by J. C. Staudt
“There isn’t time. Don’t you see? I’ve already tried. He’s hopeless. We’re on our own.”
The corner of Nawk’s mouth curled into a sad smirk, but she said nothing more.
They tiptoed to the playroom together, where they found Raial and Thrin among dozens of sleeping nestlings. The little ones were so thin it was hard to look at them. Lizneth and Nawk had to tread carefully to retrieve their brother and sister, treating the room like an obstacle course where one false step might wake a child screaming. Lizneth took Raial while Nawk scooped up Thrin, and they left the room to creep toward the nursery exit.
When they rounded the corner beside the double-hung door, they found the guard who’d been sleeping earlier wide awake and standing in wait. “What are you doing?” he asked in a voice thick with sleep. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”
Lizneth grasped for an excuse but came up with none. She straightened, and with every ounce of resolve she could muster, said, “We’re taking them.”
The guard snorted. “Taking them… where?”
“Outside.” Lizneth handed Raial to Nawk as she spoke. “They’re our siblings.”
“Siblings mean nothing here, sceari—”
Lizneth drew her dagger and swung. The guard wasn’t expecting it, and when he lifted a hand to protect himself the blade cut a deep slash in his palm. He sucked air through his longteeth, cursing as he dropped his spear and drew the wounded hand to his chest. Lizneth yanked the door open and tried to shove the guard back, but he caught her with a bloody hand and pulled her to the floor with him. Her dagger came down between them and sank into the soft flesh of his belly.
A rush of foul-smelling breath escaped his lips. Lizneth turned her face away and tried to get up, but somehow the guard was holding onto her, gripping her arm with uncanny strength. She released the dagger and wriggled away from him, beating him with her fists until he let go.
“Run, Nawk,” she said. “Go to Sniverlik’s room and shut the door behind you. It’s on the second floor, in the back.”
“I know where it is. I can barely walk on my own anymore, let alone climb a flight of stairs carrying two nestlings. And there will be guards, won’t there?”
Lizneth sighed. “Then hide nearby and wait for me.”
“Where are you going?”
“To get Ryn. I left him outside.”
“Oh, will you forget about that stupid dog?”
“He’s not a dog. He’s a jackal, and I’m not leaving him. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Nawk clucked her tongue. “You always have been a stubborn lecuzhe.” She began waddling down the hallway, Raial and Thrin now squirming in her arms as they woke.
Lizneth pulled her dagger out of the guard’s belly and wiped it on his cloak. Sheathing it, she took his spear and lifted her hood to conceal herself. She could hear a commotion building outside and hurried to see what it was. Either the guards were changing shifts, or it was something else.
She emerged to find several of the night guards chasing Ryn around the yard, brandishing knives and threatening to skin him alive and eat him whole. Ryn had grown a little, but he was bone-thin, and his leg hadn’t healed all the way yet. He was still quicker than the Marauders, ducking between their legs and feinting this way and that to limp out of reach.
Slapping her thigh, Lizneth knelt and called him to her. Ryn whirled and took off toward her like an arrow. A big agouti with a hooded snout plucked Ryn off the ground and let him dangle, snapping and growling, by the scruff of his neck.
“Let go of him,” Lizneth screamed. “He’s mine.”
The Marauder laughed, feigning surprise as the little jackal floundered in front of him. Then Lizneth was running, holding the spear in front of her with no intention of stopping. He noticed her at the last second and tried to step out of the way, but she adjusted her aim accordingly.
The spearhead skidded up his copper breastplate with a loud scraping sound and slipped into the unprotected flesh of his throat. He dropped Ryn and stumbled backward, hands clutching his neck. Ryn hit the ground and scampered behind Lizneth’s legs, where he set to barking at the wounded Marauder.
The others stopped what they were doing and stared in bewilderment. Lizneth didn’t give them the chance to react. With Ryn at her heels and spear in hand, she retreated through the stronghold door, slammed it behind her, and lowered the bar into place. There were other ways inside, but this would slow them down. She heard the Marauders shouting after her as they converged.
