Chapter 28 #2
Syla circled the combatants and rushed to Fel’s side, afraid she would need to protect him. Along the way, she glimpsed his mace and grabbed it.
“Captain Vorik!” a man cried in dismay.
“He’s attacking Lesva,” the other blurted. “Did he turn traitor?”
Vorik didn’t respond, though a flash of pain that had nothing to do with wounds or the battle crossed his face. This time, his betrayal would have witnesses. He probably wouldn’t be able to return to his people.
Syla crouched and pressed Fel’s mace into his hand. Vorik had made his choice, and she had to hope he won. Otherwise, she and Fel would be in trouble.
Lesva glanced at the men, one cradling a crossbow in his arms as they approached, and she snarled, “Shoot him!”
“That’s not allowed by the rules of the duel to which you challenged me,” Vorik said, a little breathless but calm.
“It’s allowed to kill traitors,” Lesva panted. “Senzok, shoot him!”
“I can’t get off a clear shot, Captain,” the crossbowman called and glanced at his comrade. They’d stopped twenty paces down the tunnel, and neither looked like he wanted to rush forward and attack Vorik.
His fellow soldier pointed at Syla, and their expressions firmed. They would have no trouble attacking her.
From Fel’s side, she rose to her feet, hands spread, wishing she hadn’t lost the remaining explosives.
A gasp came from behind her, then a thump. Syla risked glancing back as Fel struggled to rise beside her, to defend her once more. Lesva had fallen, disarmed, her hand clasped to her gut and blood streaming between her fingers.
Those fingers twitched, and she groaned, so she wasn’t dead, and Syla hated to worry about her coming after her again in the future, but…
she couldn’t blame Vorik for not slaying one of his own people.
Nor could she stomach the idea of slipping over there and finishing her off.
She could barely handle that she’d killed people in self-defense.
Besides, she doubted Vorik would allow her to walk over there with the magical equivalent of a dagger in her hand.
Nor did she think the two stormers who’d arrived would allow that.
Looking as exhausted as Syla felt, Vorik walked toward her, though his focus was on the two stormers. The man with the crossbow had it pointed at Syla but watched Vorik warily, not looking like he knew if he should shift his aim or not.
Vorik drew even with Syla, standing at her side, his sword lowered. Only then did Syla notice that it had grown quiet. The drill was no longer banging away in the distance, nor did she hear the hammer blows that she’d caught earlier.
Unease crept into her. Had stormers followed the drill noise back to Tibby and found her? And stopped her?
Or…
Vorik cocked his head, as if he heard something. More stormers coming?
No, it was water that flowed down the passageway toward them, curling around the legs of the two men and then reaching Syla and the others.
Confusion furrowed Vorik’s brow. “What’s happening?”
“We need to get out of here.” Syla remembered her aunt saying it would take a while for the mine to fill, but panic and claustrophobia made her voice tight with fear when she added, “Now.”
Vorik didn’t know where the cold water curling about his ankles had come from, but, even if he hadn’t seen the worry in Syla’s round eyes, he would have guessed the threat that it represented.
“What happened?” Tems, one of the two stormers who’d arrived, waved at the water.
“It’s from the lake.” Syla helped Fel to his feet, wrapping an arm around his waist to support him, but she looked to the unconscious lady with distress twisting her face.
“The lake? It’s a mile away in the other direction.”
“That noise…” Merimoth, the other stormer, said. “Were they drilling up into it?”
Leaving the musing to them, Vorik strode through the water to the chamber door, where Lesva and the Kingdom woman both lay barely conscious.
With blood streaming from Lesva’s wounds, she tried to push herself up, but she struggled to support her weight.
The lady issued a confused groan as the water washed her face, but she must have received a blow to the head or something to keep her from regaining full consciousness.
There was a moon-mark on her hand, and Vorik realized she had to be Lady Abrya, the woman he’d originally been assigned to kidnap.
“Help me carry them,” Vorik told the men, using his firm command voice, hoping they would forget that they’d witnessed Lesva calling him a traitor and him sliding his sword into her.
They glanced at Syla, then hurried past her to join him.
Vorik lifted the lady over his shoulder, leaving Lesva for them. He’d never met the lady but regretted that she’d been dragged down here so Lesva could force her way into the chamber. He was starting to hate this war, hate all of this.
