Ravenous (9 page)

THE SUN IS HIGH, BUT THE HEAT DOESN'T BEAR DOWN ON US TOO HARSHLY
as it filters through the branches and leaves of the forest. After the bizarreness of the village, it almost makes our journey feel light and airy, or perhaps that is just the cool breeze wandering between the tree trunks. All afternoon, disconcerting thoughts of the mercenaries and magic trail behind me. Once we finally reach the main road to Belladoma, I know just what to look for: a landmark of two trees twining around each other like dancers under the moon.

It's the same place Ren waited when Kymera freed us and we fled Belladoma. It doesn't take us long to locate the trees and the entrance to the tunnels beneath the city. The trees are as twisted as the residents they grow near. It's a fitting tribute.

The trick, however, will be Dalen. And how to get him inside.

He eyes the tree warily. “In there?” He points to the darkened hollow at the base. You can't see inside, as you can with the ones in his village. Stump won't even come near the spot. Instead, the creature perches on a rock at the edge of the clearing, tilting his head this way and that, and occasionally all the way around. It's unsettling.

“Yes,” I say. “Ren and Kymera, my friends who were here with me before, set this as the meeting point once we escaped the city. We came here through the woods by the cliff instead of the tunnels, but they told me about how they used the tunnels to gain entrance to Belladoma and find us.” I frown at the entrance. “I wonder how wide and shallow it is after the opening.” I sigh. “Wait here—I'll go in and check, then come back for you.”

Before he can object, I plunge into the shadows at the base of the trees and let the darkness envelop me. It's shocking at first, and the damp tunnel smells like freshly turned soil. Like death. My eyes adjust to the faint light seeping in from the outside. The passage should be wide enough and tall enough for Dalen to stand once he gets down here. Farther ahead, the tunnel widens more.

Good. I won't have to go back
there
alone after all.

The closer we've gotten to the city, the tighter anxiety has wound around my chest. Every day it's been a little harder to breathe. If Dalen chickens out, braving my nightmare alone might be the one thing to finally break me.

When I return to the daylight of the forest, Dalen paces
the clearing. Sweat beads on his brow.

“What's wrong?”

When he sees me, most of the tension releases from his face and he stops pacing. Dalen clears his throat. “You're back. It could have been a trap.”

“You were worried, weren't you?” I grin at him. “I'm fine. No traps in sight, I promise.”

“Good, I'm glad of it. Though I'm sure it is much too narrow for me to fit, yes?”

“You'll have to duck down to get through the entrance, but once you pass that, you'll be fine. The tunnel is at least four men wide.”

Dalen swallows nervously. “Are you certain? I . . . I can't bear the thought of squeezing all the way down there and getting stuck.” He swallows again, and finally I understand.

“You can't bear confined spaces.” At the word
confined
, he turns green, confirming my suspicions.

“I have never been in them much. The closest thing was guarding the occasional miscreant in the root cellars. But those were more open.”

“Right,” I say. “Tunnels and horses don't usually mix. But it's that or prancing into Belladoma in all your hybrid glory.”

He walks toward the trees, Stump scampering behind. “Please, just give me a moment to collect myself, and then we can be off. Or down. Whatever you call it.”

I swallow my laugh, because he might find it cruel.

Five minutes later, I follow him into the woods, nervousness nipping at my heels. What if he decided to leave
me on my own, and risk his council's wrath? But no, he wouldn't. I find him in a grove, ducking and weaving between low branches and whispering to himself. Stump settles in to watch and twists his head to set his beady eyes on me when I approach. Is this Dalen's idea of preparing?

“Dalen,” I say. He halts in his tracks. “It's nearly dark. Are you coming with me? I understand if you can't.” I fold my arms across my chest, trying not to show how much I need him to say yes.

“Of course I will,” he says. Is that a hint of hurt I see in his eyes?

I smile and head back to the twin trees. Dalen's hoofbeats follow, and I take two apples from my pack, offering one to him.

“We should eat here before we go inside.” I wrinkle my nose, remembering the smell. He takes it gratefully, and we chew in silence for a moment. Stump does not return to the twin trees with Dalen, but a hoot calls from the forest while we eat. He must not like dark, confined spaces any more than Dalen.

