Carrying through the passage behind them were the distant screams and pleas for mercy from back at the caravan. What was happening? Were they going to butcher everyone?
“Sounds like a bloody slaughterhouse back there,” Veladan growled. “Poor fools. May Lydan the Shield ease their passing.”
He strode over and grabbed Kara by the arm, his eyes like iron. “You have some explaining to do, girl. Why were those scum after you, eh? Don’t tell me your cousin sent them—we both know that’s a lie. I lost two comrades back there, so you better come clean.”
Forcing a smile, she said, “How do you know they were after me?”
He slapped her across the face with his mailed hand and she’d have fallen to the ground had he not grabbed her by the hair. She tasted blood in her mouth and her jaw throbbed. Swishing her tongue around her mouth, she was relieved to find all her teeth still there.
Veladan twisted her hair around his hand to pull it tighter, bending her neck at an awkward angle. She tried to push him away. “Let go, you’re hurting me.”
He yanked her forward until they were nose to nose. “I’m not here to listen to any more of your lies. Those rats could be on us at any moment. Now tell me who I’m up against or I’ll make you scream.”
Kara spat blood onto his armored chest, shaking in fear. “I don’t know who they are. They attacked my home five nights ago and killed my family.” She touched the artifact through her cloak. “I don’t know what they’re doing here or what they want from me.”
He tightened his grip on her hair.
She sobbed in pain. “Please, I’m telling you the truth.”
Veladan glared at her, the torchlight giving his eyes an intense, primal look. His neck muscles bulged, a vein popped out of his temple and his lips slowly peeled back to reveal his crooked teeth.
She screwed her eyes shut, waiting for him to strike her again. Instead, he let go of her hair and put his hand around her throat. “If I find out you’ve lied to me, girl... I’ll do things to you you’ve never imagined in your darkest nightmares. Got me?”
Kara nodded.
Why isn’t he talking about handing me over to save his own skin?
The warrior let go of her throat and pointed to the narrow opening in the opposite wall. “Now get in there, and I’ll follow.”
As Kara got down on all fours, her hand went to the hilt of the knife hidden in her cloak. Though the odds were against her, she needed to find a way to kill Veladan. But she would need to be smart about it. He was a trained fighter, armored in mail and much stronger than her.
Her mind played out possibilities. Perhaps she could slit his throat while he slept, find a way to ambush him or run away while he was still climbing through the passage behind her.
But if she did manage to rid herself of Veladan, then what would she do?
She knew nothing of these caves and could barely defend herself if something fell upon her. Then there were the issues of light and food, and their general lack of supplies.
Entering the passage, she gave up on coming up with a way to escape. For now, she wanted to focus on getting as far from the black-clad killers as she could.
The new passage was worse than the last they’d crawled through and contained tight squeeze after tight squeeze. After an hour of pulling herself forward on her stomach, Kara’s whole body ached like never before. She gritted her teeth. The pain was becoming excruciating!
Another hour went by, fatigue set in and Kara wished she could fall asleep in the passage, discomfort and all. Never had she endured this level of torment.
How she longed for her days working at the Golden Keg, sitting near the warm fire, listening to some drunken man tell her his stories while she sat on his lap, gratefully accepting his coin. She drew comfort from her memories of that time, and in the love the people who worked the tavern had for one another.
Eventually, she heard the distant roar of a river from somewhere ahead. Half an hour later, she emerged onto the gravel bank of a whitewater river. The roar of the rushing water was disorienting as it bounced endlessly off the stone walls, making the area an echo chamber.
Veladan crawled out of the passage and staggered to his feet, a trickle of blood running from a scrape on his forehead. The torch was burning low and he didn’t seem to have any spares.
He held it up so they could see what was around them. They were in a chamber a few hundred feet long and forty feet wide. The river ran under the rock on both ends, which would prevent them from following it.
They moved along the edge of the water, searching for another way out. A short time later, Kara had all but given up on finding another passage.
She wiped moisture from her face. They would have to head back the way they’d come.
Veladan suddenly pointed at something on the opposite side of the river. “Look. See it? There’s an opening up there.”
Kara stared up at the opening some thirty feet up the limestone wall. It didn’t look promising.
“We want to be up in that hole before the torch burns out,” Veladan said.
It’d be a difficult climb up the slippery rock, and if the torch burned out, they’d be stranded on the wall in darkness. Not an inviting prospect.
Then again, why did it matter when the light ran out? It was going to burn out, no matter where they were—and the same dark fate would meet them.
Kara gestured at the torch. “What are we going to do when it goes out?”
He gave her a hard look. “We feel around in the dark and hope we find our way out of here.”
She kicked some gravel at him. “Then we’re as good as dead.”
Sneering, he said, “When it’s gone, we can burn your clothes, then your pretty red hair. That should give us enough light to get out of here. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, eh?”
Her heart shriveled. She wasn’t ready to die. “Why did you bring me out here? You must’ve known it would be suicide.”
