Taste of Darkness (An Avry of Kazan Novel - Book 3) (19 page)

“Yep.”

Her forehead creased and she asked me a few more questions about Estrid’s retreat. At one point a low whistle sounded and everyone dispersed. Fydelia pulled me to sit next to her on a bunk. Soon after two guards arrived to check on us.

When they left Fydelia said, “They do random checks and if they see us grouped together or doing our exercises, they come more frequently. And if it seems we’re too friendly, they’ll break us up and assign us to different towers just in case we’re planning something.” She huffed.

“Exercises?” I asked, hoping to prompt her in that direction. My legs ached and even though I healed faster, I still felt pain.

Fydelia gave me a hard look. “If you’re thinking to rat us out to curry favor from the guards, think again. They’ll punish you just as hard as us and then you’ll be branded a traitor. If you think it’s bad now...having over two thousand penitents pissed at you is a hell you don’t want to experience.”

“I won’t say a word.”

She studied my expression for a few seconds. Then she led me up to the sixth level of the tower. Women stretched their muscles in a variety of ways. Fydelia showed me how to relieve the cramps in my neck, lower back, and thighs.

“It’s not a miracle cure,” she said. “It is just a matter of building up your endurance and stamina. It’ll get worse before your body adjusts. After that each day will be a little bit better. And once you get through the physical trials, we’ll help you with the mental.”

“Mental?”

“Once the pain in your body no longer occupies your thoughts, it’s a long day staring at that window.”

“Oh.”

I repeated the exercises Fydelia had demonstrated. From time to time a thump sounded from the level above. More exercises, or something more?

* * *

Hard to believe, but the next day was worse than the first. My neck cramped as soon as I tilted my head back. And all my aches and pains flared anew. Keeping still proved almost impossible. A guard stayed by my side the entire day.

When the day’s prayers finished, my legs refused to unbend. Fydelia appeared by my side and helped me to my feet. On our way to the dining room, I not only searched for Melina, but for Odd or the members of his odd squad. I needed a sign that our crazy scheme might work. Otherwise, I’d go insane. Too bad I didn’t recognize any of the guards.

Later Fydelia joined me as I stretched in the tower.

“Hang in there, Irina. A few more days and then it’ll be better,” she said.

A few more? Not a pleasant prospect. “What happens if I refuse? Will the guards just whack me all day?”

“No. They’ll take you down to the crypt, and...” Fydelia wrapped her arms around her chest.

“Kill you?” I asked in a whisper.

“I wish. The crypt is a place of punishment. Refusing to pray will get you two days down there. The bigger the sin, the longer the stay.”

“Do I want to know—”

“No. Trust me.”

I debated pressing her for details. My imagination tended to run rampant. With those dire thoughts swirling around my head, I about jumped out of my skin when a thud sounded from the level above us.

“More exercises?” I asked Fydelia.

She pressed her lips together, considering my question. “When you’re ready, I’ll show you.”

“You mean when you trust me?”

She smiled. “There’s that. And I’d like to know who you’re looking for.”

Busted. No sense waiting any longer, I had planned to ask her soon. “Melina from Mengels in Sectven Realm. Do you know her?”

“Depends.”

“I’m a friend.”

“So? It’s not like you’ll have a chance to chat and catch up.”

True. “I’d like to know she’s okay... Well, as okay as you can be in here. And, I’ve a message from her mother.” Which wasn’t exactly true, but Melina would be glad to know her mother worried about her.

Fydelia stared at me for a moment then she fiddled with the frayed hem on her robe. “She had a rough start and ended up in the crypt. But like most of us, after one trip down there, she learned her lesson and hasn’t given the guards a reason to take her back. Melina’s surviving.”

Better than being insane. Another worry off my shoulders. “Do you know which tower she’s in?”

“No.”

Now it was my turn to study Fydelia. She’d answered too quickly. “Are you trying to protect me? Keep me out of trouble?”

She huffed in amusement. “You’re a sharp one, aren’t you? Of course I’m trying to help you. I told you that before.” Fydelia pulled a thread from the hem, wrapping it around her finger. “I’ve been here longer than most. I’ve seen a few penitents disobey the rules over and over. Their stays in the crypt stretch longer and longer until they never return.”

The lump that had been my supper rolled over, threatening to push bile up my throat. Fear and uncertainty churned inside me. I’d panic, except I trusted my guys. The vision of Odd’s expression flashed before me and I repeated the words to myself. I. Trusted. My. Guys.

