Page 58 of Dark Bringer (Lord of Everfell #1)

Cathrynne

S he chased the wildly bobbing light of Kal’s torch.

The tunnel was high and wide with slick walls like volcanic glass.

Her chest felt as if a fist was insistently pounding on it, and there wasn’t enough air to fill her lungs.

Seeing a blue emperor out in the open had been bad enough. But down here, deep underground . . .

When she glanced back, a fiery shape filled the passage from floor to ceiling.

There was no way to outrun the creature.

Her only hope was to distract it so Kal could get away.

Cathrynne slowed and turned to face it. She still had Lara’s rings.

They were mostly depleted, but the sunstone held enough ley for one good blast. She ignited it just as the blue emperor’s snout came around the bend.

Her attack seemed to have no effect other than enraging it more. It thrashed in a frenzy, head swinging back and forth. Cracks skittered down the tunnel walls. Cathrynne looked up to see chunks of stone crashing down. She threw herself to one side as a wave of dust billowed outward.

The torch was knocked from her hand. Darkness closed in. Coughing, she scrambled away from the collapse. When the dust settled, a wall of fallen rock blocked the tunnel. And she was on the wrong side.

The Sinn crawled backward a short ways, its blue claws scraping against the fallen rocks, then stopped. Its stare, illuminated only by the eerie flickering light of its mane, was deeply unnerving.

Kal’s muffled voice came through the rubble. “Are you hurt?”

“No! Are you?”

“Some scrapes. Not too bad.”

Cathrynne dug a tiny hole near the top of the rubble. She poked her fingers through and felt Kal grip them. For a dizzying instant, she remembered holding Julia Camara’s fingers through the bars of her cell in much the same way.

“Run!” she urged. “Tell Gavriel what happened. I’ll find another way out.”

“I’ll help you dig,” Kal protested. “We can widen the hole?—”

“There’s no time. It’ll take hours. Just go!”

Kal squeezed her fingers.

Cathrynne turned to face the Sinn. Its head was draconic, with a ridged crest and crocodilian nose. But its eyes were what riveted her. They were deep and ancient, and they studied her with clear intelligence.

The creature stalked closer, its body flowing like molten metal, muscles rippling beneath the shining scales.

She couldn’t help searching for some hint of its origin.

Some sign that it had come from a cypher like her.

But the creature seemed utterly alien. It was born of a curse—or some genetic throwback to the cosmic dragon that was the first avatar of the triple god.

What stood before her was nothing like witch nor angel.

Its nostrils flared, taking in her scent. The flames along its spine burned brighter, shifting from blue to violet. Its jaws parted, exposing curved teeth. The Sinn’s chest expanded. Cathrynne recognized the tell.

You learned to spot them in combat training. A foot coming forward, an arm swinging back. In animals, it might be a lashing tail or low growl. There was always a tell when something was about to attack, and the Sinn were no different.

She threw herself behind a pile of rubble as heat cooked the air.

The flames missed her by inches, though the smell of burned hair filled her nostrils.

Ethereal blue fire licked along its spine, casting the tunnel in fey half-light.

It seemed to be studying her, head tilted slightly to one side.

What thoughts churned behind those ancient eyes?

Cathrynne forced her breathing to slow. Instead of giving in to panic, she focused her senses outward, reaching with the part of her that was fully witch.

There. The cave-in had exposed something buried in the granite ceiling.

A seam of quartz ran through the rock above.

Cathrynne slammed her palm against the wall and reached for the ley trapped within the crystals.

It surged through her, hot and electric.

She drew deeply, and deeper still, shaping it into a lethal arrow of force.

The projective magic struck the Sinn like a battering ram.

Its massive body skidded backward down the tunnel, claws carving furrows in the stone.

The impact knocked more rock loose from the ceiling.

When the air cleared, she spotted the huge form of the Sinn halfway down the tunnel, partially buried under debris.

Coughing, she staggered toward it. The beast lay stunned and unmoving, though its mane still flickered with flames.

She could see its blue tongue between the fierce ivory teeth.

It was panting, its eyes closed. She found a rock, ready to bring it down on the monster’s skull if it showed signs of attacking again.

The cave-in was at her back. She could try to dig through, but that would take a long time. The only other way out was past the Sinn. There might be room to squeeze along the tunnel wall if it didn’t wake?—

She was a few cubits away when eyes the size of dinner plates opened. The Sinn blinked twice, its gaze sharpening at the rock in her hand. Cathrynne froze.

“Won’t you kill me, witch?” The words rumbled from its throat.

She stumbled back in shock. Did it just speak?

“Well?” the Sinn repeated with a touch of impatience. “Are you deaf?”

