eaten. He had scratched a map on the floor for her with his dagger point and told her about the the trials that would pit one warrior against another for the right to win the queen’s hand. And then he had kissed her senseless. Finally, he had left.
She was to wait an hour and then try to leave. That much of their plan was easy to remember, which was a relief. She might have been a scholar, but Keltie was finding it hard to hold everything in her mind. Where Larkan was concerned, the smallest things overwhelmed her emotions—a gesture, a word, the way he looked at her when she spoke. And right now, if she was going to escape the mountain, she couldn’t afford distraction. It was one foot in front of the other, one step at a time.
Keltie crept out of the room, instinctively looking toward the place where Larkan had warned her there might be patrols. The wavering shadows mocked her, making figures where there were none. She let out a sigh of relief. The corridor, with its rough-hewn walls, was empty. Step one was a success.
She crept forward as silently as she knew how, her hand gripped around the haft of Larkan’s smallest ax. After years of chopping wood for campfires, it was the one weapon she felt comfortable with—and about the only one of Larkan’s toys that she could lift. Next came a right turn, and she was on her way to freedom.
The corridors were all but deserted, making progress easy. Keeping Larkan’s map in mind, she followed the twists and turns toward an unguarded exit. Apparently, it would lead her down a stairway to a hidden door in the caves. From there, she knew her way to the road. As escape plans went, it seemed straightforward.
A light sweat made her T-shirt cling, though the still, warm air of the underground was freshened by cool breezes flowing down narrow airshafts. She took another turn, this time to the right. Her breath came fast and shallow, her lungs squeezed by nerves. The paranoid part of her brain screamed that this was going too well. Larkan had said the dragons would all be preoccupied, but where had they all gone?
And then she heard a rumble. Earthquake! Terror speared through her and she flung herself against the uneven wall, panic climbing up her throat. She waited, clinging to the ax, as her pulse pounded in her head. Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen. She really didn’t want to be buried alive.
Slowly she realized that the rumble was sound, not motion. It was the roar of a thousand voices. She’d found her missing dragons. Keltie took half a dozen steps, ignoring the ache of tension in her muscles. The roar was coming from her left, down a grand-looking tunnel lined with torches. Fortunately Larkan’s map didn’t indicate that she had to move toward that fearsome sound. Instead, this was the point where Larkan had said to climb up to a gallery that would take her the rest of the way to freedom. Behind a jutting lip of rock was a narrow stairway. She hurried up the steps, wondering how much time she had. Larkan hadn’t mentioned how long this festival thing was supposed to take.
The sound was blocked in the stairway, so Keltie half forgot the rumbling roar as she climbed. She lost count around 160 steps, and there were a lot more after that. Her thigh muscles burned, but she forced herself to move on. When she reached the top, the roar returned in a wave, louder than before. She fell against the wall, gasping for breath.
Up here the voices were more distinct. Individual cries were audible through the din. Larkan had said the gallery ran beside a central amphitheater, but he hadn’t mentioned that the festival was going to be held right there. Keltie froze in abject horror, her stomach in a cold, painful knot. The dragons were about two stories below the narrow gallery. Rock jutted up, separating her path from the open air. The rocky barrier was high enough to hide behind at either end, but no more than a foot tall in the middle. If she slipped, she’d fall to her
She was to wait an hour and then try to leave. That much of their plan was easy to remember, which was a relief. She might have been a scholar, but Keltie was finding it hard to hold everything in her mind. Where Larkan was concerned, the smallest things overwhelmed her emotions—a gesture, a word, the way he looked at her when she spoke. And right now, if she was going to escape the mountain, she couldn’t afford distraction. It was one foot in front of the other, one step at a time.
Keltie crept out of the room, instinctively looking toward the place where Larkan had warned her there might be patrols. The wavering shadows mocked her, making figures where there were none. She let out a sigh of relief. The corridor, with its rough-hewn walls, was empty. Step one was a success.
She crept forward as silently as she knew how, her hand gripped around the haft of Larkan’s smallest ax. After years of chopping wood for campfires, it was the one weapon she felt comfortable with—and about the only one of Larkan’s toys that she could lift. Next came a right turn, and she was on her way to freedom.
The corridors were all but deserted, making progress easy. Keeping Larkan’s map in mind, she followed the twists and turns toward an unguarded exit. Apparently, it would lead her down a stairway to a hidden door in the caves. From there, she knew her way to the road. As escape plans went, it seemed straightforward.
A light sweat made her T-shirt cling, though the still, warm air of the underground was freshened by cool breezes flowing down narrow airshafts. She took another turn, this time to the right. Her breath came fast and shallow, her lungs squeezed by nerves. The paranoid part of her brain screamed that this was going too well. Larkan had said the dragons would all be preoccupied, but where had they all gone?
And then she heard a rumble. Earthquake! Terror speared through her and she flung herself against the uneven wall, panic climbing up her throat. She waited, clinging to the ax, as her pulse pounded in her head. Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen. She really didn’t want to be buried alive.
Slowly she realized that the rumble was sound, not motion. It was the roar of a thousand voices. She’d found her missing dragons. Keltie took half a dozen steps, ignoring the ache of tension in her muscles. The roar was coming from her left, down a grand-looking tunnel lined with torches. Fortunately Larkan’s map didn’t indicate that she had to move toward that fearsome sound. Instead, this was the point where Larkan had said to climb up to a gallery that would take her the rest of the way to freedom. Behind a jutting lip of rock was a narrow stairway. She hurried up the steps, wondering how much time she had. Larkan hadn’t mentioned how long this festival thing was supposed to take.
The sound was blocked in the stairway, so Keltie half forgot the rumbling roar as she climbed. She lost count around 160 steps, and there were a lot more after that. Her thigh muscles burned, but she forced herself to move on. When she reached the top, the roar returned in a wave, louder than before. She fell against the wall, gasping for breath.
Up here the voices were more distinct. Individual cries were audible through the din. Larkan had said the gallery ran beside a central amphitheater, but he hadn’t mentioned that the festival was going to be held right there. Keltie froze in abject horror, her stomach in a cold, painful knot. The dragons were about two stories below the narrow gallery. Rock jutted up, separating her path from the open air. The rocky barrier was high enough to hide behind at either end, but no more than a foot tall in the middle. If she slipped, she’d fall to her
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