Ultimate Passage: New Beginnings: Box Set ( Books 1-4) (24 page)

“Why am I here?”

“We’re going to talk to Raiza to see what she wants to do.”

Finn wondered who this Raiza was.

“Don’t attract attention to yourself while we are gone, human. We are not the worst ones you can encounter out here.”

Finn was pretty sure they weren’t lying. He had no intention of attracting any attention. He had other plans, like getting out of here.

As soon as he had confirmed that their footsteps were departing and silence had fallen, Finn began to feel around the bars and their hinges. The hinges were attached to a stone wall. He knew that pulling on them wouldn’t serve him, but that didn’t stop him from trying. He tugged on the bars near the top. Just as he’d thought, it was to no avail. Then he tried the hinges near the bottom. Same lack of results. He felt around the floor. Rocks. Hardly any soil to dig through. Not like he had anything to dig with, anyway; they’d taken his weapons.

Rising, Finn bit back a roar of frustration. Grasping at the bars, he jerked on them, yanking over and over until his muscles gave out. Shoulders aching, hands shaking, he collapsed to the floor. The bars that held him prisoner supported him, the only thing that kept him from completely collapsing to the floor.

Rage spent, adrenaline cratering, Finn paced for the rest of the night, tight circles of walking close to the walls, all the way to the back of the cave, feeling around in the dark, checking out every crevice, nook, and corner, only to find that there was nothing in there. Nothing but a burning desire to escape.

D
awn brought
a thick mist that concealed anything past the closest trees in the forest beyond. Finn peered through the bars, trying to see what lay beyond.

He jumped back when a figure stepped in front of him from off to the side. “Curses.”

It was a Kormic. Finn stayed in place, eyes locked with the being on the other side of the bars. A female. Finn had never seen a female Kormic up close before. Kormic women did not serve in battles. He’d always found the Kormic unattractive, with their raised, humplike spines that covered their temples, forehead, and scalp, but there was something striking about this Kormic.

She leveled a steady gaze at him with yellow-orange eyes that bore no hostility. She was attired in clothing made of the thick bark of a native Farlands tree, pounded and woven into a material that deflected all Asazi blades except the TripTip. It clung to her figure, clearly tailor-made.

Why would a Kormic female wear a garment made of the fabric used in Kormic soldier uniforms? Since when did Kormic attire their women in weapon-proof uniforms?

She still hadn’t said a word, but her eyes never wavered from his. She held a bowl of steaming broth with chunks of vegetables and meat.

“There is no reason to hold me,” Finn said. “I’m not an Asazi soldier and no Asazi will care I’m gone.” He hoped he didn’t butcher the Kormic words to the degree that she wouldn’t understand him.

Something flickered in her eyes. Understanding? She looked at his uniform, pointedly. She understood him, alright, and she recognized his Asazi uniform.

“Stolen. I took this off of a soldier.” Would she believe his lie?

Her eyes said she didn’t, but they didn’t seem to hold any malice.

“I need to get out of here. It’s important.” Was she even someone who had the authority to make a decision about a prisoner? Even if she did, he doubted she’d let him go. “Who do you answer to?” he asked.

Instead of responding, she pushed the bowl closer. The bottom half of her face, with its human features, was patrician. Sculpted jaw line, aquiline nose, slightly full lips. Her poise was unafraid, not even curious, as though she saw Asazi regularly.

Finn reached through the bars and took the boat-shaped, elongated bowl, careful not to spill the sustenance his body desperately needed.

“Thank you,” he said in Asazi.

She nodded in acknowledgment.

“So you do understand my language,” he said in Kormic.

She narrowed her eyes. Was the glint in her gaze anger or a reluctant admiration that he’d tricked her into revealing something about herself?

“Please. I need your help. I have to get out of here. You don’t understand, a life is at stake.”

She spun around, her bearing proud, and vanished into the thick tree cover and even thicker mist. Stunned, all Finn could do was stare after her. What had just happened? Was it his request? His plea for help? Finn raised the bowl to his lips and took a long draw. The broth was delicious, with a hint of unfamiliar herbs not used in Asazi cuisine. After a few more sips he set the bowl down on the floor. He had more important things to do than eat, though his stomach’s grumblings protested to the contrary.

