Chapter 42
FORTY-TWO
“ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THIS?” DESS ASKED IN A LOW VOICE.
Under Oskaren’s advice, they had stayed in that alcove for another day, watching for Xercae.
She departed the following morning, a tiny speck in the sky above them, and Thia couldn’t breathe until she was out of sight.
Then they had waited for her return, a feat altogether more terrifying, as they were fully exposed to anyone approaching from the sea.
When her broom became visible in the blue sky, they wedged themselves as far back as they could, counting the seconds until she was gone.
Sure now that she was in her lair, they crept across the island to the base of the mountain, where they hovered outside the archway.
Beyond that, a dark tunnel led to the labyrinth within.
There was a pile of bones to Thia’s left, pungent and glistening in the bright sun.
She cursed her knowledge of anatomy as she detected a human femur and an os coxae, wrinkling her nose in disgust. She was armed more than she’d ever been, her own knife in her belt along with two more, borrowed from Dess and Oskaren.
In front of her, Dess peered into the tunnel warily, while Thran leaned against the rocky mountain with his eyes closed. Oskaren stood next to Thia, her arms crossed.
“I’d like us to live,” she said in response to Dess’s question. “Wouldn’t you?”
Oskaren’s plan was simple. Hide on either side of the entrance and wait for the witch to emerge.
As the strongest fighter, she would climb above and drop down on Xercae to incapacitate her before she was aware that she was under attack.
Then it would be a decapitation free-for-all between the four of them.
It was a plan Thia felt comfortable with, largely because it didn’t depend on her to do the fighting, and it did not involve getting lost in a labyrinth their prey knew much better.
Mavrel perched on Thia’s shoulder, his uncharacteristic stillness telling Thia he was present in the danger with them.
Dess scuffed his foot across the rocks. “Fine. We’ll do it your way.” A pebble kicked loose at the movement, plunking down the tunnel before it halted somewhere in the dark. Enclosed by the stone walls, the sound was uncomfortably loud.
Oskaren shot out a hand, pressing sharply into Dess’s shoulders. “Stop. Moving.”
Dess stopped.
“Get in position,” Oskaren said. “Now.”
Thia didn’t know how the witch could have possibly heard a simple pebble through a labyrinth of stone, but at Oskaren’s face, she did as the girl said, flattening herself to the rock face left of the opening.
Dess hunkered down just in front of her, and Thran took the right side.
Oskaren climbed with agile grace until she was perched on a rocky ledge just above.
Then they waited with bated breath.
Thia’s heart was a gong in her ears as she strained to hear the inside of the tunnel. It stayed silent, save for the eerie whistle of the wind.
The same pebble came plunking back out again. Thia stared at it, confused, as it bounced off an uneven stone two feet to her left, before falling down a crevasse just beyond.
Then a shadow emerged.
Oskaren dropped. The witch fell below the girl, and Oskaren raked her sword in an arc.
A blast slammed Thia backward, whipping stones at her face. She threw her hands up to protect herself, and Mavrel was tossed away in the gale. Then it ended just as abruptly, and Thia tore her eyes open.
Oskaren was unconscious. Blood trickled from a wound on her head, and that was the only thing Thia had time to notice because the girl was moving—no, was being dragged by her feet into the tunnel.
Thia lurched, darting after her, but thick arms wrapped around her middle.
“Don’t,” Dess hissed in her ear.
In her periphery, Thran hadn’t moved from his position, though now his fists were clenched against the stone, lungs heaving.
Thia went slack. Dess let her go, thinking her dissuaded, but the moment she was free, she sprinted for the tunnel, shutting out his cries of protest as the world dimmed.
It was incredibly stupid, Thia knew. She had no plan. She didn’t even know where she was going, and she could hardly see. Xercae had disappeared, but there was a trail of blood leading deeper under the mountain that was fresh and red.
Thia followed it until it became too dark to make out anything, let alone a trail of rust against black stone. She bit her lip in frustration, stifling a scream. If anything happened to Oskaren because of her….
She couldn’t finish that thought. Her chest fell rapidly, her lungs squeezing, and she felt panic open its jaws at the edge of her mind, ready to swallow her whole the moment she let it. She closed her eyes and put her hands on her knees, drawing in deep breaths through her nose.
And then a warm glow lit the tunnel, followed a moment later by a hand holding a torch. Dess shot her a look that told her just how unimpressed he was, but he didn’t force her to turn back. She stuffed down the urge to tell him that he was the pot to her kettle.
“Where’s Thran?”
Dess shook his head. “Not coming.”
Thia nodded. It hurt a little, but she didn’t hold it against him. He had been there in his own way as they journeyed, keeping her grounded, a gentle voice of encouragement she hadn’t expected to need. She meant what she’d said to Dess: they never would have made it this far without him.
“Where to?” Dess asked.
The tunnel forked just ahead; Thia pointed to the ground, where the blood led down the left path.
They set off, keeping low to ensure they didn’t lose their trail. The stench worsened as they descended, sulfur from the mountain mingling with the reek of rotting bones discarded along their path. Thia slipped her hand into Dess’s, and he gave hers a squeeze in return.
After a few twists and turns, the air started to heat. “We must be deep in the mountain,” Thia whispered.
He glanced down at her. “There’s no need for quiet. If she sensed the pebble, she’ll know we’re coming.”
Thia shivered. She tried not to imagine Xercae hiding behind every bend and kept her fingers on the hilt of her knife.
They continued on for a while, until Dess halted.
“Look.” The tunnel brightened ahead, a strange, cold green at odds with the warmth of their torch.
“Witchlight.” He doused their flame, and the tunnel dimmed, but with the witchlight emanating off glittering specks in the walls, they could still see.
At some point, the blood disappeared. It was either very good news or very bad news, Oskaren’s wound having clotted or bled out. They could only guess the route now and aimed for further in and further down whenever a fork was presented.
Then Dess put a hand on Thia’s arm. “Hear that?”
She stopped, forcing her lungs to calm. A faint clanging sounded in the distance.
Dess put the torch down to free his hands, drawing a sword in each.
Thia slid her dagger free, heart thumping as the metal hissed against its leather sheath.
They strode forward as cautiously as they could, a difficult feat on uneven ground.
The tunnel ahead dipped and widened, opening to a large cavern.
They paused at the entrance, peering around the edge.
They were in the center of a hollow mountain, no ceiling in sight, only a small sliver of sky far, far above.
In the middle of the cavern, Oskaren was tied to a pole, chains binding her wrists and ankles.
Xercae was nowhere to be seen, but there were a number of large boulders that could have blocked her from view.
With a glance at Dess, Thia stepped into the chamber. She resisted the urge to call out to Oskaren, the slump of the girl’s chin telling Thia she was still unconscious. Beside her, Dess shifted his hands around his swords, preparing for the worst.
Xercae emerged from behind a boulder. She wore the same black cloak as the last time they had seen her, but there was a hole in it where Dess had stabbed her. The wound still wasn’t healed; it oozed a strange greenish-black sludge that dampened the front of her shapeless dress.
Her cracked lips spread wide as she took them in, revealing her yellowed fangs. She dropped her hood, expression hungry. “Storm Crow,” the witch said. “The queen told me you’d be coming.”