nearby. With water in it. We are directly above it, I know it.”
He held her gaze, his green eyes probing hers, testing her. He cocked his head to one side, listening. When recognition lit his eyes, her heart leapt.
“I can hear something,” he whispered.
“Singing?”
“No, roaring. Like a waterfall.” And not far away, they heard voices.
Then he was on all fours, digging through the brush and weeds with Illista. She kicked at clods of dirt with her blistered toes and yanked at roots and found nothing. With a shudder, she sat back, breathing heavily with scrapes burning on her hands, her wrists, her face.
Joral had moved a few feet away from her and continued to search the ground methodically. The assassins were getting closer. Surely all the ruckus in the weeds would catch their attention and she and Joral would be at their mercy. An icy shiver of fear shot through her belly at the thought, and she crawled forward double-time, fingers clawing the dirt as though she could dig her way to freedom.
And then one hand slipped through the tangle of roots and stems and her entire arm disappeared down to her shoulder. She gasped and tried to free herself. Inside the hole, her hand was surrounded by rope-like roots, twisting and tangling around her skin.
Joral was at her side in an instant, pulling her gently back to solid ground. She rubbed her angered skin while he picked up a fallen grass stem nearly as thick as her wrist. Without a word, he broke it over one knee forming a dagger-like point. The inside of the woody stem was hollow, and the point formed a narrow spade. He plunged it into the hole where her arm had disappeared and dug around. He withdrew his digging stick and hacked downward several more times, removing tangles of brush with each stroke and discarding it to one side.
With the last stab, a tangle of stems slipped down and in, swallowed by the earth. From below her, Illista heard the interruption in the song as the branches hit the water and were carried away by the unseen river.
“I think we found your cave. I will go down to see what is there.”
She grabbed his arm. “No, I will go first. These eyes see better in the darkness than yours, I think.”
She reached out to the water with her mind and warned it of her approach. It gurgled happily. Joral clasped her by the elbow and she wrapped her hand around his. Carefully, she dipped one toe into the thinned brush over the cave entrance.
A bark of human laughter rang out through the grass. The sound seemed to be all around them. She and Joral exchanged silent agreement. Careful. Silent. He held her gaze as she bent her knee and let her first leg slip down into the unknown below.
***
Joral clasped Illista's arm as though he were the one dangling over a precipice and watched as her lower half disappeared into the thick vegetation. He lowered her until all he could see was her round face and the tops of her shoulders. Her eyes, the most expressive part of her face in this form, glinted with an almost ecstatic glow. With a nod from her, he continued to lower her down.
She closed her eyes and her mouth as her face disappeared down into the cave and soon Joral was flat on his belly, half of his arm following her down, his hand still firm around her wrist. Her motion jerked to a halt and she tugged at him twice and released his wrist.
She must have found the bottom. Reluctantly, he released his own fingers from her elbow and her arm slipped downward until their fingers met.
Below the surface of the earth, she linked her fingers through his, and then covered them with her other hand. She pulled again, gentle tugs that urged him downwards.
On foot, alone, he had a chance of outrunning any assassin who chased him. At hand-to-hand combat, he could hold his own against the best swordsman. Illista was safe here in her hole, protected from detection. Alone, he might catch the rest of the Segra camp.
They needed him. Without him, the fragile peace with the
He held her gaze, his green eyes probing hers, testing her. He cocked his head to one side, listening. When recognition lit his eyes, her heart leapt.
“I can hear something,” he whispered.
“Singing?”
“No, roaring. Like a waterfall.” And not far away, they heard voices.
Then he was on all fours, digging through the brush and weeds with Illista. She kicked at clods of dirt with her blistered toes and yanked at roots and found nothing. With a shudder, she sat back, breathing heavily with scrapes burning on her hands, her wrists, her face.
Joral had moved a few feet away from her and continued to search the ground methodically. The assassins were getting closer. Surely all the ruckus in the weeds would catch their attention and she and Joral would be at their mercy. An icy shiver of fear shot through her belly at the thought, and she crawled forward double-time, fingers clawing the dirt as though she could dig her way to freedom.
And then one hand slipped through the tangle of roots and stems and her entire arm disappeared down to her shoulder. She gasped and tried to free herself. Inside the hole, her hand was surrounded by rope-like roots, twisting and tangling around her skin.
Joral was at her side in an instant, pulling her gently back to solid ground. She rubbed her angered skin while he picked up a fallen grass stem nearly as thick as her wrist. Without a word, he broke it over one knee forming a dagger-like point. The inside of the woody stem was hollow, and the point formed a narrow spade. He plunged it into the hole where her arm had disappeared and dug around. He withdrew his digging stick and hacked downward several more times, removing tangles of brush with each stroke and discarding it to one side.
With the last stab, a tangle of stems slipped down and in, swallowed by the earth. From below her, Illista heard the interruption in the song as the branches hit the water and were carried away by the unseen river.
“I think we found your cave. I will go down to see what is there.”
She grabbed his arm. “No, I will go first. These eyes see better in the darkness than yours, I think.”
She reached out to the water with her mind and warned it of her approach. It gurgled happily. Joral clasped her by the elbow and she wrapped her hand around his. Carefully, she dipped one toe into the thinned brush over the cave entrance.
A bark of human laughter rang out through the grass. The sound seemed to be all around them. She and Joral exchanged silent agreement. Careful. Silent. He held her gaze as she bent her knee and let her first leg slip down into the unknown below.
***
Joral clasped Illista's arm as though he were the one dangling over a precipice and watched as her lower half disappeared into the thick vegetation. He lowered her until all he could see was her round face and the tops of her shoulders. Her eyes, the most expressive part of her face in this form, glinted with an almost ecstatic glow. With a nod from her, he continued to lower her down.
She closed her eyes and her mouth as her face disappeared down into the cave and soon Joral was flat on his belly, half of his arm following her down, his hand still firm around her wrist. Her motion jerked to a halt and she tugged at him twice and released his wrist.
She must have found the bottom. Reluctantly, he released his own fingers from her elbow and her arm slipped downward until their fingers met.
Below the surface of the earth, she linked her fingers through his, and then covered them with her other hand. She pulled again, gentle tugs that urged him downwards.
On foot, alone, he had a chance of outrunning any assassin who chased him. At hand-to-hand combat, he could hold his own against the best swordsman. Illista was safe here in her hole, protected from detection. Alone, he might catch the rest of the Segra camp.
They needed him. Without him, the fragile peace with the
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