“Tunnels?” Coren repeated, staring at him blankly. Animals used tunnels. She’d never been inside one.
Syashin nodded, beckoning her down the narrow street, his body flush with the stone wall of the armory as he crouched beneath the windows. Turning the corner, she could see the building butted up against a wall, creating a dead end. Syashin motioned her to a hidden door, flush with the stone, its wood bleached with age to the same mottled gray of the blocks surrounding it. Glancing behind them, he pushed open the door and slipped inside the darkness.
Coren hesitated just a moment. There was something about such underground darkness that pulsed a warning in her brain. He reached out a hand, though, and she took it, joining him as he latched the door behind them.
“No-one comes down here anymore, and most of the men have probably forgotten it exists,” he said. They were standing in complete black, but she heard him rummaging in his bag. A scritch echoed, and a flame sprung to life. He touched the match to a candle, and the light grew enough that Coren could see the stair landing. Only a waist-high railing separated them from darkness.
“These stairs lead down into the sewer system and the old mines, but what we want is the escape tunnel built for the royalty when the city was first laid out.”
“Where does it go?” she asked, her voice muted by the dense black.
“The edge of the city, near the base of the mountains. From there we’ll double back to the boat, grab whatever else we need, and head west.”
“West?” she repeated. “I thought the mountain passage was just outside the city.”
“It is, but we aren’t going through that passage. If we’re going to see Damren, it’s easier to reach it from just west of where we docked the boat.”
“And what about the Wesh slaves? Shouldn’t we go to EvenFall now?” she asked.
“According to the papers, the auction isn’t for nearly two weeks. We need to let Damren train you.”
He started down the steep stairs, his bag brushing both railing and wall. She hurried to follow close behind, not anxious to lose the few feet’s worth of light the candle threw out.
Coren had never been afraid of the dark. Hunting or walking outside at night or being enclosed by the sea and rock of the Mirror Magi’s cove were one level of darkness, though. This was an entirely different sensation, and her nerves tightened with each step down.
It took mere seconds for the door to fade into the shadows around them. All she could see were the few steps before her, and Syashin’s form. All she could hear was the light echo of their boots on the stone staircase.
“Eighty-eight,” he said.
“What?” she asked, startled.
“I heard you counting. There are eighty-eight steps.”
Coren hadn’t realized she’d been counting out loud. “And then what?” she asked, her voice sharp with embarrassment.
“You pray I remember the right tunnel.”
She thought she heard humor in his voice, but she wanted none of it. “If we get lost down here…”
“We won’t, Coren.” He slowed without warning, and she bumped into his back. He twisted around and held up the candle so she could see his face. “I know these tunnels, I promise.”
“Then we have nothing to worry about,” she said, stepping up one level to distance herself again.
“I didn’t say that,” he answered, lowering the candle. “There are plenty of creatures that live in the tunnels.”
Coren glared at his back and hurried to follow. If it were any other boy, she would assume he was just trying to scare her. But Syashin had a way with honesty that was more frightening because it was unexpected.
“What sort of creatures?” she asked.
“Ratten, and snakka, and of course lots of arachs, but never the giant ones. I haven’t been this way in at least a year, so there may be more. It’s a different world underground.”
Gradually, she grew used to the dark and had found a bit of confidence by the time they reached the bottom of the stairs. Syashin held the candle up and around, showing brief glimpses of their surroundings. There was a bricked channel of water and sludge that explained the fetid smell of rot and waste. Several round pipes along the wall continually filled the channel, and the dank water flowed past them into the farther darkness.
“Sewer,” he said, unnecessarily.
The patter of tiny feet sounded beneath them, stopping when Syashin held his candle down toward the noise. Coren saw a palm-sized, furred animal with large beads for eyes staring back at them. Its tail curled up and over its body, ending in a flicker of whitish light.
“TunnelRatten,” Syashin said. “They can’t see in the dark, but they do carry a torch wherever they go.”
