Although Nerissa wanted nothing more than to rush to Rian’s side to help, she could not. This was one of the contingencies they had planned for.
“We’ve got to go,” Raysel said, urging her into motion.
They strode along the outside of the sidewalk toward the main square, weaving through the mass of revelers as swiftly as they dared. Though Nerissa’s legs ached to break into a sprint, she fought the impulse. Running would attract attention and thereby hinder their escape, so she kept up with Raysel’s measured pace.
They had traveled less than a block when a series of angry shouts erupted behind them. Nerissa cast a furtive glance over her shoulder, and her stomach lurched. Through a gap in the crowd, her eyes met the predatory stare of the long-haired Senka who had attacked Cole. He was following them instead of fighting Rian! He shoved the man in front of him aside without breaking his gaze.
Unable to look away, Nerissa didn’t see the drain opening in the pavement ahead. Her toe snagged on the lip and she pitched forward, flailing frantically in a desperate attempt to regain her footing. If she fell now, the man pursuing them would catch up to her for certain. Relief flooded through her as someone grabbed her arm, and Nerissa looked up expecting to see Raysel’s face.
But her rescuer did not help her recover. Instead, they took advantage of her vulnerability and yanked her sideways, dragging her into the depths of an alleyway. She caught the briefest glimpse of an opening in the brick wall in front of her before she was roughly shoved inside. Then the hole rumbled closed, plunging her into complete darkness. Seizing Harbinger’s hilt, she prepared to defend herself, but hands clamped down on her wrist and over her mouth.
Her captor spoke in a hurried hiss of a whisper. “If you value your life, follow me—and do it quickly. The Senka know this place almost as well as I do.”
Chapter 8
Parallels
Nerissa and Raysel
Nerissa tightened her grip on Harbinger’s hilt, but she let the sword remain sheathed. Instead of remaining still, she should be trying to free herself from this stranger’s grasp right now. Alarm radiated in prickling waves across every inch of her skin, compelling her to leap into motion, yet even that compulsion was overwhelmed by another, more potent realization. A realization that was so unexpected, so unbelievably out of context, it shocked her more than being dragged through the opening in the wall in the first place.
Those few terse commands he’d given had sparked a memory. Although she couldn’t quite put her finger on when or where she had last heard it, she’d heard this man’s voice before.
Nerissa nodded slowly and deliberately to show her intention to cooperate with the stranger’s demands, and he let go of her. With one hand still firmly on Harbinger, she drew in an unsteady breath. The air here was slightly warmer than it had been outside and was so laden with humidity it made her skin feel damp. Darkness clung to her surroundings like an ink stain, leaving her able to see little more than the vague outline of the man’s cloaked form as he moved away from her.
“Who are you?” she asked, keeping her words to little more than a whisper for fear that anything louder might be overheard outside.
“Now is not the time for questions,” he answered tersely. There came a faint rattling sound from somewhere nearby, and then a thin bar of light from a glow lamp sliced through the darkness. “This way.”
For a moment Nerissa remained fixed in place, unsure of what to do next. This man’s voice may be familiar, but that wasn’t enough to tell her who he was, what his alliances were, why he was helping her—or even if he was actually helping her. She traced her fingers across her voice-altering choker and reminded herself that voices were not entirely unique to each person. It could be an uncanny coincidence that this person sounded like someone she knew. No, a voice was not much to go by; however, if ever there were a time for decisive action, this was it.
Her hand drifted from the choker to the fire-fire pendant. Surely, Raysel had realized she was missing. What was happening on the other side of the wall? Was he facing off with their Senka pursuer right now?
One thing was certain—she couldn’t go back out the way she came in. As long as there was a possibility that the book she was carrying really did contain the last portion of the prophecy, she couldn’t risk letting it fall into the Senka’s possession. And if she couldn’t go back, then the only other option was to go with this familiar stranger.
“This way,” he repeated. He beckoned with the glow lamp, urging her toward a narrow staircase that descended deeper into the underground. “Hurry.”
Nerissa drew in a deep breath and followed him downward. For the time being, she would just have to trust her instincts. She would deal with whatever the consequences might be later.
**************************************
Raysel looked back over his shoulder, and his blood ran cold with dread. Nerissa was gone.
He planted his foot and pivoted in one smooth motion to make an abrupt about-face. The people behind him sidestepped out of the way and grunted in annoyance, but he didn’t notice. His eyes were too busy raking over the unfamiliar faces in search of Nerissa.
Although she was gone, there was one person he recognized. Someone he had very much hoped not to see. At the sight of the man’s bloodied face, Raysel seized Thorn to ready himself for a confrontation. However, rather than come at him, the Senka man veered into the dark gap between buildings. The very same alley Raysel had passed seconds ago.
Is that where Nerissa went? There didn’t seem to be any other logical place. If she was being pursued, then there was no time for hesitation. Raysel plowed through the crowd, shoving stunned onlookers out of his way to reach the alley.
He stopped short in the middle of the passageway’s narrow entrance, where two festival lanterns feebly pushed back the shadows. While he had expected to encounter a number of scenes, he didn’t expect to see this one.
