She ran over to where he stood. “Have you found something?”
He pointed at the torches. “A current of air is blowing from somewhere, and that means there is an opening somewhere in here.”
She followed the direction of his hand, her eyes widening as she saw what he pointed to. The flames blew in the opposite direction, and they both turned at the same time to view the area behind them.
“It must be coming from over there,” she said, starting forward.
They raced to the pile of rocks and scoured for any openings. He tested the sturdiness of the pile then secured a foothold and boosted himself up. Running his hands over each crack, he felt for air. As he neared the top, he wondered if they had imagined it all for he could find no source for the current.
Then at the very top, he felt it. Cool, steady, it blew over his face ruffling his hair. “I’ve found it!” he whispered loudly.
Isabella stood at the bottom staring up at him, her face bright with excitement. “Is it large enough for us to go through?”
“I don’t know yet. Give me a moment.”
He dug at the rocks where he felt the air and soon had a hole the size of his fist. A tiny beacon of light shone in, and he felt a surge of triumph.
“Isabella, listen to me,” he said urgently. “Go to the tunnel entrance and listen for any sounds while I make the hole big enough for us to exit.”
“Shouldn’t I help you?” she asked.
“We can’t both be up here or whoever is in the cave could enter without us ever knowing. Listen and if you hear anything warn me. Hopefully we will be long gone by the time they make it here.”
She nodded and ran over to the tunnel. He turned back to the rocks and began digging furiously. Periodically, he inserted his head and shoulders into the opening to see if it was large enough, but each time he grew more frustrated. Rocks rained down the slope below him, piling up at the bottom as he pulled more away from the hole.
He couldn’t fail now. Not when so many depended on him. Not like he had failed his father. Never again, he had sworn when his father died. Never would he let anyone down as he had then.
His country depended on him. Leaudor depended on him. But most of all, Isabella depended on him.
As more rocks pelted down to the floor below, he finally opened a large enough hole that he and Isabella could fit through. He called out to her and she ran over, quickly climbing up to where he stood.
And then he heard distant voices echoing down the tunnel Isabella had just come from. How had they managed to move so rapidly through the caves? Of course, they would have brought supplies and a large number of men. They had likely split up and taken all possible routes in order to cut down the time it took to reach the end. But the question uppermost in his mind was how they had found the entrance.
An uneasy feeling rolled in his stomach, and he hoped that Father Ling and the monks were unharmed.
Isabella looked at him, her eyes flooded with worry, fear and anger. Then she reached out and touched his face before moving toward the opening.
He put out a hand and pushed her behind him. Without further hesitation, he plunged into the opening, calling for her to follow him. Anger fueled his movements, and he crawled rapidly, ignoring the pain in his knees and palms. They were only minutes ahead of their pursuers, and he would not give up. Would not fail Isabella.
The light grew brighter ahead, signaling their rapid approach to an outside source. But where would the tunnel take them? And then he heard a dull roar. It grew louder as they continued closer to the light, and his brow crinkled with his frown as he tried to decipher what it could be.
A cold rush of air hit him full force in the face, and he felt the spray of water. He blinked in surprise then realization dawned. They had come out behind a waterfall.
He scrambled out then turned to assist Isabella. The tunnel opened up into a small concealed area behind the spray of water.
They hurried over to where the water cascaded downward, forming a solid wall over the opening. “Stay here,” he directed and slid along the wall behind the waterfall.
He inched onto a ledge that barely had room for the two of them to stand. He stood high above a valley, and about midway up a cliff. He craned his neck and looked upward for the source of the waterfall.
A long way up the cliff, the water poured over the side and downward into the rushing river. And their only way out was down. He leaned back behind the fall and motioned Isabella out.
She gingerly slid along the wall, her back plastered to the slick granite. Her head swiveled, looking in all directions, and when she looked back at him, he knew she had reached the same conclusion he had. They would have to jump. And they might not survive.
“Isabella,” he began in a strained voice. “There is something I must say.”
He couldn’t—wouldn’t—go to his death without telling her the depth of his feelings.
He had vowed long ago never to give anyone the power to hurt him ever again. By closing himself off, by not allowing himself to feel, he’d managed to skirt through life without the raw pain that accompanied disappointment. But by uttering these words, such tiny, innocuous words, he was giving up complete power to another.
