The Lost Princess

Chapter Sixty-Five: Escaping Taiman

Eramire followed Gideon through the quiet streets of Taiman. He was pensive and silent. She wasn't surprised. He was risking so much for them. Amara and Faleon had gone to acquire the key to the library, using a key Eramire suspected they had stolen some time ago. She and Gideon were headed to the scribe's chambers to find a map of the library. The Taimanian general said all the workers would have gone home, and he had keys to most places in the city, so their task was not nearly so dangerous. Thorindir had stayed at the villa in case Earwen returned. They would need to alert her to their plans so she would be ready to leave the city with them. Eramire bit her lip. If her sister returned to the villa that is. If she didn't Thorindir would meet them at the next stage of the plan. They would have to hope to find her at a later time.

"This way, my lady."

She hurried forward, tugging again at the cloak that hid her face. "I am sorry we have dragged you into all this trouble, Gideon," she murmured as they slipped through the deserted streets.

"Things here have been going wrong for some time. Goroth has been here longer than I even realized. We cannot just continue to ignore his presence, or we will end up just like Calathil."

Eramire nodded.

"Perhaps I too wanted to ignore what was happening," Gideon continued. "But now that you are here, I no longer can. Just as you have stepped forward to force change, so must I for the sake of my own people. For my friend."

The conviction in the man's voice should not have been surprising to the elf queen, but there was something else hidden there. It almost sounded like anger, or hatred.

As they entered the building, a passing torch lit the Taimanian man's face, and his expression made Eramire frown. Why was he so angry? And why did it make her feel so uneasy?

***

Amara leaped the gap between the two roofs and landed lightly. She ran on and heard Faleon land behind her. They ran side by side across the terra-cotta shingles. They came to the edge of the second building. Faleon launched forward, and Amara dipped to the right, swinging down on a porch and then to an awning. It was like the old days. Their minds melded, and they slipped in and out of shadows like ghosts in the night. Sometimes she wouldn't see him for minutes, and then he would cross in front of her. She knew she needn't slow nor worry. No need to wait or catch up. They had done missions like these countless times before; they were in perfect sync.

Amara jumped from a roof to a hanging pallet of goods. It creaked as it swung with her momentum and her added weight. She launched herself down and caught a clothesline drawn between two buildings. It twanged as she released it, using it to lessen her heavy drop to the street. She dashed for an alley, sending the gravel on the road skittering in all directions with her hurried steps. Faleon vaulted on the roofs above her. She dodged behind a few booths, hurdling the barrels that lay behind them. Wind flowed over her perspiring skin. Her hood fell back, and moonlight spilled over her face. Her legs pumped, and she ran until her muscles ached. Fingers stinging slightly where the rough edges of shingles had scraped them. Her chest, however, was light as she drew air into her lungs, and her soul sang. Her hair loosened from its bun and fell in uneven waves to her shoulders. She wished she could run forever. She could turn and run from the city and never stop.

But she ran for her destination instead.

The building loomed in the distance, foreboding and dark. Armed guards stood before the entrance, flanked by large statues of snarling gryphons. Amara tugged her hood over her head and looked at Faleon. He waved his hand over her and she knew she would now be invisible. She thought about Faleon's magic. Goroth had given only his most trusted men these abilities. How would he feel about losing them when Goroth was vanquished? The duo mounted the steps. Each stage had been choreographed. They reached the top of the grand staircase and approached the doors. The guards didn't move. They saw and heard nothing as the two hooded figures slipped through the front entrance without so much as a sound, using a stolen key. They entered a grand hall lined with weaponry and artifacts prized by the city. It was almost like a museum.

Faleon gazed at a lofty sword that hung on the wall. "What a treasure trove we've stumbled on." Faleon whistled appreciatively, reaching out to retrieve the sword.

"Don't you dare," Amara snarled, glaring at him. "We can only afford to hide the theft of one item."

Faleon gave her a mildly disgusted look but followed her down the hall.

The hall emptied into a large room also lined with valuables. Amara noticed a dagger in a glass case. It was scrimshaw, the handle inlaid with mother of pearl. The plaque under the display said it was from Gaearost.

Faleon noticed her staring and chuckled. "Perhaps someday we can return and acquire a few of these treasures."

Amara did not respond and moved on. Her eyes fell on a large pedestal in the middle of the great room. She moved forward, Faleon close behind. Inside a glass case on a royal-blue velvet pillow lay a golden key. Its handle was shaped like a gryphon in flight. Faleon tried to lift the glass case, but it wouldn't budge. He looked at Amara and shrugged.

"Well, looks like you're up." He strolled away, gazing about the room, no doubt planning the items he would pilfer if he ever returned. Amara rolled her eyes and studied the pedestal. It was very bizarre, shaped like an enormous scorpion. The creature's claws and tail reached above its spidery body and met where it held up the platform on which the case sat. The carving's eyes seemed to follow her, sharp and menacing. Amara ran her hands over the carved wood, searching for any sort of switch or trigger. She found none. She again examined the base and soon realized it was covered in an ancient form of writing she had never seen. She had thought it to be the scorpion's scales. She now examined a small plaque at its base and realized it was a riddle:

Take my prize

And you will pay an eye for an eye;

Return what is mine

And you may just survive.

Amara frowned, considering the verses. Whispering them aloud, she mulled over what the price to obtain the key could be. She jerked back, for no sooner had the words of the inscription left her mouth than the scorpion's long tail swung over the case, and its thorn-sharp tip hung just inches from her nose.

Faleon had heard the pedestal move and hurried over and stared with Amara at the scorpion's new stance. "What did you do?" he asked quizzically.

"I read the inscription aloud," she said cryptically.

"Well, it's still not open."

Amara stared at the wicked-looking stinger. "'You will pay an eye for an eye,'" she murmured, reaching out to touch the tip of her finger to the scorpion's tail.

Faleon grabbed her wrist roughly.

"Are you insane," he said. "You have no idea what that will do to you."

Amara jerked away from him.

"I know that it will more than likely get us the key."

"And if you die in the process?"

Amara stared again at the razor-sharp stinger.

"If the inscription means what I think does, it won't kill me as long as we return the key after we have finished our task," she said.

Faleon watched warily as she touched the stinger. Amara immediately doubled over and gasped for breath, as liquid fire raced through her veins. Faleon reached out to steady her as her knees buckled. The pain ebbed but did not vanish. A sharp click echoed through the room, and Faleon stepped forward, removing the glass covering. Amara pressed away the pain in her arm and snatched up the key. Faleon glared at her a moment before replacing the glass. The scorpion resumed its previous position, though its eyes still glittered with menace as if it were unhappy about releasing its charge. Faleon waved his hands over the case, and a replica of the key flickered into view as if nothing had happened.

"We did it," Amara sighed, wincing as she held the key in her hand.

"Are you okay?" Faleon asked, though his voice was devoid of concern.

"Yes. Now let's get out of here. We must gather the others."

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