She picked up Nawk’s haick on her way toward the back staircase. When she passed the alcove by the rear meeting room, Nawk gave a loud whisper to let her know where she and the nestlings were hiding. Thrin and Raial were awake now, though both were still drowsy. Lizneth gave them each a warm hug and told them it was time to go home now; they’d get to see Mama and Papa again soon, but only if they were good, and stayed quiet. They both agreed to this requirement wholeheartedly.
“Nawk, we don’t have much time. I’m going to go around that corner, and bad things are going to happen. I want you to wait here until I tell you it’s okay to come out.”
Nawk nodded, though her expression revealed she was anything but cheerful about it.
One last stretch of hallway remained between Lizneth and the corner, around which lay the back staircase. She could hear the Marauders banging on the barred door behind her, demanding to be let inside. She would’ve liked having Deequol with her right about now—not only for her own peace of mind, but because it would’ve made her feel like this fight was somewhere close to winnable. What am I doing? she wondered. I’ve been fortunate so far. I’ll never take on two Marauders at the same time.
At the sound of approaching footsteps ahead she ducked into another alcove. It was Bligg, running for the door to let the others inside. He caught her scent and turned, slowing to a stop when he noticed her in the shadows. “What are you doing back here?” he asked. “I told you—”
Lizneth lunged at him with her spear. A mistake. Bligg was too alert and too far away to be caught off-guard.
He knocked her spear aside with his own, then backed off a step to point his spearhead at her. “Hey, what was that all about? What’s going on here?”
Lizneth withdrew, shushing Ryn when he began to bark. “I’m sorry, I… I thought you were someone else.”
“Like who?”
“Never mind. I didn’t mean it.”
Bligg shook his head and glared at her like she was crazy. “Fine. You just wait there. I’ll be back. Yorak? Keep an eye on the scearib for me, will you?”
The other guard popped his head around the corner. “You again? Yeah, I’ll watch her. What’s happening out there?”
“Just give me a second,” said Bligg. “Don’t let her out of your sight.” He ran off down the hall.
Lizneth moved toward Yorak, who took a cautious step backward. “It’s alright,” she said. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. He just startled me, is all.”
“You didn’t mean for what to happen?”
Lizneth rested her spear against the wall and lowered her voice, desperately aware that time was running out. “I heard someone coming, and I just…”
“Huh? Speak up.” Yorak leaned in.
Lizneth tuned her voice even lower. She heard the distant squeal of the wooden bar against the iron brackets as Bligg removed it. The voices of several irate Marauders echoed down the halls. Yorak took a step toward her, still leaning forward. For a short moment, he relinquished his focus on her to glance in the direction of the noise.
Lizneth grabbed him behind the neck and pulled him close, nuzzling him snout to snout like a doe in heat, though her belly kept their bodies a distance apart. Yorak stammered in surprise and tried to pull back, but Lizneth’s other hand was already emerging from her cloak.
In a single smooth motion she drew the blade across Yorak’s throat and released him. He stumbled backward, bearing the look of one betrayed. A red bib dribbled do
wn his chest. He steadied himself with his tail, then bumped into the wall and slid to a seat against it.
Lizneth turned and screamed for Nawk. The voices down the corridor were getting louder, so Lizneth went back for a look. Nawk was on her way; the two collided as they rounded the corner from opposite directions.
“It’s messy,” Lizneth said, taking Raial into her arms. “Cover their eyes. Don’t let them see.”
Yorak reached out with a languid arm, gurgling and spitting at them as they passed. Nawk started up the stairs, but she was moving so slowly Lizneth decided to put the nestlings down and let them climb the steps themselves while she pulled Nawk along with her. The Marauders pounded down the corridor behind them, a rumbling of spears and footsteps.
“You’ve got to move, Nawk. I know it’s hard, but we have to get to that room.”
The nestlings scampered ahead while Ryn took the steps at a more measured pace, crouching low to pounce on them one at a time. Lizneth took Nawk’s hand and stayed with her until the pregnant dam fell to all fours and followed Ryn’s lead, belly dragging over each stair as she ascended. Meanwhile the clangor rose behind them, angry Marauders moving fast.
