In the hallway outside, the slide of another door sounded, accompanied this time with the murmur of voices and footsteps. Too close, they were too close and getting closer. Handing her the knife, the Protector turned to face the door again, leaving her to her search.
Ria did as he had, but nothing happened this time. The ends of her mouth turned down, dismay creasing her forehead. When that stone had slipped before, when it shifted, Ria knew this was it. She could feel something, just at the edge of memory. Drawing the knife back, she pressed her hand against the stone itself. She felt it resist at first, then slowly give. Sudden fear made her pull back. It rebounded back to flush with its neighbor. She paused, but nothing else happened. This was it! She knew it. It registered that she could feel the man next to her moving again, reaching for the door, done waiting and planning to take the fight to the guards searching for them.
“Wait!” she whispered urgently. “Please. Hold on, I’ve found something.” Worried he might open the door and begin a battle they couldn’t hope to end, she reached back with her other hand, gripping the sleeve of his shirt. Frowning, she pressed more firmly on that rough stone and felt it move grudgingly, dipping into the wall nearly an inch before going no further. A soft click sounded from below their feet. She held back a cry of excitement. Tugging more urgently on the Protector’s sleeve, she motioned for him to move over.
It was there, under the floor mat. A trapdoor. In the faint light from the window on the door, she could see sheer disbelief on the Protector’s face. She didn’t know how she’d found it, or why she’d known it was there. At the moment it didn’t matter. It was a trick to maneuver in the tiny space, but they managed it. With a grin, she pulled the trapdoor open. Scrambling quickly down the ladder, the Protector followed her down into the darkness, taking care to adjust the bamboo mat above before letting the door close.
˜ ˜ ˜
Mako couldn’t believe what a fool he was, being caught unaware. Shame ran through him, thinking of the blade at his throat. The humiliating series of events that ended with him barefoot, without his uniform and being forced to listen to the laughter of that village brat. How could the Mamoru do this?
The quiet creak of the barn door told him that the village girl had finally left. He was alone with only bitter thoughts for company. He still remembered his surprise, seeing the Mamoru earlier that evening. He’d finished his shift some time before and Shen had gone home happily to his wife. The memory of those shadows near the stables had continued to tease at him, so instead of going home, he’d wandered over. He told himself it was just to make sure the horses were all right. And he’d found the man’s stallion missing.
Uncertain and concerned, he’d gone to the palace, thinking there might be some way to ask after the lady without making a fool of himself. But at the first rough inquiry of, “What are you doing here? You’re not authorized in this area,” he’d left unsatisfied. Regardless of his family’s name and what status it afforded him, he didn’t yet have unfettered access to the nobles’ area. Since it didn’t matter how wealthy his parents had been, he still had to earn his way at the palace. There was no way to check out his suspicions without bringing in others. It wasn’t a good idea to bring attention to yourself, especially if it was not for a very good reason.
If he did that without cause, it could mean his livelihood. Or his life, knowing the Emperor’s temper.
He had decided it was a fool’s errand and stepped out of one of the side entries to the palace, ready to finally go home when he saw a dark figure leading a horse into the stables.
That’s when things went from curious to horribly wrong. In the here and now, Mako scowled as he brooded on the events of the evening, continuing to work his wrists back and forth, trying to loosen the rope that chafed and scraped the already raw skin of his wrists and forearms.
It had been shocking, what greeted him when he reached the stables. “What … what is this? What’s happened?” The Mamoru, his shirt shredded and drenched in crimson. It immediately set alarms clamoring in the young guard’s mind. So much blood meant danger – instinct said to arm himself. And the Mamoru was hurt, there should be other guards here, now, and the healer. His memory told him that at the same instant he’d spoken, he had reached for his weapon and the man in front of him had been sitting down. The next thing he knew, he’d been thrown against the door and there was a knife at his throat.
“Silence.”
“Mamoru, what are you –” he started, but the knife pressed in, just to the point of pain.
“I said, be silent.” The clipped voice conveyed an obviously lethal intent. If the guard spoke again, he’d die. Snapping his mouth shut, Mako’s mind reeled at the attack and perhaps not unexpectedly, it hurt. This was the man he’d admired.
It wasn’t difficult to stay angry, gagged and tied and stripped of his uniform, but he couldn’t help noticing the urgency to the other man’s movements, the worry apparent in the Mamoru’s expression as he prepared to leave.
When the door slid shut behind his captor, Mako wondered what the Mamoru could possibly intend to do, attacking and impersonating an Imperial guard. Did he intend to harm the lady? The Emperor?
Whatever it was, it was certainly nothing good.
As that sour thought faded, minutely he felt the ropes give. His breath quickened. Yes! The knot shifted and gave him more room. His fingers had long gone numb, but now they exploded with pins and needles, feeling returning with a painful vengeance. When he finally freed one hand from the blasted rope, he reached up to rip off the gag. He cursed to the stable in general, sleeping horses the only witness to his struggle for freedom. It didn’t take long to rid himself of the remaining restraints. He was about to alert the palace to what had happened, when something made him pause.
