by Serena Chase
“How long has everyone else been awake?”
“Awhile,” Julien answered. “But none of them almost died freeing two of E’veria’s finest knights, either. You needed your rest, Rynnaia, and I, for one, am glad you got it.”
Edru was tending a small fire with what was surely the last of our precious kindling. “Is that keola I smell?” As if it could be anything else.
“I’ll get you a mug,” Edru said. “The rest of us have already partaken.”
Julien put his arm around my shoulders. I scooted closer to him and leaned my head against his cheek. Erielle caught my eye and gave me a long wink, which was punctuated by a low chuckle from Julien.
“It would seem that my sister heartily approves of our courtship, Princess.”
“As does your brother,” Gerrias added softly. “Though I doubt our approval means much to you one way or the other!”
“On the contrary,” I replied, pretending he had been speaking to me instead of Julien. “If you, as my dear friend and loyal knight, opposed Julien’s suit, I might reevaluate the matter! However, since you so readily approve of him, I suppose I must continue to accept his courtship.”
Kinley looked up then with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “But what of your own brothers’ objections, Princess? If Lewys and Rowlen and I had our way you would be bundled up and carted back to Veetri to live the life of a happy maid, never to be bothered by the attentions of any men at all!”
I grinned as he forgot to whisper the last few words and his words bounded back on us all.
“’Tis a shame, then,” I said, “that the King has ordered me to consider the knight’s suit. The peaceful existence of an old maid might better suit my feeble mind and gentle temperament.”
I shifted position and my laughter cut off with a gasp. A sharp pain stabbed between my shoulders again and again.
“What is it?” Julien gripped my left hand with his, but I didn’t miss the motion of his other hand, drawing Dyfnel to us.
“I don’t know.” The admission came out with a groan I couldn’t contain.
I squeezed my eyes shut, suddenly aware that a semblance of that pain had been there since Halo’s Rim, but since it had not been as sharp as the ache in my ear I had not paid it as much notice.
“It’s my back,” I gasped as pain stabbed me again. “And . . . through it.”
Had the pain shifted to my chest? Perhaps it was only strengthening and making itself known. Another sharp stab stole my breath. I pressed my hand into the space where my neck met my chest, as if that could stem the pain.
“Lie her down. Carefully,” Dyfnel commanded. As soon as I was flat on my back, he knelt by the crown of my head and placed two fingers of each hand on my collarbones. He closed his eyes. Even though his request was silent, I heard it.
Show me, he petitioned Rynloeft for guidance.
The pain stabbed stronger and I did not even attempt to see his examination of my internal workings.
After a few silent, tense moments, the pain subsided to a dull throb and I was able to breathe regularly.
What you just felt was a muscle spasm that appears to have caused constriction of the nerves, he said to my mind. It was made more severe by the damage your organs have sustained. Your heart is weakened, I’m afraid. Your lungs and kidneys are bruised as well.
I was glad to have not known of this before speaking to my father. The damage is from the Cobeld hair on the cells, isn’t it?
He nodded. I would assume so. But the deprivation of air during the swim through the tunnel certainly didn’t help. It is not immediately life threatening, but . . . our situation could increase that risk.
But why am I just now feeling it?
His brow furrowed. It makes no sense, medically. I can only assume The First wanted you to be able to swim through that tunnel.
I swallowed. Then he will enable me to complete the rest of my tasks as well.
I kept my eyes closed, afraid Julien would see the truth in them.
Dyfnel, I spoke silently, but the tone of my thought left no room for argument, we will not tell the others. All they need to know is what just happened. A muscle spasm.
Dyfnel nodded, at least in his thoughts. I opened my eyes and he helped me sit up.
“The princess has suffered a muscle spasm,” he said. “She’ll be fine.”
There was a nearly collective sigh of relief from our friends, but Julien’s eyes narrowed on the physician and then me. He said nothing, but I had no doubt he suspected there was more to Dyfnel’s diagnosis than what we let on.
Everyone was quiet for a bit. Finally, Gerrias spoke, “So what do we do from here?”
“Follow the stream to its source, I guess.” Erielle shrugged. “And after Rynnaia . . .” she paused, “when she’s finished, I suppose we can only hope that one of these passageways can lead us to the three doors we saw earlier, because the scrolls tell us that’s our way out.”
“When the time comes,” Julien spoke up, “something will make it clear which is the way we should go. We can’t lose faith, especially now that we are so close to our goal.”
Edru’s eyes rested on me.
You will soon be alone.
No. I shook my head. Not truly alone. If The First had brought me this far, he would not abandon me now.
You are right, of course, he said, moving on. But his words lingered in my mind, adding a bit more trepidation to my already queasy stomach.
Dyfnel brought out his copy of the damp scrolls and Erielle read them again to us, but we all knew them so well that the echoed hisses of her whispers didn’t hinder our understanding.
A frown soon furrowed her brow as she continued her recitation and got to the part about me facing the foe alone.
Every eye in the room rested on me and I was forced to pull swirls of gray around my thoughts to protect me from their worry. I stared at my hands when she finished.
