II - Sigh of Smoke

Chapter 39 - Sympathy for a Monster

-Dareon Hallow-

There was something different about Menaleen. He wasn't sure what had changed, but the way she looked at them seemed less... Careful. Less wary and on guard. Open. Just a few hours ago she tried to stay away from them as if they were diseased, but now... Well, he couldn't quite explain it.

And now she was leading them to Aleksandra. Dareon wasn't sure what Menaleen thought of Aleksandra either, but she was certainly willing to help. She obviously didn't openly despise Wielders of the Old Blood either.

The determination in her gait alone was obvious as she led them through the tunnels. They were running, nearly breathless as they avoided the pools of light that glowed from the ends of halls they dared not turn into, knowing that anyone who held those torches were no friends of their's. So far, from Dareon's knowledge, Atlanta had long ago passed out from the pain and fever, and she was thus rendered unable to guide them through these tunnels.

From what he could tell, Meena was winging this.

Her panic was evident in the tension in her shoulders—now obvious with the constant light of Zarkarian company spilling in from the surrounding  halls. 

By chance or luck, there was always one empty corridor when Dareon believed they were surrounded, thanking any superior power for the escape route. His heartbeat raced, pounding loudly in his own ears as he ran as quickly as he could in the narrow tunnels, making sure he never lost track of the girl in front of him; making sure he never got lost himself.

Who was Menaleen the subject of, if the mere mention of the fact would make her so determined?

Curiousity was pushed to the side as he tried to focus on running—and not dying.

"Where are you going?" He finally dared to ask, hoping for a second they had lost the assassins on their tail in the mass web of tunnels underground. They raced past another pool of light. To think there would come a day when light would be terrifying, especially when it grew closer and closer in steps at every turn.

"To your friend," Meena whispered back. "At least, I think so."

"How do you know for sure?" This time, it was Lucan who asked, breathing heavy as he carried Atlanta closer to himself as the tunnels seemed to narrow.

"Never said I was sure," she whimpered. "But I can tell where she is. Trust me."

Alright, Dareon thought, breathing hard as he tried to ignore the shouts in the deep Zarkarian tongue from behind them, the harsh sounds in their words making an icy chill claw up his back. We better get there soon.

"Ah!"

Suddenly, Menaleen's foot caught on something and she lurched forward, smacking into the ground in front of her. Panic welled up in Dareon and he nearly burst, making him bend over to lift her off the floor in his haste. She had tripped on one of those holes in the ground—the endless, dark ones that Atlanta had warned them against. 

This little delay could cost them so much, and Dareon didn't want to discover what he had to pay.

As he tugged her off the floor, she whispered, "wait!"

"We can't wait," Lucan's voice was firm. 

They had encountered something the like of a crossroad. The four diverging paths stretched far, leading to who knows where, yet three of them were filled with a yellow, ominous glow. Dareon swallowed roughly as he imagined bobbing torches rounding those corners, feet pounding like thunder against the dry dirt. The others, including Dareon himself, still had time to escape down the fourth corridor, and the three groups of pursuers would most certainly become too much of a crowd. All of them chasing them down one hall would've been difficult for them.