Ravenous (17 page)

THE SONZEEKI RISES FROM THE BLACK DEPTHS BEYOND THE CLIFF ALL
three days of each full moon and floods the town if it doesn't get the meal it desires. My deadline is tomorrow, at the height of it. I stand outside the barn and glance up at the sky, a tiny knot of fear forming in my heart. While last night's rescue and the threat of the mercenaries is still fresh in my mind, nothing compares to the terror in the deep.

I must be quick. The bones of the child the witch left for us in the forest dance in front of my eyes. No one deserves to have their children eaten by the witch. The Belladomans didn't deserve what Ensel did to them either. But I can't change that, and now the witch has taken two more of their children—because I can't find the cornucopia fast enough. This may have begun as a mission to rescue my brother,
but it's quickly ballooning to include so many others. It's an unexpected responsibility.

Earlier today the map sent me to a crumbling old church graveyard at the edge of the city. Once again, all I found was an empty hiding spot. Now, I steel my nerves as I enter the tunnels, tapping the marked brick and slab in the correct order. According to the map, this—the last of the hiding spots on my list—is deep in the secret tunnels, somewhere only Ensel and his closest henchmen knew about.

Dalen's task in the late-afternoon gloom is to find a cairn on the top of a mountain and look underneath. This morning he had to trudge through a swamp to check a tiny island. Ensel was annoyingly thorough in his methods of concealing the cornucopia.

A cool mist clings to the air in the city today, the pale afternoon sun fading by the minute. I must hurry. Just to be safe. These tunnels, while infinitely useful, still give me chills. Walking into them is like passing through a thick wall of foreboding. I shut the hidden door behind me, sealing myself in. A strike of a match lights the small torch I carry. A quick check of the map gives me direction, and then I'm on my way.

The mist follows me into the tunnel, and the walls are coated with a thick layer of black sludge that shines in the torchlight. It's cold, and my damp hair clings to my scalp and face as I pull my new cloak close. I'm grateful Dalen had the presence of mind to pack a couple of extra, especially after the oversized one I swiped from the palace burned up last night. I'd be freezing without it. The fog makes it more
difficult than usual to see my way, but I've traveled these tunnels enough in the past week not to step in any holes. The smell is foul. Fish and rot and decay, all preserved by the brine of the ocean. I use my free hand to put a section of my cloak over my mouth and breathe through the fabric instead. It only helps a little to keep out the disgusting smell.

Please let the cornucopia be here so I can leave this place and never return.

I want nothing more than to go somewhere that doesn't reek of ocean backwash. Somewhere Hans and I can be safe. And Dalen and his family, too. He's done more for me than I can ever repay. I'd never have gotten this far without him.

When I reach a fork in the tunnel, the map takes me down a passage I haven't explored yet. It smells stronger of salt.

All I have to do is check the hiding spot, then run as far as I can from here. I'll be out in no time.

In my mind, a thick black tentacle worms its way up the face of a cliff, while a second crashes and clings to the rocks below. The awful green-black shell gleams in moonlight. I shudder and pull my cloak closer. Yes, the Sonzeeki is out there. But so am I. And I'm motivated by something far more precious than simple hunger.

Love is a powerful thing, but fear and love combined are enough to drive anyone to strange feats of will.

The fog follows me down this course, concealing my feet. While I brought Ensel's potions, I doubt I'll need them here. I'm not likely to encounter another living thing today. The corridor is long and winds downward, giving me an
odd sense of slowly falling. It's unsettling, but according to the map, I'm about two-thirds of the way there.

The deeper I go into the tunnels, the colder it gets. This passage definitely doesn't lead to the palace like the others I've taken. It either leads toward the forest or the cliff face by the ocean. I'm turned around enough underground that I can't tell which. Fear edges its way into the back of my mind, but I refuse to let it come forward.

Fear will only slow me down.

The air grows heavier and the stench intensifies. Dead fish pile on the floor, and I slow to pick my way over their rotting bodies. I cough into my cloak. Grasping seaweed clings to the walls, half dried and crusted, yet still coated with sea slime. It's hard to tell deep underground, but I believe I approach the hiding spot. I refer to my map once again; the winding curve of tunnel line takes a sharp right before it's marked with an
X
. This is in the water quadrant of the map, all too fittingly, and the spot should be marked here in the tunnel by the elemental symbol for water: an inverted triangle.

The map holds true. A few minutes more of marching, and the tunnel veers to the right. The instant I pass the sharp curve, the walls and floor shake, as though something nearby, above or beneath, has hit them violently. I grab onto the slimy wall to steady myself.

It isn't easy, but I force my feet to keep moving. I'll be on my way out soon. I will not meet my end in the Sonzeeki's belly.

A few more feet and I stop to examine the walls, hoping
to find the mark of the water element. So much scum and detritus clots the walls that I have no choice but to get my hands dirty. I stoop down to clear away some of the dead marine life when the tunnel quakes again, sending me reeling back into the muck. I manage to keep hold of my torch. Panic fills me, but I get to my knees and paw through the debris by the bottom of the wall. I'm covered in it; I may as well embrace it. I uncover a section as long as I am tall before I see the mark: a tiny upside-down triangle carved into the floor. I claw at it, hoping to hit on some hidden opening, but to no avail. No seam or rent in the floor reveals itself.

Frustrated, I settle back on my heels and hold my head in my hand, taking deep breaths of the sour air. I shoot to my feet and examine the wall above the mark, following it all the way up to the low ceiling. At the corner where the wall and ceiling merge, hidden by a sticky piece of seaweed, is another symbol for water. It's a good thing the tunnels have low ceilings and that I'm tall for my age. A grown man would have to hunch over to make it all this way, but I can walk upright easily enough. I reach up to the ceiling, feeling for the fine seam above my head. Frantically, I pound my fist on the mark and it slides inward. A small section of the ceiling pushes up and back. The sound of stone grating over stone never sounded more welcome to my ears than it does right now.

