slide from the inside. Stupid bastard demons didn’t know Arik had learned their languages and listened in on their conversations to figure out that only bone would open the lock.
Score one for the human, assholes.
Tav offered a respectful wave, and once he and the guards disappeared, Arik went to work. Limping, because his ankles and right knee ached from the recent torture, he scrounged up the needlelike bone and moved to the door. Squeezing his hand between the bars, he inserted the bone shard into the lock and prayed this would work.
Carefully, he tugged on the rope, felt the give in the lock, and his heart leaped. As he dug around with the bone, he listened for clicks and felt for patterns in the mechanism. He increased the pressure on the rope, and gradually, the metal began to give, until the mechanism had retreated. He gently shouldered the door, and it creaked open, the ear-splitting—to Arik, anyway—noise putting his pulse into overdrive. If one of the demon bastards heard…
He stepped out of the cell. A sense of freedom lifted his heart, but at the same time, he had to fight a disturbing urge to return to the chamber. Adrenaline winged through him, making him sweat, making his skin tighten, and he actually eyed the inside of the cell with uncertainty.
Yeah, his hesitation was fucked up, and the logical side of his brain that remembered his military training reminded him that his reaction was common in people and animals that had been held captive. The horror of theprison could be far less scary than the horror on the outside. The horror of the unknown.
But Arik had thought he was stronger than that.
Fuck it, he was stronger than that, and he took his first step down the dark passageway. Around him, he heard the incessant drip that had driven him crazy for weeks, but so far, no footsteps or voices. Silently, he padded on bare feet through the winding cavern, but when he came to a fork in the path, he paused. One way continued off into the darkness, becoming hazy the farther it went, and while the other path was just as inky, it seemed to have a slight incline. Since Arik needed to go up to get to the human realm, the choice was a no-brainer.
He started on the path, stopping now and then to listen for demons. There was the distinct scuffing noise of spiny hellrats as they scurried along the tunnels, but no other demon sounds. So far, so good.
Until the next fork.
Both tunnels were dark, shot through with stalactites and stalagmites, and seriously, what the fuck? How could the path go from being relatively smooth to a damned obstacle course?
He pondered the fork, played three rounds of eenie-meenie-miney-moe, and blew out a frustrated breath. Which way…
Remember that if you always go the right way, you never have to make a left-hand turn .
He blinked. Had Tavin given him a clue? That sneaky little Sem. Having no better option, Arik took the right path, carefully weaving his way around the stony projections. When he came to the next set of tunnels—three of them, this time—he stayed right. The general curvatureof the tunnel veered to the left, but again and again, when he came to choices, he hung rights. And oddly, he didn’t encounter any demons.
He walked for what seemed like hours, until his feet bled and his gut cramped from thirst. The tunnels grew hotter and hotter, some thick with steam and smoke, and others so empty of oxygen that more than once he nearly passed out.
He left a trail of blood behind him as he walked, and shit, this sucked. Bad. He stumbled a few times, cut his hands, his knees, and his scrub pants were now little more than shredded rags. He fantasized about food and cold beer—and, to his annoyance, Limos—as he forged ahead, his eyes peeled, his senses, which had felt dulled for so long, now on high alert.
Then, from out of nowhere, his hopes and fantasies crashed in on him like he’d taken a hit from a Tomahawk missile.
“Hello, Arik.”
The deep, ominous voice
Score one for the human, assholes.
Tav offered a respectful wave, and once he and the guards disappeared, Arik went to work. Limping, because his ankles and right knee ached from the recent torture, he scrounged up the needlelike bone and moved to the door. Squeezing his hand between the bars, he inserted the bone shard into the lock and prayed this would work.
Carefully, he tugged on the rope, felt the give in the lock, and his heart leaped. As he dug around with the bone, he listened for clicks and felt for patterns in the mechanism. He increased the pressure on the rope, and gradually, the metal began to give, until the mechanism had retreated. He gently shouldered the door, and it creaked open, the ear-splitting—to Arik, anyway—noise putting his pulse into overdrive. If one of the demon bastards heard…
He stepped out of the cell. A sense of freedom lifted his heart, but at the same time, he had to fight a disturbing urge to return to the chamber. Adrenaline winged through him, making him sweat, making his skin tighten, and he actually eyed the inside of the cell with uncertainty.
Yeah, his hesitation was fucked up, and the logical side of his brain that remembered his military training reminded him that his reaction was common in people and animals that had been held captive. The horror of theprison could be far less scary than the horror on the outside. The horror of the unknown.
But Arik had thought he was stronger than that.
Fuck it, he was stronger than that, and he took his first step down the dark passageway. Around him, he heard the incessant drip that had driven him crazy for weeks, but so far, no footsteps or voices. Silently, he padded on bare feet through the winding cavern, but when he came to a fork in the path, he paused. One way continued off into the darkness, becoming hazy the farther it went, and while the other path was just as inky, it seemed to have a slight incline. Since Arik needed to go up to get to the human realm, the choice was a no-brainer.
He started on the path, stopping now and then to listen for demons. There was the distinct scuffing noise of spiny hellrats as they scurried along the tunnels, but no other demon sounds. So far, so good.
Until the next fork.
Both tunnels were dark, shot through with stalactites and stalagmites, and seriously, what the fuck? How could the path go from being relatively smooth to a damned obstacle course?
He pondered the fork, played three rounds of eenie-meenie-miney-moe, and blew out a frustrated breath. Which way…
Remember that if you always go the right way, you never have to make a left-hand turn .
He blinked. Had Tavin given him a clue? That sneaky little Sem. Having no better option, Arik took the right path, carefully weaving his way around the stony projections. When he came to the next set of tunnels—three of them, this time—he stayed right. The general curvatureof the tunnel veered to the left, but again and again, when he came to choices, he hung rights. And oddly, he didn’t encounter any demons.
He walked for what seemed like hours, until his feet bled and his gut cramped from thirst. The tunnels grew hotter and hotter, some thick with steam and smoke, and others so empty of oxygen that more than once he nearly passed out.
He left a trail of blood behind him as he walked, and shit, this sucked. Bad. He stumbled a few times, cut his hands, his knees, and his scrub pants were now little more than shredded rags. He fantasized about food and cold beer—and, to his annoyance, Limos—as he forged ahead, his eyes peeled, his senses, which had felt dulled for so long, now on high alert.
Then, from out of nowhere, his hopes and fantasies crashed in on him like he’d taken a hit from a Tomahawk missile.
“Hello, Arik.”
The deep, ominous voice
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