“What scares you about the tunnel?” I ask.

He swallows a bite of apple. “I'm not flexible like some creatures are. The risk of getting stuck is higher. Also, this is near the ocean, and we know the Sonzeeki floods the city. It stands to reason that these tunnels flood too. Really, it's those two things combined.”

My blood runs cold. I had forgotten about the flooding. Rushing water is suddenly all I can hear. “We shall have to be quick.”

Dalen stares down the shadows gathering in the base of the tree. Somehow, it seems darker than it did a few minutes ago. My hands are so cold they've gone numb. My heart sits in my throat, throbbing so hard I can barely speak. This is like going directly into the belly of the beast for both of us.

I only hope we don't get eaten alive.

“I'll go first,” I offer. Dalen nods. “But you do have to follow.”

He gives me a withering look. I duck my head and step into the base of the tree.

My eyes adjust more quickly this time, but Dalen has difficulty finding his footing in the dark, and he almost tramples me twice before he finally tumbles down to the passage floor. I help him get his bearings and he blinks, looking around wildly.

“I can't see, Greta. I can't see.” Panic chokes his voice into a whisper. I grab his trembling hands.

“Yes, you can,” I reassure him. “Just close your eyes for a minute and take a deep breath. Then another. Stay calm, and your eyes will adjust.” He doesn't know it, but I say this as much for myself as for him. Focusing on keeping Dalen calm almost manages to tamp down my own rising panic.

He does as I say, and soon his chest rises and falls, the deep breaths making the shadows twitch around him.

“Now, slowly open your eyes and focus on the sound of my voice. I'm right in front of you. You should see me first.” I do my best to smile, even though I can't help keeping one ear cocked to listen for rushing water. The real kind.

Or the awful sound of tentacles clamping onto limestone.
A peculiar sound that will never leave my dreams in peace. Dizziness sweeps over me, but I keep to my feet for Dalen. I know the Sonzeeki only floods these tunnels at the full moon, but that does nothing to lessen the primal fear that threatens to strangle me the closer we get to Belladoma.

I hate that the city holds such sway over me still.

“Yes . . . ,” he says. “I do see you.” The relief in his voice is palpable, and mirrored in myself. His silver eyes are wide and focused on mine. I gaze back for longer than I should, letting his cool silvery hope steel my nerves, like a lifeline connecting us.

But we need to keep moving.

I lead him down the dark passage, the sound of hoofbeats and dripping water marking our path. Every drop of water needles my nerves, making me want to break into a run and find the end of the tunnel, but he doesn't need to know I'm afraid too. It would only make matters worse.

Little by little we make progress. The passage twists beneath the earth, but it doesn't steer us wrong or make us choose a blind path. Time blurs in the darkness, measured only in halted breaths and flaring pulses. Every step we take away from the entrance makes Dalen more nervous. He hasn't let go of my hand, and I don't force the issue. I understand; there's something comforting in the certainty you're not alone in the dark.

But then the air changes. Something shifts on the wind.

Wait. Wind?

A breeze meanders down the tunnel, caressing my face
and teasing my hair. I want to laugh out loud but I fear frightening Dalen.

“We're close,” I say instead.

“How do you know?” he whispers.

“Can you feel it?” I ask. “The breeze? That means an exit is nearby.”

He sighs. “Thank the gods. I don't know how much longer I can stand being down here.”

We follow the breeze and soon reach the end of the tunnel. A door is carved into the brick wall, and at the very bottom is a grate that lets in a faint trickle of light. Perfect for ensuring no one is near when we exit. I suspect the door appears to be a wall from the outside. But how will we find our way back in if we need an escape route?

“Look,” Dalen says, pointing to something scratched into the brick above the door. It's over my head but right in line with his eyes. “That must be how we unlock the door to get in and out.”

2 knocks—nicked bottom brick. Then 3 knocks—top slab with half-moon.

“It's almost too simple,” I say, but Dalen shrugs. I locate the brick with the nick and the slab with the half-moon easily enough.

“Sometimes simple is the last thing people guess. Can we leave this tunnel now? Please?” His hooves stamp with nervous energy.

