Dragonhold (Book 2) (3 page)

Within the stairwell, all had been silent save the wind and echoes of sounds the three men made. Wherever they were now had noises of its own. Durin assumed they were below the waterline--a thought that threatened to smother him. Briefly he imagined the ocean rushing in to drown them all. Driving the image from his mind, he stepped lively to keep up with Strom and Osbourne.

"How much water do we have left?" Durin asked in a whisper, unable to drive water, salt or fresh, from his mind. Too much or too little, and they would die.

"Enough for two days, tops," Strom said. Osbourne nodded his agreement. "Nothing to be done about it." He must have taken Durin's question as thirst since he lowered his pack to the cold stone floor. The narrow hall continued on a meandering course from what they could see. Unlike the stair, this place lacked deliberate symmetry and clean lines as if haphazardly dug by enormous creatures. It was not a comforting thought.

Osbourne commented, "The problem with salted fish as survival food is that it makes you so darned thirs—" Before his sentence was complete, a long, vibrating moan interrupted him. Growing increasingly louder, it ended with a boom that sent tremors through the entire structure. Unable to find words, the group just ate and drank. Silence crept back over them, as if the booming had never been. A place like this could drive a person mad. What had Catrin done here? How had she survived?

As Strom stood and offered Durin a hand, he was no closer to having answers.

"For all those we love," Osbourne said as they moved deeper into the unknown.

Seeing the faces of those he cared about most, Durin held his head high. If he could be brave, it would be for them. They deserved this from him, and he did his best to move with renewed commitment; still, his knees trembled.

Whether intentionally or subconsciously Durin didn't know, but the figurine in Strom's hand grew brighter whenever something new came into view. The light ahead, though, came from something else. The glow was a similar hue, and it illuminated a junction. Still looking like a tunnel dug buy some enormous creature, this intersection showed no signs of being man-made. There was, however, a clear message left by someone. In the left-hand tunnel rested an animal skull. It was perfectly centered in the hall and pointed directly at them. A second glowing figurine of similar design was the light's source. It rested in the right-hand hall--a very clear message.

Osbourne reached down to grab the figurine, but Strom stayed his hand. He looked to be committing every detail to memory. After a moment, he let Osbourne go. When the glass smith closed his hand around the figurine, Strom visibly tensed, but nothing happened. So far it seemed they had a benefactor guiding them. Durin just wished he knew who it was. Part of him wanted to know what was down the other hall. "Can you make it brighter for a moment?"

Strom frowned. "No one disturbs the skull or goes past it. Agreed?"

Durin nodded. Osbourne moved to Strom's side, and all three got as close to the skull as they dared. While not an expert on animal bones, Durin knew a number of things it was not. His gut and experience told him it was a dragon skull. That fact alone made him want to give it a wide berth. Farther down that hall, another light source was visible. Faint shadows danced like leaves on a gentle breeze, and the air whispered of moving water nearby.

Extending himself as far forward as he could without taking another step, Durin leaned on Strom. Shadows gathered into a diaphanous form. Strom pulled him back. He'd seen it as well.

"There's water in there," Durin whispered directly into Strom's ear. The shadow hadn't seemed threatening to Durin. For some reason, he sensed it was shy and afraid.

The smith nodded but pulled them back. "And something else. If we can find no other source, we'll return here."

"If we're able," Osbourne said in a soft voice. "This place has a nasty habit of sealing us in."

Chapter 3

Madness is but a matter of perspective.

--Ain Giest, sleepless one

* * *

Sevellon the thief was not as brave as he appeared. While everyone else had been preoccupied, he'd taken numerous opportunities to observe the barrier surrounding the keep. At a glance it could be perceived as penetrating deep into the land itself, but Sevellon had borrowed Kenward's looking glass. Few things had survived the
Serpent
's
destruction, but the leather-bound looking glass had been spared. Life as a thief had taught him to take advantage of opportunities when they presented themselves. It had also taught him a healthy amount of caution was required to stay alive. He prided himself on taking enough risk to gain the reward but not enough to end up dead. It was a fine line.

As he slipped the waxed leather pack's straps over his shoulders, he knew this might be his last risk. It was a familiar feeling. The faces around him wore equal concern, which was touching. So much of his life had been spent alone and afraid, it was difficult to understand why these people cared for him. The bond he'd shared with Kenward and crew was the closest thing to family he'd ever experienced, and those people he'd miss most.

"You have letters from Trinda, Catrin, and Chase," Kendra said again. "There's enough coin to buy a whole fleet of ships and sail them to the Greatland and back. And remember to take lots of deep breaths."

The woman's concern appeared genuine but made Sevellon uncomfortable. He was accustomed to blending in to the background; having anyone's undivided attention was disconcerting, and being fussed over gave him the shakes. After Kendra had straightened his collar and brushed his shoulders, he stepped into the water, as much to get away from her as anything else.

