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The runestone pulsed to life.
And so did the Bifrost. This time, the spike of magic lashed out and hurled him backwards. He skidded across the uneven floor as the chamber began to shake around him. The deep places of Rhuin far beneath his feet seemed to roll over and convulse. Small bits of rock fell from the ceiling and pelted him. He wrapped an arm over his head to protect himself and waited for the quake to run its course.
Around him, stone crackled and screamed. Magic flared in fiery arcs, singeing his skin and hair as he curled into himself and braced against the onslaught. A heavy rock bounced off his thigh. He ground his teeth against the sharp stab of pain and the dull ache that followed.
As the stone and earth heaved around him, a new sound rose in the depths of Agmon. It took his rattled brain a few moments to identify it.
Somewhere close by, screams echoed through the tunnels.
Chapter 5
Anrid curled her body over Rig’s small one while the very stone around them rumbled as if it meant to shake itself loose and bury them. She didn’t know what to do, where to flee, when all that she saw was darkness and all she felt around them was bucking rock. Rig’s terrified screams echoed in her ears, mirroring the shrieks of her own heart. But no sound escaped her mouth as she buried her face in the child’s hair and clung to him. The instinct to protect his slight frame from the terror around them came naturally.
He was a child. And in that moment, he needed her. No matter what came next, in that moment, she had to protect him.
A rock slammed into her shoulder and drove her down to one knee, almost crushing Rig beneath her. He curled into a ball as she braced herself over him so she wouldn’t squash him with her collapsing body. Another blow like that and she would crumple to the ground. Pain screamed through her shoulder, but she ground her teeth against it.
Then, out of the roaring darkness, someone wrapped their arms around her. She screamed this time, clutching Rig tighter to her. Her captor, her savior, plucked her and Rig from the ground as if they weighed nothing and lifted them with brawny arms locked around the both of them at once. Her feet left the ground as he swung them in an arc and carried them through the growling darkness.
Then he forced them to the ground, pinning them against a cold stone wall, arms still braced around them. Together, a tangle of arms and legs and hair and screams, they huddled in the darkness.
Their rescuer pressed his head over the top of hers as Rig continued to wail. Anrid held him tighter, grateful for the pressure of arms around them both. She smelled musk and something spicy, like cloves, and felt warm breath blowing against her ear from their rescuer’s escalated breathing. His chest rose and fell with erratic breaths as it pressed against her back.
Danger. Safety. Despair. Hope. Frailty. Protection.
A tangle of conflicting emotions flooded her thoughts, and she could do nothing but wait while the world threatened to end around them. She rode the tumult and thanked the stars for the body shielding them from pelting rock.
The roaring in her ears dissipated the way a storm thunders in the distance. None of them moved, as if they had become a part of the rock they clung to. But then the stranger in the darkness shifted. His head lifted first with caution. Then the iron-hard grip relaxed, and he shifted away. His thigh pressed against her as he rose to his feet, and he left his fingers lightly touching the top of her head. Perhaps he didn’t want to lose track of them in the utter blackness.
Then light flickered in the inky abyss. It was a cool, bluish light that flared into blinding intensity. She blinked until her eyesight adjusted.
“Are you injured?” The voice was deep but mellow, punctuated with ragged breathing.
Anrid lifted her head, aware that tears streaked her cheeks. “I—I—” Her thoughts fled momentarily. The man who loomed over her was young and handsome, with a jagged scar across one high cheekbone. His eyes, a piercing unnatural blue, bored into her and held her pinned in place. Her gaze roamed against her will, trying to make sense of who their savior was. A tangle of long dark hair. Skin pale as if it rarely saw the rays of the sun. Broad shoulders, a thick chest and waist. He wore dark robes cinched at the waist with a wide belt.
She snapped her focus back to his face. She noticed his ears then, peeking out beneath his unruly hair dusted in pulverized stone. Ears tapered to long points.
He wasn’t human.
Her heart stuck in her throat. But he wasn’t a dark elf either, judging by his skin tone.
“Are you hurt?” His fingers shifted from her head to press against her shoulder.
She recoiled and winced at the sudden stab of pain. He yanked his hand away, a deep furrow between his bright eyes.
“You are. How bad?”
“I—I’m not sure. Rig? Are you all right?” She pressed a kiss against the top of his tangled white hair.
The strange child lifted his pale face to squint up at her. “I’m good. My knee hurts though. And you’re squishing me.”
“Oh my.” She released him and leaned away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
A firm hand gripped the elbow of her uninjured arm and guided her to her feet. She trembled, wobbling on weak legs, grateful the stranger did not release her.
She shot him a nervous look.
“How bad is your shoulder?” He released his grip on her elbow, his gaze shifting from hers to her potential injury.
