Eight Will Fall, page 7
Larkin looked over her shoulder. Devon hadn’t budged. He seemed different now, angry, like a pot about to boil over.
A guard approached Devon from behind and gave him a shove. “Move it.”
Devon stumbled forward, then swung his fist around. The guard caught it and punched him in the gut.
Fool. So much for a heroic protest. He was the one who mentioned the lack of food, and yet he seemed dead set on wasting energy.
Larkin glared at Devon as two guards towed him toward the cavern entrance and tossed him through. Get in the damn mine, she thought anxiously.
Devon scrambled to his feet, but Jacque and Casseem grabbed his arms, preventing him from trying to run back out.
“You’re making it worse,” Jacque hissed.
The miner thrashed but failed to shake them off.
Larkin turned away from Devon’s struggles and walked to Hathius. She exhaled as her collar was unlocked, ready for the familiar rush of emotions to come flooding back, but her senses remained dulled. The solid luminite mouth of the Reach was still suppressing her, even at a distance. Larkin’s resistance was no match against this much of the mineral.
“I do feel sorry for you.” Hathius’s voice rang flat against the luminite wall as he passed her the remaining torch. “Quite a burden to fall on such naïve shoulders.”
Larkin whirled on Hathius. She had nothing to lose.
“And what do you think happens if we fail? You better pray to your damned Ilona that we return, or everything you love will crumble around you.” Larkin cocked her head. “And if Kyran has a sense of humor, you’ll be one of the last standing.”
The lieutenant’s smile fell. She had power over him after all.
His fault for being stupid enough to think Kyran was an immortal god.
Larkin walked through the cavern entrance. The gate descended behind her. She watched it lock them in.
Hathius glared at her from the other side of the bars.
“I’ll have soldiers posted for the next one hundred and fifty days. That’s well into autumn,” Hathius said. “If the destruction ceases and you return to the Surface soon after, then we’ll release you. Despite our differences, I do hope you succeed, Larkin. For Demura.”
She wanted to laugh in his face. One hundred and fifty days. Just given the amount of resources they had, they’d last less than a third of that with the best of luck.
Larkin thought of the destruction magic and her task of finding its source. Hathius wanted her to succeed because magic had mysteriously found a way to defy the queen. Melay’s army had failed to return with an answer. Did Hathius believe it was Kyran, or was he simply following Melay’s whims? Perhaps, as Devon suspected, he was just happy to enact their punishment by sending them into the Reach.
She knew she was wasting time wondering about the lieutenant. Stop it, Larkin ordered herself. Save Garran.
Nothing else mattered.
Larkin turned from Hathius and stepped into the shadows.
NINE
An onyx world waited beneath Larkin.
Down below, the light from Brielle’s distant torch licked along the walls of the shimmering tunnel. Pins and needles swept over Larkin’s skin as she followed the rest of the group into darkness. She pressed her hand to her cuirass and tried to breathe, but her lungs couldn’t expand enough.
Don’t panic, she thought.
Larkin realized that the sound of heavy breathing wasn’t coming from her. Footsteps echoed along the tunnel walls.
Someone was hiking back up.
The person collided with Larkin, and Larkin fumbled to steady them.
“Is the gate closed?” Elfina glanced behind Larkin, wide eyes glinting in the torchlight. “Sweet Ilona.” She bent over to balance herself on her knees. “I can’t do this.”
“We don’t really have another option, Elfina.”
“It’s Elf.”
“Elf,” Larkin repeated. “We should get moving.” She spoke more confidently than she felt, worried they’d fall behind if they lingered.
Elf stood straight, wiping the hair from her forehead as she stared down at the path ahead. “I’m used to the vale, the wide-open spaces. I’d die if I were a miner. No offense.”
You get used to it, Larkin wanted to say, but that would be a lie. Instead, she gently guided Elf in front of her. “My mum taught me some tricks to deal with the tight spaces, and the darkness. I can share them with you.”
“I’d like that,” said Elf.
