11 #4
Steros is still shouting. As answering calls and running feet approach our location, Vawn locks both arms around me.
I pull down the lap bar on the sled and latch it in place, then reach forward and pull the lever jutting from the floor.
The low barrier in front of the sled folds down flat.
With my weight shifted forward and the gate out of the way, the sled begins to move.
“You’d better hope you don’t survive this, Highness,” bellows Steros as we slide into the tunnel. “If you make it out alive, we will meet again. You and the bitch will wish you were dead.”
His threats fade when the sled picks up speed.
Foul air whooshes past us as we race through a cold black void at a speed more terrifying than that of the carpet.
Here, there is rock above us, below us, and all around.
I’m afraid of the very air; it tastes bad, and I’m certain we shouldn’t be breathing it.
Down, down, down into the streaming emptiness we go. I can sense the tunnel opening wider, the greater emptiness of a natural cavern expanding around our small sled as we hurtle through the bowels of the mountain.
“Don’t shift your weight,” I yell to Vawn. “If we’re thrown off course even a little—”
“I know.” His arms squeeze me slightly, the only comfort he can offer.
Everything gets close and tight again as we shoot into another tunnel, leaving the cavern behind. The angle of the floor changes, a sharper descent, and then the grating of metal on stone stops, and we’re flying through air, arcing across some chasm.
A scream tears from my body, cut short as we hit the ground again and keep going. I nearly bite my tongue, and after that I manage to keep my shrieks locked inside my chest.
The tunnel curves, then straightens out again. It feels as if we’ve been riding through the dark forever, captive to this piece of metal. And the sled is starting to rattle alarmingly. It hasn’t been maintained. What if it falls apart?
“Is that light up ahead?” Vawn asks, and my heart surges with hope and terror. Hope, because maybe it’s almost over. Terror, because what if the water is gone and we fall to our deaths, smashed on rocky ground?
The hope dims almost instantly as I realize that dawn is still at least an hour away. “It can’t be daylight.”
The tunnel ejects us into another cavern, this one birthed from porous white rocks, so full of holes that they almost look spongelike.
Mushrooms branch from the cavern walls, rising on curved stems like the sconces in the halls of a great house, except the heads of the mushrooms glow red in place of lamps.
On the top of each mushroom, dozens of pale gold spots burn brighter against the luminous crimson.
Tiny yellow spores float through the air, increasing the brilliance.
“Beautiful.” Vawn’s tone is awestruck. I’m amazed, too, but I’m also concerned about the ravine that cuts through the cavern, right across our path.
The bridge over it is still intact, but there’s a small rock sitting on it, one that must have fallen from the ceiling.
Cracks branch outward from its point of impact, spiderwebbed through the bridge.
If we hit that rock, we will be knocked off course. We might crash into the cavern wall or tumble into the ravine. Our sled will probably be broken, and even if it stays intact, I’m not sure we can get it going again at the proper speed to continue along this route.
Gripping the lap bar with one hand and trying not to shift my weight, I pull out one of my tiny throwing knives and lick the third fingernail of my left hand, which provides accuracy.
“Your luck glyph,” I call to Vawn. “Quick!”
He moves carefully, pressing one of the fingertips wrapped around my body. I wish it could be a saliva or blood activation, but we can’t risk too much movement.
We’re streaking down the sled-path through the cavern, approaching the bridge at a terrifying speed. As we draw nearer, I hold my breath and throw my knife straight at the porous lump of rock.
The tip of the blade strikes the rock, carrying it neatly off the bridge. I let out a harsh breath of relief as we skim over the cracked spot to the other side of the ravine.
Behind us, a rumble and several repeated crashes alert me that our weight finished the bridge’s destruction. It’s crumbling, chunks thundering against the sides of the ravine and bursting apart into smaller pieces.
Vawn moves his fingers a bit, probably to deactivate the luck glyph. His hand is so close to the underside of my breast that I can’t help thinking of our role-play back at the Pink Lycan—the way he cupped my breasts, feeling their weight and relishing their softness while he pretended to come.
The image gives me a moment’s distraction, but it flees my mind as we plunge into darkness again. I want to scream—I ache to scream, over and over, but I don’t want to make this worse for Vawn or accidentally bite my own tongue off if we hit another bump.
The air in this part of the tunnel is warmer and feels more stagnant, even as we rush through it.
With every breath I take, a creeping weariness settles over my body.
My thoughts thicken, and my muscles feel like sludge.
It’s all I can do to keep sitting upright and hold my eyes open.
No wait... they’re closed. Does it even matter, in all this darkness, in this never-ending nothing?
We veer around a corner into cooler air, and within minutes the fog in my brain starts to lift. There must have been some sort of gas back there, something that might have killed us if we’d stayed in it too long.
The sled is rattling horribly, threatening to shake apart, and just when I think it can’t possibly hold together for another moment, Vawn cries out, “There!”
This time it’s the right kind of light—not pinkish-gold, but faintly blue. The color of the sky shortly before dawn.
We’re racing toward an opening, but some rocks have fallen into it, partly blocking the mouth.
“Head down and hold on!” I scream.
The sled smashes against the rocks. Vawn and I are thrown free, right over the tumble of fallen stones, clear of the broken sled, out through the tunnel exit. Our bodies hurtle through the quiet blue air of the waning night, then plummet down, down, down.