Coren almost smiled until the creature leaped at them, its mouth snarling open to reveal finger-length fangs. She gasped, but Sy smacked the creature in mid-air, sending it flying back into the darkness. She heard it plop into the water beyond.
“They also bite. Not poisonous, but painful,” he added.
Coren let out her breath. “Good to know,” she said, uncoiling her whip.
“Any MagiCreatures down here?” Corentine asked. Sy held the candle toward the dirt, showing her where to step and avoid the sewage channel.
“I’ve never seen one.” And he hoped he never would. The escape tunnel was too narrow for fighting. He held up the candle, searching for the right place along the back wall until his fingers brushed the ridged doorway carved in the rock.
“The secret passage is right here. It’s a tight squeeze for a few minutes. Push your bag in front of you and turn sideways.” He ran the candle flame up the slit in the wall to show her, then took a deep breath and ducked inside.
It was a mental exercise, this tunnel.
Only a few steps in, the passage narrowed to a level of discomfort. “Designed to keep people out,” he huffed, struggling to crouch and manage the candle and his bag all at once.
“Including us,” Corentine said, her voice muffled.
The ceiling lowered again, forcing Sy to his knees. “This is the worst part,” he said, and Corentine snorted. “On your belly.”
He leaned the candle against the rock wall and pushed his bag ahead of him into what looked like barely more than a snakka hole.
“Sy, I don’t think I can go in there,” she whispered.
He glanced back at her, seeing her eyes huge and glassed with panic in the candlelight. “It’s the only way. I’ll be right in front of you.”
“Surely this isn’t where the nobles of Weshen would have come to escape,” she insisted.
“The nobles of Weshen have always been warriors,” he said, hoping to challenge her pride.
She shook her head, still staring blankly at the hole. Sy reached over to grasp her hand, and she blinked down at their fingers.
“Coren, it’s the only way,” he repeated. “The whole city will be searching for us.”
Slowly, she began to nod, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He hurried to crawl into the hole, pushing the bag before him and keeping the candle close in case snakkas or arachs decided to investigate the intruders.
“Talk to me,” Corentine whispered, a note of panic still lacing her voice.
“When I was a boy, Resh and I would come down here to escape training sometimes. He was fearless. Always leading. We explored most of the mine shafts and the sewers, and we followed this tunnel all the way to its end a few times. Once we even found a bone-handled stiletto. It had these crystals cut into it that were like the sea, all shades of blue and green. Resh was so sure it was a talisman, left over from before the Sacrifice. But it never tested well. I think he kept it anyway.”
“He did,” Corentine interrupted, surprising him. “I think it’s the one I took from his room.”
Sy chuckled. “Well, it’s probably in better hands, now. But he’ll ask for it back if he finds out. And here we are,” he said, hauling his body through the last bit of tunnel and into a space big eno
ugh to be a bedroom. He helped Corentine to her feet. A pool of water rested in the center of the rock room, and very high above them was a portal to the afternoon sky.
“Resh and I never did figure out where that opens to, but I think it’s somewhere in the animal pastures. From here, it’s less than a mile of easy walking. No more crawling under the city.”
“Thank you,” she said, keeping her eyes down as she brushed dirt from her clothes.
Sy opened his mouth to answer, but a low growl sounded instead, echoing around the cave. He pressed Corentine against the wall where they’d just exited, his fingers reaching reflexively to his back.
But of course, the bow sword wasn’t strapped there. It was zipped snugly in his pack. All he had was a candle stub and the short dagger at his belt.
The growl intensified as the beast stepped from the shadows, and he heard Corentine gasp.
“Cheetana,” she whispered, and Sy had just enough presence of mind to wonder how she knew the name before the MagiCreature leaped at them.
Coren barely thought before shoving in front of Syashin, brandishing her whip. The braid lashed out at the MagiCreature, wrapping around the paw that swiped toward her and leaving a bright line of blood.