He and the Senka man were alone.
The alley was not a passage connecting two parallel streets.
It was a dead end.
**************************************
When they reached the bottom of the staircase, the stranger veered to the right and picked up his pace, forcing Nerissa to hasten to keep up with him. The light emerging from the single open shutter on his glow lamp did little to dispel the blackness, yet the gloom did not hinder him in the slightest. He navigated the numerous turns and slick walkways with ease.
It was not a confidence that Nerissa shared. Even after months of footwork training with the Ohanzee, it required every bit of her focus to avoid slipping on the smooth, wet stones and falling into the channel mere inches away.
Only two juxtaposed sounds reached her ears: the echoes of their hasty footsteps bouncing off the surrounding walls and the tranquil lap of the water flowing through the canal. It was a small comfort to know that the lack of additional footsteps meant that the Senka weren’t pursuing them.
She followed the man around another corner and promptly collided with him as he came to a sudden halt.
Apprehension welled up in the pit of Nerissa’s stomach, and she clutched the fire-fire crystal pendant for reassurance. What was the meaning of this? Had they taken a wrong turn somewhere? They were surrounded by brick walls on three sides. Farther down, an arched pattern of stones in the nearest wall framed out a doorway, but if the mossy coating was any indication, it had been sealed over a long time ago.
“A dead end?” she asked, the words slipping from her mouth despite her having no intention to give voice to them.
The stranger raised one finger in a silencing gesture and then faced the wall. With the apparent ease that comes from habit, he reached out and pushed two seemingly random bricks simultaneously. Nerissa’s eyes widened as the bricks slid into the wall with a soft click. Above them, a portion of the ceiling slid away and a rope ladder dropped down from the opening.
“Not quite a dead end,” he murmured.
*
*************************************
Apprehension welled up in the pit of Raysel’s stomach. He and the Senka man were the only ones in sight. His sole consolation was that the man facing him at the far end of the alley looked as perplexed as he felt. Obviously, this unoccupied ally was not what he had expected to find either.
With merely one way in and out, if Nerissa was here, she must already have hidden herself somewhere among the countless discarded crates and copious piles of rubbish.
The Senka man seemed to reach the same conclusion at the same time. He charged between two towering stacks of crates and gave one of them a hard shove, eliminating a potential hiding spot and placing numerous obstacles between himself and Raysel at the same time.
Since any member of the Senka was likely to be a formidable adversary, Raysel had no intention on engaging the man directly if he could avoid it. For the first time he could remember, his thoughts did not go immediately to his sword. Thorn was no longer the only weapon he had at his disposal.
While his adversary thrashed through the mounds of refuse, Raysel focused his thoughts on Nerissa. He recalled every detail of her appearance that he could muster—including the mud stain on the bottom edge of her cloak where Eloc had stepped on its hem earlier in the evening. With the image firmly fixed in his mind, he visualized her springing up from the debris not far from where the Senka man was now.
A gentle warmth flowed out from the phantom crystal pendant hanging against the bare skin of his chest. At the same time, Nerissa—or rather, his image of Nerissa, with her face still hidden within the depths of the cloak—popped out from behind a pile. When the Senka lunged toward her, Raysel imagined the phantom dodging effortlessly away to seek refuge in a corner of the alley.
“What do you want with us?” Raysel called out. It was not easy to keep the details of the phantom clear in his mind and talk at the same time, but the success of this ploy depended on it.
“You know very well what I want, Ohanzee.” He snarled the last word, as if speaking it disgusted him. The man drew his sword and pointed it at “Nerissa,” positioning himself halfway between Raysel and the phantom so that he could see them both at the same time.
Raysel took a small step forward and raised his hands, palms up, in a conciliatory gesture. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why don’t you tell me?”
The man snorted. “Don’t pretend to be ignorant. I saw your cohort pass the book to this person.”
“Very well, we did indeed receive a package tonight,” Raysel admitted. “How do you presume to know what was inside?” Perhaps if the man kept talking, he would unintentionally reveal some useful information.
“We’ve already got one of the books you’re searching for, so we know about the prophecy inside. You wouldn’t have dared come this close to the capital unless you had some reason to think one was here, too. We have eyes and ears everywhere in this city, so of course we learned about the transaction in time to intercept it.”
“I think you mean in time to attempt to intercept it,” Raysel taunted. “Your eyes are not as sharp as you think they are.” He slowly and deliberately lifted one flap of his cloak and fished the decoy from the bag at his hip. “I’m the one who has the book.”
“Oh, ho. I didn’t see any exchange between the two of you,” the man jeered.
“And yet here it is in my hand,” Raysel replied tonelessly. While the man’s eyes were riveted on the package, Raysel let go of the image of Nerissa in his mind and the phantom dissipated.
“Well, my eyes may not be sharp, but my sword certainly is. Hand over the book or…” He went to illustrate the unspoken portion of his threat by moving the blade closer to the phantom, but when he turned back, the illusion was gone.
“Caeneus, just stay hidden. I have the situation under control,” Raysel said, as much for Nerissa’s benefit as the Senka’s. He didn’t know where among the boxes she had taken cover, but hopefully she had heard him and would stay concealed.
