Dear God! Was that monster Dhraji's real shape? There was something else: had Dhraji not said she would live forever? I had thought that mere vanity at the time. Now, I am not so sure. There's no time to think of that now. I'll worry about it later.
Stepping forward, Bradan tried the door. While all the other dungeons had only been bolted or had the key in the lock, this dungeon's door was securely locked, with two massive iron bolts across the front and three locks. 'Where is the key?'
The youth shook his head. 'I do not know. I thought the jailer might hold it, but none of these fit.' He held up the bunch that Bradan had handed him.
Bradan shook his head and came to a decision. 'My priority is in getting Melcorka away safely. I don't have the time to wrestle with doors. Take me away.'
'This way.' The youth led Bradan through the dungeons, ducked under a low stone arch and nearly slid down a sloping stone platform to a circular hole. Bradan heard the gurgle and roar of fast-moving water.
'This is where the jailer throws the dead, or those that the rakshasa no longer requires,' the youth said.
'Where does it lead?'
The youth shook his head. 'I don't know. Maybe it leads out to sea. As long as it is away from here, I don't care.' He looked up. 'We might drown.'
'We might,' Bradan agreed.
'I'll go first.' The youth jumped in without another word.
'This might get dangerous, Mel,' Bradan said. 'Take a deep breath.' He demonstrated by opening his mouth wide and drawing in air with as much noise as possible. Melcorka smiled and copied him, giggling like a two-year-old.
'Ready?' Bradan lifted her up, and, unable to stop himself, kissed her on the forehead. 'God go with us, Mel.' As he dropped into the river, he had another glimpse of that black-and-white shimmer.
The water was surprisingly warm. Bradan had no time to think, concentrating on gripping Melcorka tightly as the current whirled him away, plunging downward with the force of a waterfall. Melcorka struggled against him, trying to break free. Bradan held her close, hoping that they would reach air before Melcorka took deep draughts of water and they drowned here in the terrible darkness under Dhraji's dungeons.
Pain mounted in Bradan's chest. Fighting the desire to breathe, he slipped his hand across Melcorka's mouth as she struggled against him, her eyes wide with uncomprehending fear. She kicked and pushed, making small noises of panic, until suddenly, they exploded into fresh air and dawn's dim daylight, with the youth bobbing at their side and a gaggle of washerwomen staring at them. When Bradan slid his hand away from Melcorka's mouth, she dragged in a great mouthful of air, staring at him as if he were torturing her.
'Hurry!' The youth was not even out of breath. 'This way.' He jumped from the river and ran past the women. One woman gestured shyly at the naked youth, covering her mouth with a delicate hand. The others began to chatter, pointing to Bradan.
'They know you're a foreigner,' the youth shouted. 'Hurry! Run! They'll tell the Thiruzha soldiers.'
Glancing over his shoulder, Bradan saw the city walls a good quarter of a mile behind them. He wondered what the monster he knew as Dhraji would think when she found him gone, dismissed the thought and concentrated on following the youth, who seemed to be able to swim and run non-stop without drawing breath. They moved through dense woodland, jinking and dodging between the trunks of trees and leaping over increasingly tangled undergrowth.
'Where are we going?' Melcorka asked.
'I don't know.' Bradan held her as tightly as he could. 'Hold on to me.'
They ran for an hour and stopped beside a small stream. The youth picked some fruits from a tree, passed them to Bradan and smiled. 'What's your name?'
'I am Bradan the Wanderer, from Alba.' Bradan put Melcorka gently onto the ground. 'This is Melcorka of Alba.'
'I am Banduka,' the youth said. 'You are very pale-faced. Is it a disease?'
'In Alba, where we come from, everybody is this colour.'
The youth shook his head, evidently not believing Bradan's story.
'Where are you taking us?' Bradan asked.
'Not far now.' The youth stopped at the sound of a whistle.
'He is taking you nowhere.' A deep voice sounded from behind the trees as a man emerged. He held a bow, with the arrow pointed directly at Bradan's chest. Others followed, dark-skinned, broad-chested men with crude bows in their hands.
'I know you,' the deep-voiced man said. 'You were with the rakshasa called Dhraji.' He pulled back the string of his bow. 'You're going no further.'
'No!' Banduka stepped between Bradan and the arrow. 'He saved my life. He is running from the demon.'
'We should kill him,' the deep-voiced man said.
'No, Kosala! He is a friend!' Banduka said. 'He rescued the woman, killed the jailer and set me free.'
'He might be a Thiruzha spy.' Kosala moved sideways, keeping his arrow pointed towards Bradan.
'We can ask Chaturi,' Banduka said. 'She will know what is best to do.'
Much to Bradan's relief, Kosala finally lowered his arrow. 'We will do that. If she says to let him live, we will let him live. If she says to kill him, we will kill them both.'
'Melcorka is harmless,' Bradan said. 'She is sick in her mind just now. You cannot kill her.'
'Yes, I can.' Kosala looked more than capable of following up his words. 'Stay in front of me, Rakshasa-lover, and if I even suspect you are signalling to anybody else, or leaving a trail for the Thiruzha to follow, I will gut you and leave you to die in slow agony.'
'I will come with you,' Bradan knew he had no choice. Sometimes, he wished that he was a fighting man. It was getting a little tiresome, coping with threats from all these violent people.
Bradan counted twenty people in the group, most looking more like refugees than warriors. Kosala took charge, organising