Raial and Thrin reached the top of the stairs and started down the hall, unaware that their destination was the first room on the left. Lizneth called them back, holding Sniverlik’s door open for them while they scurried inside. Nawk still had a few stairs to go when the throng of black-cloaked Marauders appeared at the bottom of the curved stairwell. Lizneth found herself wishing she hadn’t left her spear downstairs, though a single weapon would’ve done little to deter the whole mob.
Nawk stumbled on the last step and fell onto the upper landing as the Marauders hit the halfway point on the stairs. Lizneth yanked her sister up and shoved her through the open doorway. She slammed the door shut as the Marauders were reaching the top. She scanned the room for the wooden bar, which she found leaning against the wall in the corner.
“Get it,” she said, pointing. “Get me that thing.”
Ryn looked at her curiously. So did Thrin and Raial. Nawk was so out of breath she wasn’t even paying attention.
“Get me that piece of wood there,” Lizneth said. She leaned into the door and put all her weight behind it.
The first thud was strong, a sudden heavy clout from the other side. The door sprang open an inch before crashing back into its frame.
Raial had the bar in hand, but he was so small he was having trouble with it. A second concussive thud against the door made Lizneth’s feet slip on the floorboards. It opened wider this time, but crashed home the same way. She heard the Marauders yelling at each other, something about the right way to open a blocked door. She hooked one foot around Sniverlik’s bench and brought it skidding toward her, then flipped it upside-down and wedged it beneath the door.
The next push felt like a coordinated effort by multiple Marauders. The wedge held, and the door opened only a fraction of an inch. It was stuck there though, and Raial dropped the wooden bar when one of the soldiers jammed his spearhead into the opening.
Lizneth leaned out to snatch the wooden bar off the floor, then dropped it into place on the brackets. “Come on,” she said, crossing the room to the hearth. She grasped the stone groove and pushed until the hidden panel slid open.
Nawk was leaning over Sniverlik’s desk, heated and breathless. She studied the opening, then gave Lizneth a disapproving stare. “You want me to go in there?”
“Better than having your babies eat—” Lizneth stopped herself, remembering the nestlings were watching her. “Better than having them taken away from you,” she finished.
Nawk waddled to the opening without another word. Lizneth ushered them through, coaxed Ryn inside, and looked back to see an axe-head crash through the door and shower the room with splinters. She slid the stone panel shut behind her.
The tunnels glistened, echoing with every sound. Lizneth slid past the others to lead the way. They followed the long downward slope for several dozen fathoms before the path began to turn—first left, then right, then left again. They descended until Lizneth stepped in something wet and cold.
A puddle of salty rime water. Not just a puddle. The ripples spread from her foot and cascaded across a glassy pool. Ahead, the slanted tunnel ceiling plunged beneath the surface of the water.
“It’s flooded.” Just like Deequol said. It’s a dead end. We’re trapped.
The Marauders were back there, and if they were any smarter than a pile of saltrock, they would find the hidden panel soon enough.
“I’m going under,” Lizneth said.
“You can’t do that,” said Nawk. “Let’s just wait here a while. They won’t find us.”
Lizneth shook her head. “Either the tunnel keeps sinking from here and we’re completely stuck, or it’s just a brief dip, and it rises on the other side. I have to try.”
“Don’t go too far, Lizneth. Please. I have no way to pull you out if you do.”
Lizneth knew that was a promise she couldn’t make. She took another step into the water. It was ice-cold; the coldest she’d ever felt. Colder by far than the river back in Tanley. Colder still than the black waters of the Zherath Omnekh.
The water rose to her knees, her waist, her chest. It was so frigid her lungs wouldn’t let her exhale. She backed up a few steps, but the silt caught her feet and pulled her down. With one final surge of resolve, she plunged beneath the surface and swam, pushing herself along the walls with her hands.
She felt the silt deepen beneath her. The walls narrowed, forcing her to point her arms forward. Soon her back and belly were both touching at the same time.
