Page 93 of The Eyes of Tamburah
Shyla counted the affirmations that sounded around her. Nine total. The acolytes would have had a fighting chance if it hadn’t been for that green flash. Despite her growing fear, she had to admit it was an effective strategy.
Someone opened a druk, illuminating the scene. Elek sprawled unconscious on the ground with three figures standing over him. A cut on his forehead bled. Lian was also pinned against the opposite wall. Two held her tight and her hard gaze promised pain if they’d dared to give her a chance. A crumbled heap—Rae—lay on the floor next to Jaft, who was secured in a head lock.
The man holding the druk pointed to Lian and Jaft. “Knock those two out.”
“No,” Shyla cried, trying to struggle to no avail.
They ignored her. The man squeezed Jaft’s neck, cutting off his air until he hung limp, then let him drop. One of Lian’s captors slammed the hilt of her knife into her temple. She slumped to the ground. Guilt and regret pulsed. Once again the people close to Shyla were injured and hurt because of her. The title of sun-cursed fit her the best.
“Bring the sun-kissed,” the druk man ordered.
The three holding her yanked her forward, flipped her around, and secured her wrists behind her back in one smooth motion. A familiar move… Deacons? Without robes?
“Arch Deacons?” she asked, dreading the answer.
“Yes. Our mistress has been waiting for you.”
CHAPTER
15
The Heliacal Priestess had won the race. With so many groups after Shyla, the priestess had managed to capture her. She’d sent her elite squad, but they fought dirty, which Shyla took some comfort from. They hadn’t been confident they could beat her and a quartet of bodyguards in a fair fight. And they didn’t kill the acolytes, just left them unable to follow. Her guilt eased as they pulled her through the tunnels, leaving her four protectors unconscious on the ground.
But that left her thoughts free to fret about her impending audience with the priestess. The woman would take the fake Eyes and send Shyla topside for the Sun Goddess to claim.
To keep from having a panic attack, Shyla kept track of the tunnels and stairwells the Arch Deacons used. The route avoided populated areas. It was the beginning of the sun jump and the citizens would be stirring. And since she’d just learned about the existence of the elite deacons, Shyla guessed the priestess wished to keep the populace equally ignorant.
By the time they reached level eighty-four, the injury on her shoulder pulsed with agony and the ropes around her wrists had rubbed her skin raw. Using her meditation techniques, she drew in a deep breath, calming her frantic heart, and lessening the tightness that circled her throat and threatened to choke her. It also reduced her pain, allowing her to think clearly. Being able to achieve that state so quickly was again due to her time spent chained by the Invisible Sword.
An idea sparked. A desperate, nothing-to-lose type of idea. Inside her mind, she concentrated on the ten people around her, then she chanted the same word the Invisible Sword had used on her.
Relax.
She pushed it out in a circle. It was the opposite of what she had done to block Ximen’s commands.
Relax.
The effort required a fair amount of energy.
Relax.
The Arch Deacons slowed. One yawned.
Relax.
“Maybe we should take a break,” one of the women said.
Relax.
Murmurs of agreement. A few plopped onto the ground as if exhausted.
Relax.
Three more joined them.
Relax.
Now they all lounged, looking sleepy. Shyla would have celebrated, except they still remained awake. And she’d used all her energy. She leaned against the wall as tremors raced through her legs. That didn’t work as she’d hoped. Taking small steps away from the group, she slid her shoulder along the wall. Perhaps they’d be too tired to chase after her. But the leader roused when he noticed her widening the gap.