Julien squeezed my shoulder. “Remember, Rynnaia, the scrolls also have a role for you to play outside the mountain,” he said. The rest of our company nodded in a way that seemed like a benediction, a promise that I would return to them.
“When I get back,” I said the words slowly, careful to make them positive, as if victory was assured, “I’ll have the Remedy in hand. If someone went ahead and found the way out, maybe we could get on to the next part of the prophecy faster.”
Julien nodded. “Once the princess is . . . on her way,” he paused, “a pair of us should double back here and try to ascertain which of these passageways,” he gestured around the cavern, “is the best path by which to leave.”
“I’ll go,” Gerrias said.
Julien nodded. “Who else?”
“I will,” Dyfnel offered.
“No.” Julien shook his head. “I want you here.” He glanced at me. “In case the princess has need of a physician when she returns.”
Dyfnel and I avoided each other’s gaze, lest we give the truth of that need away.
“Send me,” Edru said. “That leaves two knights to protect the princess. Well, three,” he said, directing a smile toward Erielle.
I returned Erielle’s grin, hoping it didn’t look as forced as it felt. Suddenly, the keola was not sitting well in my stomach, but it was fear rather than infirmity that caused it to quiver so.
Swallowing hard, I tossed the remaining contents of my cup.
“If everyone’s ready,” I said, forcing a bit of bravado into my voice as I bent to pick up my pack, “I’m rather anxious to find the Remedy.”
We packed up, extinguished the fire, and waded into the stream. The water was warm and soothed my aching joints. Walking against its gentle flow did not cause further strain. The water never reached higher than our waists—well, a little higher on Erielle, of course—but, although the current grew stronger around every winding bend, it didn’t hinder our forward motion.
Our tirandite torches were unnecessary and stowed in our packs, which freed our hands to help us bala
nce against the current. The farther we followed the stream, the less marbled and brighter the tirandite walls were, but a growing noise reminded me of a waterfall. The direction of the current implied we were at the bottom of the waterfall, and while that was some comfort, it was limited. The memory of going over the huge waterfall was still fresh in my mind. And the battle to come, whatever form it might take, was an even more pressing concern.
We rounded a corner and quite suddenly entered a chamber that was so bright we had to shield our eyes until they adjusted to it. The whole chamber glowed as if we’d stepped out of a shaded glen and into the center of a meadow at midday that was graced by not one, but two suns.
However, it seemed we had reached a dead end. There was no way out except the way we came in.
At least no way we could yet see.
The glowing walls were even warmer here. At the far end of the room, water poured so smoothly from a slit in the rock that it was like a wide ribbon had stretched out from the wall and into the small pool below. The pool fed the stream up which we had traveled to find this chamber.
From where we stood, the ribbon of water looked to begin no higher than what Julien’s fingers would reach if he stood on his brother’s shoulders with his arms extended upward. A slight foam bubbled where it hit the surface of the pool, but the sound was more of a hum than a roar. This waterfall was drastically smaller than the immense, plummeting cliff we had crashed over earlier. But even so, I was relieved to already be on this side of it.
A spark caught my eye. And then another. The more my eyes adjusted to the room, the more I realized that it wasn’t just the walls that glowed, but the water itself.
The water . . . glowed?
I tilted my head. The falling water sparkled with a glittering luminescence that was so familiar and so . . . precious.
But we’re inside a mountain! I reminded myself. It can’t be . . .
My breath caught in wonder as I raced toward the waterfall, only stopping when I reached the edge of the pool at its base. I flattened my body to the ground. When I placed my hand in the water, a swarm of tiny illumined creatures rushed up to meet it.
“Careful!”
I gasped as Kinley’s hand reached in and snatched mine out.
“We don’t know what those things are, Rose! Er, Rynnaia,” he corrected. “They could be dangerous. Poisonous!”
I shook my head. “It’s all right, Kinley. They’re enikkas.” I smiled as a familiar awe filled my center and spilled out through my voice. “I know them. And they know me.”
“Enikkas?”
“Yes.” Julien’s voice sounded as full as mine.
I pried my hand from my brother’s and slid it back in the water. From the depths of the pool a vortex of tiny lights rose to brush against my skin. “Greetings, sweet enikkas,” I whispered. “You are lovely, as always.” The lights brightened and dimmed for a moment in response to my praise.
Erielle was soon by my side, her hand in the water. An uncharacteristically girlish giggle bubbled from her lips. “I’ve heard of them,” she said, her voice full of wonder, “but what are they, really?”
“They are a gift from The First,” I replied, my throat tightening. “A reminder that we are not alone.”
Tears pooled in my eyes and escaped down my cheeks when I blinked. I didn’t try to wipe them away. The utter beauty of the tiny creatures, and of their Giver, astounded me. As each tear fell into the pool, the enikkas swarmed it as if they drew sustenance from the gratitude captured in the substance of my tears.
The men joined us then, circling the pool, each with a hand in the water. For a time we just lay on our bellies, drawing strength from the comfort found therein.
I looked across the pool at Julien. His eyes were closed and his lips moved around the wonder of his smile, speaking silent words to his Creator.