I kneel down to the grate and peer out. As far as I can tell, the alley beyond is deserted—and filled with the stench of rotting fish. Perhaps this tunnel doesn't connect with the ones that flood the city and only leads out into the forest. Still, I'm not looking forward to breathing in that reek. I place my sleeve over my nose, knock on the brick and slab as instructed, and cautiously pull the door open.

We're greeted only by the dusk, and a few rats fighting over naked fish bones down the way. Muck and slime coat the wall, but I check for the markings on the outside, too. They exist, and I repeat the instructions over and over until they're imprinted on my memory.

Night has fallen, and with it the citizens of this tattered city have vanished, scurrying back to their houses to protect what meager possessions haven't been destroyed in the floods. The mercenaries are no doubt in taverns or the castle. I intend to avoid them at all costs.

We don't need a repeat of the chase we had arriving here.

What we do need is a barn. One where Dalen can hide in the daylight, and that we can rest in at night.

We creep through the alley network, avoiding noises and any hint of people, until we find what we seek on the outskirts of the city. An old decrepit inn with a cracked, faded sign hanging off the front—abandoned as far as we can tell—with a moldering barn adjoining it.

No one has been here in months, I'm sure. All the less likely anyone will show up.

Dalen beams when he sees the barn, and smiles even
wider when I return and declare it empty. In minutes, he settles into a stall in the far corner and falls asleep. I curl up opposite him, hoping sleep will find me, too, even in this city of nightmares.

AT FIRST LIGHT, I SLIP OUT OF THE BARN. A SALTY TANG HOVERS ON THE
air like a ghost. They say that nothing will grow in the soil now that the Sonzeeki floods Belladoma regularly.

I pull my cloak tighter around me. My heart hasn't stopped hammering since we entered the city. The nightmares haunt me even when I'm awake. An ever-present tension keeps every muscle in my body taut and ready. The air is oppressive, and I want to flee, but I must be practical. I need the cornucopia, and this is the last place we know it was. I must investigate.

The sooner we're done in Belladoma, the better for my sanity. And the better for my family and Dalen's. The sunken faces peering out from the windows I pass look like they'd eat anything—even horse meat—making me very
glad it was necessary to leave Dalen behind in the barn.

A trumpet sounds from near the gates of the city, causing me to trip on a broken flagstone. I know that trumpet. All too well. King Oliver is here to aid Belladoma. He started that foolish mission sooner than I expected. I thought he'd take longer with the preparations. My hands clench into tight fists beneath my cloak. I am not ready to face him. Not after he accused me of being a liar.

I must reach the palace before him. I need to search Ensel's old rooms for any hint of where the cornucopia is hidden. An icy hand squeezes my chest, like the cursed city itself wishes to choke me. I won't be able to breathe freely again until I'm far away from here.

Wary of the main road, I duck down a side street and weave my way toward the palace. As we stole through the streets last night, I noted a couple more spots where the nick and the half-moon appeared. If the code remains true, the tunnels beneath Belladoma's crumbling citadel have an entrance not far from here.

I speed my pace. Bits of green and brown plant life hang from the gray walls in places, stuck on windowsills and what once were flowerpots. Seaweed. Everything reeks of decay. I can hardly stand to breathe. Fish bones cling to the gutters, unable to return to the sea.

Beyond me, the city springs to life. The arrival of help from Bryre stirs the residents out of doors. The thought of anyone I love helping these people, who would've killed me to save their own hides, nauseates me.

I'll find what I need, then leave. No reason for me to
linger here. Hans and I, we can start fresh somewhere else. Maybe Dalen and his family can come too, now that they need a new home.

The footsteps are upon me before they register in my brain. I flatten against the damp alley wall just before a boy jogs through an intersection of alleys a few feet ahead. I'd recognize that sun-streaked brown hair anywhere.

Ren.

I swallow my surprise and count to one hundred. Only then do I peel myself off the wall and continue toward the secret tunnel entrance. That was too close. Seeing my friends will do nothing good for me; they don't need to know I'm here. They should have helped me. But if they didn't believe me before, why would they believe an even grander story about a witch and a chicken hut? They might lock me up for fear I've lost my mind.