“I can walk,” Fel grumbled as Syla led him up the tunnel, but he had to lean heavily on her. He must have tangled with Lesva before Vorik arrived.
Ignoring him, Syla said, “Thank you,” to Vorik as he joined her with Abrya slung over his shoulder. Tems and Merimoth came behind, carrying Lesva between them.
“You’re welcome, my lady queen.” For her sake, Vorik tried to make his tone light, though his heart was heavy. “It’s always a pleasure to be in your presence, but do tell me. Is it my imagination, or has this water already risen in the forty seconds since its arrival?”
“It’s been longer than that, but it may be rising, yes. I wonder if Lord Oyenar’s men succeeded in sealing off the lower levels. That banging…” She peered into the darkness ahead and walked more quickly.
Vorik didn’t usually fear much but caught himself eager to match her pace if not start sprinting. If the tunnel filled completely, they would drown. Was that a possibility?
“You planned this?” he asked.
Syla hesitated. “We thought if we flooded the mine, the shielder wouldn’t be accessible to your people.”
“To any people, I’d think.”
“We don’t need it to be accessible for it to continue working.”
“Better if it isn’t,” Fel said. “Will that wagon operate in the water?”
“I’m not sure.” Syla glanced back.
Tems and Merimoth weren’t injured and shared the burden of carrying Lesva, so they were keeping up easily, and Vorik could tote Lady Abrya without trouble.
Syla and Fel were setting the pace, slower than they probably wished, but there was a hitch in the bodyguard’s step as he leaned heavily on her.
Vorik walked beside Syla in case they needed help.
As they traveled farther up the tunnel, the water grew deeper, rising over their knees, and striding against it became more challenging.
When the wagon Vorik had passed earlier came into view, the mine opening up beyond it, Syla gaped. Though the wheeled contraption had to be heavy, it wobbled slightly, then shifted a few inches, bumping against a support.
“Is that thing floating?” Fel asked.
“I don’t think we’re driving it anywhere,” Syla said glumly. “We’ll have to walk.”
“If the water gets much deeper, we’ll have to swim.”
“Maybe that’ll be easier on your injuries,” Syla said. “At the temple, we have—had—a pool for water therapy. It’s gentler on the joints than land-based modalities.”
Fel looked balefully at her. Vorik managed a smile, always glad that Syla didn’t fall apart during calamities.
The thought that she might have intentionally caused this calamity alarmed him, though maybe it shouldn’t have.
She would do almost anything to protect her people.
Except betray him. For whatever reason, she’d never done that.
He’d meant the words about love he’d spoken when facing off against Lesva, and he’d been touched when she’d called the same to him.
He would help Syla get her relative out of the mine and stand by her against the rest of his people if need be.
Jhiton had said Vorik had to choose, and he chose Syla.
Syla slipped in the water and lost her footing, ending up clinging to Fel instead of assisting him.
Taller and heavier, he remained on his feet and steady.
Vorik shifted Abrya so he could reach out and help Syla back to her feet.
With the water above his thighs now, he worried none of them would be able to keep their footing much longer.
The distance to the cage lift felt farther and farther.
At least, now that they were in the open part of the mine with the high ceilings and great pyramid pillars that supported them, Vorik felt they had time, that the cavernous space wouldn’t flood that quickly.
But when he glanced at one of those pillars, water streaming past, an alarming thought popped into his mind.
“Salt dissolves,” he blurted. “The water will erode it away, won’t it?”
“Eventually, yes,” Syla said without surprise. The thought must have already occurred to her.
He imagined her with her leaders in a conference room somewhere, calmly planning this. Just as Jhiton and Amalia and Shi had calmly planned the invasion. Gods.
The water lifted Vorik’s feet from the ground, and he struggled to stay connected, to walk as long as he could. He was a strong swimmer, but he wouldn’t be able to maneuver out of here that quickly while pulling the lady.
Are you underground? Agrevlari asked from beyond the island’s barrier.
In the salt mine, yes. Vorik wondered how much of the battle the dragon could see from miles away. From a great enough height, the lake and road and buildings might be in view.
Something is happening to the lake.
Oh, I know.
First, Wreylith was merely lighting boats full of your people on fire. I and many of our ally dragons have been threatening her, promising a swift death to her once the barrier is down, but she hasn’t been deterred.
Vorik thought of Syla’s admission to coming up with the plan to flood the mine and eyed the water flowing past him. I don’t think the barrier is coming down. Ever.