Tragedy.
“Dayne!” Hemmit called from the passage.
The light was fading. He needed to go, move forward. The only way out was through, now. Taking a few deep breaths, he got on his hands and knees, and started to crawl into the tiny space.
It was tighter and harder than he had imagined. He pushed and crawled; every inch was a struggle. There was almost no space to move his arms, no way to slip through without scraping his body against the stone. Every breath was a struggle.
He could barely force himself forward. There was no way to go back. The light from Lin had vanished. He was in darkness, pressed on every side. His friends’ voices were far in the distance.
Nowhere to go.
No one with him.
He pulled himself another inch. Another impossible victory. This all was impossible. There was no way he could possibly—
Darkness.
Alone.
Pressing down.
Crushing his chest.
Can’t breathe—
Can’t survive—
“Dayne!”
A hand curled itself into his.
He opened his eyes. He didn’t remember closing them.
Jerinne facing him, a soft glow of light coming from behind her.
“Why are you—” He had to force the words out.
“You were screaming, I came for you,” she said.
“You shouldn’t have,” he said. “I . . . I’m going to die here. I failed . . . I always fail.”
“Don’t say that,” she said. “You’re closer to the end than you think.”
He heard her, but his thoughts dwelled on all his failures. Lenick. Master Denbar. Sholiar “No, no, I let so many people down, Master Denbar would be alive . . . .”
“Dayne,” she said quietly, squeezing his hand gently. “You remember the contemplation exercises? Calming your mind at the end of the day?”
“Always hated those.”
“Same,” she said. “But right now, slow your breath, hold the flame in your thoughts. Keep it controlled. Breathe through the fear. Let the calm fill your body.”
“Those aren’t the words,” he said.
“Still,” she said. “That’s what I need you to do. Then I’m going to start to go down; you’re going to come with me.”
“I can’t—” He closed his eyes again, trying to hold back the tears.
“Eyes on me, Candidate,” she said. He opened them again, focusing on her caring eyes, her kind face. “I’ve got you. We’re going to move together.”
“I—”
“Tell me about the Line of Cedidore,” she said as she moved back, still gripping his hand. “Kings at the beginning of the Shattered Kingdom. River Wars, Quarantine Wall, all that?”
“Right,” he said, letting her strength help pull him forward just a bit. “Of course, Shalcer was the king at the actual shattering of Druthal, and when he died the lords of Maradaine and the ruling council wanted to find someone strong to rule them. Shalcer’s son, Prince Malceen, was considered completely unfit. Some sources say he was even dumber than Shalcer, unable to speak in complete sentences. The court sequestered him off in a forgotten wing of the castle, and the lords selected one of their own, Cedidore, the second cousin of Shalcer, to be the new king.”
“Cedidore the Mad,” she said.
“The great tyrant,” he said, telling her everything about Cedidore’s reign, how he decided that rather than trying to reclaim the parts of Druthal that had broken into new kingdoms, he would consolidate his power and cleanse his nation of any “subversive elements.” He hadn’t even gotten to the true start of the Quarantine after Count Rowland’s failed coup when suddenly Jerinne was pulling him to his feet.
“See?” she said. “You made it out.”
He was out of the tunnel, now in a grand chamber that arched twenty feet high, a hub with several tunnels large enough to roll carriages through in many directions.
Dayne said the first thing that came to mind.
“Why didn’t we come here that way?”
“I don’t know how to get here from that direction,” Maresh said. “Blazes, who knows where those even go?”
“All right,” Dayne said. “But where do we go?”
“That way,” Maresh said, pointing to the widest, largest tunnel. Just seeing that made Dayne breathe easier. “Southwest, under the river.”
“Under it, incredible,” Hemmit said.
“Near as I can reckon, this underbridge runs almost exactly under the Grand Maradaine Bridge, but that was only built twenty years ago. Right?”
“This is all much older,” Hemmit said.
“The current bridge was built using the support buttresses of the old Keller Walk Bridge,” Dayne said. He looked over to Jerinne, a warm smile on his face. “Built during Cedidore’s reign. This might have been done at the same time.”
“Tyrant kings do get things done,” she said.
“Thank you,” he told her.
“Always.”
“Everyone,” Lin said, pointing down the passage. “We’re not alone.”
Dayne pivoted, catching the shield that Jerinne tossed to him. He stepped up to the passage entrance, shield high. Jerinne took a stance next to him.
The passage was dark, but there were definitely two figures a few hundred feet away.
“Hello?” Dayne called. “Identify yourselves. We mean no harm.”
“Is that a good idea?” Hemmit asked.
“We don’t,” Dayne said. “No need to provoke something.”
Lin increased the intensity of her light. Not enough to see too far down the underbridge, but enough to better make out the two people.
Only for a moment. They both ran off into the darkness.
“Well, that was troubling,” Lin said.
“You spooked them,” Dayne said.
“I was spooked by them,” she said. “Did you see them?”
“I didn’t get a good look, no,” Dayne said. “Two men, but they ran off.”
“Men?” she asked. “Maybe in the darkness, but their bodies were misshapen, out of proportion. Like no men I’ve ever seen.”
“Yeah,” Jerinne said. “What I saw wasn’t . . . normal.”
Dayne wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Perhaps a trick of the light. Perhaps something else. But we shouldn’t just stand here.”
“Right,” Hemmit said. “Ever forward. Even with . . . odd residents.”
“But Jerinne and I will take the lead,” he said. “Shields up, at the ready.”
“Right,” she said. “No telling what else we’ll find down here.”
Dayne smiled, finally able to let the muscles in his neck relax, find an easy rhythm to his lungs and heart. “Whatever it might be, we face it together.”
“Always,” she