I tread carefully, all too conscious of the possibility I might run into someone I know. Who in Belladoma will greet the Bryrians? The mercenaries squatting in the palace or perhaps no one at all? Maybe they'll go back to Bryre if they see how little their efforts are appreciated.

A chill slinks down my neck. I doubt Vincali, the mercenaries' leader, will appreciate Bryre meddling in his affairs. I hope King Oliver knows what he's doing.

I walk away from the direction Ren was headed, hoping to lessen my chances of running into anyone from Bryre. When I pause to check my bearings, more voices ring out from the road. There's nowhere I can run from here; all I
can do is hide. The alley is too long in the direction I am now moving, and only garbage, loose bricks, and an alcove or two give me a hiding spot. From their rough voices, I'm guessing the men coming are mercenaries. From the little I've seen of the native Belladomans, they're mostly pale, wan, and hungry-looking, and keep to their homes or stores. The arrival of the Bryrians drew them out, but not for long. After so much time under Ensel's heavy thumb, I can hardly blame them.

These men, however, stomp toward my alley with heavy boots and steps to match. My heart leaps into my throat as I frantically cast around for something better to hide behind. The best I can do is squeeze into an alcove and crouch as close to the ground as possible. And hope they don't glance to the side.

The alcove is still coated with salt from the last time the Sonzeeki flooded the city, and the smell of rotting fish and seaweed is stronger here. I pull my knife from my belt, then tuck my arm under my knees as the men march down the alley. The blade digs into the backs of my legs, but I feel better having something solid to defend myself with if necessary.

I squeeze my eyes closed, willing myself invisible as the boots tromp past. Just as I breathe out in relief, one set of feet returns. My lungs stutter and contract, and then I'm yanked from the alcove by my collar.

“What do we have here?” The horrible deep voice I recognize from the inn curls around me.

I swing my arm wide and catch my attacker on the cheek with the blade. Vincali yowls and drops me, pressing his hand to his face. Black, furious eyes burn down at me from a cruel face.

I run.

Vincali shouts and other mercenaries join him in the chase. Behind me comes a flash of light and a strange noise, accompanied by the smell of smoke. What madness is this? I dart down the next alley, hoping I can reach the tunnels before they catch me. They may be bigger, but I'm faster and sneakier. I careen headlong through the alleys, ducking across the streets to save time. I attract a few stares, but I don't have time to worry about that.

I cannot get caught or delayed by these men. The thought of being thrown back into the Belladoman dungeons, leaving Hans to die, is enough to spur my tired legs onward.

I round a corner and run straight into a large man wheeling a cart of fresh bread, knocking a few loaves into the street.

“Sorry!” But I keep on moving. He shouts, then goes silent by the time I'm around the bend of the next alley.

The mercenaries must have reached him.

But no sounds of pursuit follow. In fact, I hear boots clomping and growing more distant every second. Confusion reigns in my head. Did that man lie about where I went, even after I ruined his wares? It doesn't make sense. Unless he assumes I'm a Belladoman girl who was somehow hidden from Ensel. I could see any Belladoman going to great
lengths to keep their own people safe.

I suppose I am doing the same for Hans. It would be easier if these people were all simply as bad as the visions in my head.

If my memory from last night is correct, the entrance to the tunnels should be up ahead. Two turns, then there it is in the wall. The entry code to any tunnel is the same as the one for the passage we used to enter the city.

I dash ahead, leaping over piles of seaweed moldering in the damp, muggy air, even though my pursuers are not close behind. I don't want to risk running into any more of them. I round the last turn with every ounce of speed in me and skid to a stop. Voices murmur from the guardhouse around the corner. Hurriedly, I locate the markings of the passage and tap them the allotted times.

To my great relief, the door swings inward, and I duck into the passage, quickly closing the door behind me.

The second it clicks shut, I lean back against the wall and sigh.

Outside, heavy boots tromp by my hiding spot and several men's voices bicker. When they fade, I can't help a small smile. They didn't see me come in here. Still, that was too close for comfort. Worse, now there are Belladomans who know my face, and know the mercenaries were chasing me.

I have no doubt they'd give me up in a heartbeat to save their own skins.