20. Lina
Lina
I should have died a hundred different times in a dozen different ways over the last several years. Yet, somehow, I am still breathing.
Trembling on a cold stone floor. Alone. Face red and sticky with tears.
But breathing nonetheless.
I may not be as brave as I’d like, I may tremble when I face the horrors of this world, but the simple fact that I am still breathing is a miracle.
I watched it crumble. The towns. The trade routes. The people, trampled underfoot. Sometimes killed by our own, so desperate for escape they would do anything, even tear their friends and family apart.
Fear does terrible things to people. It changes them.
But if there is one strength I was given, it is to find the good and cling to it.
I would never consider betraying a friend to benefit myself. I would never give up hope, even for an eternity of comfort.
It might be the only strength I have, but I am proud of it. I refuse to let these vile warriors and their death-worshipping cult be what finally snuffs out my light.
So, while my heart is sore and aching, it does more than beat.
It believes.
This place is a labyrinth of tunnels that I cannot untangle, and I wouldn’t stand a chance against even one of the warriors, let alone the drakai they ride.
I shiver at the thought of the pit I’d been forced to pass over on my way to the city, filled with those lizard monsters. And the image of the scaled beast they threatened me with before being claimed…
There must be a way, though.
I believe I will be free of this place and find Astella again, even if it isn’t logical. Because if I give up, I may as well succumb to the despair and let these monsters take whatever parts of my body and soul they want.
There will be nothing left worth fighting for.
I grip the knob of the wooden door and pretend I am braver than I am. I must be. Only a truly brave woman could face the worst demons this world has to offer and intend to beat them.
That must mean I’m brave, then, right?
My stomach sinks—yet my heart soars—when the knob turns without difficulty.
Some part of me expected it to be locked. Shouldn’t they have trapped me in this room? What kind of prison is this? With unlocked doors and weapons freely available?
The kind with other tricks up its sleeve. It’s Astella’s voice that warns me. Whether my imagination or that girl has learned some new impressive tricks with her sorcery, I don’t care. The voice is right.
They don’t need to trap me in the room to keep me harnessed.
But from everything I know of these people, wouldn’t they want to? Don’t they enjoy the pain and despair they enact on others?
So, why give me so much freedom within my chains?
I shake my head from the spiral of confusion and instead thrust open the heavy oak door. The hall flickers with orange light; torches hanging every so often keep it unevenly lit.
When I release a breath, it comes out as a little puff of white. I shiver against the cold.
I look both ways down the seemingly unending tunnel. No movement. No smells beyond the mildewy scent of the cavern.
I abandon my shoes in the room for the sake of stealth and slide over the cool stone. It feels nice on my sore feet. When I come to a split, I ignore it and continue straight. There are other wooden doors here, far apart. Other Dread? Other captives? I don’t particularly want to find out.
The tunnel eventually leads to a supply room, with chests and stacks of buckets. I bite my lip and consider. Even now, a few hundred feet straight down the hall, will I be able to find my door again? I decide to test it once by walking back from where I’d come.
I still second guess myself as I stand in front of the imposing wooden door because if I’m wrong, I could end up face to face with a fanged killer eager to drink my blood, or worse.
Heart throbbing, I conjure the courage to push the door open to an empty room with ruffled fur blankets, flickering lantern, and stacks of baskets and weapons in the corner. I release a relieved breath. This is the dwelling he left me in.
After double checking the hall is still empty, I make use of my new weapon. It’s difficult to make a dent in the dark wood, but after a few seconds, I manage to make a small mark that won’t be particularly noticeable to others, yet is still recognizable to me.
With more confidence, I head back out into the tunnels.
One by one, I enter different halls. Some seem to lead nowhere or get so cold and dark I know I must be going the wrong way.
Others lead to what I assume are social gathering areas.
One is a domed room with semi circles of cushions, and another has a massive oak table with a dozen chairs.
Everything is empty and still, though.
I try my best to keep track of each hall that doesn’t lead anywhere new, without making any more markings. It’s hard, though, as everything looks nearly identical. The halls curve and twist, but I can’t keep enough track of each twist.
Finally, I notice the floor tilting up, so I eagerly follow the path I assume at least takes me closer to the surface but maybe even out of the labyrinth.
I rush forward, and within a few minutes, I notice the air getting noticeably warmer.
“What do we have here?”
