Asunder: A Gathering of Chaos by Cameron Hopkin (electronic book reader .txt) 📗

breathed. “Get up.” Her bony fingers clamped down over her sleeve, and Nira found herself hauled to her feet. “Even if they think those screams were us dying, they’ll be along soon enough when he doesn’t return. Come on, wipe your eyes. We have to run. Do you want that thing to eat you? Come on!” She gave her a push, and Nira needed no further prodding. She stumbled into a run, passing her hands over her eyes to wipe away the tears. Why do I cry when I have a vision? There was no time to wonder.

They pelted down the tunnel as fast as they dared, the light making things considerably easier than they had been when Nira had come this way less than an hour before. “There’s the door!” she called as she saw it in the distance ahead of them.

“I’m so glad I have you along to tell me these things.”

Nira heard a distant shout of rage. They found him. She ran faster. It was only a hundred meters to the door, maybe less. The shouts merged into an unintelligible blur as more voices joined in, and then, above the others, they heard a laugh. It was low and loud and merry, and the shouting ceased.

“Faster!” panted the Hand.

Fifty meters. Forty. Singing floated to them, the words indecipherable, the tune unmistakably alien. The notes jumped in odd intervals and rang harshly on their ears. Twenty meters. The sound was growing louder. Quickly. Ten.

And then they were at the door, gasping and jumbled together. Renna reached for the door at the same time Nira did, their hands knocking into each other and thwarting their efforts to open the stubborn door. She batted away the older woman’s hands. “Stop!” she snapped. “There’s a trick to it – let me do it!” She wedged her fingers into the gap and carefully, slowly drew the edge of the door out, keeping the pressure steady to keep it from being sucked shut on her. Her fingers slipped. “Light blind me!” she swore. She began again.

“Hurry,” urged the priestess. “Hurry, hurry!” Then, as the song swelled in their ears, “Now, now! I see her! Hurry!” She had the door halfway clear of the jamb, and she risked a glance over her shoulder. A shadow lurched and jumped down the tunnel. The Naga moved incredibly fast. Her heart bursting, she wrenched at the door and it opened.

Renna knocked her aside and rushed through the doorway. Nira fell on her rear with the door between her and safety, though she managed to hook an ankle around it so that it didn’t close on her. She cast a terrified glance down the tunnel. The monster was less than thirty meters away. With a cry of fear, she scrambled on all fours around the door, shaking with fear, every movement taking an eternity.

“Come back!” the Naga called merrily. Nira crawled through the doorway on all fours like a koira, expecting to feel cold hands on her ankles every instant… and then she was through.

“Close it, close it!” she screamed.

The Weaver woman was ten steps up the stairs already and looked back in fear. There was a hiss and a thundering thump as the creature’s momentum carried it into the closing door and pushed the portal home into its frame. The Naga was on the far side. Nira fumbled with the heavy wooden bar and pushed it into place, securing the door to the stone. There was a ringing cry of frustration on the far side, and the door jumped in its frame as the monster pounded on it with inhuman strength.

Renna hurried back to the door and placed her hands flat on its surface, closing her eyes. The shuddering thumps continued on the far side in regular cadence, but somehow the Hand of Gaia ignored them. She stayed there motionless for more than a full minute, and then slumped to the floor in exhaustion next to the dark young woman. “I grew the wood of the door into the frame,” she panted. “She’ll have to rip the entire thing out of the stone to get through.” They lay prostrate on the stone floor and listened to the creature rage. Then Renna stood. “Let’s not be here when she does.”

She reached a deft hand into the waist of Nira’s pants and extracted the Governor’s heavy purse. “I’ll keep this, I think.” Nira protested weakly, reaching for it, but the older woman slapped her hands away. “You tried to betray me back there,” she hissed. “Don’t think I’ll forget it. Now get up. We need to be away.”

Renna pulled her to her feet. Nira was trembling with fatigue and the aftershocks of fear. “Where are you taking me?” she asked dully. She had no strength to resist the woman.

“The Governor seems disinclined to help us,” replied the Hand crisply. “That’s too bad, but at least we have a good bit of his money. We’re taking a ship and heading to Megalith. We have a king to meet.”

Chapter 6 The Only Communication That Matters

By the time their little dinghy bumped up against the floating dock in Megalith, Kest was fairly certain he had died. Not of any physical ailment – his collarbone was already feeling quite a bit better, though he still kept it strapped in a makeshift sling of sailcloth – but out of simple, overwhelming boredom. It had been a long, quiet eight days since they had been jettisoned from the Seafarer vessel. He knew he shouldn’t blame the savage northerner. After all, the man had tried faithfully to engage him in conversation four times a day, no more, no less. Each day, after hours of silence, the black-robed warrior monk made some off-hand remark to which Kest might want to respond. It was never combative, never offensive, just… an offer. Once Kest had realized that the number of attempts never varied, he confronted the man with it, accusing him of planning it out. The infuriatingly calm