Then she got stuck.
Her belly caught on a ridge of hard saltrock, her spine snug against the tunnel behind her. She exhaled the last of her air as she struggled to backtrack. Unable to hold her breath any longer, she choked in a mouthful of salty water. Her eyes shot open to take in the last moments of her life.
There was a glimmer ahead; faint, but brighter than utter blackness. She pried herself loose and saw through the blurry penumbra of her vision that the tunnel ahead was wider than it was tall. She was drowning. There was no time to go back.
Twisting sideways, Lizneth propelled herself through the narrow stretch of tunnel until she felt the walls widening again. Her lungs screamed, her limbs already beginning to feel frozen and heavy. She righted herself and stretched her arms until her forepaws came down in rough silt. Churning forward, she dug her feet in and reached for the light.
Her head broke the surface. She sucked in a desperate breath and exhaled in a fit of wet coughing. No sooner had she crawled to the shore than she began to shiver violently. Water spilled from her mouth and nose as she perched on her hands and knees, retching and sputtering. All she wanted to do was stay there and breathe until she had wheezed out every last drop. But she didn’t have time for that.
Her belly might’ve fit through the submerged length of tunnel, but Nawk was further along in her pregnancy than Lizneth was. Light filtered through the tunnel’s translucent walls from somewhere up ahead—a hopeful sign. She couldn’t investigate it yet, though. Not while Nawk and the others remained behind.
Going back didn’t seem to take nearly as long. When she came up, Nawk gave her a frightened look. “There you are. I was starting to think you’d drowned. What did you find?”
Lizneth heard them coming, gruff voices echoing down the tunnel behind. “There’s air on the other side, but it’s a tight fit to get through. The nestlings will have no trouble as long as they can hold their breath. As for you… there’s a spot where it gets very small. You’ll have to roll onto your side to make it.”
Nawk wasn’t enthusiastic about the idea. “How long of a swim is it?”
Lizneth coughed, and felt the shivers coming on again. “One breath. That’s all you need. Just one deep breath.”
“I don’t want to go, Sissy,” said Thrin, cowering behind Nawk’s leg.
“M
e neither,” Raial said.
Both nestlings began to cry.
Lizneth knelt down in front of them. “I know you don’t, but you know what? Mama and Papa are waiting for us. They want us to come home because they miss you both so much. So I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. We’re going to count to three, and then we’re all going to go together. Okay? Sissy’s going to push you through, super-fast. And before you know it, we’ll all be on the other side.”
Thrin shook her head, then buried her face in Nawk’s leg. Ryn yipped at her, then turned his head to listen as the Marauders drew nearer.
“I know it’s scary, but listen… Sissy will be with you all the way.” Lizneth glanced at Nawk. “We’ve got to go.”
“I know,” Nawk said. She pointed at Ryn. “What about that thing?”
“Will you take him?”
“Through the water with me? Uh, no thanks.”
“Nawk. Please.”
She sighed. “Oh, alright. You first.”
“You should go,” Lizneth said, shivering. “I’ve already been. I can get through quicker. Just remember… it’s going to seem tight, but just keep going and you’ll make it.”
Nawk took Ryn by the scruff of the neck and held him at arm’s length as she waded into the water. “Beh dyagth, it’s cold. Why did I ever listen to you?”
“Nawk. Remember to flip sideways when you get to the tight part. Make sure Ryn is ahead of you. He’ll paddle out.”
Nawk gave her a disaffected glare, then drew a deep breath and vanished beneath the water. Lizneth could hear the Marauders clearly enough to make out what they were saying now. She stood beside Raial and Thrin, ready to take them in her arms and swim for it. She couldn’t go too soon, though, in case Nawk had trouble.
“I want to go back,” Thrin said.
No, believe me, you don’t, Lizneth thought, unless you want to wind up like your older sisters, pregnant and holding onto life by a thread. “I know you do,” she said, taking first Raial, then Thrin, into her dripping-wet arms. “But we’re going to see Mama and Papa.”