“The first is to focus on ways to distract yourself. You’re a storyteller, right? You promised me a story of Kyran’s revenge, after all.”
“That’ll set the mood, all right.” Elf grimaced, bracing herself against the tunnel wall as she began her descent.
At least she’s walking, thought Larkin, following her. The slick wall rushed past her fingers; the narrow passage that led downward into the caverns was solid luminite. No wonder Kyran and his disciples couldn’t escape. It was the perfect prison.
As Elfina continued, she regained her grace, floating from step to step. “I don’t usually tell stories like this. I’m used to an audience and a stage.”
“I can applaud? Gasp? Jeer at the villain?” Larkin suggested.
“I’ll have to start at the beginning. The dry stuff. I can’t drop you into the middle of a battle scene where Elesandre must conjure new limbs for her injured compatriot.”
“Who’s Elesandre?” Larkin asked. Already, Elf’s breathing was growing calmer. The distraction was working.
“Proving my point already. You don’t even know Kyran’s disciples by name.” The tremble in Elf’s voice was dissipating. “Bianca Elesandre was Kyran’s right hand. She was skilled as a medic, and conjured new flesh to heal wounds during the Uprising.”
“Conjured new flesh from what?”
“Dead bodies.”
Larkin wrinkled her nose. “That’s unsettling.”
“Oh, it’s just wonderful, Larkin. Think of being able to heal whomever you wish! She was the most fun to tell stories about. Thaos Leander too. He was trying to find a way to overpower luminite. The tales are endless.”
This caught Larkin’s attention. “Was he ever successful?” she asked, thinking of her own resistance.
“Not sure. I’m just a storyteller, remember? I work with seeds of legends and make things grow. We made up tales of Leander stuck in the Reach, learning to defeat the luminite barrier and escaping.” Elf’s voice grew louder and more melodic as she skated around a shadowy dip in the path.
“And no one knows what happened to him once he was imprisoned?” Larkin pried as she clumsily followed in Elf’s footsteps. Outside of her family’s immunity, Leander was the first she’d ever heard of another Empath being able to resist, or attempting to resist, the mineral.
“No one knows what happened to any of them.”
But Larkin did know what should have happened to them. Kyran and his disciples were condemned a thousand years ago. They should have lived their short lives in darkness.
Not should, she reminded herself. Did.
The air thickened with the scent of ancient water and the sharpness of the ore. They’d caught up to the others, their voices occasionally echoing against mineral.
Natural cavern openings weren’t as linear as this. Larkin knew the difference between an earth-made cavern and one that had been scooped out by miners, and this path was made by men. Hundreds of years ago, the Reach was brimming with workers—miners, just like her.
She was used to mines. Maybe there was nothing frightening at all about the Reach. Maybe the soldiers were still alive below, searching for the source of the destruction.
But she wouldn’t waste time with false hope. Real hope lay in what Tamsyn had told them back at the outpost: luminite was a Surface mineral. She’d be able to sense again soon. It was like waiting for a blindfold to be lifted. She couldn’t imagine the magic unbridled, no threat of imprisonment. Freedom was close enough to taste. And once they all were free, she would know what they had to work with. Soldiers had swords, but seven of them could crush bone at the sense of fear.
Larkin would bank her hope in magic.
Ahead, Tamsyn had stopped, his manicured hand sliding along the wall. “Have you ever seen so much luminite in your life?”
“You can’t imagine,” Larkin responded brusquely. “When’s the tunnel supposed to end?”
“A few miles, I think. I need to refer to my texts before we go deeper. They’re important, you know. The texts will tell us precisely what we need to know to get us through the Reach.”
“I need to refer to my texts,” Elf mocked, flawlessly mimicking Tamsyn’s posh baritone. “He’s the most educated person on the Reach?”
Larkin hid a laugh.
“I could have escaped if it weren’t for the luminite,” Devon’s voice boomed in front of them.
Casseem chuckled wryly. “Any of us could have escaped without the luminite. Melay coats the entire damned city with it so we don’t go around melting off the guards’ faces.”