Another shock rattles through the tunnel, shaking free more rocks and debris. I duck instinctively, throwing my arms over my head. One rock pelts my forearm hard enough
to make it bleed. A nasty bruise will form there later to keep the troubling sores company.

But none of that matters if the cornucopia is here. I stand on my tiptoes, reaching up into the space to feel around. My hand fumbles onto something solid. It feels like a basket edge. With my heart in my throat, I grip it tightly and pull it down.

Relief, cool and perfect, floods every inch of my body. The cornucopia is in my hands at last.

It's smaller than I expected, but the horn-shaped basket is just as the witch described. It looks empty, but then I haven't wished for anything to eat, either. The thought of eating anything down here is revolting. I'll test it out once I'm free of the tunnels.

I press the stone button again and the panel overhead slides into place. That must be how the cornucopia stayed put despite the flooding. Hiding it in the ceiling kept it from being swept away.

I slip the cornucopia into my pack and hurry back up the passage, the floor quivering under my feet and making my stomach flip. How late has it gotten?

As if in answer, a low rumble echoes down the passage.

I break into a run, spurred on by the thought of real water at my back. This isn't the waves crashing in my head. Soon the tunnels shake again, as though something wishes to rip the city from its foundations.

Something does.

The rumble becomes a roar and I tear through the passage like the devil is on my heels. How long did it take me
to get here? Hours or minutes? Has the sun disappeared already?

The sound of splashing echoes around me, startling me enough to glance down. My boots are ankle deep in black water. Images of the beast outside haunt my every step. I press on as fast as my limbs will carry me.

But the water is faster. It rises an inch for every few steps I take, swirling around my legs and weighing me down.

I must get to higher ground. Fast.

Then it's up to my knees, and the bottom of the cloak slows me like a lead weight attached to my neck. I yank it up and wrap it over my shoulders, but the time it takes me to do that only gives the water a chance to climb higher. Frantic fish swim next to me, nibbling at my ankles, and seaweed curls around my legs, threatening to trip me. My lungs ache, a combination of panic, exertion, and the foul stench of the tunnels.

I turn a corner I recognize as about halfway from where I entered. I quickly check my map as I slog along, but there are no other exits near where I am. The closest exit is the one I entered by, and I still haven't reached the place where the tunnel forks.

By the time the water reaches my waist, I know I'm not going to make it.

The frigid water seeps into my veins. The dread of drowning is no longer a fear I can brush aside. It's a harsh, cold reality. I can't move faster, not with the heaviness of my clothes and the shaking of the walls every few minutes throwing me off-balance.

I'm going to die. Hans will die. So will Dalen, the rest of the hybrid village, and every Belladoman child the witch can find.

Unless . . .

Still moving, I feel around in my soaked pack. My hands close around one of Ensel's potions and I pull it out. Red. Not the one I need. I reach in again, and the next is yellow. Still not what I need. I find a third, and pull it out—blue. Blue is supposed to allow the drinker to breathe underwater. What if it doesn't work? What if the side effects are more than I can bear? I have yet to drink any of his potions. I don't know what it could do. Does it matter? If I don't try, I die anyway. One mouthful shouldn't do too much harm, I hope. I pop the top of the vial and take a swig. And nearly spit it out. The stuff is as foul as I expect, but I manage to swallow it. A dizzy rush tingles over my arms and legs; then I secure the top on the potion and return it to my pack.

But I'm not about to stop here and place all my bets on magic. By now, swimming is faster than running, and I am forced to abandon my torch. I shudder to think what might be swimming next to me. Hopefully nothing bigger than mackerel or sea salmon, which is all I've seen so far.

Please, for the love of the realm, no eels. I can't bear eels. They look far too much like the Sonzeeki's tentacles.

The water rises, and as it does, pieces of the walls shift and tumble. The water lifts me higher, and I can see the fine cracks and rents that mar the entire length of the tunnel.

If someone doesn't stop the Sonzeeki's rampage soon, the entire city will crumble into the ocean.

My arms and legs pump through the water, desperately swimming toward the fork. My hands have gone numb, and my legs feel like they're made from soft butter. My head smacks the top of the tunnel, and it's all I can do to tread water. Gasping, crying, I can do no more than let the waves push me along. At least they move in the right direction.

My last thought before the water surges over my head is how strange it is that my parents were claimed by these same waters and now they're about to pull me under too. My only hope is pinned on the magic potions of the man who tossed them off the cliff.

I float in the dark and cold and wait for death to find me.

It doesn't.

I hold my breath until I have no choice but to gasp a lungful of water. But somehow—
somehow
—I can breathe it. I can breathe underwater.

Spurred onward by the understanding that I'm not about to die after all, I swim forward underwater as quickly as I can. The water buoys me, and now that I don't fight to keep my head above it, I can go much faster. Frenzied laughter tumbles from my lips as the current pulls me past the fork and rushes toward the main passage where the hidden exit lies.

I'm going to live. I haven't failed Hans and Dalen after all.

I open my eyes in the murky water. While the potion didn't give me sight underwater and doesn't stop the sting of the brine, I can breathe, and that's half the battle. I work my way to the side of the tunnel where the door
lies and grab hold of the cracks in the stone. Water rushes in my ears, and I force my feet back to the floor. I grope the rest of the way up the tunnel until I feel the familiar indentation of the carvings in the rock. I press them each as instructed and the door swings open. I tumble out into the alley in a rush of water and limbs.