Page 41 of Devour
“To your new home.”
“To my prison, you mean.”
He doesn’t answer for a long moment. There is only the sounds of our feet pattering against the cool stone. He stomps while I scurry to keep up with his long stride, to keep the sting of his tight grip from growing too strong.
“They are one in the same, yes,” he finally mutters.
Part of me is relieved to hear him admit it. Another is petrified that he is so willing to state the horror of this reality so plainly.
The tunnel is long and winding, sloping down farther below ground.
I am being swallowed whole by the mountain.
I will never be seen or heard from again, like all those other poor, captured people. The mountain of lost souls, my mother used to call it. She said anyone who enters never returns. Will I never return?
I have never been good at defiance, but I will have to sharpen that sword now because it is all I have left.
With a grit I didn’t know I was capable of, I plant my feet onto the cold stone and rip my arm from my Dread’s rough grip.
He pauses, blinking down at his now empty hand, as if he could not fathom me fighting back. Slowly, he turns to face me with a quiet ferocity.
I hold my wrist against my chest, the feeling of his skin on mine still throbs through me. “Don’t touch me,” I bite out. “Don’tevertouch me.”
My words are harsh but I am embarrassed to feel tears that surely expose my weakness.
His eyes narrow, examining me from head to toe.
Will he punish me for my rebellion? Will he hurt me in order to prove his power over me?
As he stalks forward slowly, I feel my soul shriveling inside my own body, my bravery is gone in an instant. If I weren’t frozen still, I might have begged forgiveness. Instead, I stare up at him with large, terrified eyes.
How will I survive this if I cannot hold on to bravery for more than a single moment?
“You will not like what happens if you run.” His voice is gravelly.
I swallow but nod quickly, like a child.
“Keep up,” he demands, then spins on his heel, continuing his march through the dark tunnel. I rush to follow him.
Torches hung on the walls line the winding tunnel, making the area dim but with a soft orange glow. I try my best to keep track of our direction. Every once in a while, we enter a large room with multiple doorways. Some of them have tables and cabinets. More than once, we pass a masked man who nods silently.
We turn left, sloping down. Then to the left again. Then right. Straight for a very long time.
We cross through a large room filled with weapons—spears and swords and crossbows—on hooks. We walk so long my energy begins to wane. My Dread matches my slower pace without comment.
For a moment, I think I’m imagining the soft sound of rushing water in the distance. I frown but don’t dare ask. Could there be running water underground? A river? A lake?
The sound grows stronger and stronger until I am certain it is a powerful river nearby, but then we turn again to the left and the sound fades away.
Soon, my vague hope that I could remember the route back out of this labyrinth is washed away, far, far out of reach. I am beyond lost.
The tunnels look too much the same. Dark brown, rough, and uneven. Was this carved by hand? Some could be natural tunnels, but not this many, surely. How long did this take?
I continue following my Dread through more turns, farther underground. Soon, the intersecting tunnels are replaced with thick wooden doors with large metal knobs and lock holes.
I attempt to keep count of how many we pass but lose track after twenty. Then, we turn to a new hall with even more.
Finally, we stop in front of one of the wooden doors. I look around before my Dread pushes it open without using a lock. There is nothing special about this particular spot. I wouldn’t know how to find it if I ever needed to, let alone figure out how to get out of the mountain.
