Page 76 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea
The narrow stairwell was a risk, but it was closer than the open terrace, and offered at least some protection from the falling stone and driving rain.
Chunks of debris bounced off his shoulders as they barreled down the narrow, spiraling stairwell. The walls trembled with each distant rumble of thunder, but after several turns, the shaking eased, and they slowed their pace, breath catching in ragged gasps.
Sorcha leaned out of one of the embrasures. “Rona…under,” she said in his language, her hands sketching the movement.
Arick winced. “Won’t she crush herself if it collapses?” he asked.
Sorcha let out a short, breathless laugh and switched back to her own tongue, her hands translating for him. “She always could wriggle her way out of trouble. Even as a guppy.”
“Then we need to get there first,” Arick said grimly.
They pressed on, feet pounding against stone as thunder and waves hammered the cliff just beyond the walls. Arick halted when his boot splashed into the cold water pooling on the steps. The last few were already submerged.
“The cavern’s flooded.” The words stuck in his throat, dread curling in his gut. How powerful was this storm, to send water this far through the tunnels?
They waded through the rising water and splashed across the submerged landing to the door at the bottom. It stood unguarded. Had the king pulled the guards away once the prisoners were gone? No, this was still a vital access point. They wouldn’t have left it unprotected.
He reached for the handle and shoved. The door didn’t budge. He tried again, harder. The heavy wood flexed, then bounced back.
“It’s blocked somehow,” he told Sorcha, breathing heavily.
“Open it!” she cried, pointing to the yellow glow seeping through the cracks.
He braced his shoulder and drove into the door with all his weight. Sorcha joined him, both of them pushing against the barricade. His boots skidded on the slick stone, and he nearly went down into the rising water.
Arick motioned her to stand aside. He drew in a deep breath, his heart pounding. Then he planted his hands and shoved. Muscles straining, jaw clenched, he pushed with everything he had. The door edged open, groaning against whatever blocked it. With another heave, he heard something crash behind it. A final shove, and the door gave way, swinging wide enough for them to squeeze through. Water surged around his knees as they slipped inside. A searing yellow glow filled the cavern, and a haunting song rippled off the walls. A low groan pulled his gaze to the left.
A guard lay slumped against a pile of rubble, his arm twisted at an unnatural angle. Sorcha was already beside him, tearing one of the sheer mantles from her gown. She met Arick’s eyes briefly, then helped him secure the man’s arm against his chest.
“I’ll get him out of danger. Wait for me.”
She nodded, but uncertainty flickered across her face. He hesitated. Had she truly understood?
But he couldn’t delay. He hefted the man over his shoulder, muscles protesting as he waded through the flooded passage. Every step was a battle. Lightning split the sky outside, and the stone trembled beneath his boots.
He couldn’t take the man all the way to the top. He turned at the landing to the barracks and lowered him carefully, ensuring his chest still rose with breath. Then he cupped his hands and shouted down the corridor.
“Coo-ee!”
His call echoed, hollow and unanswered. No time. He couldn’t leave Sorcha alone.
With a final glance at the wounded guard, Arick turned and plunged back down the stairs, each step heavier than the last, fear clawing deeper into his chest with every heartbeat.
What would he find when he reached her?
WithArickgone,Sorchahesitated, the cavern’s yellow light flickering across the rising water. She wanted to follow him. To wait. But there wasn’t time.
Every note of Rona’s song fed the storm. Magic flared from the bracer’s core, the yellow gemstone casting its beam upward, summoning the storm to strike the cliff above.
Sorcha picked her way around the fallen stones, drawn by the sound and the glow.
But when she reached the open cavern, Rona wasn’t alone.
It was Ewan holding the bracer aloft.
Sorcha’s breath caught. The bracer’s beam shone from his hand, steady and deliberate, the yellow light painting cracks in the cavern ceiling.
The hard, bitter line of his jaw was almost unrecognizable.
