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31
DILACS
We’re lost. There is no doubt about it. The tower was designed for this, to fool any attackers. To keep the lizards from being able to reach the important parts. We’ve twisted and turned over and over until I have no idea how to get back to where we entered.
“Gada, we need a torch,” Khiara says.
“Not much further,” Muda says.
“Further to what? How do you know where we’re going?” I ask, suspiciously.
Have we been set up? Are we walking into a trap?
Muda spins around with a deep frown on his face. He pokes me in the chest, having to reach up to do so.
“I do not,” he snaps, his voice cracking. “But look.” He points at the wall then the floor. “See the marks? That is what I’m following. They come this way often enough to leave a trail. Also, there is no dust. Did you not see the other hall had undisturbed dust?”
I don’t want to admit that I didn’t see that. I wasn’t even thinking of it. I don’t know what my plan was mostly because I didn’t have one. How do you make a plan when you know nothing about what you’re going to see?
“Hmm,” Khiara growls. He kneels and rubs his fingers across the floor. “He’s right. Someone came this way.”
“Well done, Muda,” I say.
I should apologize but I honestly cannot bring myself to admit how much of a fool I was. The young one is smart and clearly will be an excellent tracker.
“Thanks,” he says, nodding his head. He smiles and turns around then he curses.
“What is it?” I ask.
“That door,” he says, pointing ahead. “It’s got a lock.”
I walk over to the door. It’s a solid stone door at the end of the hall. There is a quality lock on it. I look at Khiara and then back at the door. We don’t have a key, or tools, but this door is in our way.
“Thoughts?” I ask.
“Only see one way,” Khiara answers and I nod agreement.
He and I stand shoulder to shoulder, take a step back, then moving almost in unison we step forward and kick the door. Our steel reinforced boots ring out loud as they crash to the stone. The stone vibrates but shows no other signs of distress.
“Huh,” I grunt.
Khiara agrees and we repeat the action. We kick the door over and over. With every kick my anger builds. I think of Gweneth. Of her needing me. Anger becomes rage and as it does, I feel it feeding into Khiara then coming back to me redoubled. As one we roar, letting the rage fill our veins, fuel our muscles and our feet strike the door again.
The stone door shatters. Dust and debris fill the air in a choking, cloying cloud. Muda emits an excited yelp, jumping up and throwing his fist into the air. Knowing that if there are any guards on the other side of that door there is no way they don’t know we’re here, I run through with Khiara right on my heels. I come to a stop in a pitch-black hall, even with my low-light vision unable to see a thing.
“Torch,” I bark.
Muda runs up to us with a lit torch. The dark is so thick and oppressive in this hall that it seems the torch barely does its job. Doors with grates and some kind of a miniature door in the middle of them line the hall.
“Hello?” a soft, female voice calls.
“Gwen!” I yell, though the moment I do I realize two things. That wasn’t Gwen’s voice and the voice spoke in Urr’ki, not Zmaj. “Speak again, I’m coming.”
“Here,” the voice says again.
It sounds familiar. A voice I know, but who do I know that would be trapped in the dungeons?
I follow the sound of the voice to a door. Even as I do, I’m thinking about how to get these doors open. We have no keys and I cannot spend the time it would take to bust each of them down. I cannot imagine it will be long before guards come for us.