“What’s the message for Melina?” Fydelia asked.

“Why? She’s in another tower. You can’t talk to her, either.”

Again Fydelia hesitated.

“What else are you keeping from me?” I asked.

“I’m not telling you everything for a reason. When you’re taken to the crypt, the guards ask you questions. Lots of questions. They sense we’re not as obedient as we act. Weaker penitents will blab and we’ll all suffer.”

Ah. “And you don’t know if I’m the type to blab.”

“Right.”

I mulled over what I’d learned so far. They had some type of silent communication system in place. “All right. Can you please tell Melina that I have a message for her?”

“And just how are you going to deliver this message?”

“I figured she’d arrange that. It’s obvious you trust her.”

“How do you know that?” Fydelia demanded.

“You didn’t ask me how
you’d
get my message to
her,
which means she didn’t blab to the guards.”

Fydelia tapped a finger on her temple. “Too sharp, Irina. That will get you into a whole heap of trouble.”

Funny, I already thought I was in a whole heap of trouble.

* * *

Over the next two horrible days, I spotted Odd and another man on his squad among the guards, bringing me a bit of mental relief. I kept track of the times when the shift changed. No Quain or Loren, but I hadn’t seen any priests. No Melina, either. I worried Fydelia hadn’t delivered my message in order to save me and Melina from getting into trouble.

Day four in hell, Odd caught my attention while we filed in for prayers. He gestured, using the signals we’d developed for the times silence was needed during a patrol. Too bad I’d forgotten most of them. I shook my head.

After the torture of staring at the stained glass window, I shuffled to the dining room. Halfway there, Odd yanked me out of line. The others didn’t miss a step as they kept moving.

“Did I hear you talk, Penitent?” he demanded.

“No, sir.”

He struck me on the arm. It sounded painful, but didn’t even sting.

“Who gave you permission to speak?”

This time I kept my mouth shut.

“That’s better. Next time I hear a sound from you or your friend, I’ll take you
both
down to the crypt. Understand?” He gave me a significant look.

I nodded. Odd wanted me and Melina to get into trouble together. Perhaps he’d worked out an escape route from the crypt.

When,
I mouthed.

“Before prayers,” he whispered then pushed me back into line, disrupting the flow.

Cheered by the thought of getting out of here, I ate without gagging at the taste of the food. Now I needed to convince Fydelia to deliver that message to Melina. And if she wouldn’t, I’d try another tactic.

However, in the slight confusion of visiting the privy before reporting to our towers, Melina found me.

She grabbed my hand and pulled me aside. No guards lurked in this section of the corridor, but it wouldn’t last.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered. No time for niceties.

“I came to rescue you. Again.” I couldn’t resist adding that.

Incredulous, she gaped at me.

“Get taken to the crypts before prayers tomorrow. Trust me, we have it all worked out.” I hoped.

“Rescue me?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“No.”

Now it was my turn to gape. “You want to stay here?”

“No, but I can’t leave them, Avry. You’ve seen what goes on in here. We have to rescue
them all
.”

KERRICK

For the third time since he’d known Avry, he watched
her walk away, heading right into danger. Each time, he’d felt powerless and
sick to his stomach despite the very good reasons for him to stay behind. Or, in
the case of her going undercover in Estrid’s holy army, for them to split up.
Ignoring the logic for a moment, Kerrick wished he could go all caveman on her.
Drag her to a safe location, order her to not leave his sight, and protect
her.

Of course, she’d fight and he’d only get two steps before she’d
zap him. And if he’d been attracted to meek women, he’d have married that
beautiful mouse his mother had tried to push on him ten years ago. Not for him.
And those qualities he loved about Avry—smart, independent, selfless, and
stubborn—were what drove her to risk her life for others.

Kerrick had followed Avry and the others until they’d reached
Chinska Mare. Then he stood at the edge of the forest as they waited in line to
enter the city. After they passed through the gate, he returned to the
horses.

Once they rescued Melina, they wouldn’t need the horses. Better
to elude pursuers without the noisy creatures. Yet... Kerrick studied the big
russet male. Despite his size, the stallion walked with a light graceful step.
And he hadn’t spooked. Not once.

The horse eyed him with intelligence. Or was that Kerrick’s
imagination? Still, Kerrick wondered if he could train the horse to move
silently through the forest. Once he found the aqueduct’s southern exit, he
wouldn’t have much else to do. And a quiet horse would be quite handy.

“What do you say, boy? You up for a challenge?” Kerrick asked,
stroking the horse’s neck.