“No,” she managed, lowering the rock. “I don’t kill helpless things.”

It growled, a sound that raised the hair on her arms. “I am not a thing.” It shifted, rocks falling away from its body. “Nor am I helpless.”

It stared down at her. A silky white beard sprouted from its lower jaw. She had not noticed that before.

Cathrynne drew a deep breath. “Then perhaps I should ask if you plan to kill me ?”

It studied her in silence for an interminable minute. When it opened its mouth, she tensed, unsure if words or fire would emerge.

“Why are you here, witch? Your kind never comes below.”

Cathrynne hesitated, then decided on honesty. What did she have to lose? “I was seeking a stone. One that repels the ley.”

A low rasping came from its golden-scaled chest that might have been laughter. “What would you do with this stone?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But a lot of people are looking for it.”

The laughter grew louder as the creature rose up on thick legs.

It shook off the rock dust like a bear after a swim, scaled hide twitching as it whipped its body to and fro as much as the tunnel would allow.

Cathrynne coughed and covered her nose. When it was satisfied, it stopped and peered down at her.

She was near enough for it to snap her head off with a single bite.

“The stone of which you speak is a bezoar,” it said.

The word was unfamiliar. “What is that?” she asked.

Its eyes narrowed, slits of gold in the darkness. “I will not explain it to you, witch. But they are our defense against your kind.”

Cathrynne’s mind raced. “The stones are made by the Sinn? Then why do you keep them in the cavern?”

“When they grow too large,” came the grumbling reply, “we must eject them or they will cause indigestion. The cavern is for old bezoars, witch.”

She bit her lip. “I am not a witch. I am a cypher.”

Its eyes widened slightly. “Mother of our species.”

She swallowed, her throat terribly dry. “Yes. Do you have a name? Mine is Cathrynne.” She paused. “Cathrynne Rowan Lenormand.”

“I am called Borosus,” it replied. “Since you spared me, I will spare you.”

They regarded each other warily for a long moment. It occurred to Cathrynne that she might be the first person to speak with a Sinn in centuries—or ever. How little they really knew about their enigmatic enemies.

Something about the creature’s name seemed masculine, as did the timbre of its voice, but she didn’t want to make assumptions.

“You are a he ?’ she asked cautiously.

“I am a he,” Borosus agreed with a purring rumble that might have been amusement. “And you are a she . All cyphers are she .”

Cathrynne nodded. “That’s right.”

It shifted its bulk, nostrils flaring. “My brothers and sisters come.”

Fresh fear prickled along her spine. “Will you show me the way out, Borosus?”

He grumbled agreement and backed down the tunnel, gesturing with a claw for her to follow.

She spotted her torch and blew off the dust. For a wonder, it turned on, though the glass lens was cracked.

When they reached the cavern with the kaldurite, Borosus pointed her to the tunnel she and Kal had come through. The rock still glowed a fiery red.

“I can’t go out that way,” Cathrynne explained. “I’ll roast.”

Borosus’s tail thumped against the rocky ground. It reminded her of a person idly tapping their fingers as they considered a problem.

“There is another way,” he said at last.

They returned to the dim recesses of the cavern, where a narrow crevice broke the wall.

“Take this path,” he said, “to the third tunnel. Turn left, then take the second right after the stream. Follow the draft of fresh air to the fifth crossing and up the shaft with the iron rungs. It leads to the surface.”

Cathrynne repeated the directions under her breath. “What about my friend?” she asked. “The human girl? Can you help her?”

Borosus snapped his jaws. “You ask too much. If she is wise, she will find her own way out. Now go, before my kin arrives.”

Without another word, he turned and crawled away, his flaming mane casting dancing shadows on the walls until he disappeared around a bend.

Cathrynne repeated the directions to herself once more, then started down the passage he had indicated.

Third left, second right. She repeated the directions again and again as she walked.

She hoped Kal had made it out safely, but there was nothing she could do to aid her now. Not with a ton of rock between them and more Sinn on the way. The torch flickered, its light shrinking. She quickened her pace, counting the turnings. Third left. Second right. Follow the draft.

She managed the first part just fine, and whispered a prayer of thanks when a faint whiff of fresh air brushed her cheek.

But the draft seemed to come from multiple directions, swirling and changing.

She hesitated at a four-way junction, trying to recall Borosus’s exact words. Fifth crossing? Or was it the fourth?

She chose a path at random, moved forward with less certainty. The torch dimmed, casting barely enough light to see the ground before her feet. Wrong turns looked the same as right ones in the near-darkness. The air grew still. No draft at all. This wasn’t right.

She turned back, but the junctions all looked identical now. Cathrynne stopped, her pulse quickening, as the torch gave a final sputter and went out.