Now the terror was real. Deep breaths. Dark, frigid water tested Sevellon's confidence as it rushed inexorably into a narrow crevasse. Knowing the wisdom of the advice from his own training, he took more deep breaths. After one last look at those along the shore, the thief gulped air, held it, and disappeared.

Cold shock made him feel as if he already needed to take a breath, even though he'd only just passed into the darkness beneath the stone. The water twisted and turned him until direction became meaningless. Getting the breeches untied and to his lips was far more difficult than he would have imagined. After two desperate attempts, he discarded them and swam with all his strength. Darkness engulfed him, and he wasn't certain if it was because he was still beneath a mountain of rock or if he was about to pass out. His lungs burned and ached, and just before he drew in water, light filtered in from one side.

He would have screamed from the pain if he could, his body no longer obeying his will. Finally his lips parted. Water rushed in, choking him, but then he broke the surface, and air was mixed in as well. The coughing fit nearly cost Sevellon his consciousness, and he flailed in the rushing water, trying not to get pulled back under. Clothes, boots, and pack weighed him down, and he'd yet to gain control over his breathing.

Slowly and deliberately he calmed himself. Allowing his body to float with the current, he regained his composure and strength. Getting out of the water wouldn't be all that difficult once he got to land, but the river was swollen and turbulent. Though going with the current had allowed him to rest, it also sent him farther into deeper water, where the current was irresistible. Only a fallen tree obstructing the rushing flow gave Sevellon hope. Throwing his arms up, he latched on to the tree and was dragged underneath. Bark dug into his face and arms, but he was able to slow himself and lock his legs around a branch. Again, he took a moment to regain his strength. He lost no ground this time, but the cold water sapped the feeling from his limbs. There was no time to waste.

White-capped formations dragged at Sevellon as he clung to the tree, pulling himself closer to shore. Branches still bearing leaves made things more difficult, but Sevellon eventually reached dry land. Once there, he found a place to hide and watch, knowing there might still be demons and ferals about. While he was closer to his freedom, he was by no means safe.

Run. Hide. Become invisible
. A familiar voice in the back of his mind warned.
They aren't your friends. They don't care about you.

Pulling an apple from his pack, he ate with a sad smile. When he was done, he tossed the core into the raging waters, which carried it toward the ocean.

Go
.
Run
. The nudge was less subtle now.

With regret and relief, Sevellon headed south--away from Dragonhold. Though these people had befriended him, they would eventually see his true nature and cast him out--or worse. Certainly Trinda had a score to settle with him. Given the chance to walk away, instinct and training demanded he take it. To go north, as Kendra has asked, carried far greater risk and got him no closer to safety. The Amazing Kells had also taught him the most difficult lesson of all: a noble thief was a dead thief.

* * *

Though the river water was more turbulent than usual, the cavern through which it passed had changed little in thousands of years. Stunted trees bore small but delicious fruit, and miniature deer grazed among them. Birds were far from plentiful, but some managed to eke out a meager existence within the mountain. Sinjin and Kendra sat, watching the waters and knowing it was too soon to see any apples or other indicators that Sevellon lived. Still, they kept vigil. Kendra would not rest if there was even the slightest chance of missing the signal. Sinjin couldn't blame her, but he wasn't spending much of his time watching the water.

For just a brief while, Sinjin allowed himself to enjoy spending time with his wife. She was rigid beside him, twisted up from the stress and anxiety, which came as much from what they knew as from what they didn't yet know. Leaning closer, Sinjin touched her hand. She pulled away at first, but he was undeterred. Lightly he brushed up against her, and she came out of her trancelike state of worry.

"I'm afraid to ask what's going on in that head of yours," Sinjin said.

"You should be," Kendra responded with half a laugh.

"I'm sorry, you know."

"For what?" Kendra asked, turning her full attention on him.

"For not telling you about my mom." They had never talked it out, and somehow the words just fell from Sinjin's lips. He hadn't really meant to say it.

"I don't want to talk about that right now," Kendra said, but she snuggled closer.

"How far do you think Sevellon has gotten?" Sinjin asked before he could think better of it. One day he'd have to learn to think first.

"I don't want to talk about that either." Her tone was colder.

"What are you thinking about?" Sinjin asked.

"Took you long enough," Kendra said. "What do you want to do when all this is over?"

That question caught Sinjin by complete surprise. "I want to spend my life with you . . . in our home, with Valterius and Gerhonda and the Drakon and the Dragon Clan. We have a big family now."

"Maybe," Kendra said. "But maybe our family isn't quite complete yet."

Sinjin flushed. "Maybe."

"Let me guess, you don't want to talk about that."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to," Kendra said, putting a little distance between them.

