Page 82 of Tashama
Their footsteps crunched on green stone, and Tashama observed the crushed emeralds lining their way. “Who would have ever thought it could be just lying there for the picking?”
“Who goes there?!” a gruff voice shouted, but before either could say a word, they were surrounded by dwarven guards.
“Prince Aleron and this is Princess Tashama, royal heir to the Karthlanders’ throne.”
The one guard stared at the two, then grunted. “What would you be doing with the likes of the Karthlander woman?”
“Trying to keep her safe.” The prince frowned at the dwarf. “We must pass through here and quickly.”
“You buy our emeralds at a fair price, Prince Aleron, and you are welcome here. But the Karthlanders are forbidden to come to this place. They have stolen too many of our gems.”
“She is with me. “We must go through here. It’s most urgent.”
The dwarf shook his head. “We’ve had some difficulty in the pass leading to Karthland if that is where you’re bound. Yesterday afternoon, the walls shook, blocking the tunnel. My men are still attempting to clear the cave-in.”
“Is there another way?”
“To the west through the dragon’s lair.”
“No,” Tashama said. “The elves go that way to throw Loran off our track.”
“You’re running from Prince Loran?” The dwarf’s bushy burgundy brows furrowed as he tugged at his long beard. “Well, there’s another way, though I don’t see how you’ll make it.” He pointed to a cart on wheels. “Climb inside the cart, and I’ll send you as far as I can. After that, it’ll be up to you to find your way.”
Aleron hurried to help Tashama into the cart. He climbed in with her and said to the dwarf, “I’ll be back to make some more purchases soon.”
“Should you live, Prince Aleron.” The dwarf pulled a lever. “Should you live.”
The creaking of the metal wheels against the iron track echoed off the sparkling emerald-encrusted walls as lanterns cast fluttering lights against the glittering surface. A slight cool, damp breeze stirred up by the motion of the cart surrounded them. Aleron drew close to Tashama and wrapped his arms around her.
“Do you trust them?” Tashama looked up at him.
“I’ve had no problems with the dwarves in the past.”
“Would they sell us out?”
“You said Valmor would follow the elves to the dragon’s lair.”
“But if he does not? Sorcerers are a tricky lot. Sometimes—not often, but sometimes, they can trick me up.”
“Like Carissian?”
“And Balthazar!”
Aleron shook his head. “The dwarves do not like the Karthlanders.”
“When my dad ruled, we had no problems with them. It must be Loran’s doing.”
“You shiver. Are you afraid?”
“Yes,” Tashama said softly.
“Of Valmor?”
“Of closed-in spaces. It’s like a tomb down here in the bowels of the earth. I cannot leave this place any too soon.”
He kissed her forehead, then rested her head against his chest. “Close your eyes then. What you cannot see, cannot harm you.”
They rode in silence for some time as the cart chugged up steep inclines, then dropped sharply down into deep chasms while the air grew laden with the smell of seeping groundwater and freshly-stirred earth. For several minutes, the cart twisted right, then suddenly turned left and stopped. Tashama opened her eyes and frowned. “It dead ends.”
