“Is he…do you think he’s still following us?” she panted. She wiped the hair away from her eyes.
“I don’t know,” Thealos said, breathing heavily. He was winded. “I thought we lost him at the junction, but he followed.” Carefully, he went back to the main corridor and peered down. He watched the glare of the torches. The Bandits had stopped for something nearly fifty paces away. There was a grunt of warning and then cries of alarm. Secrist cut them down, his strange dagger glimmering with a greenish light in the distance. The four soldiers collapsed in a heap, their deathcries grating down Thealos’ spine.
Ticastasy gripped his arm. “Come on,” she begged.
Thealos nodded, and they slipped back into the main tunnel, heading away from Secrist. Four Bandit soldiers, down in hardly a wink. He shook his head. The Deathbane was powerful. The stink of Forbidden magic crept in the air behind him, getting closer. The sound of the boots warned him – Secrist was running.
“Come on!” Thealos said and bolted. Ticastasy looked bone weary, but he appreciated her determination. Her gown was damp with sweat and it hindered her stride, but she ran with a furious scowl, gripping his hand tightly to keep from stumbling. He would not let her go, no matter if Secrist caught them. He would not leave her to die.
“Shaden!” Secrist hollered. The voice was disembodied in the tunnels. He didn’t sound tired at all. “Shaden!”
Thealos’ knees groaned liked a rusted door. The constant pounding sent sharp stabs up his ankles, and his feet, swollen and tight, threatened to crack into pieces. He had to keep moving. Keep running.
“Quickfellow,” Ticastasy panted. “I’m…I’m so…tired.”
“It’s okay,” he said, squeezing her hand. “A little further.” He wiped the stinging sweat from his eyes and tried to focus on the passageway ahead. They had crossed a good deal of the city already. Broken aisles and corridors split off here and there, but he didn’t dare take any, knowing that it might lead to a collapsed tunnel that would trap them. Somehow the Kiran Thall still followed them, getting closer and closer the longer they delayed. It was more than hate and anger that drove him. No, it had to be something more. The look in his eyes – the madness. The reek of Forbidden magic.
The Sorian.
He shook his head, too tired to curse. If he could only get to the Silverkin. He knew that the magic would be able to stop them all. But he was so tired of running!
“Shaden!” The voice sounded much closer.
“Keep running. Come on, keep running!” Thealos’ arm jerked as Ticastasy stumbled and fell, nearly bringing him down with her. She winced as her knees struck the ground. Chewing on her lip, she brought herself back up and looked into his eyes.
“A little further,” he lied. “Please!”
She nodded, her shoulders sagging. She couldn’t speak.
They started running again, though it was hardly more than a jog. His legs felt like mush and the stitch in his ribs was stabbing deeper with every breath. They had to keep running. He needed time to get the Silverkin and use it on Secrist. He could not leave her alone with him. Passing another sideshaft, they hurried to distance themselves from the Kiran Thall.
“Thealos!” a gruff voice hissed from the dark tunnel they had just passed.
Thealos stopped, whirling around. Ticastasy’s eyes were wide. “Flent!” she said, her eyes widening in recognition.
Thealos’s mouth opened with wonder when he saw Flent and Allavin emerge from the darkness into the torch-lit main hall.
“Thank Vannier!” Thealos gasped.
Allavin smiled with relief. “It’s about bloody time we found you.”
Ticastasy hugged Flent fiercely, nearly weeping on his shoulder with relief and panic. “We’ve got to run, we’ve got to run!”
He pulled her away, studying her face. “What’s wrong, girl?” he demanded.
“Shaden!”
Allavin spun around, an arrow nocked in his yew bow.
Secrist slowed, his eyes full of fury. Blood spattered across his cheek. Thealos gulped and stepped back, watching the Kiran Thall advance. The dagger was poised in his right hand, its mottled tip dark with blood.
Allavin didn’t hesitate. He let the arrow fly. The bowstring twanged and the shaft struck the Kiran Thall full in the chest. It jerked him back but didn’t stop him. Secrist shrugged off the blow and kept coming, not bothering to remove it. The woodsman loosed two more on him. He was too close to miss. But the Kiran Thall’s eyes leered in the torch light. He was looking at Thealos, not at any of the rest of them.
“I’ll kill you,” he said in a half-gargled breath. Spit dribbled down his chin. Wrenching the first arrow out of his chest, he flung it to the ground. The wound closed up on itself, perfect and whole.
Allavin drew another shaft, bringing it back to his ear.
“No,” Thealos said, clamping his hand on Allavin’s shoulder. “You can’t kill him.”