CAGED (#3, of Crows and Thorns)

Chapter 110

The peace that came with the acceptance of my fate was fleeting. It seeped away as if a threadbare blanket had been tugged from my shoulders and distress for my friend returned.

Beneath my boots the ground quaked as I chewed through the catacombs in single strides, thundering down tunnel after tunnel, my might washing outward like a shockwave to rattle and shudder and crack the very bowels of the earth. I cradled Mela to my chest as best I could, offering her shivering figure my body heat, but she was a rag doll in my arms.

Mela's breathing utterly terrified me. The shallow gasps for air were accompanied by the patternless beat of her heart. Where the bolt had seared her flesh, the skin was dying and curling like aged paint. The bubbling cesspit of pustules surrounding the wound was growing thicker and spreading wider. The black toxic spiderwebbing of veins that were thin shadows beneath her dark skin had now crept across the contours of her face.

Dread and panic slithered down my spine.

How much further?!—I barked at the Uzrek.

You're nearly there, death-dealer!

The world streaked by in a rush of darkness as I stepped from one place into another, the void folding distance in on itself. It was similar in a way to how Nelle had followed the river to the lakeside cottage in a series of short swifts. I could only travel in short bursts of straight lines. Nor navigate corners or move through objects.

Loose stones kicked beneath my boots as I careered wildly around a corner and erupted into a small, craggy chamber. Across the space was an entranceway and staircase. Several sets of silvery eyes peered at me from high above. Stale air and darting movement made the sweaty ends of my hair fly about my face as I wove, dodging around a chunky cluster of boulders, bounding toward the staircase.

Tiny fluttering pix trapped in glass orbs cast purplish light to pool upon the crudely hewn steps. The arched entrance had larkspur carved into the rock, and for a brief moment, it reminded me of one of my mother's arbors.

The Purveyor of Rarities is right up there—the Uzrek advised as I arrived at the bottom of the staircase arrowing upward. This is where I must take my leave—he said as a way of farewell—I can't follow you there, not with all the wards woven around the two separate paths that lead up and down the steps.

It's warded?—I hadn't realized it when Nelle and I had sought Florin.

In a way, Tamer. The entranceways are signposts too.

It was curiously weird information I tucked away to think upon later. Right now I had Mela to save. Thank you for all your help—I replied. And it was too shallow an expression for everything he'd done.

Ah, one day, thief, you'll return the favor—the whisper of a laugh in his voice sounded so much like Sirro's, for a moment I wondered if I'd been played. What the hells I'd gotten myself into with the ancient creature? Good luck, Tamer, I hope your friend survives Skalki's curse—the words waned like rising dawn vanquishing starlight as his presence inside my mind vanished when I hurtled up the steps.