“I didn’t catch your name,” he said. “I mean, I’ve never been quite this intimate with someone without first exchanging names.”
“Intimate?” Dayne asked. “We’ve been caved in.”
“And your body is pressed on top of mine,” the Thorn said. “I mean, I’m flattered, but . . .”
“We’re lucky to not be dead, and you make jokes.”
“I can assure you, I wouldn’t if we were dead.”
Absurdity.
“Can you move at all?” Dayne asked him. “We need to find a way out of this.”
“Right now, I’m focused on keeping us from being crushed,” he said.
“My shield is doing that.”
“No, your shield is helping,” the Thorn said. “I used it to envelope us in magic, which is probably why we aren’t dead.”
“So can you magic us out?” Dayne asked.
“It’s all a bit delicate. I didn’t want to get started until we assessed the situation. Like who I’m dealing with.”
“Who am I dealing with?”
“I asked you first, pal.”
“Very mature,” Dayne said.
“Well, few people accused me of being otherwise.”
Dayne sighed. “You’re called the Thorn, apparently?”
“So you have heard of me.”
“I heard Gurond call you that.”
The Thorn shook his head. “I don’t know how he knew that. He . . .”
“He knew you. How?”
“I’ve never seen that monster before,” the Thorn said. “I have no idea.”
“Surely—”
“Look, an hour ago I thought you were the giant taking the kids, so let’s not dig that useless hole.”
“How could you think a Tarian—”
“There is nothing that surprises me anymore,” the Thorn said. “So, great Tarian who does not kidnap children, who are you?”
“Dayne!” Hemmit’s voice could be heard through the rubble. “Dayne, are you there?”
“So, it’s Dayne,” the Thorn said.
“Yes,” Dayne said. He called out to Hemmit. “Are you all right?”
“I’m not under the rock, if that’s what you’re asking,” Hemmit replied. “I heard the ruckus and came over, but I’m not in great shape right now.”
The Thorn called out, “Do you see a giant creature, nine feet tall with oily gray skin? Answers to Gurond?”
“What?” Hemmit said. “I only see this pile of rock covering half the room.”
“Well, if we’re lucky, Gurond buried himself in the collapse,” the Thorn said. “If we’re not, he’s out and about in the hallways.”
“Hush,” Dayne said. His heartbeat was going faster, and his whole body felt cold and clammy, and he could only see the Thorn’s stupid, cocky face. “We have . . .” He couldn’t breathe. “We have . . .” He couldn’t hold the panic in any longer, and screamed.
“Hey, hey, Dayne,” the Thorn said. “Easy, big guy. My magic is keeping us from being crushed but you’re still doing a lot of the work. And pretty soon you’ll be doing all of it. So keep your head on.”
“Dayne?” Hemmit called.
“Hey, friend,” the Thorn called out. “What are we looking at here? You said half the room is buried. So half isn’t. You can walk around?”
“Yes,” Hemmit said.
“You happen to see any bits of us? Feet or cloth sticking out of the rubble? Maybe a rope?”
“Nothing,” Hemmit said. “How many passages were there out of here?”
“Six!” Dayne shouted. Saying that word took every ounce of will he had.
“Looks like one is completely covered by the cave-in. Another is mostly covered. Then four more.”
The Thorn closed his eyes. “All right, the one the kid ran down is one of the blocked ones. Hopefully not the same one Gurond went down.”
The boy. Dayne remembered. “We have to get that boy safe. If Gurond—”
“Yeah,” the Thorn said. “Can you move at all?”
Dayne shook his head.
“All right, brace yourself, Dayne. I’m going to reach a bit to my right. I think my rope is still there.”
“What good is a rope going to—”
“This rope, plenty,” the Thorn said. His hand moved, sliding past Dayne’s chest. “If I can get it, it might make all the difference.”
“Magic,” Dayne said.
“Right,” the Thorn said. He inched his hand over a bit more. “Got it.”
Suddenly a snake ran up Dayne’s body. The last bits of self-control fell apart, and Dayne shouted. He dropped his arm and collapsed entirely on the Thorn. The rocks fell as well, and they were surely crushed—
But they weren’t. They had shot out through the rubble into the passageway, wrapped together in the rope. The rope uncoiled from them and Dayne pulled himself off, getting to his feet.
The Thorn stayed on the ground, panting and heaving.
“Are you—” Dayne started.
“Took—a—lot . . . too fast . . .”
Dayne looked about. They were in the passage that had been fully blocked by the cave-in. “Hemmit! Can you hear me?”
“I can!” Hemmit said. “It looked like the pile collapsed. Are you clear?”
“Clear but trapped. Unless we can move this stone . . .” He looked to the Thorn. Maybe he could magic it to get them out.
The Thorn shook his head. He crawled over to the wall and propped himself up against it. “That would take a lot, and I don’t have that much left in me. Not if I want to be ready for another round with Gurond.”
“We’re stuck in this tunnel,” Dayne called to Hemmit. “The boy—”
“Went down the other way,” Thorn said. He dug into one of his pockets and pulled out a sandwich wrapped in cloth. “Good thing I came prepared.”
“You’re going to eat?” Dayne asked.
“I have to,” Thorn said, taking a greedy bite.
“Makes sense,” Hemmit called from outside. “You say there’s a boy down the blocked passage?”
“Yeah,” the Thorn said.
“It’s Vollingale’s son,” Dayne said.
“Hey, kid,” Hemmit called. “Er . . . your grace? Are you all right?”
“Go away!”
The Thorn gingerly pulled himself up to his feet. “Hey, kid, you know what?”
“Go away!”
“Hemmit, can you get to him?” Dayne asked.
“No, but maybe he can get through there if he’s small.”
“Kid,” The Thorn said. “Guess what day it is?”
“Shut it!”
“It’s two days to Terrentin. Just two days. I bet you’re going to get all sorts of gifts at home.”
Silence for a moment. “I wanna go home.”
“I bet,” the Thorn called out. “Do you know the story of Saint Terrence? Why we give gifts on Terrentin?”
“No.”
“Terrence was a toymaker in his village. He made toys for all the children in his village, but one day a horrible warlord abducted