“Staying back there and handing you over would’ve been suicide too. Those bloody swine are probably the ones responsible for all the missing caravans. Even if I’d handed you over, they’d have killed me. They’ve never spared anyone before—why would they start now?” He glanced around. “At least fleeing out here, I have a bloody chance.”
He was probably right there. Nothing she’d seen of the black-clad killers suggested they’d keep their word. They murdered innocent people and were insane enough to attack the Priest King’s town watch, in the capital itself! That branded them all as heretics.
But why would they be in the Limestone Caves attacking trader caravans to find Kara? The man leading them had claimed not to know of her existence until he saw her in the room with Wrynric. Yet, traders had been disappearing the last few months, long before the man discovered her.
It didn’t make sense.
“Maybe we should put out the torch and wait here a few days, then head back to the highway,” Kara suggested. “The enemy might be gone by then.”
Veladan pondered this as he pulled down his chain pants and urinated into the river. When he was done, he pulled his armor up and said, “No. We keep going. Our torch will be out long before we get back to the highway. There might be someone out here who can give us food and torches.”
Kara was appalled. “Are you insane? What are you expecting? A town? Aemon said there was nothing out here until close to Deep Cave.”
He let out a great belly laugh, then pointed the torch at her. “You bloody betcha, I’m insane.” His laugh ended with a menacing snarl. “Now start crossing the river before I throw you in.”
She stared at him hoping he would come to his senses, but all she saw coming from him was fear. He was afraid, and it was driving him to make the wrong choice.
Growling in her throat, Kara went to the edge of the river. Before attempting to cross, she cupped her hands and drank some water. She wanted to take another moment to clean some of the dead woman’s dried blood off her face, but he stomped
over and shoved her forward.
Veladan held Kara’s arm as they made their way through the strong current. When they got to the opposite bank, Kara was shivering from the cold.
Starting up the wall, she found the ascent slow going and treacherous. Trickles of water ran down the slippery rock, and there were few handholds. A single mishap could send her plunging back into the icy river.
Once she was ten feet up the wall, Veladan began climbing after her. He’d taken off his mail gloves, though still wore the rest of his armor. Holding the torch and climbing one-handed made his ascent more perilous than hers.
The warrior struggled to make headway up the wall. “Take the torch, girl,” he shouted over the roar of the river.
Kara reached down and took it from him. Lifting the torch, she almost let go of it in shock. Light shone from the opening on the other side of the river.
Someone had come after them! There was nowhere to hide and she was still some distance from the hole above her.
She was trapped.
A man emerged carrying a torch. He looked over and Kara let out a relieved sob. It was Aemon!
Veladan must’ve seen the light too, because he glanced over his shoulder. The two men stared at one another for a long moment. Then Veladan waved. “You brought torches and a bag of supplies. Well done, boy. Well done.”
Kara didn’t like the vibe the warrior suddenly gave off. Courtesans who failed to read men’s behavior didn’t last long, and she’d felt that vibe several times over her years working at the Golden Keg. Men got that vibe when they were about to commit violence.
Veladan was going to kill Aemon.
Aemon stared at the warrior like a stupid boy with his hand caught in the sweetened mushroom jar. The warrior slid down the wall and started to wade across the river.
Kara’s mind raced. She held the torch, so could have escaped while Veladan was distracted, but her guts were twisting into knots like they did when she was thinking something they didn’t like. Running would be the wrong choice.
“Aemon! Get out of here, you fool,” Kara screamed, though her words were probably lost to the roar of the rushing water.
When Veladan was halfway across the river, his hand went to his sword. Aemon didn’t move. He only stared. Couldn’t he see what was happening? Was he that thickheaded?
Kara had to do something before it was too late.
Dropping her torch, she leapt from the wall and landed on the warrior’s back. The impact knocked the wind out of her, and sent Veladan face-first into the river. They both went under and were swept along with the current.
Kara’s head broke the surface. She gasped for air. In the dimming light coming from Aemon’s torch, she saw she was speeding toward where the river flowed under the lip of rock. A sharp barb of chilling fear ran through her entire body.
If she couldn’t swim to the shore in time, she would be dragged under and drown.
Trying to stand, she found she wasn’t able to touch the bottom. Worse still, her body felt like it was rapidly turning to ice. The light from Aemon’s torch was fading and already she could barely see.
Something grabbed her arm. “I’ll kill you for that, girl,” Veladan roared. Blood spurted from his shattered nose and his front teeth were missing.
He looked hideous.
On instinct, she ripped out her hidden knife and stabbed him in the face with it. The blade cut a deep slash across his cheek, and he let go of her arm. Now was her chance to escape.
Weakened from the intense cold, Kara swam toward the gravel bank. Only seconds remained until she would be swept under the lip of rock. She was almost out of the water when a hand grabbed the hood of her cloak. She screamed and tried to break free, but the hand held fast.
“Kara, stop fighting me. He is right behind you.”
Thank the divines. It was Aemon.
He dragged Kara onto the gravel bank. She curled into a ball and shivered. Though she’d only been in the water for half a minute, she was frozen and her muscles felt stiff.
Veladan struggled against the current to reach them. Aemon stared at him like a dolt.