He looked in the direction the girl had gone and could see the palace was now humming with activity. During his efforts to free himself and being lost in thought, he’d ignored the sound of the alarm, but he noticed it now, even softened as it was and less distinct with distance. There were guards moving around to the side of the building, searching. More men streamed out, even as he watched. Some headed the other way, moving at a fast trot in the direction of the ryouken pens. He shuddered thinking about those animals. Like dogs, but stripped of anything soft. Almost mindlessly aggressive, once given their prey’s scent, nothing stopped them from taking it down. Things must be serious if they were bringing them out.
He couldn’t believe it. Beyond hearing the grumbles of how he’d been appointed, Mako knew the Mamoru was a good man. He had the trust of Master Isao, who was well-respected and honored and who’s sharp eyes missed nothing. Had he somehow fooled Isao-sama? No man was infallible, the Mamoru’s actions this evening had thrown everything into question.
Mako kept remembering that concern, etched into the man’s features. The silent worry that lent him urgency. And although the guard was quietly furious at what had been done to him, Mako wasn’t a fool. Beyond his earlier confusing observations was the larger and more personally important fact: he was still alive.
Someone who intended to harm either the lady or the Emperor wouldn’t think twice about killing a guard. Right?
What is going on?
Looking through the window again, he saw the other guardsmen had grouped near the entrance to the training courtyard, on the far side of the palace. One of them was looking towards the stables and gesturing. It likely meant that help was on the way. It would be mortifying to explain, but at least he could be of service to his ruler. If he worded it right, he might even get a promotion. Of course, if he worded it wrong, he’d likely be thrown in the dungeon for failing to stop the Mamoru’s betrayal.
Once they spoke with Mako and searched the stable, they’d know the Mamoru was injured. Without his horse and without (most) of his weapons, it was inevitable that he would be caught.
Mako looked over at the horses. Though he hadn’t really made any noise, the black stallion was awake ag
ain, watching him. It was unsettlingly intense, that gaze. Mako heard a hoof contact the dirt of the stall, and the horse tossed its head, snorting.
He could almost imagine what the animal would say, if it could speak. He groaned, half-growling. “Gods but I am a fool.”
Chapter 8
As Ria’s feet found the ground, her hand automatically felt to the right, finding a shelf on the wall, no more than a ledge, really, with a flame striker and lamp. Stepping to the side to clear the way for the Protector, she also didn’t question (for her own sanity, if nothing else) why she knew they were in what could only loosely be called a room.
It wasn’t as if she could see anything here, it was as dark as a tomb. Blindly, she picked up the flame striker. She refused to think about how she knew it was there. That was something to mull over later. Right now, they needed light.
The air smelled stale, but not bad. Feeling at the edges of the striker, she pulled on the tiny lever, bringing a small flame to life. The flickering glow reflected off the strained face of the man with her. In the dark, he’d turned towards the sound of her fingers feeling along the shelf and now his eyes reflected surprise at what she’d found.
But he chose to keep his questions to himself as the sound of footsteps on the hatch above them made them both look up. Dust floated down from the wood above them, reflecting white in the tiny light. She didn’t dare light the lamp yet, it was too bright. What if the guards somehow saw the glow? But the striker was quickly growing too hot in her hands and with a soft little gasp, Ria let go of the lever, plunging them into darkness again. The fear that Ria had felt when they had first entered the closet returned and she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.
Surely no one knew about this place or they’d have checked the trap door when they’d entered the closet above them.
She waited until the footsteps left before testing the lever of the flame striker to see if it was still hot. It wasn’t. Lighting the lamp, she held it up, wanting to see where she’d led them. Her earlier instinct had been correct. Though this area of the room was wider than the rest of it, it was more like the head of a passageway. It was rounded at the entrance where the ladder had deposited them, leaving room for the ledge and both of them to stand shoulder to shoulder at its entrance, narrowing severely into a corridor that led into darkness, further than the lamp could reach.
“Where does this go?” The Protector’s low question hung in the air for a moment before the young woman raised her eyes to look at him.
Biting her lower lip, she hesitated before responding. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know.” The Protector looked away from her with a short shake of his head, taking a deep breath. Silently reaching his hand out for the lamp, he took it from her and held it up, expanding the soft light to reach a larger area. Ria could just make out the outer wall of the chamber. The narrow corridor held deeper shadows, hinting at other rooms, or maybe other corridors, further down the tunnel.
What is this place?
There was no sound. No movement. This hidden pathway hadn’t been used for years; the layer of dust and cobwebs on the lamp’s shelf was proof of that.
Still, that thread of fear tugged at Ria, making her antsy. Listening hard, she couldn’t even hear the distant footsteps of the searching guards. As if reading her thoughts, the Mamoru said quietly, “They won’t have given up. They are simply expanding their search. Eventually, they will bring in the ryouken. They will sniff us out.”
Ria shuddered, closing her eyes. No, not that.
She felt his hand on her shoulder and opened her eyes. He was leaning forward slightly in the dim light, concern etched across his face. “I shouldn’t have said that.” Tipping his chin down, he gave her a small smile. “We’ll make it out of here. Somehow.”