The beast growled again but retreated around the edge of the room. It licked its paw and paced the water’s edge. As the light from above caught its fur, Coren marveled at its beauty. The sleek, velvety fur shone in rainbow shades of hot oil; black swirled with midnight and teal blue. Jade green ringed its eyes, and its claws shone silver even in the shadows.
“Get back,” Syashin whispered, his fingers grasping at her shawl.
But she ignored him, stepping forward so he was left holding only fabric. Even she knew a dagger was no match for a MagiCreature. Paladin or not, he would be dead before he got his bag unzipped.
Something in the beast’s eyes held her, though, and a sense of rightness and recognition settled over her, like the way she felt when running the plains or swimming the sea.
“You will let us pass, and I will let you live,” she offered to the Cheetana, even as part of her balked at the idea of speaking to a creature.
Her whip flicked at the water that separated them. Ripples formed and grew, reaching the opposite side.
“Let us pass,” she repeated, her voice low.
“Coren-” Syashin’s plea was cut short by the Cheetana leaping across the water, pinning Coren. She cried out as her head cracked against the rock floor. Syashin shouted and darted toward them, his dagger flashing, but the creature snarled and swiped at him. He fell back hard, head smashing against the rock wall. His eyes fluttered closed, and Coren wrenched her arm from beneath the Cheetana’s claws.
Her whip cracked the air and wrapped itself tightly around the creature’s chest, squeezing.
“I am no threat to you, Cheetana,” Coren whispered, staring into its black eyes. She wasn’t afraid, and something told her the Cheetana wasn’t either. She could feel its power: magic and muscle tightly wound into each movement.
“Our magic is not so different. Let us pass.” She didn’t want to kill such a glorious creature. It was nothing like the Vespa.
The Cheetana dipped its muzzle closer to her face, and Coren shrank beneath the muggy heat of its breath. A black tongue darted out and tasted her temple then, and Coren yanked on the whip, hearing the intake of breath from the creature.
But then she stopped. Where the Cheetana had licked, Coren could feel her skin tingling, and in her mind, a thought was forming.
A thought that was not hers.
You have taken enough of my magic. Release me, and I will release you, daughter of Weshen. Release me and go, but beware. The Shadow follows you.
Coren gaped as the Cheetana stepped back, pinning her with only a stare, its paws flat on the ground on either side of her. Syashin moaned where he lay, and Coren glanced at him, then back to the creature before her.
“Go,” she whispered, pulling her whip away gently, so it wouldn’t cut the Cheetana’s flesh any more. “Go, before he wakes.”
With another leap and a scattering of pebbles, the MagiCreature was gone, vanishing into the shadows of the tunnel beyond them.
Coren staggered to her feet. “Sy?” she asked, bending over him. A gash on the back of his head had begun to bleed, but he opened his eyes.
“It’s safe,” she said before he could try to speak. “She ran.”
He grimaced and rolled onto his hands and knees, then stood slowly, bracing himself against the wall. Coren hovered, unsure how to help.
“We need to move,” he whispered, bending to pick up his pack. His body began to sway, however, and Coren had to dart beneath his arm to help him regain balance.
“I’ll get the packs,” she said. “You just tell me where to go.”
“One way out,” he managed, sliding his hands along the wall as he walked. “Need to go. Before it comes back.”
His words were a little slurred, and Coren worried he’d hit his head too hard. But they couldn’t stop yet. She didn’t think the Cheetana would come back, but then again, she hadn’t thought MagiCreatures could speak, either.
And what had it meant? How could she take its magic?
Her thoughts were a jumbled mess as she helped Sy through the rest of the tunnel. Thankfully he had been right about the distance, and she saw daylight ahead not long after the attack. Coren immediately dropped the bags when they reached the exit, rubbing at her sore shoulders.
“You stay here,” she said. “I’ll check for guards.”
He moved to protest, but only a simple shove from her was needed for him to slump down against the bags.
Coren readied her whip, but several minutes spent prowling the tunnel’s exit turned up nothing dangerous. She recognized a straight line of lemondrine trees and knew they were indeed very close to the boat.
