Chapter 37 – Isolde #2
“There!” Astril whispered. “I found the exit. Keep going straight, and we’ll come right across it.”
I spotted it too and pushed harder. We were only a few paddles away when Queen Inga let out a loud moan.
The sound echoed in the cavern. Wings rustled.
“Go, go, go!” Thyra pleaded, and by the stars, I did.
“Geiravor!” Yrsa said. “Move over. I’ll row, you ward!”
Her sister hopped up and began working her magic, just as a waterfall of bats detached from the ceiling and dove.
Fangs bared, they closed in. One came from behind and latched onto Yrsa’s shoulder.
She screamed, and ripped it off her, breaking its neck, but the damage was done.
More bats awoke. More rustling wings and strange pitchy chirps sent skitters down my spine.
A hundred more made it down by the time Geiravor cast a full ward above us, but not before dozens swooped inside. One took a chunk out of my arm, and before I could stop them, a shadow released, wrapped around the bat, and squeezed.
The creature fell into the water, and though effective, I opted to use winter magic to do away with the rest. My power blasted upward and into the air, freezing the flying bats. They fell into the water, no longer a threat.
“Can you make it a shield over the exit when we pass through?” I continued to row. “And how long will it last?”
“Longer than we need it to,” Geiravor replied with confidence, even as she wiped sweat from her face.
My boat entered the exit first, and as we passed into the smaller tunnel, a shudder rang through the air. The ward. Geiravor had already set it up for us to pass through, but no others. Bats tried to follow, flinging their hungry bodies up against the ward and falling back.
“Those were awful,” Freyia muttered.
“We’ll have to get the bites looked at by the healers in Myrr,” Thyra added.
We’d all acquired at least one bite, but as I looked at Inga, I gasped. Four vicious bites marred her exposed skin. Dislike her or not, I didn’t want to think of bats eating my mate’s mother’s face.
We floated through the darkness, my faelight and the sparkling water our only guiding lights. The water picked up speed again, and this time the current was so strong I stopped rowing and instead used my paddles to steer us down the channel.
“We’re nearing the harbor,” Yrsa said. “Right at the entrance, there’s a gate that’s locked.”
“Have you picked it?” I asked.
“Only examined it from the other side. I thought maybe one day I’d row upstream and see what there was to see.” Yrsa shuddered. “That’s no longer in my plans.”
The other boat got into the front position.
Right in time too, for a pinprick of light appeared in the distance.
Moonlight. Or maybe faelights and torches from the docks?
I hoped we would not exit too close to the docks.
Sailors were up at all hours of the night, and the fewer witnesses the better, for a guard would have certainly been alerted by now.
Soldiers would likely be swarming Grindavik.
“We need to disguise the queen.” Salt laced my tongue.
The pinprick in the distance had grown into a disc.
Originally, the queen was going to use a cloak, but those remained in the castle, never to be seen again.
Thank the stars it wasn’t cold enough to necessitate such attire, or that would be another reason we’d stick out.
“We have nothing,” Yrsa said. “Flop her head over and make her hair hide her face.”
“Her clothing is too grand,” Freyia pointed out.
“Would you rather we paraded her naked through the streets?” Thyra snapped. “If we find something we can improvise on the way, we take it. If not, we hope the night cloaks us.”
The grate came closer and closer until the other boat slammed against the metal. I breathed in, the fresh air was welcoming after so long in the confined space.
And then the gate lit up like a faelight, and the alarm sounded, the keening echoing in the cavern.
Thyra loosed a filthy stream of swear words.
“It’s not so loud that many would hear it. I bet you that alarm goes up to the castle,” Freyia said.
“I’m sure it does. And there are two locks here.” Yrsa examined the grate, unbothered by the alarm. To keep my sanity in place, I took that as a sign she’d done lock picking under extreme pressure. “Geiravor, come work the other. We need a fast getaway.”
The sisters crammed together. On the other side of the metal, the waters from the channel mixed with seawater, the effect providing a swirling halo of light around the area. It would be pretty if it didn’t feel so much like a target.
“These are bleeding difficult,” Geiravor said.
“They’d keep out any lock-picking lowlife,” Yrsa agreed. “Only the best could get in here. And still fewer would survive what they meet.”
Had we come with one less person, we might not have made it. That realization did not make me any less worried about Vale and our friends.
They’re capable, I told myself. What other choice did I have?
“Ah!” Yrsa exclaimed, her hand retracting quickly. “The thing shocked me!”
Geiravor leapt back. “Me too!”
“And now you’ve lost the feel of the lock,” Astril growled. “Get back in there and don’t lose it again. You’ll have to endure.”
“Dammit,” Yrsa groused, even as she gritted her teeth and carried on.
The shocks came faster and harder, and the sisters took each one, their bodies jolting, their faces contorting, but the Riis sisters had the same spines of steel that I’d found in their brothers.
One click sounded, and Geiravor leaned back as the shocks stopped. Her hands trembled from the aftereffects. “Got this one. Are you close?”
“I think so.” Yrsa’s jaw tightened. “Just . . . there!” Her lock clicked too.
Astril took over at the front of the boat and eased the rusted grating open. The sound might have garnered attention if it wasn’t for the alarm echoing through the night.
I braced myself to fight, but when our boat drifted into the harbor, it was to empty water and air. No soldiers. No fae in the area at all.
“They might still come,” Thyra said.
We rowed to the nearby beach. The boats ran aground, and we hopped out, then eased the queen between Thyra and me.
The Riis sisters took the front position, the vampires the rear, and no one looked back as we ran for our lives.