Page 68 of The Eyes of Tamburah
She’d tried to block the hum. Then to drown it out. Nothing worked. Was it time to admit defeat? What would they do if she went on a hunger strike? Put her into a trance and force feed her? Was that even possible? They managed to get that damned hum through her defenses; a roll of jerky shouldn’t be a problem.
Wait. She straightened. Perhaps the hum didn’t come from outside, but originated within her. Yes, it was an insane thought. One born from nine sun jumps isolated in the dark. Still… She’d been so focused on the physical, she hadn’t considered the mental. If she viewed it that way, then perhaps she just needed her will to be stronger than theirs.
The Ways of the Yarin included meditation techniques. They were normally used to calm a person’s body and mind. To relieve stress and achieve peace. The state was similar to the hum-induced trance. Except when she meditated, she controlled the journey rather than being forced there and abruptly yanked back.
Without any other ideas or options, she decided to practice her meditation and give it one more try. After that… Shyla preferred not to think of after. Instead, she spent time settling her thoughts and worries into that peaceful state. With each effort, she tried to attain that inner calm faster than the time before. If her captors took control first, there would be nothing she could do. However, Shyla didn’t neglect her physical exercises. Balance between the mind and body was very important to the Ways of the Yarin. Huh. She’d forgotten that in her panic over being chained to the floor, which in her opinion was an acceptable excuse.
The return of the light marked sun jump number twelve. Shyla knelt on the floor, resting on her heels. A loop of chain in her hands and the rest arranged around her just so. But this time she kept her back to the tunnel and faced the table and collection bins.
She smoothed her breathing and her heartbeat—which had thumped harder in anticipation at the first glimpse of the lantern—slowing both to a matching rhythm. Instead of floating with the velblouds or sinking through the cracks, she centered herself in the space around her, using the anchor in the ground.
Keeping her eyes closed, she sensed rather than saw the items nearby. The light intensified, turning the insides of her eyelids reddish.
The hum dug into her bubble of calm, attempting to redirect her awareness to another place. It stabbed orders into her mind with brute force.Go. Leave. Be free.And it pushed its will with a solid punch. Her control slipped with each blow, as bits of her calm fractured. Through the fissures she knew lurked the darkness that would reclaim her.
With a surge of energy and determination, she nudged the insistent commands off course so the demands landed in a distant part of her mind. Into one of those places where thoughts sounded warnings and gave advice that was acknowledged as viable, but ignored.
Now a bright yellow glow pierced her eyelids. She struggled to keep her expression neutral, hoping they hadn’t realized she remained aware of her surroundings. Voices and footsteps sounded behind her.
“What do you think she’s trying this time?” a man asked.
“She has her back to us. Maybe she believes that will block our magic,” a woman responded with an amused tone.
Magic? Shyla used every ounce of her will not to react to the woman’s statement.
“At least she has recognized it. Remember the guy that just didn’t get it?” The man chuckled.
Painful white light stabbed through her closed eyes. Tears welled. But she centered all her focus on listening and smelling.
A clank of the lantern set on the floor behind her.
Shuffling feet. The sloshing of a full water skin.
A plop as it’s set on the table.
An exhalation of disgust.
The creak of a collection bin.
The acrid odor of excrement.
A whiff of flowery scent nearby.
A brush of fabric on her right sleeve.
Shyla surged to her feet and hooked the chain around a neck. Pulling it taut, she scurried backward, dragging her sweet-smelling victim with her until she hit the wall. The distance from the anchor caused the chain to cinch even tighter, but not enough to kill. The motion distracted her prisoner enough for Shyla to search for a weapon. She found a knife, but really the best part of being in this position was that the woman made an effective shield until Shyla’s vision could adjust to the light.
“Don’t try anything or she dies,” Shyla said.
CHAPTER
12
Shyla hunched behind her prisoner. The bright lantern light still blinded her, but her captive had enough sense to keep still. Otherwise the chain around her neck might strangle her. After twelve sun jumps in captivity, Shyla would have a hard time feeling any remorse if that happened.
“That’s a neat trick,” the man said from her right—about a meter away.
Shyla shifted, keeping the woman between her and the remaining threat.