A swarm of enikkas moved toward him. Like my tears, Julien’s silent exaltation to Rynloeft was simply a reaction to the overflow of his heart. The enikkas, being emissaries of The First, couldn’t help but respond to him.
As I watched the delight of their comfort play across his features, a tender emotion seized hold of me. I had known for weeks that I loved him, but never had I loved him more than I did in that moment. Julien had taught me so much about truth. About love beyond what a man feels for a woman or a woman for a man. While we were on Tirandov Isle he had expertly extracted truth from the folktales of my childhood and had shown me how to apply it to the historical fact recorded in The Story of The First. He’d spoken of time and tide, and of stars and stories that illustrated the greater love beyond us. The love that encompasses us. Bathes us.
An infinite consolation wrapped itself around my heart. I closed my eyes to savor it. Thank you. Thank you.
Finally, I whispered my affection to the enikkas and withdrew my hand.
I turned my gaze to the ribbon of water above. It poured from a narrow fissure in the rock wall and seemed to act as a transport of sorts for the enikkas. I guessed that somewhere beyond the source of its cascade was a hatching-ground for the sweet creatures of light.
Sparkling as they plunged downward, the enikkas were music in motion. Surely this was the living precipitate we sought.
“There are no shadows in this room,” Erielle stated, bringing all our minds back to the scrolls.
I looked around. She was right. Light poured from the walls and water. It came from every direction, even the floor. But . . .
I pointed to the waterfall. “It’s darker back there,” I said. “The waterfall must hide the door.”
Indeed, the fall of the water seemed to shadow the light of the stone. Not for lack of light, being as the water itself was illumined by enikkas, but the rock behind it was, upon closer examination, of a different, darker stone.
I stood and walked toward it, and then pressed myself against the wall and gazed behind the falling water.
“There’s a cave,” I said. “It’s small. Barely wide enough for one person to fit through at a time.”
But then again, only one had to fit through.
Me.
I retrieved my torch from my pack and pushed the illumined stick through the water to the dark rock behind it.
Erielle joined me. At her sharp intake of breath I knew there was no mistake. “I guess this is it,” she said and quoted the scrolls, “‘the Remedy rests through shadowed door.’”
“Yes.” I nodded. Taking a deep breath, I turned around and apprised the rest of the group of our discovery.
Of one accord, the knights strode forward to see for themselves and I silently watched as their shoulders drooped.
“Do you so soon discard your hope?” I asked when they stood before me. “The First will not abandon us now, not when we need him the most.”
I stepped forward and embraced each member of our party in turn. Then, taking a deep breath, I removed my dagger and handed it to Erielle. She took it with wide, blinking eyes. I removed my pack and set down my torch.
Julien stepped forward and put his hand on my shoulder. Everyone else followed suit, placing a hand on my back or shoulder, surrounding me with a silent show of loyalty and love. In their thoughts, each one petitioned The First on my behalf.
After several silent moments, Dyfnel spoke. “May it be so.” His words echoed throughout our group.
Julien squeezed my shoulder, and as soon as everyone else’s hands had been removed from my person, he pulled me fiercely to his chest. His breath tickled my ear. “I love you, Rynnaia E’veri.”
“I love you, too.”
“Come back to me.”
I closed my eyes and pressed my hand to his cheek. I wanted to promise him that I would return, or at least that I would try, but even though the scrolls might have a job for me outside the mountain, they didn’t promise I would survive long enough to complete it. My focus had to be on finding the Remedy. I had to survive just long enough to see it into my friends’ care. Beyond that, who could know?
Julien released me. I bent to retrieve my torch and fastened it at my waist. With one last look encompassing the faces of my faithful friends, I turned my back on them and walked toward the waterfall.
Settling my feet on a narrow, wet stone ledge, I inched my way behind the fall. Just over halfway across the back of the ribbon of water I was able, with only a slight reach, to stretch my arms and pull my body up into the small passage cave that would lead me to the Remedy that could save the lives of my people.
And to the unknown foe, who, if I failed, would consign my Kingdom to a slow but certain death.
CHAPTER FORTY
My first impression of the tunnel was . . . sharp. Formed of a rough, pumice-like stone, the entrance dug into my fingers as I pulled myself up and into it. Once inside, it caught on my clothes, my hair, and even my skin. With some effort, and more than a few unprincess-like grunts, I moved the torch to a rear belt loop so the light would not be blocked while I crawled through the narrow aperture. The cramped space necessitated that I drag my body forward with my arms, so I depended upon them to help me slither over the gravelly, pocked stones, while assuming that my clothes were being shredded beneath me. Abrasion upon abrasion scraped into my hands and arms. I cringed at the thought of immersing them in the return trip’s salty water.
I crawled thusly for what seemed like a very long time, and in truth, it must have been. I could no longer hear even the slightest hint of the waterfall or the muffled voices of my friends when I finally paused to rest my forehead on my hands. After a few minutes I resumed my forward trek.
It was a good thing I had been forced to overcome my fear of tight spaces in the underwater tunnel. Otherwise, panic would have surely paralyzed me here.