Putting a hand against her elbow, he nodded toward the gloom ahead of them and threw a glance upward. “We’d better get moving.”
Nodding, Ria got her reluctant feet moving. Though she was the one who’d brought them down here, he led the way, holding the lamp up to illuminate the gloom in front of them. The corridor narrowed and the unrelieved darkness was smothering as they moved forward.
The way was easy, at first. Ria tried to imagine why this place had been made. It was obviously some kind of escape route for the members of the palace. From what, she could only guess. Invading forces from an enemy nation? Possible, but crazy. The Emperor held everything he could see in an iron grip, and had for longer than she’d been alive.
This place was old, though. Very old. Perhaps things had been different then.
That little voice in her head kept asking her how she’d known this passage was here, but she didn’t have an answer to that, so she ignored it. As it was, she still had that surreal feeling of dread, a dread she’d felt before. Images at the edge of memory teased at her, but she couldn’t reach them. Lost in thought, she almost walked into the Protector when he stopped suddenly.
She frowned in confusion, and moved forward to squeeze in next to him. He was holding the lamp in front of him, but it looked like the soft light wasn’t working. The darkness ahead was an unrelieved black. It made no sense, for there was no wall there. If there had been, the lamplight would have reflected back gray, as it was doing to the walls on either side of them. Confirming it, she looked along the left wall, where it met that empty, strangely solid black.
In the glow of the lamp, Ria could see a symbol etched into the wall. She watched the man next to her examine that symbol, running his fingers over it lightly. His eyes were narrowed, perplexed, and he looked back at her sharply, stepping closer and suddenly looming over her. “Tell me the truth,” he said. She had to tip her head back to look at him. Taking a deep breath to calm the tremor she felt, she told herself she wasn’t afraid. She ignored the dull pang of hurt at the way his voice sounded. It had been inevitable. That was how everyone spoke to her, eventually. “How did you know about this place?”
He looked furious and now she felt a flutter in the pit of her stomach, but she still didn’t have an answer for him. “I said, I don’t know,” she snapped, frightened and frustrated to be asked again when she’d already answered him. “I just knew the path was there,” and without a way to explain that statement, her anger evaporated like mist, an unwelcome flush warming her face.
It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t accept her answer, who would? She knew she wasn’t making any sense. Nodding to the area in general and the dead end they’d reached, she finished, “That’s all I knew, apparently.”
He took that in, the anger draining away, leaving only a puzzled frown. She looked at the symbol in front of them, etched into the wall. She didn’t recognize it, but obviously he had. “Do you know what it means?”
Absently, he nodded. “It means shield. It also means hide,” he muttered. He looked again at the black not-wall. With his free hand, he reached forward, pressing against it. It seemed to resist, at first. Then, slowly, his hand passed into that darkness. “Push gently, keep the knowledge that you know the way is there in your mind and it will let you through.” Without hesitating, he slowly stepped through. Heart pounding in her ears, the young woman followed him. The sound of their footsteps seemed muffled as they passed through. She could no longer hear the Protector in front of her, nor her own breathing. Her ears rang in the sudden near silence and the pressure of it felt like she’d dunked her head in water. Thankfully, the weird sensations lasted only a few moments. Then they were stepping into a darkened stretch of hallway. It ran perpendicular to the direction they had been headed in. The Protector turned to the right, carefully lifting the lamp. Unexpectedly, he stepped back, almost bumping into her.
He held up a hand, urgently signaling for silence. He had pulled the lamp back behind him and she knew without him asking that she should shutter it. Quickly, she moved the metal plates over the glass, wincing at the small scrape it made as it slid closed. The light in the hallway dropped, but not completely. Peering ahead,
she could see why.
Their escape route had led them into a dark passage. Tunnels led off to the right and left – a room, with dim light emanating from it, lay just ahead down another short hallway. Looking back the way they’d come, Ria did a double-take. She reached out to touch the wall at their backs, made of the same gray stone as everything else. It felt solid. The Protector saw her and murmured, “If you apply enough pressure, the way will open.” Surprised, she pushed. Immediately, the rough feel of stone was gone. Her hand disappeared into the real-seeming surface and she gasped, yanking her hand back. Unharmed, she couldn’t help flipping her hand over to the right and left, just to make sure. Turning a shocked gaze on the man beside her, she just saw the quirk of one side of his mouth. Reaching out, her hand felt coarse “stone” again.
“Sorcery?” There was a question in her voice, because obviously the Protector knew what this was, but there was awe in it too.
His look was oddly blank though, and all he did was make a sound of agreement. He finished his observation of the passage and looked back at her. “We need to go.”
She paused, waiting to see which way he would go. He was gazing toward the room ahead. After glancing around, she followed him as he eased forward. When they reached the entrance, she blinked. This was no normal room. It was some kind of kennel, for monsters. It was dim and difficult to see clearly. The lamps in it were turned down until just a flicker of flame showed. The room was lined with cages, the bars almost ridiculously thick. But it was what was in the cages that made her heart skip.
Splinter (Trapped Souls Book 1) Page 12
