Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 134898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
We finish clearing. Osprey shuts down the portal and thanks the repeater on the other side, and the last of the water is drunk, the empty canteens handed back to Gwenna. My stomach rumbles and I stretch, trying not to seem too obvious as I check on my human companion. Is that sweat on her brow? “Can we take off?” I ask Hawk. “We need to check in with the rest of our Five.”
It’s a lie—I couldn’t care less if Arrod and Hemmen fall off a cliff, and Kipp won’t worry about us. But I can’t shake the feeling that I need to get Gwenna out of here.
Hawk nods, studying the walls of the cleared tunnel ahead of us. “I’m going to stay behind and make sure things are stable before heading up.”
“I’ll join you,” Osprey tells him, and the others don’t look as if they’re ready to go just yet. Likely they’re going to pressure Hawk to explore that new cavern the moment we leave, but I don’t care. I can’t get paid for a discovery like that anyhow.
I take the oil lamp from Gwenna and hand it to Osprey. She’s got the empty canteens around her neck again, her hand pressed to one of them as if to hold it in place.
“Do we need to see our way out?” she asks, voice shaky.
“I can guide us back to the drop point,” I tell her. “Do you need the light? Are you frightened?”
“I’m all right. I just don’t want to get lost.”
“I can hold your hand,” I offer. “Or you can hold on to my belt. Just not the tail. Wouldn’t want you getting the wrong idea.”
My joke doesn’t land. She reaches forward, feeling for my arm in the low light, and then clasps my hand tightly in her sweaty one.
“Come on,” I tell her, keeping my voice soothing with encouragement. “It’s been years since I’ve been lost, and this tunnel’s so basic even Hemmen could navigate it.”
That earns a small, trembling laugh from her.
We head for the drop, the long, wide tunnel echoing with the clop of my hooves on stone. Gwenna is silent, her hand tightly clutching mine, and I wonder at what’s bothering her. The dark? The tunnels? Some students can’t hack being underground. Given that she’s been in the tunnels in the past and never voiced complaint, I didn’t think it would bother her. Spiders?
Or is she still rattled from yesterday’s search?
“You want to talk about it?” I ask her in the darkness.
“No.”
“I can tell something’s bothering you.”
“I also just said I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fair enough.” There’s a faint wink of light up ahead from the tunnel shaft, and I gesture to it despite the darkness. “We’re almost there.”
She doesn’t respond, but her hand clenches tighter around mine. She continues to hold on to me as I jerk the bell chain to let the person above know that we need a ride. When the basket drops to our level, we get into the lift. I let go of her hand to ring the bell to let him know we need to go up, and the entire thing sways wildly due to the imbalance in our weights. She clutches at the side of the basket with both hands, and I can smell her fear-sweat.
“It’s fine,” I tell her, bracing my hooves. “I just need to move toward the center. Happens all the time with a Taurian in a lift….”
It’s then that I notice her hands. Both are rigidly clutching the side of the basket lift, and one is covered in blood that she’s smearing all over the side of the basket.
Twenty-Three
Gwenna
The basket sways, and even though I know it’s not going to tip over and dump me into the depths of Vastwarren, I can’t help but reflexively reach for it. My hands grip the side, and the cut one sends a searing bolt of pain up my arm.
It’s more than welcome, because ever since they opened that tunnel, my skin’s been crawling like mad. Whatever’s up there is long dead and won’t stay quiet in my head. I hear disembodied whispers floating through my mind, speaking in languages I don’t understand. I can feel the presence of their bodies, just like I can feel the oppressive fog of the many dead still lost in the tunnels.
“Gwenna,” Raptor says, his voice dimly breaking through the cacophony in my head. “What happened to your hand?”
Right. My hand. I squeeze the injured one tightly, making it hurt, and some of the fog clears away again. “It’s nothing.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“I was just trying to focus.” I squeeze it tight again and again, trying to chase the fog away entirely so I can focus long enough to get out of the drop without having a nervous breakdown.
He grabs my wrist, forcing me to stop, and immediately the voices whisper in my head again. I whimper, even as he looms over me. “Why are you doing this?”