“You think the luminite would stop me from slitting a throat or two?” Devon’s steps grew heavier, as if he was trying to make as much noise as possible. Larkin missed when he was quiet. “Why do you think I was imprisoned in the first place? The guards had it coming.”
“Sucks all the air out of the room, that one,” Elf muttered.
“He wants us angry,” Larkin whispered in response, thinking about her conversation with Devon at the Reach’s entrance. He’d fished for Larkin’s reaction at the food supply then, and he’d rejected his meal in the palace in the hopes of riling up Melay.
Devon was bent on creating anger for the sake of it.
Casseem scoffed. “Are you bragging about murdering guards?”
“All I’m saying is that I’ve had the opportunity,” said Devon.
“Please shut up,” Jacque ordered from the front of the line.
Please, thought Larkin.
Casseem agreed. “We need to be able to hear what’s up ahead.”
“And make sure that whatever’s up ahead doesn’t hear us. We don’t know what happened to the other soldiers,” Jacque reminded them as the shimmering ring of light from their torches grew.
The tunnel was widening, the glimmer of luminite subsiding. One by one, the eight of them spilled from the tunnel, their light doing little to illuminate the dome of the chamber. The air was stale and sharp with mineral. Larkin looked up. The light reflected in a crescent along the ceiling, the sheet of luminite cresting before it fanned into veins at the farthest side of the small room. The opening that led deeper wasn’t much wider than the tunnel they’d come from.
At the chamber’s center, Casseem shrugged off his pack. “How many miles was that?” He swiped the damp hair from his forehead, stole Larkin’s torch, and scrutinized the ceiling’s dwindling luminite.
“From my knowledge, two miles,” said Tamsyn. “But let me refer to my texts.”
My texts, Elf mouthed dramatically, and Larkin bit back her grin.
Tamsyn removed his scroll case from his shoulder. He uncapped the case and tilted it until a roll of parchment slid into his open palm.
Brielle lit a sconce on the wall, cupping her hands around the flame and expertly coaxing it to life. She smiled briefly at the fire before she began to pick at the handle of her torch.
Casseem paced the floor, and Larkin watched his fingers flex at his sides. She sensed the tremor of something faint. Her resistance granted her the ability to sense, but surely Casseem couldn’t. Not yet.
They locked eyes.
The corner of Casseem’s mouth perked up. “Five hundred paces and I’ll know exactly who’s terrified of the dark.”
So Casseem was still hindered by the luminite, which meant the rest of them likely were too. Larkin skirted the group until she was as far away from the mineral as possible, the emotions of her party clinging to her in bits and pieces.
Devon sulked to the edge of the chamber and threw his pack down, pressing his back to the wall. Beneath her skin, Larkin sensed a steady tremor stemming from him.
So his angry demeanor was a lie. He was terrified, perhaps more than anyone else. That explained the mood swings.
As for the others … It was hard to distinguish them within the sea of discomfort. As they waited for Tamsyn to read the map, Elf glided along the edges of the chamber as though attempting to distance herself from the group. Brielle set her torch on the ground and remained crouched, folding into her body as she observed the mineral ceiling. Jacque, on the other hand, acted indifferent toward the luminite, leaning against the wall with her hand on her sword.
The only disrupting wave was the curiosity that stemmed from Amias. He knelt near Tamsyn and rifled through the stacked documents near the scroll case. If he cared that the luminite was almost gone, he was doing a good job at hiding it.
“Careful,” Tamsyn hissed as Amias pulled a scroll from beneath the pile.
“What is it?”
It was the first time Larkin heard him speak, his voice almost musical. For a boy who’d been locked up for half a decade, she’d expected something rougher.
“A taxonomy of cave edibles. We’ll die without it,” said Tamsyn impatiently, as though it was the dumbest thing he’d ever been asked.
Amias unraveled the scroll and studied it, his eyes flitting back and forth across the parchment.
Casseem cocked his head to the side as he watched Amias. “I didn’t think Empaths could read.”
“I’m full of secrets.” Amias’s attention didn’t waver from the scroll.
