Mavrel perched on Thia’s shoulder, his uncharacteristic stillness telling Thia he was present in the danger with them.
Dess scuffed his foot across the rocks. “Fine. We’ll do it your way.” A pebble kicked loose at the movement, plunking down the tunnel before it halted somewhere in the dark. Enclosed by the stone walls, the sound was uncomfortably loud.
Oskaren shot out a hand, pressing sharply into Dess’s shoulders. “Stop. Moving.”
Dess stopped.
“Get in position,” Oskaren said. “Now.”
Thia didn’t know how the witch could have possibly heard a simple pebble through a labyrinth of stone, but at Oskaren’s face, she did as the girl said, flattening herself to the rock face left of the opening. Dess hunkered down just in front of her, and Thran took the right side. Oskaren climbed with agile grace until she was perched on a rocky ledge just above.
Then they waited with bated breath.
Thia’s heart was a gong in her ears as she strained to hear the inside of the tunnel. It stayed silent, save for the eerie whistle of the wind.
The same pebble came plunking back out again. Thia stared at it, confused, as it bounced off an uneven stone two feet to her left, before falling down a crevasse just beyond.
Then a shadow emerged.
Oskaren dropped. The witch fell below the girl, and Oskaren raked her sword in an arc.
A blast slammed Thia backward, whipping stones at her face. She threw her hands up to protect herself, and Mavrel was tossed away in the gale. Then it ended just as abruptly, and Thia tore her eyes open.
Oskaren was unconscious. Blood trickled from a wound on her head, and that was the only thing Thia had time to notice because the girl was moving—no, was being dragged by her feet into the tunnel.
Thia lurched, darting after her, but thick arms wrapped around her middle.
“Don’t,” Dess hissed in her ear.
In her periphery, Thran hadn’t moved from his position, though now his fists were clenched against the stone, lungs heaving.
Thia went slack. Dess let her go, thinking her dissuaded, but the moment she was free, she sprinted for the tunnel, shutting out his cries of protest as the world dimmed.
It was incredibly stupid, Thia knew. She had no plan. She didn’t even know where she was going, and she could hardly see. Xercae had disappeared, but there was a trail of blood leading deeper under the mountain that was fresh and red.
Thia followed it until it became too dark to make out anything, let alone a trail of rust against black stone. She bit her lip in frustration, stifling a scream. If anything happened to Oskaren because of her….
She couldn’t finish that thought. Her chest fell rapidly, her lungs squeezing, and she felt panic open its jaws at the edge of her mind, ready to swallow her whole the moment she let it. She closed her eyes and put her hands on her knees, drawing in deep breaths through her nose.
And then a warm glow lit the tunnel, followed a moment later by a hand holding a torch. Dess shot her a look that told her just how unimpressed he was, but he didn’t force her to turn back. She stuffed down the urge to tell him that he was the pot to her kettle.
“Where’s Thran?”
Dess shook his head. “Not coming.”
Thia nodded. It hurt a little, but she didn’t hold it against him. He had been there in his own way as they journeyed, keeping her grounded, a gentle voice of encouragement she hadn’t expected to need. She meant what she’d said to Dess: they never would have made it this far without him.
“Where to?” Dess asked.
The tunnel forked just ahead; Thia pointed to the ground, where the blood led down the left path.
They set off, keeping low to ensure they didn’t lose their trail. The stench worsened as they descended, sulfur from the mountain mingling with the reek of rotting bones discarded along their path. Thia slipped her hand into Dess’s, and he gave hers a squeeze in return.
After a few twists and turns, the air started to heat. “We must be deep in the mountain,” Thia whispered.
He glanced down at her. “There’s no need for quiet. If she sensed the pebble, she’ll know we’re coming.”
Thia shivered. She tried not to imagine Xercae hiding behind every bend and kept her fingers on the hilt of her knife.