Kara hissed through her chattering teeth. Using the last of her strength, she picked up a rock and threw it at Veladan. The rock struck him on the forehead and sent him reeling backward.
A moment later, he was dragged under the lip of rock and was gone.
Chapter 6
AEMON
Aemon struggled to carry Kara back to where he had dropped his torch. His back ached and his arms were close to giving out. She shivered violently, and it was a struggle to keep hold of her. If only he had not been born short and small of frame.
Kara had saved his life. Aemon knew Veladan had meant to kill him, yet he had stood there, unable to move. All he could see had been the warrior’s eyes. Aemon shuddered. That had been the first time he had ever seen the eyes of someone who wanted to kill him.
What Kara had done... he still could not believe it.
In the torchlight, Kara’s skin looked blue. Her teeth chattered and her clothes were soaking wet.
There was nothing to make a fire with and the torches needed to be used sparingly. The journey back to the highway would take hours, and they dared not risk running out of torches. Plus, the light would make them visible to anyone or anything nearby.
That meant he needed to extinguish it.
But the darkness terrified him. The blood. The screams. What if the people who had killed Morgon were still out there?
Aemon gently put Kara down as far from the river as he could, then wrapped her in his blanket. She was too cold to speak or even look at him. He grabbed the canvas bag of supplies he had brought with him and placed it beside her.
After scanning the darkness at the edge of the torchlight and seeing nothing, he doused the torch in the river. It took a moment to get his bearings in the dark. When he had, he climbed in the blanket with her and shuffled around until he got comfortable. The gravel was wet and cold, but it beat lying on hard rock.
“Put—put your arms... around me. Need to—get warm,” Kara yelled over the roar of the river, her teeth still chattering.
After a brief hesitation, Aemon put his arm over her. Snuggling against her back, he buried his face in her wet hair. He was uncomfortable and cold, but discomfort was worth the price of holding her.
Too bad it was under such dire circumstances. She was the first woman he had ever held and he wanted to hold her so tight that nothing could separate them. Now, he knew why men fell in love and would stop at nothing to protect their lovers. He had to make sure the people after Kara never got their hands on her.
Aemon owed Kara his life.
The comforting thoughts were swept away by horrifying memories of blood, twisted limbs and terrible, drawn-out screams—some filled with such pain they barely sounded human.
What he saw when he regained consciousness was horror beyond belief. So much blood. So many dead. And for what?
When the last of the caravaners had been murdered, the attackers had started checking the bodies to see if anyone still lived. Aemon had closed his eyes and played dead, praying they would not notice he was still alive. His face had been covered in enough blood to make it appear he was deceased.
When one of the enemies had rolled him onto his back with their boot, he let his body go lax and held his breath. His ruse worked, and the enemy moved on to Morgon’s corpse. After they had finished checking the bodies, the enemy briefly argued amongst themselves, came to some sort of decision, then disappeared into the darkness as if they had never been.
Aemon had survived the slaughter with a bad headache, a throbbing wound on his forehead and a hole in his soul that would never heal. But it beat being dead.
He screwed his eyes shut, his tears running into Kara’s hair. Morgon, you fool. You got yourself killed. Now you will never get to have that drink at Deep Cave.
Aemon had spent most of his life with Morgon, and since starting at the bank, they had
not been apart for more than a few days. Now, Aemon would never see him again, never hear his voice or get to tell him about anything new he learned while reading a book.
Sobbing, Aemon focused on pleasant memories of their time together. There were so many to pick from, each holding its own special place in his heart.
His favorite was the time he, Morgon and some of the other boys who lived in the Capital Spire had snuck into House Endahl’s bathhouse and swum in its heated water. They had been so afraid of being caught, and yet had surprised themselves by managing to overcome their fears and doing it anyway. Luckily, they had not been seen.
The memories left an ache in Aemon’s heart. Kara, through no fault of her own, had awoken something in him that he had never felt toward his friend before. Jealousy.
What if Morgon knew I thought ill of—
He stopped himself. Thinking that way would not bring peace. It would only bring suffering. Morgon would want him to be strong and would forgive him.
The lump in Aemon’s throat eased. Goodbye, my friend. May Lydan watch over you.
Half an hour later, Kara stopped shivering. “Thank you, Aemon. You saved my life.” She spoke loudly, so he would hear her over the sound of the river.
“You saved mine first.”
Kara rolled over so they faced one another. He stroked the back of her head, running his fingers through her damp hair. It was too dark to see her face, but he felt her warm breath on his nose.
“How did you get away?” she asked.
With a pang of sadness, he said, “I got hit on the head by something—a rock, I think—and was knocked out. I woke up some time later and waited for the enemy to leave before I fled.”
“How’d you know where I’d gone?”
“Well, truth be told, I was not certain where you went but I saw a dead... woman and two bloody footprints leading away from her body. I did not see you in camp, nor could I see Veladan. I assumed the foot prints belonged to you two, so I followed them into the passage hoping I could catch up to you.”
Heir to a Lost Sun: A Caverns of Stelemia Novel Page 9
