We move as quietly as possible, though the naga have a distinct advantage over me in this regard. Their scales make only the faintest whisper against stone, while my shoes, however soft-soled, seem to scuff and echo with each step. I wince at every sound, expecting armed guards to appear at any moment.
The tunnel narrows as we progress, the ceiling dropping lower until Lurok must hunch his powerful torso to avoid scraping his head. Zara carries the heartstone torch we took from the prison chamber. It casts our shadows in distorted, monstrous shapes against the rough walls. I keep Zara tucked close to my side, acutely aware of how vulnerable she is despite her mysterious gift.
Nirik takes position behind us, his movements slightly unsteady from his head wound but his gaze alert, looking backconstantly scanning for threats. Lurok’s massive form fills the tunnel ahead. At each fork and intersection, he doesn't slow, simply chooses with absolute certainty, as though following an invisible map etched into his memory.
We've traveled deep into the tunnels when a distant sound freezes us in place—the distinct scrape of scales against stone, the muted clang of metal. They are coming!
"Move," Lurok hisses, his pace quickening. "Quickly now."
We abandon stealth for speed, hurrying through the winding passage as the sounds of pursuit grows louder behind us. The tunnel branches again, then again, Lurok making split-second decisions at each junction. I lose track of our route, trusting that he knows these underground pathways.
The passage suddenly widens into a modest chamber with three branching tunnels leading off in different directions. Before we can enter the middle tunnel, the attack comes without warning.
Zaethir appears at the entrance to the rightmost tunnel, sword already drawn, his silver-blue scales gleaming in the torchlight. Another male naga emerges from the left passage simultaneously, this one larger, his scales a moss green, twin blades gripped in his clawed hands.
Lurok reacts with blinding speed, his massive coils propelling him toward Zaethir before I can even register movement. They collide with shocking force, Zaethir's blade flashing as Lurok attempts to disarm him with his bare hands.
The second naga charges us, both swords raised. Nirik pushes us back and throws himself into the path, deflecting the first swing with his forearm and ducking under the second. The third strike slips past his guard, opening a deep gash along his side that immediately wells dark blood. Nirik grunts, twisting with the pain rather than against it. His hand darts out like a striking viper, fingers clamping around the naga's wrist. Asharp twist and bone cracks, clattering one sword to the stone. Nirik snatches it, the stolen blade already arcing upward, slicing across green scales where throat meets jaw. A spray of crimson follows its path as another naga takes his place.
With a fluid motion, Nirik snatches up the fallen naga's second sword and tosses it to Lurok before engaging another attacker. I back away from the clash of steel and scales, pushing Zara behind me until her small body presses against the chamber's far wall.
"Stay down," I command, then turn back to the battle, desperately searching for some way to help Nirik as he struggles against this much larger attacker.
The fire. I still have the fire.
My focus turns inward, seeking that connection from before. This time, heat flows readily from my core, coursing down my arm and pooling in my palm where flames spring to life. I thrust forward, willing the fire to become a weapon.
The first bolt flies wild, missing its target but startling Nirik's attacker. His orange scales gleam as he falters, giving Nirik precious seconds to regain his stance.
I steady myself and launch again. This time, my aim proves truer. The flames lick across the orange naga's shoulder, searing scales that blacken and curl. He recoils with a pained hiss, his attention split between two threats. In that heartbeat of distraction, Nirik strikes with deadly precision, driving his blade between the charred scales and into the soft flesh beneath. The naga's eyes widen in shock before he crumples, dark blood pooling beneath his massive form.
Meanwhile, Lurok and Zaethir are locked in lethal combat, neither gaining clear advantage. Lurok's greater size and strength are offset by Zaethir's sword and training. Blood streaks both their scales, neither wound decisive but both fighters showing signs of fatigue.
More sounds echo from the tunnel behind us. No doubt, reinforcements on the way. Many more, from the crescendo of scale whispers and metal scrapes.
I summon another fireball and hurl it directly at Zaethir's face. He howls as flames sear his scales, recoiling just as Lurok delivers a crushing blow to his jaw. "We cannot win this fight," Lurok snarls, using the momentary advantage to disengage from his opponent. Blood drips from his claws as he gestures urgently toward the central passage. "The tunnel—this way!”
Nirik yanks his dagger free from the fallen orange-scaled naga and backs toward us, his side streaming blood.
"Go!" he urges, gesturing for me to take Zara ahead.
I grab Zara's hand and we plunge into the new tunnel, Nirik behind us, blood smearing the stone floor in his wake. Lurok brings up the rear, his massive tail still lashing out to fend off Zaethir's relentless attacks. The passage twists sharply left, then right, descending at a steep angle that makes my footing treacherous while the naga struggle to maintain their balance on the slick decline.
"Stay on the main path!" Lurok's voice booms from behind me.
More pursuers pour in behind us from side passages, cutting off potential escape routes. Five, then seven, then more naga appear, some armed with spears, others with swords and curved daggers. We're being herded, I realize with growing dread, driven deeper into the tunnels, away from any possible exit.
I turn and fling fireballs, my hands steady despite my racing heart. Lurok ducks instinctively as flames sail past him, striking a spear-wielding naga square in the chest. Nirik drops low beneath another arc of fire, his movements growing slower as blood loss takes its toll, but his eyes still alert enough to anticipate my attacks.
But there are too many. For each enemy we evade or disable, two more appear. The tunnel seems endless as we stumble into another chamber, this one smaller than the last. There are two passages to choose form, and the one we came through is rapidly filling with hostile naga.
"There!" Lurok shouts, pointing to the ascending passage. "That leads to the surface. To the Ashlands."
At the chamber entrance, Lurok and Nirik form a desperate barricade against the advancing naga. Blood streams between Nirik's fingers as he presses one hand against his side wound, his rust-colored scales glistening wet. His tail buckles beneath him.
"Leira!" Lurok's voice cuts through the chaos. "Fire—now!"
I summon the heat within me as Lurok throws himself over Nirik's faltering form. My hands thrust forward, sending fireball after fireball into the tunnel where our enemies mass. The flames illuminate their recoiling bodies as they temporarily retreat from the searing heat.
