Shadow War: Book 3 of the Shadows Rising Trilogy (WIP Rough Draft)

46: "This is the one."

20th of Arrestre, Continued

"We need to get moving," I whispered, casting a quick glance over my shoulder into the dimly lit hallway. Still no guards. "Can you stand?"

"Not without difficulty." His eyes crinkled in a wince and he looked down at his legs. "Kenoa wouldn't be loafing around out there, would he?"

"I haven't seen him. Come on. We'll have to make do." I moved to kneel next to him, offering a shoulder and a hand up.

He sucked in a harsh breath as he gathered his legs under him, pulling heavily on my arm as he struggled to get himself off the ground.

I grunted and braced myself, somehow heaving him upright. For several seconds we just stood there, both of us winded.

Then he took a slow, sliding step forward. HIs voice was tight with strain. "Did you get the device?"

Drawing his right arm across my shoulders, I wrapped my left arm around his waist. There was significantly less of him than I remembered, but for a scrawny man he was surprisingly heavy. "Too many patrols... Got the keys instead," I managed, my leg muscles already trembling.

"Keys. What a novel idea," he grunted and kept going, each step obviously causing him pain. He fell silent, concentrating on getting himself out into the hallway. We barely made it around the doorway before he stumbled heavily to the left and slumped against the wall. He came to a halt, breathing hard.

Urgency was building to a dull roar in my head. We weren't going fast enough.

As if he could hear my thoughts, NaVarre began shaking his head. "This isn't going to work," he rasped, letting go of me.

For a moment I resisted, wanting to goad him into moving, but the agony in his face made me relent. Instead, I bent to plant my hands on my knees and tried to catch my breath, disgusted by how easily winded I had become.

NaVarre rubbed his hand over his face, swiping at the perspiration beading on his forehead before squinting at me. "What's going on out there?"

"Some sort of invasion. A big one... The guards seem to have gone to join the rest of them. They're not in the guard station... Is there another way out of the Stables?"

NaVarre shook his head again.

"Where would Kenoa be?" I asked.

"I don't know." NaVarre looked at me, his green eyes serious. "You need to go unlock all the cells, Bren. Free everyone. There's no guarantee the Illyrians will be able to win, and we can't lose this opportunity."

I stared at him.

He gave me a crooked smile. "Go on. Bring everyone back here, and then we can all escape together. I'm almost completely sure I know the way through the rail tunnels."

I didn't want to leave him there, alone and defenseless, but then, reluctantly, I dipped my head in a nod. He was right. We couldn't lose this opportunity, and I had the keys. If freeing everyone else was what it took to get him moving, that was what I had to do.

With a heavy sigh, I straightened and about-faced, limping off down the hallway, heading for the cell on the other side of mine. I could only hope Kenoa was in the Stables somewhere, or getting NaVarre out of there was going to be nearly impossible.

That next cell held an older man who sported a strange folding metal device instead of a left arm. He blinked at me with uncomprehending eyes, but did what I told him readily enough, trudging over to wait with NaVarre.

Next came a gangly young man with a leg that had been replaced by a complicated contraption made of metal and wood that worked nearly as well as his original limb.