Page 111 of The Eyes of Tamburah
“I don’t have The Eyes. I don’t know where they are,” Shyla said.
“Do you really think we’d believe you?”
“Worth a try.” Going with them meant being tortured and then being staked to the sand to be sacrificed to the Sun Goddess. Not happening. “How about a deal?”
“No.”
“You haven’t even heard it yet.”
“You’re just delaying the inevitable.”
True. But it would be onher terms. Not anyone else’s. Not anymore. Shyla settled her panicked thoughts. Pushing outward to the eight minds around her, she projected an image of The Eyes to the Arch Deacons.
The Eyes.
“How about I’ll tell you where The Eyes are and you let me go?”
The Eyes.
“No.”
The Eyes.
“But if you tell us where they are, then it will save you a great deal of pain,” he said.
The Eyes.
“There’s a third choice?” she asked. “You should have told me that before.”
The Eyes.
Shyla pointed to Tamburah’s giant face behind them. “King Tamburah has regained his sight.”
They turned and she increased her will, projecting a vision of The Eyes inside his empty eye sockets to them. He stared at the Arch Deacons with malice.
“She’s telling the truth,” one man said in surprise.
“Quick, get a bench over here.” Another gestured.
“Anyone have a small knife? If we nick them, the Blessed One will kill us.”
A number of them dragged a stone bench closer to the mural. As they worked to reach The Eyes, Shyla backed up. She kept pushing that image. Reaching the tunnel to the exit, she spun and jogged through the thickening heat, hoping her illusion would last an angle or two more.
After slogging through the oppressive air, she found the escape tunnel. It rose, slanting up to the hatch. It gaped open. Sunlight stabbed almost straight to the ground—not a good sign. Waves of heat rolled through the narrow tunnel, stopping her. She guessed the sun neared angle seventy-five. That meant five angles to find shelter. Impossible.
Voices echoed, but faded as they realized to remain in the upper levels meant death. No doubt they’d wait at the access point to level six for her to return, but she wouldn’t give the Heliacal Priestess the satisfaction.
Two choices. She could die here or die outside. The Sun Goddess beckoned. She had marked Shyla. It was time.
Shyla wished for her sun cloak as she summoned the strength to climb through the hatch and onto the burning sand. Blisters erupted on her palms and forearms. The sun pierced her with a thousand tiny red-hot needles. She staggered to her feet even though she doubted her dillo boots would last. Hot air seared her nose, mouth, throat, and lungs. Blocking the sun over her eyes, she scanned the undulating sand around her—an illusion due to the super-heated air rising. No shelter. Nothing except a flock of velbloud slowly lifting into the air.
The caretakers! Those that tended the creatures had something… Her thoughts evaporated as fast as the sweat on her skin. She trudged toward the flock with boots melting under her feet.
Emergency! They had a shelter for emergencies. Where?
Weaving through the tethers, she searched. Needed to find it before her blood boiled. She needed…
To end her misery.
