Page 111 of The King of Koraha
“No idea. Get in.”
“I…can’t.” He rattled the chains.
“Get your ass in there, Captain. That’s an order.”
He growled at her. Well, he tried, but her command had the desired effect and he wedged his oversized body through the tunnel. It was beyond difficult for him to crawl with his arms secured behind his back, but he was still strong. And she helped by pushing him from behind.
Once they reached the center, she cleared more sand so they could sit up. It was a tight fit, though. Rendor hunched over slightly and, although she faced him, her legs were draped over his. Even though it was darker and much cooler than the surface, they still weren’t safe. She estimated they were about nine meters inside and twelve meters deep—the equivalent to being on level four. Not far enough if they were in an underground city. It also depended on whether all this sand would conduct the heat or block it. Shyla dumped their water on their clothes and the surrounding sand. Evaporation would cool them for a few angles.
“Need to restrict…the hot air coming in,” Rendor said. Heat still poured off of him as if he’d swallowed a piece of the sun.
Shyla filled their entrance tunnel with sand until it was only a centimeter wide, then dug another finger-width shaft in the opposite direction for air flow. Although…suffocation might be a better way to die than heat stroke. No. She wasn’t giving up. Her efforts caused sand to pour into their tiny chamber. She wielded magic to stop it and to strengthen the layer of sand above their heads. Her vision blurred as black and white spots swirled. She clung to the last of her energy.
Needing a distraction, she said, “I’m sor—”
“Stop,” Rendor said. “Don’t say it. I don’t…I can’t…handle this conversation right now.” He shuddered.
“It’s still too soon…Xerxes is still… I’ve a raging sandstorm of…emotions inside me. I need…time to let it settle.”
“I understand.” And she did. Rendor had been enslaved longer than her. His inner voice had probably been completely erased. But they might not have a later. “How about you just listen?”
No answer. Rendor’s eyes were closed.
“I know I’ve done some terrible things and you might not be able to forgive me. But no matter what happens, I want you to know I love you.”
His eyes snapped open and he met her gaze. “You don’tneedto tell me. You areherewith me instead of safe in the shelter. That is beyond mere words, Shyla.” Amazement colored his tone.
“All right, but I need something else to think about or I’m going to pass out and the dune might bury us.”
He stared at her a moment in shock. “And here I thought the heat was our only danger. How weak are you?”
“Not helping.”
Rendor glanced around as if searching for an idea. His gaze landed on his weapon belt, which was empty. His sword and dagger must be back in the shelter.
“How are you with picking locks?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve never tried.”
“Then you’re about to learn. There’s a set of lock picks in my pouch.”
The picks ended up being a couple slim metal tools. Two of them were about ten centimeters long and flat with a little triangle on the ends—diamond picks, according to Rendor. One was bent into an L-shape and was rounder and thicker than the others. Rendor called it a tension wrench.
He squirmed and shifted until his back was to Shyla. The raw burned bands of flesh around the cuffs were visible even in the semi-darkness.
“Is there enough light in here?” she asked. “I can widen—”
“No need. Picking a lock is all done by sound and feel.” He instructed her to insert the tension wrench into the lock on the metal cuffs. “Twist it slightly, adding tension on the locking mechanism.” Then he explained how a lock worked with tumblers and pins that kept them in place. “This lock is rather simple. It only has one pin. You have to lift it with the diamond pick.”
Lifting proved to be inserting the pick and using the little triangle to push the pin up so it aligned with the cylinder. It took skill and concentration and supposedly she’d hear a click at the same time as a little vibration through her fingertips when the pin reached alignment.
Sweat poured down her face and soaked her tunic as she made several failed attempts to unlock the cuffs. She rested a moment to wipe her slick hands on her sun cloak. The heat inside their hole was stifling and she realized they were basically sitting in an oven, being cooked from the inside out. There was no way they were walking away from this. She wilted.
“Still with me?” Rendor asked.
Shyla jerked her head up. “Yes, sorry, I’m…” What? Overcome with despair? About to pass out? Did it matter? No. She concentrated on the tricky little pin. How could something so small cause so much misery?
After a million, trillion attempts, she popped the lock. Rendor grunted with pain when she took the cuffs off him and he could finally move. Well, as much as was possible in the confined space. He flexed his fingers and rolled his shoulders, almost causing an avalanche of sand.