Finn scanned the environment. The fog was thinning, allowing him a glimpse of the thick forest they’d trekked through the night before. He climbed up on the bars and tried to look through the top half of the door. Over the tops of the trees he could see a barren mountain range, devoid of flora or fauna. The Farlands. They weren’t far away. He tried to glean any other information about who could be around and what sort of place he was in, but that was all he could see. The Farlands in the distance and a thick forest up close.

Finn ate the meat and vegetables in the broth, pondering his options. There were none, unless he could get out of here.

The sun rose as he ate, bathing the den in brightness, allowing light into the deepest corners of the cave. Now he could examine the depths of his prison. He was disappointed. A bare cave, void of signs of human habitation. No bedding, no shelving, no furniture. They couldn’t have built this for him—it would take too long to assemble—but they barely seemed to use it.

And so it went for the next meal. Time passed, and the woman delivered the food. She didn’t say a word, simply left the bowl with Finn, and never collected the first one. He ate the broth and vegetables, leaving the meat for last. Popping a chunk in his mouth, Finn studied the bowl, then looked at the ground. Taking the bowl from that morning, he went to the rocky ground near the entrance. Could he excavate his way out? It was rocky, but was it solid? He broke the bowl in half lengthwise, creating two rough spades.

He scraped at the rock with the bowl. Soft, porous rock. Not too soft, though. “Curses.” The half-bowl chipped, then cracked down the middle. He grabbed the other half and chiseled a few more times, loosening some dirt, then studied the bowl for signs of wear.

He worked at the ground for a few hours, cracked that makeshift spade too, then broke the second bowl in half and went at it again. Sweat dripped down his forehead and between his wings. His stomach growled. He looked up just in time to see the woman exiting the forest, headed his way, with his third meal. Finn jumped up and stood on the ground he’d dug a half-inch-deep hole into, trying to hide the telltale signs of his labor.

She brought held the new bowl out and turned on her heel as soon as he’d taken it.

“Wait.”

The woman froze.

“Please, can I get some bedding?” Something to hide the digging.
Though at the pace he was working, he feared it would take him many days to get through. Days that Marissa couldn’t afford to lose.

She nodded. Unsure when she would return, and not wanting to get caught, Finn leaned against the cave’s wall, next to the door, and stretched his legs down the length of the bars, conveniently hiding his efforts. He ate the bowl of soup, crossed his arms over his chest and let his eyes close, knowing full well that he wouldn’t sleep. He hadn’t slept since Marissa left.

He didn’t have long to wait. The woman returned what felt like less than half an hour later with two blankets and a sack full of leaves to use as a cushion. She placed them on the ground just outside the barred door, careful not to be within Finn’s reach. Just as quickly as she’d arrived, she was gone, before he could voice his thanks.

Stomach full, with one more bowl to add to the digging cause, Finn resumed digging. He worked the whole night through, only stopping when the last bowl-spade cracked. He ran his fingers along the hole. Two inches deep. Almost two feet wide. Using the spade and his hands as shovels, he scooped the extra dirt onto the blanket and carried it to the back of the cave, scattered it, then shuffled over it to make it blend in. That task complete, he went back to the hole and pried at it with the ends of the split bowl fragments. Using them as chisels, he loosened and hacked at the ground. The sun’s rays slowed his routine down. He glanced up often to be sure that the woman wasn’t returning with a morning meal.

Dawn again brought a thick mist. A voice came to the back of the den, high-pitched, but soft. He crept along the cave’s side, thinking that the sound didn’t seem like one that would come from the Kormic woman. When he reached the entrance of the cave, Finn lowered himself to one knee and peeked out the door, careful not to stick his head too close to the corner, so he could see if someone was trying to attack him.

The voice was singing. A low lullaby, a childlike song. Crouching lower, Finn scanned the trees. There it was! A child. A little Kormic child, playing amongst the trees, rustling the leaves and ground cover, kneeling, poking at the dirt with a stick, oblivious to being watched.

Finn looked for his warden, the Kormic woman. No sign of her. Was she related to the child? Did she know he was here?

“Psst.” Finn whispered.

