his mind racing.
This could only have come from someone like Paige, someone from a time far beyond this medieval world.
Someone who had traveled through a portal.
This portal. His heart hammered against his ribs as he pocketed the fabric and pressed forward. Just ahead, voices echoed from somewhere beyond the next bend, low and urgent. A faint glow appeared around the curve, the flickering light of torches or lanterns.
Noah froze. There was nowhere to hide in the narrow passage, no alcoves or side tunnels to duck into. If whoever was ahead came this way, they’d see him immediately.
A rumble vibrated through the stone beneath his feet, so low he felt it more than heard it. Small stones rained from the ceiling, pattering against his shoulders. The voices ahead grew more urgent, and he caught fragments of words: “...unstable...” “...behind schedule...” “...must finish before...”
One voice rose above the others, and Noah’s stomach clenched in recognition. Austin.
“The next group comes in, in an hour,” Austin said as the voices moved closer. “The Keeper wants the last of these artifacts moved before the tunnel collapses completely.”
“Collapses?” Noah’s blood turned cold. No!
Not before Emily could be safely moved through.
How far was the portal from here? Was the tunnel’s instability worse the farther it went?
Was this simply a tunnel to get outside the fortress, and the actual portal existed somewhere else entirely?
Was there more than one portal, or was this their only chance? Too many unanswered questions remained.
The voices grew even louder. Closer.
Noah turned and ran, no longer able to move stealthily.
He’d let them get too close. His boots slipped on loose stone as he scrambled back through the debris field, panic lending speed to his flight.
The tunnel seemed twice as long going back, every shadow a potential threat, every sound the beginning of pursuit.
He burst from the corridor opening near the kitchens, pulse pounding and his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Slipping the torch into an empty sconce, he hurried to one of the wooden tables near the kitchen opening and settled onto a bench, careful to arrange his features into an expression of patient waiting.
Just in time.
Four figures emerged from the tunnel entrance, moving with the careful, purposeful coordination of men carrying something heavy and precious.
Three were guards Noah recognized from around the fortress, but the fourth was Austin.
Two of them bore a large, heavy crate between them, while the other two each carried smaller but obviously weighty trunks.
Clearly valuable, Noah surmised, given Austin’s supervision and the care with which they were handled.
Noah kept his eyes downcast, assuming the demeanor of a bored man waiting for his breakfast. The group passed within a few feet but was too focused on their burden to spare him a glance.
Sweat beaded Austin’s brow despite the cool air and his face was grim with concentration and something Noah couldn’t quite identify.
As they reached the far end of the common space, one of the crates shifted, and Austin barked a sharp warning. “Careful! That one holds delicate instruments.”
For a heartbeat, Noah feared discovery and turned his face away, barely daring to breathe until he heard the men’s footsteps continue down the corridor.
He waited, impatience nagging at him, until the sound faded completely before rising to follow. If questioned, he’d simply say he’d changed his mind about breakfast and was looking for someone to tell the woman. It was a thin excuse, but all he had.
Trailing the men at a distance, Noah used the maze-like corridors to his advantage. But by the time he reached the central hub of the fortress, they’d vanished along with the crates and their contents, as if they’d never existed.
“Noah!”
He spun around to find Skye striding toward him with Keir further down the corridor, hurrying to catch up. Her face was flushed with exertion, and there was something urgent in her expression that made his stomach clench.
“There you are,” she said, slightly breathless. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Your guard said you went to the kitchens, but—”
“I did,” Noah interrupted. “I was hoping for breakfast on the terrace, but the woman went to find me some milk and...” He shrugged, hoping the explanation sounded more convincing than it felt.
Skye’s eyes narrowed slightly as she searched his face, and he had the uncomfortable feeling she could see right through his deception. “Some mil—”
“Mistress Skye,” Keir caught up, his voice urgent. “The watch reports movement on the ascent trail. A woman and two men carrying what appears to be a litter.”
Noah’s heart raced. “Emily?”
Skye’s expression softened as she placed her hand on his arm. “It appears your family has finally arrived.”
“Yes,” he cried, his voice shaky with relief and anticipation.
He tried to shove all thoughts of tunnels and portals and mysterious crates from his mind as he hurried with Skye and Keir toward the main gates.
After days of waiting, of hoping, of fearing it might be too late, they were finally here. Seeing them was all he cared about.
Even so, the piece of denim in his pocket, proof that the tunnel had seen activity from other times, weighed heavily.
Or had his desperation caused him to be mistaken?
He realized the scrap could have been brought here by someone who’d time-traveled from Paige’s time, just as she did.
And perhaps migrated to Austin’s ragtag group of outcasts, just as he had, and lost it during his subsequent work in the tunnels.
So perhaps he hadn’t discovered anything at all today. The obvious instability and decay of the tunnel spoke to its age, but that alone was not proof of a viable portal.
Nor was Austin’s activity within it. It could merely be another tunnel to another storage site.
Which all meant he wasn’t any closer to finding his sister’s only hope for survival.