Page 103 of The King of Koraha
Gurice waved her off, but Shyla touched her arm. “No, really.Thank youfor coming the first time and freeing me. I was so stupid, I’d—”
“Made a mistake? You?” she asked in mock horror. “Well, thank the Sun Goddess you’re a normal person! Which means the rest of us don’t have to be perfect either. Win, win. Now get your ass moving, you’re wasting sunlight.”
That right there was why Gurice was her second-in-commandandbest friend. She knew exactly the right thing to say at the right time.
Rae was quiet as they navigated toward the surface. Shyla had a better mental map of the city, but she still had to check the direction markers on occasion. And scan the area for bumps. In a crowded city, it was hard to figure out which ones might cause them trouble.
It was at one of these stops that Rae said, “I think we’re being followed.”
Shyla stretched her magic further. “I found them. Except I can’t pinpoint who they are. Only that they feel familiar.” Which meant they could very likely be Xerxes’ spies.
“How many?” Rae asked.
“Two.”
“Not enough to worry about,” Rae said with a grin.
Shyla turned to her. “It appears you’ve caught Mojag’s overconfidence. Xerxes’ soldiers are highly trained.”
“In the Ways of the Yarin. In which I am also highly trained. Plus I’m a wielder.”
And most people underestimated Rae because of her petite size, which gave her a big advantage. “I think I created a monster,” Shyla teased.
They continued up another ten levels. The sand clocks read angle one-fifty. Shyla increased their pace. At this rate, they wouldn’t make it to the monastery before darkness.
“There has to be a quicker way to the surface,” Shyla said at the next confusing intersection. Six tunnels branched off in different directions. “We should ask—” The familiar bumps suddenly appeared right behind her. She spun. “Watch out!” She shoved Rae aside as a metal shaft swept through the air. It clanged on the stone wall, spraying sparks.
Rae recovered in time to sidestep the rush of a short and thick figure who was unarmed. Then who— Movement drew her attention. Shyla blocked the second strike from a tall attacker. The weapon slammed into her left forearm. Instant pain roared up her arm. She staggered as he pulled back for another strike.
Oh no you don’t.
Freeze.
He froze with his weapon in midair. It was a shovel. She yanked off his turban and veil, revealing Walkur! So that must mean— Shyla turned to call Rae off, but she’d already frozen her opponent—Elschen, the gardener.
“Who are they?” Rae asked.
“Friends.” Even though she was thrilled that they were both alive and well, Shyla took the shovel from Walkur with her right hand—her left arm was useless.
“Friends? Like, nothing says I love you better than a shovel to the back of the head, friends?”
“Now you sound like Jaft.” She gestured to the pair. “They still think I’m the enemy. I’m not,” she said to them. “Not anymore. I’m free of Fellan’s compulsion. I’m not going to try to convert you. I’m sorry about that. In fact, I’ve freed all the monks and we’re on the way to the monastery to enlist Neda’s help.”
Walkur’s flat expression showed his doubt. And Elschen glared, but then again, the gardener had never cared for Shyla. She touched the scar on the back of her head—a reminder of Elschen’s opinion of her.
“They don’t look convinced,” Rae said. “What do you want to do with them? Send them to sleep?”
“No.” She considered for a moment, then said to Walkur, “You were smart not to run to the monastery in Haiya. Xerxes’ people would have never looked for you here. I’m going to release you. I’m trusting that you’re smart enough to see that I’m no longer enslaved.” She pointed to her face. Then she freed him from her magic and asked Rae to let Elschen go.
Walkur swept a hand through his messy hair. “I can’t trust you ever again.”
“I know. You found a stray and she bit you.” She handed him the shovel. “Come on, Rae.” Shyla picked a tunnel at random and strode down it as if she knew where she was going. They needed to ask—
“Wait,” Walkur called from behind them.
Both women spun and assumed a defensive stance. Shyla’s arm protested the motion with needles of pain stabbing up to her shoulder.
“You’re going the wrong way,” he said. “Follow us.”
