The air popped around us, the sound covering the hissing of the snakes, and began to swirl in the space, speeding so fast that it flogged my hair against my skin, stinging my face.
“What have you done?” Randall’s voice screamed in the din.
Raising my head, I could see the wind whipping poor James around, his body rising into the space like a strange puppet on strings, his mouth and eyes wide.
“Come on, Samantha!” Tristan yelled, tugging on my hand to get my attention. “Run!”
Startled by the force of it all, I gripped on to him tightly, following as he made for the tunnel, Randall already gone from the room.
“James!” I called out, torn between continuing on and going back for him.
“It’s too late,” Tristan screamed, throwing me into the tunnel in front of him. “Go! Keep yer eyes on the ground, Randall and the shield can’t be too far ahead.”
Looking back into the vault one more time, dread filled me at the sight I saw. James still hung in the air, his body curved into an arch, black streams gushing from his eyes and mouth as he spun down into the vase. It looked like something from a horror movie, the gold pieces swirling around him, statues toppling over, and scrolls ripping into pieces from the strength of the wind.
“Now, Samantha!” Tristan shouted again, shoving me ahead of him. “Eyes on the ground!”
Coming to my senses, I sprinted down the hall, not stopping as we entered the middle room, where the wind was starting to build up just as much power.
“Randall?” I shouted, trying to see anything in the dark.
“Keep going,” Tristan urged in my ear. “Run from this place before ye are taken from me!” The fear in his voice spiked my own and I groped for his hand, shaking as his fingers twisted around mine. Together, we ran out of the room and into the tunnel again, not stopping until we reached the slope up to the secret door.
“Do ye hear that?” Tristan asked breathlessly, the wind having not caught up with us yet.
Listening hard, trying to calm my own heartbeat, I nodded, pointing up the slope. “Snakes.”
“Randall,” he confirmed, taking the lead. “Remember, don’t look at anything but the ground, not until I say it’s safe.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll do the best I can.”
Hurrying up the steep incline the best we could, the gale starting to roar just behind us again, I suddenly found myself wishing with all my might that I would be allowed to stay here.
You are number eight, the prophecy had said. Eight is a magic number.
Eight objects of power in the vault, eight deaths to unlock their secrets. If I didn’t return home, my time would have to continue on without me, and I would be thought of as dead to everyone in it. I would be number eight.
Your home is closer than you know. Look inside yourself to find the answers you seek.
Tristan was my home now. If I were going to be sent anywhere, let it be with him, so that I would always be at home with the ones I loved. The only question I needed to ask myself was what I would do to make him happy.
A cracking sound reached us from higher up and light from the outside suddenly filled the tunnel. Resisting the urge to look up, I continued to let Tristan guide me until we were finally at the door.
Heaving himself through the now broken opening, Tristan sprinted off toward the ocean, screaming Randall’s name. As I pulled myself out, the wind suddenly rushed past me into the night, falling silent as it left the hidden world below.
“Stay back!” Randall’s voice carried to me on the breeze and I looked over, seeing his form wading out into the ocean to a waiting long boat, Medusa’s shield just behind him. All around us, sounds of battle filled my ears, the Templars having finally arrived to finish their part in it all. As Tristan took one more step forward, he suddenly flashed the shield to the front and I looked down, feeling the disappointment that came with knowing he was going to get away.
“I’ll find ye, Randall,” Tristan growled. “No matter what it takes.”
“Victory or death, Captain,” he replied coldly.
Oars splashed into the water and I knew they were leaving, not daring to look up and see for myself. After several minutes, Tristan came to my side, brushing the side of my face and lifting it to look at him.
“Is he gone?”
“Aye, he is.”
Swept Away (The Swept Away Saga, Book One) Page 66
