Page 45 of Dark Shaman: The Lost Treasure (The Children Of The Gods #98)

ELUHEED

T he emergency stairs echoed with the thunder of feet and voices as Eluheed plunged downward, taking the steps three at a time.

He could move faster than most humans, but that wasn't only because he could push his immortal body beyond what they could.

He'd lived most of his life in steep mountains, climbing them up and down, so even though he'd slackened over the last few decades, his body still retained the strength it had developed over hundreds of years.

Still, he felt the weight of every second that passed. Water didn't wait for anyone.

Level Three flashed by in a blur, the library with its thousands of books about to become sodden waste. Level Four, where the recreation areas and some of the offices were located, would also be flooded soon, but Eluheed was concerned only with saving lives.

He burst onto Level Five to find relative order.

The harem levels were occupied according to a hierarchy of size, and since this level was the smallest of the three staff residential levels, it housed the upper management.

The rooms were larger, and the number of occupants smaller than those on the levels below.

Most of the residents here had already evacuated or were in the process of climbing up the stairs. A couple of stragglers were weighed down by the possessions they were trying to save, packed into laundry baskets and pillowcases.

"Leave it!" Eluheed shouted as he passed a woman struggling with an overstuffed bag. "Your life is not worth what's in that bag!"

She ignored him and kept running with the laundry bag slung over her shoulder.

Hopefully, she wouldn't slow other people who were trying to save themselves and were more responsible.

A quick scan revealed that the entire floor was deserted, and Eluheed returned to the stairwell.

It was now full of people rushing up, small children crying, and older humans moving too slowly.

Some had stopped to help neighbors, creating bottlenecks.

Others pushed past, survival instinct overriding community bonds.

He squeezed by them on his way down, and then he heard it—the sound of water finding its way through barriers, the groaning of doors under pressure.

He continued down, fighting against the stream of evacuees.

Level Seven was hopefully fully evacuated because the stairwell door was locked.

It was already weeping, though, the water seeping beneath it in steady streams.

It followed him as he climbed back to Level Six, where the evacuation was a barely controlled panic.

"Mama! Mama!" A child's terrified wail cut through the chaos.

Eluheed followed the sound, splashing through the rising water.

He found them huddled in a doorway, a man and a woman, each holding a small boy, one of the children crying for his mother, who wasn't the woman with the other boy.

Eluheed knew most of the residents, but he didn't remember who was married to whom or which child belonged with which parent.

The adults were trying to carry the children, but the water was making walking difficult, and the boys were panicking, fighting their parents' grip.

"Here," Eluheed said, not wasting time on explanations. He scooped up both boys, one under each arm. "I'll carry them up the stairs. Try to follow as fast as you can."

"But our things—" the woman started.

"Will be underwater in minutes," Eluheed cut her off. "Leave everything and move!"

He didn't wait to see if they followed. The boys squirmed in his grip, crying for their parents, but he held them secure and started the climb.

In normal circumstances, the six flights of stairs would be nothing for him, but these weren't normal circumstances. The stairs were crowded with evacuees, the children were terrified and struggling, and the water was rising below.

"It's all right," he told the boys, though he doubted they could hear him over their own cries and the chaos around them. "I'm going to get you out of here."

Fifth floor. His legs pumped, maintaining speed while carrying two frightened children with sheer determination. Other evacuees pressed against the walls to let him pass, some calling out blessings, others just staring with desperate hope.

Fourth floor. Third floor. The boys had stopped struggling, either exhausted or sensing safety in his firm grip.

Level Two. Almost there. The children were whimpering now rather than screaming, and Eluheed could feel their small hearts racing against his arms.

Level One. The final flight to the surface. Fresh air and rain-scented wind poured down from above. He burst through the door to the pavilion and handed the boys to Tula, who reached for them. "Their parents are coming up behind me."

He didn't wait for her to answer.

Every second counted, and there were more people down there—elderly who couldn't climb fast, more people with small children, some who might be too frightened to move.

He turned and plunged back into the stairwell.

The descent was harder the second time. More people were climbing, and he had to fight his way down against the flow. Shouts of "Wrong way!" and "What are you doing?" followed him, but he didn't have time to explain.

Level Six was worse than before. In the corridor, an elderly couple were struggling through knee-deep water. The woman could barely walk, her husband trying to support her while fighting his own exhaustion.

Without saying a word, Eluheed lifted the woman onto his back. She did not weigh much, and he could feel her frailty, bones like a bird's beneath thin skin. "Hold on to me," he told her. "Arms around my neck."

Her grip was weak but determined. He turned to the husband, evaluating quickly whether the man could walk if not burdened.

"No," Eluheed decided, and before the man could protest, he'd hoisted him under his left arm. It was awkward with the woman on his back, and her husband under his arm like a package, but it was fast and efficient.

"Please, put me down," the man protested weakly. "I can walk."

Eluheed answered with a grunt and kept moving.

The climb this time was a blur of burning muscles and careful balance.

Even his strength had limits when it came to endurance, and he was carrying two adults up six flights of stairs through a panicking crowd.

The woman on his back wheezed with each jolting step.

The man under his arm had gone quiet, perhaps realizing that protest would only slow them down.