“You sure are. You’d think that from sitting in a hole in the ground, you’d be a ghostly, shriveled little thing—”
Amias cut him off. “I’ve never been ghostly. Or shriveled.”
“True, your arms are almost as big as Larkin’s.” Casseem glanced at Larkin and grinned.
Larkin crossed her arms over her chest. “The hells is that supposed to mean?”
“Miners are an intimidating lot. Take it as a compliment.”
At Casseem’s mention of her arms, Larkin realized how tense every part of her body was. The flitting emotions of her companions were teasing her. “We shouldn’t wait here long, not when there’s still luminite.”
“Because our magic will protect us?” Devon drawled.
Larkin paced the edge of the chamber. Devon’s eyes followed her, intent. “I don’t know what’s below,” she said. “But I’ve never used a sword in my life. So yes, magic is my only defense. And that’s the same for most of us.”
“Can’t imagine your destruction magic is much better than your swordsmanship, Larkin.” Devon settled against the wall. “Have you ever been outside the capital until now?”
She gave him nothing, refusing to be baited even as her anger flared. Larkin knew his surliness was just an act, a cloak for his vulnerability. Soon, everyone else would realize it, too.
Tamsyn tapped his finger on the map. “I was correct,” he declared. We’ve traveled about two miles. About eighteen more to go before the known Reach ends.”
Jacque tugged at her leather glove, watching Devon and Larkin like a prison guard monitoring unruly inmates. “Let’s move.”
“You’ve been trying to foil this mission from the start.” Larkin took a step toward Devon. “Why?”
The other miner pushed himself from the wall, his fear twisting cruelly. He’d been waiting for this question.
“Because even if Melay truly does believe in Kyran, this isn’t a mission to kill him. The queen wants to take out her anger on us because she can. She threatened our families because she can. And once we die, which will happen, she’ll send another group of Empaths down, and another.” He shrugged. “Maybe until all of us are gone. Because she can. I won’t play along.”
Larkin gritted her teeth. So that was why he’d fought the guards. Why he’d mentioned the food. He didn’t just believe that their mission was hopeless; he was making sure it was impossible. He was fighting for someone, just like she was fighting for her parents and Vania and Garran. Why wasn’t he willing to fight for them?
Perhaps he only cared about himself. The thought infuriated her.
“Even if you don’t think we have a fighting chance, you still need to try. Just like the rest of us,” she said, pointing up. “People are relying on us. Family.”
Devon stopped a mere foot from Larkin, towering over her. She sensed the swell of annoyance from the others. Beneath his glee, Devon’s fear was still there. Fear she began to siphon.
“You mean Melay’s hostages? Who is it for you, Larkin … A sister? Brother?” Devon rolled his shoulders back. Although his voice softened, his eyes remained sharp with malice. “Even if, by some miracle, we discover that Kyran isn’t a myth and we kill him, the ones you care about are still going to die.” He shrugged. “Perhaps they’re already dead.”
Larkin grabbed him by the throat. She dug her fingernails in as she projected.
Devon screamed and ripped her off, stumbling backward.
Casseem lunged toward Larkin, dragging her away. She pushed him off as Jacque charged toward her, sword halfway pulled from her scabbard. “The hells did you just do?” Jacque yelled.
Larkin backed away from the both of them, watching Devon as he gasped for air. He dropped his hands, bloody fingerprints imprinted into his neck.
Larkin’s fingerprints.
The shock from the others stormed inside her, charging every nerve, every muscle, every inch of her skin. She rubbed her fingers together, knowing she wouldn’t have stopped if Casseem hadn’t pulled her away.
“Did you just—” Casseem began.
Tamsyn cut him off. “Impossible. We’re too close to the luminite.”
“Larkin?” Elf asked quietly. She wanted an answer, just like the rest of them. But there was something powerful about this secret of Larkin’s resistance. It felt like an advantage, something she wasn’t ready to give up just yet.
“Miners are an intimidating lot, especially those of us with big arms and sharp fingernails,” Larkin said. Let them wonder.