Trying to figure out where he'd gone wrong, Sinjin sighed. That, of course, was a mistake. Kendra huffed at him and turned away. Silence hung between them for some time, and Sinjin tried to find the words that would make his wife less angry.

"Do you really think that awful blanket will help your mom?" she asked.

The question proved to Sinjin that no matter how hard he tried, he would never understand the inner workings of the female mind. "I think it might," he said. "When the Fifth Magic blocked out Istra's energy, I felt like I was suffocating, except I could still breathe. Do you know what I mean?"

"I know exactly what you mean," Kendra said. "Your mom described something similar, only more intense."

"It reminded me of the feeling I had under that blanket. I could even smell the stench when it happened. I don't know. I could be wrong."

"I remember it too," Kendra said. "It didn't strike me until you said it, but now I can't help but agree."

At least for a short time, they were of the same mind. Sinjin would take those moments when he could get them. 

"There's something else," Kendra said.

A cold feeling gripped Sinjin.

"Did you see the way Kenward looked at Allette?"

The question made Sinjin stop and shake his head. He hadn't actually noticed, but the way Kendra said it told him all he needed to know. Kenward had never been known to resist going after something he wanted. How Kendra could twist Sinjin's guts into pretzels with a single question was beyond him, but he found himself unable to respond. Instead, he just shook his head.

"She and your mom are going to try to kill each other."

"I know."

"Sorry," Kendra said. "Sometimes the things I think just come out of my mouth."

"I know."

"And?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.

"It's one of the things I love about you."

"Thank you," she said.

No more words were spoken as dusk settled in, the amber crystals above growing dimmer yet still shedding faint, residual light. Sinjin wondered how his mother and the others fared. If Trinda had already found and hidden the answers, there was little hope they would find it on their own. The child queen would also be doomed unless she knew something they didn't. Sinjin's thoughts ran in circles. In the end, he baited a line and dropped it into the river. Maybe he could catch dinner.

No apples appeared in the water.

* * *

When days passed with no apples in the river waters and no signal fires reported, Sinjin despaired. Kendra was taking it far worse since she was responsible for the idea in the first place. It would appear Sevellon the thief had gone to his death on her suggestion. Sinjin wanted more than anything to fix this for his wife, but he could do little beyond being there for her. "My mother, grandfather and Uncle Chase are leaving in the morning to explore the rest of Dragonhold," he said, hoping she would show some interest.

"I'll stay here."

"We can post a rotating watch," Sinjin said not for the first time.

"I'd never be able to trust someone else to remain vigilant. I know Sevellon is probably dead. One sign of respect I will show him is that I'll not give up on him so easily. Just a couple more days, and I'll give up hope."

This wasn't something Sinjin wished for his wife, but in this case, it might be for the best.

"You can go, though," Kendra said. "Go. Be with your family. I'm sure they'll be better company than me."

"I always enjoy your company."

Kendra snorted. But then she leaned against him and held his hand. Chase approached with Bradley. They had a whispered conversation out of earshot, and Bradley stood off to the side while Chase continued toward where Kendra and Sinjin kept watch. He sat next to them but didn't say anything for a long while. Eventually he broke the silence. "I want you both to come with us tomorrow."

"No," Kendra said, her jaw set. It was a familiar warning sign.

"Every decision we make has consequences," Chase continued. Sinjin tried to gesture to his uncle to take another approach, but the older man ignored him. "Some are harsher than others, but we cannot let that paralyze us. I know how badly it must hurt."

"What do you know about how I feel?" Kendra shouted accusingly.

Every bird in the cavern took flight, fluffy white tails retreating into distant shadows to escape Kendra's wrath. Wise move, Sinjin thought.

"I've given orders that cost people their lives," Chase said. "You made a suggestion, and Sevellon volunteered to go."

"How dare you downplay what I'm feeling?" Kendra said, and she stood, hands clenched into fists. When his uncle stood, Sinjin wondered if he had any idea how close he was to getting punched in the nose. Sinjin's wife knew how to put her weight behind it as well. His jaw hurt just thinking about it.

"You may be angry at me," Chase said.

Kendra punched him in the chest. It was kinder than hitting him in the face, which showed a measure of restraint. Still, Chase took a step back and winced. Kendra struck him again and again, shifting from punches to pounding on his chest. Words poured from her, most incomprehensible, which was probably a blessing. Her words dissolved into a mourning wail, and her blows lost their force. Slowly she melted against the older man, who had withstood the assault as if made of stone. Sinjin flushed, knowing he never could have done the same.

His uncle must have known what he was thinking. "You're both still young, and like my cousin, fate has been particularly unkind to you. Do not blame yourselves for things beyond your control. You've acted admirably and should be proud of yourselves, though I know that may seem impossible while you are mourning. But understand what it is you're experiencing. Feel the pain. Allow yourself to let go of Sevellon and those you've lost, and someday the sun may shine on you again."