The Fairest (Book #1)

44: The Base

The figure's sword sliced downward. Dargany slipped away just in time. The sword's tip clipped the well with a cling. Gris jerked away as the rope snapped in the process. He fumbled to regain his grip and footing as the ladder swung deeply.

"Dargany!" he yelled.

The soldier unsheathed his sword and skillfully deflected the figure's quick strikes. Their silhouettes moved like silk in the darkness, and their clinking and scraping disturbed the wood's peaceful silence.

"Just go, Gris and find her! I'll be right behind you!"

Gris stared wearily at the single rope holding him and the ladder and knew he had to decide what to do. If he continued to descend, the rope would definitely snap, and Dargany wouldn't be able to follow. If he climbed out to retie the rope, Eron would walk further away, and he would never find him in the maze of tunnels.

But he had to save Mageia, or no one would know what happened to her.

"Don't die, Dargany."

"Go, Gris!" Dargany gradually led the figure deeper into the woods in their fierce sword fight.

Gris carefully descended until the ladder began to snag above. It urged him to hurry. Just as he reached close to the end of the rope, it snapped. He free fell the rest of the way, back sliding along the opposite side of the well. He crashed into a puddle of water and a sharp pain slid up his right ankle.

"Agh!" he screamed, catching his footing.

He had no time to waste. Grimacing, he clawed around and felt a handle. He pulled open a door and slipped into another section of darkness. He leaned on the cold walls as he limped to keep from bumping into them. The water beneath his boots and the wet walls told him he was inside an old draining system that probably led towards the river. When he reached a dead end made of thick slabs of stone, he felt around for another handle.

Perched on his left was a door made of a thick stone material and yellow. He quickly pried it open and a dull light greeted him. A small lantern hung on the opposite wall, revealing four wheeled carts filled with shovels and axes. The symbol of the Runes, a triangle with an axe head across it, had been painted on everything. The walls were made of the finest black stone and told Gris that this structure and passageway were at least ten years old.

This only meant that this addition to the drainage system was done within that timeframe. He unhooked the lantern and picked up his pace. Every yard or so was a lit lantern. Gris deduced that this tunnel was commonly used, but he couldn't recall any structure plans for beneath the palace grounds as of late. Most of the time, slaves were involved in building, and he would oversee their well-being. However, he had no charge over the slaves from the Runes.

He wondered if his father knew of this added tunnel. Either way, he hadn't run into any guard or soldier on patrol yet, and it made the hairs along his arms stand. For about thirty minutes, maybe more, he walked the narrow tunnel, turning and curving and declining lower into the earth. He gripped the hilt of his sword, hoping he had not forgotten how to use it. He strained his ears to listen for voices or footsteps ahead and heard none. When he reached a pair of stairs descending into another tunnel, he knew he was beyond the royal walls and beneath Hiilaan.

Unless a hidden doorway sat within the patterns of the stone walls, he crossed no doors or new tunnel. Eron and that soldier had to be right in front of him somewhere. He thought and pictured what he would do if he confronted them. What would he say? What would he do? He was so far away from the palace now; turning back was not an option. And worse of all, they could easily kill him, and no one would know except Dargany. That is, if Dargany had beaten the mysterious figure.