The man’s lips curled back in a sneer. “Under control? That’s an awfully bold boast considering you can’t hold that book and your sword at the same time.” With that said, he swept his blade around and lunged at Raysel.
There was no reason for Raysel to hold onto the decoy book, especially now. He flung the book toward the alleyway’s entrance and used his free hand to draw Thorn at the same time. His blade met the Senka’s just in time to block the man’s thrust.
Raysel barely had time to recover before he caught a glimpse of a ribbon of silver in the dimness—his opponent’s sword arcing downward in an overhead strike. He deflected this blow, too, pushing back with all of his strength in a bid to knock his opponent off-balance. It worked. With assistance from the scattered refuse to erode the man’s footing, the force of Raysel’s counter sent the Senka backward several steps.
Finally, Raysel could take a defensive stance, and he used his opponent’s recovery time to look for a way to end the fight quickly—if there was one. He didn’t want to engage this man. His one and only desire was to find Nerissa.
Much to Raysel’s surprise, the Senka did not come at him again. Instead, he sheathed his sword and made a breakneck charge toward the alley’s opening where the decoy book lay. He scooped up the discarded volume without breaking stride and disappeared into the crowded street.
Raysel let out a trembling sigh of relief. The ruse had worked. He had successfully thrown the Senka off the scent of the sixth book. Barely. That was one problem solved, yet a far more important one remained. Where was Nerissa?
Chapter 9
The Ally in the Alley
Nerissa
With nothing securing it in place, the rope ladder lurched precipitously every time Nerissa raised her foot to the next rung. She had ample experience scaling trees—and even the occasional rose trellis—but climbing a rope ladder was something entirely new and decidedly unpleasant. Although her stomach rolled with every swing, she kept moving upward as quickly as she could, her eyes steady on the dim white glow emanating from above where the stranger waited for her to rejoin him.
When she finally clambered gracelessly through the opening, he drew up the ladder and closed the hatch behind her. “Now it is safe for us to speak. There is no risk of us being heard or discovered here,” he said as he opened the remaining shutters on the lone glow lamp.
The light that sprang forth from the lantern was sufficient to illuminate the small room, though the far corners remained laced with shadows. While the air here carried the same faint musty odor as the passageways below, it lacked the pervasive dampness. With no windows in sight, the cool, dry atmosphere and stone walls reminded Nerissa more of a cave than a room. Her gaze skimmed over the multitude of cloth-draped shapes scattered throughout the room, and she realized this place not only reminded her of a cave, but it brought to mind one cave in particular—the underground Treasury in Darnal.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“We’re in an underground storeroom, of sorts.” The stranger tugged the hood of his cloak forward to ensure it completely hid his face. “You do have the book, don’t you?”
Nerissa took an instinctive step backward. “Book? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The man huffed and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m going to interpret that as confirmation you still have it. You should know, prevaricating will do you no good at this point. I’m trying to help you. I am the one who sent the note to your group. I was watching to make sure the transaction went smoothly, and I saw your cohort transfer the book to you afterward.”
Nerissa wasn’t sure if she believed his story or not. “We haven’t inquired to anyone about antique books since we arrived in Maze. If you were the person who arranged the meeting, then answer me this: How did you know we were looking for books? And since we’re on the subject, how did you know we were specifically looking for ones with crystals in their spines?”
“I found out about your search for the books
from a friend who lives outside the city,” he answered vaguely. “Naturally, such a unique description stood out to me. I’ve seen countless books in my lifetime, but the antique one I inherited from my father is the only one I’ve ever seen that had a crystal embedded in it.”
Suspicion filled Nerissa’s voice. “Why are you willing to part with something so precious?”
“My reasons are my own. It should suffice to say that I wanted to help you because our groups are both working against King Casimer.”
Our groups? Nerissa wondered. So, this man wasn’t working alone. “It’s hard to believe you were trying to help us after we were just ambushed by the Senka.”
The man paused for a moment, and when he spoke again, his answer was underscored with anger. “I’d like to know why that happened. It would appear there is a traitor within my organization—one who needs to be ferreted out sooner rather than later.” He reached into his hood and rubbed his forehead in frustration. “It’s a good thing that I stayed nearby, or else both you and the book may well have been in the Senka’s hands by now.”
“The situation is still quite problematic, in my opinion. My companions will be concerned once they realize I’m gone. They’re probably searching for me already.” Nerissa’s fingers migrated back to the crystal pendant as she spoke. She wondered what was happening to Raysel and Rian and hoped they were safe.
The stranger barked out a laugh so short and abrupt it sounded more like a cough. “I suppose they will be upset that one of their own—especially the carrier of the book—has disappeared.”
One of their own, the carrier of the book, and the ruler of their kingdom, Nerissa silently amended.
“I will contact them again as soon as possible, though it may be some time before it is safe to do so. Until I figure out who the traitor is, I will have to handle everything personally.” He took a few steps toward a door on the far wall and then turned back to her. “You will be safe here while I figure out how to get in contact with the other Ohanzee.”
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