“Sarai!” Notus, who stands on the other side of the fissure, appears smudged behind the thickening shade. He waves his arms—I think. “You’ll need to jump. Quickly!”And now the crevasse has widened. I tighten my grip on the violin and prepare to leap over the opening. With another ear-splitting groan, the edge of the stone floor crumbles, the space now too large to cross. Seconds later, a wall thuds between us, separating me from the South Wind.
“Notus!” I slam my palm against the rough stone, ears straining. Pebbles strike the ground with a clatter. The echoes stretch on. If he’s calling for me, I can’t hear him. I will have to find another way to reach him.
I dive down the tunnel at my back, the violin and bow cradled against my chest as I try to protect them from the falling rocks. I am a woman, mortal and prey. I am a princess, adrift and grieving. I am a musician without an instrument, a horse without its herd. I feel myself growing smaller, hemmed in on all sides by things I cannot change. My body bids me to yield. There is peace in surrender.
I clench my jaw.No. Surrender is not an option. I will find Notus, no matter the efforts. I will conquer the darkness before it conquers me.
“Notus?” Again, I scream his name and receive no answer. Not even the wind.
But there is a sound, a very strange sound. Tightening my grip on the neck of the violin, I release a breath, turn, and freeze. Darkwalkers, three of them. Their hollowed eyes glow in the swirling gloom.
My heart thunders so forcefully I fear it will skewer itself on a rib. A snarl cuts the air, and they charge.
My bow hits the strings to release a forceful wail as I imagine a wall enclosing me. Down my bow falls, over and over, a multitude of drop chords that ring discordantly. A wall flickers into existence. The first darkwalker crashes into it. I flinch, yet do not stop playing.
The second beast, larger, its fangs as long as my fingers, slams into its scrappier companion. Cracks splinter through the transparent partition. The third beast joins its brethren, and despite the weakening structure, I continue to grind out chords.Solidity, I think.Walls, stone, defense, unyielding.
Yet the cracks multiply and stream outward. I glance around, seeking an escape. When the wall gives, I’ll need to make a run for it. Once more, the trio prepare to charge the barrier.
All at once, a swirling cyclone rips through the passage, punching through the barrier. It snatches up the beasts, flings them against the walls. They scatter, each vanishing down a separate corridor. Footfalls slap the ground behind me.
Two hands, warm and sure, curve around my front. “It’s me,” Notus soothes.
I am pinned, trembling, paralyzed by the ice locking my muscles, yet the South Wind’s warmth thaws my frozen limbs and I turn, sagging against him, the instrument held off to the side to avoid crushing it between us. His heart hammers against my sweaty cheek. “Are you hurt?” he asks.
“No.” I glance over his shoulder. Nothing. I see nothing.
But from out of the silence, there emerges the slow clop of hooves.
It drags forth, its rhythm so eerily precise it could be mistaken for a metronome. My heart hasn’t slowed its pace since I woke to find myself trapped inside these walls, yet now it stumbles. I’m tired. I don’t know how much longer I can evade that which has been sent to kill me.
Hand in hand, Notus and I flee quickly and quietly down the nearest tunnel. At the next fork, we turn right and promptly reach a dead end.
Pivoting, we sprint back the way we came. Left, then another left, a mindless, breathless scramble for the next bend. Eventually, the insistent gallop joins our rapid footfalls. Notus swings me behind him as, ahead, a massive, amorphous shape materializes through the gloom.
The beast steps forward, blocking our path. Shadows peel from its flesh, and I shudder. As its black head swings toward me, Notusunsheathes his sword. His blade whines as it cuts through the dark, warning the beast to keep its distance.
Then something stirs at the bull’s back. Four, five, six darkwalkers materialize, snouts parted to reveal fangs oozing saliva. Notus swears, his features whitened by dread. “Go, Sarai. I’ll hold them off.”
“But—”
“Go!”
Fear is the blade. It cuts quick and clean, straight to the heart of me.
I run.
29
MY SLIPPERS SLAP THE GROUND. Darkness bleeds before me.
I am hurtling around sharpened corners and sliding around sudden bends. A distant shout rises, chased by a wretched snarl. My teeth clench. Though I long to return to Notus’ side, I would be a fool to overlook my mortality. He has his winds, his strength, his speed. My only skill lies in the violin and bow clenched in my clammy hand.
Catching the edge of the wall, I swing myself into another passage and stumble ahead. Gradually, the South Wind’s voice fades, eaten by darkness. My labored breathing grows coarse, throat rubbed raw. At times, I’m certain the beast is gaining ground.
I can’t keep this pace forever. Already, my body screams for rest. I require temporary shelter. Some nook or shielded alcove that will grant me time enough to weave my notes into a form of defense.
As I round another hairpin turn, however, I halt, straining for air. I’m almost certain I spotted a figure in the tunnel I just passed. Turning, I hurry after it, slippers scuffing the gray stone. Carefully, I ease around the corner.
