Then she remembered.
Then she cursed her good memory as pain stabbed into every part of her body.
She groaned. The noise bounced off hard surfaces, which seemed to surround her. Grit and the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. After a moment to gather her energy, she assessed the damage to her body.
Shyla was lying on her side. Rolling over to her back with another groan, she moved each body part from her toes up to her head. None of her bones were broken. A miracle. She explored with her fingers and found bleeding cuts, including a gash on the side of her head. Each discovery caused more pain.
There was a ribbon of dim light shining through a crack above her on the left. As her vision adjusted to the semi-darkness, Shyla realized she was surrounded by large chunks of debris. Another miracle that she hadn’t been crushed. Although, if she was trapped, she would have exchanged a quick death for a slower one. Could she hope for a third miracle?
She focused on the crack. That was probably the best direction for freedom. But what if she pushed on that hunk of rock and it caused the rest to collapse on her? Another unwelcome thought—that the entire area around her could settle further at any time—occurred to her. The mound of debris creaked and groaned as if in warning. She needed to move. Now.
Shyla reached and grabbed the edge of the triangle-shaped piece of sandstone. Pushing it slowly, she slid it to the side, but was ready to stop if anything started to avalanche. The muscles in her arms ached as she increased the pressure. The crack widened bit by bit. She halted when the sound of tumbling rocks reached her.
When nothing else happened, she continued. Eventually, she supported the stone’s weight as it cleared the surrounding debris. Nothing else fell to cover that space. Not yet. By the time she pushed it all the way to the side, her tunic was soaked with sweat and a horrible headache throbbed.
Carefully, she sat up and peeked out. She was at the top of a large pile of rubble. Thank the Sun Goddess. It appeared as if parts of level ninety-seven had collapsed down into level ninety-eight where the black cells and special rooms were located.
Scanning the destruction, she spotted a number of trol lanterns that had survived, bits of broken furniture, shattered pieces of colorful tiles, twisted and mangled pipes spraying water, and—
A body.
It felt as if the entire city of Zirdai had just collapsed on top of her. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think as she stared at the unmoving and broken form. And from her jumbled thoughts, Gurice’s words sounded crystal clear:Everyone’s here…we have recovering prisoners, Invisible Swords, and all the guards.And Rendor, Hanif, Kaveri, Gurice, Mojag, and Ximen. They were all dead!
A harsh cry escaped her lips and she dropped back into her hole. Curling into a tight ball of misery, she shook as the enormity of what had happened rolled through her. Shyla’s thoughts stuck onhow could she? how could she? how could she? how could she?
How could the priestess kill so many? How could she destroy an entire level? That thought stopped Shyla. A memory crept up from the turmoil—Rendor claiming the priestess would preserve certain areas. Then others sprang to life: Hanif and Kaveri had been in those areas, not all the guards were down here, and Invisible Swords had been sent into the city to provide backup.
Shyla pulled in a deep breath. Not all was lost. There had to be survivors. And she was wasting time. Straightening, she carefully climbed from the space, keeping her weight as spread out as possible. Once she reached the top, she searched for a safe path through the rubble. Perhaps there was a way to get to a higher level.
Her progress was slow and painful, but it was progress until the Heliacal Priestess’s voice sounded behind her. She froze.
“Find her body,” the priestess ordered. “I want The Eyes.”
Shyla glanced over her shoulder. Green-clad figures moved over the debris. They poked long poles in between the gaps. She ducked out of sight. It appeared they were close to where she had landed. Did that mean Rendor survived? Had he told the priestess where to find her? Did she dare hope?
Pushing those thoughts aside, she focused on her immediate predicament. She needed to stay hidden, but she had to keep moving. At least the deacons searching for her made enough noise to cover her own. She altered her route to keep the piles between her and the deacons, then picked up the pace.
She skirted holes that exposed the level below. Zirdai had ninety-seven residential levels, but the black cells and the prince’s special rooms were located on level ninety-eight, and a forgotten drainage tunnel was underneath. Not completely forgotten as the vagrants knew about it. She paused. The priestess had to know about it as well. Had Jayden told her? And was there another way down there than that abandoned stairway?
The metal grates in the floors of the special rooms would provide access to level ninety-eight from the tunnel, which connected to the prince’s level. In fact, Shyla had considered using them to sneak into the Water Prince’s complex. The priestess must have utilized them for her explosions. If that had been the case, then the black cells might be intact, which would be good news. That meant half the level was undamaged. Except, the guards’ quarters were located above the special rooms. Nausea churned as she realized the priestess must have targeted them.
Up ahead, Shyla noticed an intact wall—a good sign for more survivors, but bad for her as it blocked her escape. She considered her options, then backtracked to the last hole. Peering into the darkness, she couldn’t judge the distance to the ground. She scanned the debris. A weak violet-hued light shone through a gap. It was a buried druk.
Moving pieces of rock, tiles, and a shattered table, Shyla quietly uncovered the druk without alerting the deacons, who still worked diligently.
She crept back to the hole and shone the light down. It was too far to jump. She’d need to climb down. She tied the druk to her tunic and opened it wider. The light illuminated plenty of footholds. However, the entire column could collapse when she added her weight onto it.
No choice. She wasn’t going to stay here and be caught. At least if she was crushed by the pile, the priestess would never find her body. Somehow that wasn’t a comforting thought.
It wasn’t a long climb, but it was harrowing. Each creak of stone, puff of dust, and rumble caused her heart to race. When she reached the bottom, her shaky legs just about gave out as she stepped onto firm ground on the bottom level of Zirdai. She shone the druk around and blew out a breath in relief. She knew where she was.
Shyla hurried through the tunnel. Dirty water leaked from cracks in the ceiling, creating puddles in the middle. The sound of her boots on the floor echoed overly loud. She soon found the entrance to the corkscrew stairwell that went up to level seventy-eight. Not stopping to rest, she ascended.
As she looped around the main support shaft, Shyla puffed with the effort. At least the thin wedges of steps wouldn’t collapse under her weight. When she reached the gap where an entire level of stairs was missing, she paused to catch her breath. She longed for her pack. It contained a full water skin and a few rolls of jerky, but she left it in Rendor’s office in her haste to escape. And while she was wishing for unattainable things, she included a spider kit. It would make climbing the round shaft in her current physical condition easier.
Ignoring the multitude of aches and pains coursing through her body, she found a few toeholds and fingerholds and started up. Her arms and legs soon shook with fatigue and, when she was about halfway, her grip slipped and she slid back to the bottom. She rested her sweaty forehead on the cool column. It was a minor setback. The second time it happened, she cursed. After a moment, she tried again. This time she imagined what the Heliacal Priestess might be doing to her prisoners. It gave her the energy to reach the stairs.
She sat on the steps, gasping and shaking with fatigue. Her fingertips were bleeding and she’d broken all her fingernails. However, that pain just blended in with all the other hurts clamoring for her attention.