The child looked up, surprise and shock registered on his Kormic features. He cocked his head, studying Finn. Rising to his feet, he backed away, heading toward the forest.

“Come back, kid,” Finn called out, still keeping his voice low.

The child backed away until he was out of sight. “Damn.” Finn paused. That was Marissa’s curse word. When had he picked it up?

A fresh wave of melancholy and despair washed over him. He needed to get to her before anyone hurt her.

The second day passed in much the same way as the first. Three times a day the woman brought him food. The child never reappeared, and the woman did not mention the child to him. She ignored Finn’s request to be set free. He dug when he wasn’t being watched, though at this rate the digging wouldn’t yield a hole big enough for escape for another week. A week he wasn’t sure Marissa had.

The woman brought Finn another bowl. As she held it near the bars, Finn contemplated how he could convince her to lend him a measure of assistance. Approaching the barred door, he touched a finger to the bowl’s lip, not wrapping his hand around it. She stood closer than the other days, almost as if she didn’t mistrust him as much.

A sharp cry pierced the forest’s serene atmosphere, a child broke through the forest’s cover. The same child as before. “Lein, Lein,” the child yelled. Lein, the Kormic word for mother. “Par will not allow me to hunt. He said I could when I turned five summers. You heard him promise, but now he says no.”

In a matter of seconds, Finn had processed a few things. First, that the child was not full Kormic. He had Asazi wings and Asazi skin, though his forehead and scalp had the Kormic bumpy knob-spikes. The second thing Finn noticed was that the child said
Par
, the Asazi word for father. Finn tried to wrap his mind around the existence of an Asazi-Kormic child who called his father the Asazi word for father.

The Kormic woman stumbled back, possibly from the surprise of her son running out.

Instinct took over. Finn shoved his hands between the bars, grabbed the woman from behind, and pulled her tight against the bars and his body. “I will break your neck in front of the boy if you struggle or scream. Nod that you understand.”

She nodded.

“All I want is the key to get out. Give me the key and let me go. I mean you no harm.”

The boy walked closer. “Who is that, Lein? Why is he behind there? Is he hurting you?”

“No, he’s fine. I’m fine. Go play, Feroz.”

“But, Lein—”

“Now, Feroz.” Her voice was strained, then she lowered it for Finn’s ears alone. “I do not have the key.”

“You lie,” Finn hissed.

“I am not lying. My husband has it.”

Finn looked at the boy. “Send him to get it.”

“I will not involve my son in this.”

“You’d rather he witness your neck being broken? I’m only seeking my freedom. Do not escalate this. Tell him or I will tell him to tell your husband what I will do to you.” Finn kept his voice low, forcing the heinous words out of his mouth. Was this what he had become? A thuggish lowlife who threatened women and children?

“Tell Par to give me the key, Feroz. Run.”

The boy ran off gleefully, in pursuit of a grownup chore, unaware of the undertow of danger and tension. Finn envied his blissful ignorance.

Finn’s first assumption was that this woman had been raped by an Asazi, a soldier possibly, during a raid. How else would she have a half-breed child? But the child had used an Asazi word, and with ease, and she hadn’t flinched. “Why does your son call his father by the Asazi word?”

“For the same reason he calls me Lein.” Under his forearm, her muscles tensed.

“Do not do anything foolish,” he cautioned her. There was something he liked about this Kormic, with her patrician, calm ways and clear, honest eyes.

“You do not hate me.” She swallowed under his arm, her throat moving against his skin. She shifted slightly, moving her head.

He eased off some of the pressure. What she had said had been more of a statement than a question, yet he felt compelled to respond.

“I have seen too much war, too much hate, and the results they can bring.” He paused. When had he, the consummate soldier who had dedicated his life to perfecting his military skills, come to this? “Are you afraid of me?”

“You are an Asazi soldier. You wear the uniform.”

She was right—but he was stunned by how much his life had changed. Could he call himself a soldier now? “How long before your husband arrives? I must get out.”

“If I open the door before he arrives, do you promise to release me unharmed? And leave my family alone and unharmed?”

“You do have a key, then?”

She nodded, dug into the front of her shirt and pulled out a key, but held it out of his reach. “Swear it.”