When the grip completely vanishes, I crawl around the dead person who taunted me to find my specs, spreading my fingers over the cold dirt in search of them. Finally, I spot them, but someone else picks them up before I can reach them.
My heart drops, until I quickly realize it’s Torjack.
He offers me a hand. “Come on. I’ll guide you. Just hold my hand.”
Torjack helps me up, and we scurry away. I steal a glance over my shoulder and am almost positive I see Thane snatching a sword out of the woman who just teased me about not being able to see.
What a bitch.
Not my fault Orvena gave me eyesight that’s weak at best.
We can’t all be winners.
Fortunately, the man with red stitching is nowhere in sight.
“Bunker is right over here,” Torjack says, panting. He points ahead, but it’s useless. I can’t see anything clearly past his arm. The towering trees are a blur of green and brown, the sky seems farther away, and the sun feels twice as bright.
The commotion behind us has doubled.
Wood splinters.
A man cries out.
Someone hollers in pain.
Fortunately, it doesn’t sound like any of the people fightingforus.
Finally stopping, Torjack bends down and touches the ground, swiping leaves until he comes across a metal handle. I make out a hatch covered in moss and grass. He hauls it open, and I squint my eyes, trying to see what’s down there, but it’s completely dark.
“We have to go down the steps one person at a time as there’s not much room.” Torjack faces me. “It’ll be a little dark, but there’s nothing terrible down there, I promise. You go first. I’m right behind you.”
I place my feet on the first stone step.
“Just grip the rail there. Yep, right there,” Torjack instructs as I reach for the built-in railing. I hold on tight, taking each step one at a time, until the soles of my boots meet softer ground.
Torjack joins me after shutting and locking the hatch. Darkness consumes us. I feel him slip past me, his fur brushing my arm, before he rummages around a bit. A clicking noise echoes, and the bunker flickers with light.
“How long has this place been here?” I squint, trying to decipher what is what. I move closer to a towering piece in the corner to see it’s a shelf lined with books. Next to it is a table for four. I run my fingers over the smooth top and rub the tips together. They’re free of dust. Used recently.
“A while. This is the Kamtaur bunker,” Torjack says, and based on his tone, it sounds like he’s smiling. “We hide out here when we get news about riots happening in Ruvain, or when an alert goes out that beastials are being hunted. Rynthea hates it down here, but it’s saved our lives more times than I can count.”
“That’s awful,living that way. Being hunted and all.”
“Yeah. It is. Sadly, you get used to it.” Torjack shifts closer and pulls a chair out for me. “Go on, sit. Rynthea will show up. I’m sure she’ll slaughter the lot of them. Same for that dark, grumpy friend of yours. Hope Algar makes it out, though. He thinks he’s stronger than he actually is.”
“I hope so, too,” I murmur, clinging to faith they’ll make it out alive.
Torjack takes the seat next to mine so I can better see his face.
“Here.” Torjack opens his hand and holds up my specs. He helps me slide them on.
“Yeah. I can’t see a damn thing,” I gripe. “Everything’s a kaleidoscope.”
“Just means you get to see multiples of this handsome face,” Torjack teases. I don’t know how he can joke during a time like this, swarmed by chaos and madness. Then again, it’s like he said. He’s gotten used to it.
I yank the shattered specs off, fighting the stupid urge to cry. If I can’t see, how am I going to make it to the temple now? It’s not like spectacle designers are on every corner of Thelanor, and even if there were, they don’t come cheap.
The floodgates of frustration open. I might as well give up and return to Meriva. Maybe if I go back now and request new spectacles, I’ll still have time to make it to the Temple of Elphar.
