Rats, just what she needed. Thank the dragon gods for freshweed and her cloak.
Hours passed. Every time Ezaara was about to sneak out to find Roberto, boots echoed along the tunnel.
It must be deep in the night by now. She had to find another exit, and find Roberto. Ezaara crawled deeper into the tunnel. Chinks in the left wall spilled light, illuminating a fork. Scraping her hands and knees, she headed along the left passage. At least she could see along here. The tunnel narrowed.
A scream rent the air.
Her blood froze. Roberto.
His next scream made her scalp crawl.
She pressed her eye to a chink in the rock. A wall of dark fur was in front of her, its edges limned in yellow light—a tharuk. The beast raised a whip and lashed out.
Roberto’s scream ripped through Ezaara. She bunched her fists.
The beast struck again with the lash, and Roberto grunted in pain.
“Enough fun for tonight, Triple Zero,” an icy voice said. “Tomorrow, we’ll play with your sharp little toys.”
The tharuk laughed.
Zens—she was sure of it. His voice gave Ezaara icy chills. This was the sadist who’d thrown Ma around the room with the force of his mind, breaking her will to live. He’d ruined Roberto’s childhood, scarring him. And destroyed thousands of her people. The man who enslaved innocents. The man who’d created an army of monsters.
And Roberto was with him.
Fear crept its icy fingers up her spine.
Ezaara submerged her thoughts, going deep within herself. Thank the Egg, she’d practiced every day since Roberto had taught her.
The tharuk stalked across the cavern. Now she could see. Roberto was chained by a wrist and ankle to the rock, his head lolling on his shoulder.
000 hung its whip on the wall next to spiked metal implements and wicked knives—its sharp little toys.
A beautifully-manicured hand came into view, palm facing Roberto. Although the hand was body-lengths away, Roberto’s head shot back, slamming against the wall, his eyes bulging. He thrashed, gurgling, grasping at his throat.
Ezaara clamped her teeth on her lip, drawing blood. Her knuckles scraped stone.
“See, Roberto? I control the very air you breathe,” Zens said in a silky-smooth voice. He stepped into view, his back to Ezaara. “I say whether you breathe. When I’ve broken you, I’ll determine what you think. I’ll own you. And you’ll do my bidding.” He dropped his hand, the muscles in his arm and broad back flexing with latent power.
Roberto gasped, gulping in air, his eyes roaming the cavern.
Zens tilted his bald head, the light catching his sallow skin. “Think you’re clever, do you?” asked Zens. “Not clever enough, son of Amato.” He lingered over Roberto’s father’s name, giving Ezaara the creeps. “You can’t mind block me forever. I’ll break you, just like I did before.”
Zens addressed the tharuk. “Triple Zero, if he blocks you tomorrow, play a little longer.” He waved a hand at the rack of blades, some as tiny as Ezaara’s little finger and as slim as needles; others large enough to cleave a man’s head from his shoulders.
The tharuk picked up a needle as long as Ezaara’s forearm. “Perhaps this one, boss.”
“Yes, yes. Now, let’s check on our lovelies—our hope of destroying Dragons’ Realm.”
A door thunked, a key scraped in a lock, and Roberto was alone.
But not entirely alone. She was here. For long moments, Ezaara watched her lover from the chink in the wall. His rider’s garb was in tatters and crusted with blood. Lash marks were visible through the holes in his clothing, red and bloody, on his chest. New welts, open and raw, rose on his shoulders, blood welling from them. His face was haggard and bruised and his grimy hair was plastered to his head.
But it was Roberto, the man she loved.
Dare she mind-meld? Would Zens sense her? Had he already? He could be laying a trap for her, right now.
She couldn’t sit here, paralyzed by fear. She had to try something. Tentatively, Ezaara stretched out her senses to mind-meld with Roberto. She slammed into a rock wall—he was mind-blocking with an image of the cavern.
He turned his head, gazing around, his movements clumsy, as if he was punch drunk. His eyes rested on the chink in the wall. For a moment, he stared right at her. Impossible. He’d never be able to see an eye through a crack from so far away. Had he sensed her trying to meld?
Roberto bent his chained wrist so his palm was horizontal to the floor. The fingers on his hand stiffened—the signal to flee.
Was it her imagination? Had she made something out of a random movement?
Again his head tossed and turned, then his fingers flipped out, flat. Flee. The third time Roberto made the signal, he muttered something that sounded like now, as if delirious.
He wanted her to leave. She must be in danger. Maybe Zens had sensed her after all.
Again, palm down—the fourth time.
She couldn’t leave him.
But what could she do against tharuks as brutal as 000? Hundreds of them. Probably thousands. She knew where Roberto was. She’d report to the council and come back with reinforcements. They’d get him out.
One last time, Roberto made the signal to flee, then his head sagged like a rag doll.
Ezaara didn’t dare mind-meld to tell him she’d be back. Zens might sense her.
She crawled back along the tunnel, throat tight and eyes burning. If they didn’t rescue Roberto, Zens would kill him.
Discoveries
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Benji, head of the kitchens, said. “I’ve had so many trainees turning up for kitchen duty that I’ve sent half of them down to sort the storeroom—and that’s both sword fighters and archers.”
“What?” Lars replied. He’d never