Turning back, she helped Syashin to his feet. She shouldered the bags again, and together they trudged the final distance to where the Alimente waited for them, untouched.
“We should rest,” she said, dampening a rag and blotting the dried blood gently from Syashin’s hair. His eyes slipped closed again, and Coren sighed. This would be a long evening.
Resh reached the city just before sunset.
“Open!” he shouted at the outer gate, rattling the iron. “Open under the command of General Ashemon Havenash!” He knew it was suspicious. No-one ever came back from the island early, and anyone whom the General had sent should have a gate key.
But Resh had given their key to Sy, and he sincerely hoped his brother had been here to use it.
He wasn’t surprised when the guards approached in a trio, bow swoards pointed directly at his head and heart. He held his hands up to show he wielded no weapon.
“Second Son!” one of them called back to the others. “Step aside,” he said to Resh. He pressed his face to the gate and peered around Resh in the gathering darkness, looking for any traps or tricks.
“It’s only me. I’ve come from the island with news. Bring me the Summer Commander.”
The guard nodded and began the complex process of unlocking the gate. Once Resh slipped inside, the man quickly latched and locked it back, as though afraid of the very shadows beyond the wall.
Resh cut a straight path through the circles of Weshen City, followed by one of the gate guards. When he had made the decision to leave Weshen Isle in the starlit night, he had dressed to command, and now his summer-weight cloak rippled behind him in the breeze, and his tall leather boots echoed nicely as they struck the cobblestones. His hand rested on the hilt of his best sword at his waist, but he ignored the stares and questioning whispers that swirled at his back as he stalked the streets toward his father’s home.
“Bring the Commander to me,” he repeated as he reached the General’s mansion, shutting the door in the guard’s face.
As he waited, Resh called a servant to bring him food and drink, and he threw open the doors to his father’s meeting r
oom. He had a glass of fine liquor in hand, and his boots were kicked up on his father’s writing desk when the same guard knocked tentatively on the door.
“Sir? I apologize for the delay, but there’s been a problem. The Summer Commander, well…”
“Tell me,” Resh said, keeping his voice low and dangerous.
“He’s just been found unconscious. And his partner is dead!” The man rushed out the last part, and Resh set his glass on the desk with a thunk. He hoped it was evidence that his brother had made it to the city alive, but why would Sy need to kill one of their men? It wasn’t like his brother. Resh lowered each boot slowly, then rose, moving to stand over the man’s bowed head.
It must have been the witch’s doing. Perhaps she had even spelled Sy to help her escape. It wouldn’t be unexpected from a family such as hers.
“Show me,” he said, and the man’s breathing shallowed as he bobbed his head in deference.
Resh smiled as he followed the man, his fingers drifting again to the sword at his belt. Oh, how he enjoyed this feeling of being in charge. He glanced back at the mansion once more as the guard motioned down the rosewhip-lined path.
One day, all of this would be his.
He’d dreamed of being General before, but his loyalty to Sy and the Weshen traditions had always clipped his desire. Now that his brother had been banished, Resh had no plans to let him return and assume the General’s position.
He followed the man through the city streets and into the armory.
“Here, sir. In your father’s vault.”
This also spoke of his brother’s survival. If Sy had made it this far, he would certainly have come to gather weapons. Resh pushed through the other guards at the door and surveyed the scene.
“Nothing has been moved?”
The men shook their heads. “We just found them, sir, right before you called for Melshen.”
Resh approached where Melshen lay, bound and gagged. There was a welt on his temple from being struck, but his chest rose and fell in sleep. He lived. The other man was not so lucky.
Blood had dried in a brownish circle around him. Resh bent and examined the man’s wounds without touching him. What sort of weapon had done this? It was no sword or dagger. Perhaps a stiletto. But the slices were so long that surely the man would have been able to dodge better than he obviously did.
Shift of Shadow and Soul (SoulShifter Book 1) Page 20
