The question was how could Syla get away from someone like that? Could she sneak off while Lesva slept? Did the rider evenneedsleep?
Syla surely did. Her feet were numb from the miles they’d walked, first on the road and then onto a path snaking toward the back side of the volcano where a black field of hardened lava overlooked the sea. Other than a few goats browsing on clumps of vegetation that grew out of crevices, this corner of the island saw little life. There were no witnesses to this trek, to Syla’s peril.
For now, she meandered along, avoiding the route she remembered that led to the tunnels—ancient tubes hollowed out by lavaflows—and the shielder chamber. She didn’t want to lead Lesva to it or risk running across Fel and Tibby. Unless she found a miraculous opportunity to escape, she could only hope to buy time. Time for Fel and Tibby to find and extract the shielder, getting it away before Lesva spotted them, or time for Vorik to find Syla.
Even if Vorik had nothing to do with the Freeborn Faction and he truly was that general’s loyal, right-hand man, Syla believed he would save her from Lesva. He had before, after all. Whatever his orders were, they differed from this woman’s schemes.
“May we stop to rest?” Syla asked.
It wasn’t raining, but the darkening sky promised that night would bring more precipitation. If Syla could find a cave and convince Lesva that they should shelter there for a few hours, maybe she could light one of the candles, and it would knock out her captor.
Lesva answered with a prompt, “No,” and poked the sword tip into the back of Syla’s neck.
Worse, she stepped forward and grabbed Syla’s shoulder painfully.
“Youareleading me to the shielder, right?” Lesva asked, her lips near Syla’s ear. The words were spoken softly—dangerously—and were barely audible above the roar of the sea and the wind whistling across the black lava fields.
“You’ve given me little choice.”
Lesva’s grip tightened, nails digging in like a dragon’s talons. “You will take me there, or I will kill you, cut off your hand to use the mark, and find it myself.”
Syla licked her dry lips and looked toward the sky, willing Vorik to find them. One more time, she needed his help.
“The magic doesn’t work that way. As a student of history, I can point out times when it’s been tried by enemies of the kingdom, enemies who failed. I have to be alive for the power to live.” Syla waved her moon-mark, a little tempted to grip Lesva’s hand andattempt to use her magic as she had with the sergeant, as a weapon instead of to heal.
But that sword prodded painfully into the back of her neck, and it had drawn blood more than once, whenever Syla’s pace had grown too slow. Syla feared Lesva would drive it into her at the least sign of resistance.
She glanced around, again hoping to spot Vorik. And that he would spring onto Lesva and kill her.
As if her captor could read her rebellious thoughts, Lesva drove a boot into the back of Syla’s knee.
Startled, Syla couldn’t keep from losing her balance. Her legs crumpled, and her spectacles almost flew off. She clasped a hand to her face but dared not do more, not with the blade against her neck.
“Who do you keep looking for?” Lesva demanded, the wind kicking up and whipping her braid about. “The bodyguard and librarian that you were flying with? Did they survive?”
Librarian? Is that what she’d assumed Aunt Tibby was?
Syla licked her lips again. She didn’t want to answer any of her captor’s questions, but if her goal was to buy time, a conversation would do it.
“They didn’t survive, no,” Syla said. “I’m lucky that I did. Falling into the sea way out there was treacherous.”
“Tell me about it. Especially when you’re injured.”
If Lesva had been seriously injured, it didn’t show. She’d had no trouble dispatching all those trained enforcers. Maybe some of those dragon powers allowed faster than usual healing. Vorik, after all, had leaped out a window, onto a roof, and climbed down a cliff, despite his grievous wounds. And his wounds hadn’t distracted him in the least when he’d been… thanking her.
Despite her precarious position, Syla’s cheeks flushed at the memory. She couldn’t keep from glancing around the black fields again.
“Is it Vorik you’re looking for?” For the first time, Lesva sounded more amused than angry. “I’mpositivehe survived that fall and swim.”
Syla didn’t look back at her, instead scouring the landscape in the deepening gloom for a cave. They’d been walking around the base of the volcano, but they might be more likely to find one on higher ground. The entrance to the shielder chamber was up there, though, so Syla hesitated to search in that direction. Ahead, in an area reminiscent of that on which the temple perched, a cliff dropped away a hundred feet into the sea. Syla hadn’t walked close to the edge, not wanting Lesva to be tempted to shove her over, but such an area might hold caves. Lovely caves for resting by candlelight.
“Do you think he’ll leap to your defense again?” Lesva’s tone shifted from amused to mocking. “He fought me once, after all. He must be willing to do so again, no? Has he won your trust with his actions yet?”
“I think that’s the way.” Syla pointed, not wanting to speak about Vorik with this woman. “There’s a cave that leads into an ancient lava tube. That’s what I’ve been looking for.”
Lesva eyed her. The captain’s face was a blur in Syla’s uncorrected peripheral vision. As Vorik had observed, her spectacles couldn’t help with that. The world was simply an indistinct blur when Syla couldn’t look straight at it. And with Lesva’s taloned fingers still digging into her shoulder, she wasn’t inclined to meet the woman’s mocking gaze.
“Show me.” Lesva sounded suspicious.