I suck in a breath and twist to find a Dread staring down at me. I cower against the stone wall behind me but don’t even have the mind to flee from him.
Instead, I stare at him like a panicked bunny, frozen in shock.
He’s smaller than the others I’ve seen so far, but most strikingly, he is maskless. For once I can see a full face. Normal. He looks normal. Young even.
Strange clothes, half his body exposed, even his feet. He’s just an adolescent boy, older than Astella, younger than me. Maybe fourteen, if I had to guess.
He smirks, but there’s a playful lilt to his eye.
“Escaping is impossible, you know.” He crosses his arms. “Better scuttle back where you belong before you’re found by someone much worse than me.”
My heart races, but the mini-Dread doesn’t move to grab me.
“You’re new, huh? Here let me—” He turns and waves for me to follow him, but I don’t dare budge.
Instead, I consider rushing back to my prison.
What will I do there? Sleep? What if my Dread is back and intends to torture me? Suck my blood? I don’t know what they do or what he wants me for, and I’m not eager to find out.
The young warrior disappears down the hall and I wait. Could I sneak past and keep going, hoping to find the way out even though I’ve already been found out? If it were that easy, there’s no way he would have left me here. But I have to try, right?
I take a few deep breaths and inch slowly and as quietly as possible back up the hall toward where the intimidating boy went.
“There you are.”
I gasp, again throwing my back against the stone wall opposite him.
He’s grinning. “Here, I just went to grab this for you—” He holds out a small red cloth bag.
When I don’t reach for it, he dumps the contents into his open palm. Small round crackers appear that are so pale they are nearly white.
“I thought maybe you were hungry if you were just brought in. Maybe trying to escape too; they do that a lot. They don’t make it, though, just so you know.
You’re almost to the bathing chambers.” He points over his shoulder.
“It’s the middle of the night, though, so it’ll be empty.
Trust me, it’s not as bad here as whatever you’re expecting.
At least, not once you’ve made it to this part of the den.
” He grins, like he’s given me good news.
I frown. He’s willingly giving me information. Just rambling.
How is this one of the legendary Drak warriors? Nothing is scary about him. Unless he’s just trying to make me comfortable before he—no, what reason would he have to do that? Even a mini-warrior is stronger than me. He could do whatever he wanted.
“Why?” I rasp. I don’t know why my voice is hoarse. The sobbing? Was I screaming? “Why are you helping?”
His smile is sweet. Is he actually what he appears? A kind kid, but they’re going to turn him into one of those monsters that kills for sport?
“I don’t know. Maybe you’re important?”
I flinch. Important? “What could possibly be important about me?”
“Never know.” He shrugs. “Besides, we get new people enough that we’re kinda used to it.
I’d rather help than—well, I know the outside world is rough.
People come in starving and who knows what else.
So, it’s best just to help people along a little.
If you get a little food in your belly and then sleep, you’ll probably have someone show you around and help you get cleaned up in the morning. ”
He wrinkles his nose, looking down at my disheveled clothes.
“You’ll be in a much better mood after all of that. I promise.”
“Where is the other part?”
His brow pinches. “What?”
“You said once you made it to this part of the den, you’ll be okay. What about the other part?”
“Oh, well, you want to stay clear of the priestesses. They’re scarier than the soldiers, but you wouldn’t know it just looking at them. Outsiders aren’t meant for those rituals.”
My blood turns cold.
“Is that where they take the others? To be used in rituals?”
He frowns. “No…” He looks down at his feet, then when he looks back, there is a darkness to his features that makes me retreat a step. “There’s the dungeon. That’s where they take the criminals. You don’t want to go there either.”
“Is that the big cavern area with the skulls?”
He pauses before answering me again. “No.” He narrows his eyes. “Why are you asking?”
I consider what I should tell him. He’s clearly not a direct threat, but he’s still one of them. Was he raised here? Is this all he’s even known?
“I saw them take people away. A little girl. A man. What were they doing with them?” It’s not technically true. I have no idea what happened to anyone else at the bonfire. But I need as much information as I can.
I remember the stories I’d heard about the cult and their rituals of pain. But I’m in deeper than any of the stories I’d ever heard. None of the refugees had been here and made it out to tell the tale. At least, no one I’ve ever encountered.
His face softens. “You don’t have to worry about that. They’re far away from you. And if, for some very bad reason, you try to find your way to that side of the den, you’ll regret it. I promise.”