The horse snorted and pawed the ground. Kerrick decided that
was horse for yes. He also thought the horse needed a name. Huxley was the first
name that popped into his head. Hux had been the stable master for Kerrick’s
father and had taught Kerrick how to ride and care for horses. He’d also been
one of the first to die of the plague.

“How about Hux? Do you like that name?” he asked.

Another snort and paw. Kerrick was two for two.

After he checked on the other horses, Kerrick led them to a
nearby stable and sold them. The effort to leave the forest to handle the sale
exhausted him, and he slept until late the next morning.

He mounted Hux, then headed southwest at a walk. Slacking the
reins, Kerrick let the horse choose the path while he listened to the sounds
created by Hux’s hooves on the forest floor. A rustle of leaves, a crack of a
twig and a scrape as he brushed a hoof over a fallen branch. Not bad. Most
people made more noise than that.

Kerrick spurred him into a trot. At this pace, the horse chose
his steps with more care, creating less noise. The canter was all drumming
hooves and loud crashing. Not good.

Keeping Hux did have one benefit. He’d reached the south side
of the city by late afternoon. Although the trees near the city’s southern wall
had been chopped down and the vines pulled from the marble, the rest of the
forest had been allowed to grow right up to it. He guessed the exit would be
covered with greenery.

The forest sensed the wall as a rocky barrier thwarting its
efforts to expand. Kerrick stretched his awareness, but didn’t feel any holes or
gaps. Guess he’d have to find it the old-fashioned way.

He urged Hux to go east, paralleling the wall. When they
reached a small muddy stream, Kerrick entered it and turned the horse left.
Splashing in the water, Hux raised his head as if startled, but he didn’t balk.
A few steps later, Kerrick smelled a foul odor. Probably what upset Hux. It
wasn’t mud that turned the water brown, but sewage and offal.

However, the stench meant they’d found the exit. And sure
enough, the stream led right into the wall. Bushes and saplings covered most of
the round hole, but the middle above the water remained clear.

Kerrick dismounted and examined the duct. Boot prints both
coming and going marked the mud near the water. The bushes had been pruned back
just enough to let a man pass without brushing against them. Someone had used
this exit quite recently. Probably to go inside the city, since Kerrick didn’t
sense anyone nearby.

The vegetation reached inside the duct so Kerrick led Hux away
and tied him to a tree. Then he made a torch and returned. Cringing at the
smell, he entered and explored the tunnel, hunching over so he didn’t hit his
head.

The greenery stopped when the light from the opening faded into
blackness. The pull from the forest increased with each step, but he pushed as
deep as possible. He found a wagon, which confirmed his suspicions.

Smugglers were using this passage to bring in black-market
goods. No surprise, considering all forms of entertainment were illegal in
Chinska Mare. Kerrick imagined the smugglers earned a large profit due to the
danger.

He retreated to where he’d left Hux, mulling over his
discovery. The smugglers wouldn’t be happy that their secret entrance was known.
The empty wagon meant no one was inside the city at the moment, or else they’d
have taken the wagon to deliver the goods. Not much Kerrick could do at this
point. He’d keep alert for intruders and hope the smugglers didn’t return
anytime soon.

To pass the time, Kerrick trained Hux. Or rather, he tried. His
father’s stable master had worked with their horses, but Kerrick hadn’t been
interested in that trade. Kerrick used positive reinforcement and repetition,
hoping for the best.

On the third day of his vigil, the forest pulsed with unease.
Irritants had intruded, leaving the main path and heading this way. Kerrick
counted five. Three men and two women. He led Hux farther away, then sought a
strategic position to watch them.

Crashing through the underbrush, one of the men cursed. “I’m
bringing my machete next time,” he growled.

“Good idea, Jack, and why don’t you invite a priest along, too.
Save us all some time,” another man groused.

“Shut up, Sylas,” Jack said.

The smugglers each carried a barrel probably full of alcohol.
Short swords hung from their belts and each had a dagger tucked on the opposite
side. They aimed for the tunnel.

“Ugh. It stinks,” one of the women said. “I thought the ducts
were no longer in use.”

“They ain’t, princess. This is just runoff from the streets,”
Jack said.

“Smells like profit to me,” the third man said, chuckling.

Kerrick thought fast. He needed to keep the entrance clear.
And, although Avry and the guys could handle five armed opponents, the smugglers
might ambush them in the dark tunnels. Casualties were not an option.

He had to stop them now.