Fifth floor. Fourth floor. His legs screamed protest, but he pushed through.

This was nothing compared to climbing the ragged mountains of his homeland, or Ararat—the land he'd called his home for over eight centuries.

And it was definitely nothing compared to the weight of failure he'd carried for the last two centuries. He could do this. He would do this.

Finally, he reached the pavilion, where Tula was waiting and ready to take over. He put his charges down. "Lady Tula will help you from here."

The elderly woman gripped his hand with surprising strength. "Bless you," she whispered. "Bless you, young man."

Young man. If only she knew. But there was no time for irony. He could hear screaming from below—panicked and desperate. The water must have broken through completely.

He did two more runs, helping three children and two sick adults up the stairs.

This would be his last one because he was operating on fumes. Hopefully, everyone was already on their way up.

Going down again, his legs felt like molten lead, but he forced them to move. The stairwell was nearly empty now. Most of those who could evacuate on their own had done so. But as he descended, he could hear the ones who were trapped.

The emergency doors on Level Six had given way and it was flooding fast, the water rushing through in a torrent. The corridor was waist-deep and rising visibly. But he could hear children crying.

What in the seven hells were they still doing there, and where were their parents?

He dove into the flooded corridor, swimming against the torrent more than walking. The water was surprisingly warm, heated by its journey through volcanic rock, and it carried the mineral taste of deep earth.

The crying led him to a door that was stuck—water pressure holding it closed. Inside, he could hear multiple voices. A family trapped as water rose around them.

Eluheed punched the top portion of the door, breaking it, and whoever was on the other side got the idea and was helping break off pieces to widen the opening.

Inside, a woman stood on top of a dresser holding twin infants with a boy of perhaps five clinging to her leg.

Two men, the ones who had helped him break the door, were already reaching for the children.

"Give me the children," he commanded, already reaching.

A look of sheer panic passed across the mother's eyes, but she handed the babies to the men, and they transferred the children to him through the opening in the broken door.

Eluheed tucked one under each arm and then turned his back to the door. "Put the child on my back."

A moment later, small arms wrapped around his throat with desperate strength.

"Hold on tight," he told the boy. "Help the woman through the opening and follow me."

The journey back to the stairwell was nightmarish. Bleeding knuckles that were already healing but painful, water chest-deep and rising, and the weight of three children, two infants who he had to hold up above the water and a five-year-old clinging to his back.

Eluheed's legs moved through sheer will, each step a battle against exhaustion and physics.

He climbed fast, and behind him the adults struggled to keep up, but he could hear them following.

Fifth floor. Fourth floor. He was pushing his body beyond the limits of its endurance.

The infants were slipping in his grip, slick with water.

The boy on his back was choking him with terror-strengthened arms.

Third floor. Second floor. Black spots danced in Eluheed's vision. His legs moved without conscious thought, muscle memory from centuries of survival.

Just a little farther. Just a little more.

First floor. One more flight.

He burst onto the surface for the final time, legs giving out the moment he cleared the exit. He managed to pass the infants to Tula, felt the boy being lifted from his back, then collapsed.

Rain pelted his face, mixing with his sweat. His chest heaved, trying to pull in enough oxygen to feed muscles pushed beyond all reasonable limits. Even his immortal body needed recovery time.

"Elias!" A familiar voice, high with fear and relief.

Then Tamira was there, dropping to her knees beside him in the rain. Her hands framed his face, her eyes wide with tears that mixed with the deluge.

"You magnificent fool," she sobbed, pulling his head into her lap. "I was so afraid?—"

He tried to speak, but his body was too focused on the simple act of breathing.

"Did everyone…" he finally managed to gasp. "Did everyone make it?"

"Yes," she said, running her hands through his soaked hair. "We are still counting to make sure we didn't miss anyone, but Shalini says they are all here. The Fates were merciful tonight."

Relief washing over him, Eluheed turned on his back, closed his eyes, and just let the rain pelt him.

"Oh," he heard Tamira exclaim. "I forgot about the guards."

He opened his eyes and saw a procession of guards emerging from the pavilion in pairs, each duo struggling with a heavy chest. Diving masks dangled from around their necks, and their uniforms were soaked and smelling of the mineral-rich flood water from below.

They'd gone diving, he realized.

While people were fighting for survival, these guards had been swimming through flooded vaults to retrieve—what? Gold? Jewels? Papers?

Eluheed watched them struggle with their burdens, saw Lord Navuh directing them to load the chests into waiting vehicles. Whatever was in those chests, it had been deemed more valuable to him than human lives.

The bitter irony burned worse than Eluheed's overworked muscles. He'd pushed his body to breaking point to save strangers, while Navuh's guards had done the same to save possessions.

Two types of treasure, two sets of priorities.

What could possibly be so important? Gold wouldn't dissolve in water. Precious stones would survive a flooding. Important documents were probably backed up digitally. But lives were irreplaceable.

"What are they carrying?" Tamira asked, following his gaze. "Did he have corpses stored down there?"

The chests were large enough to contain dead bodies, but they didn't look like coffins.

"Priorities," Eluheed said. "They are carrying Lord Navuh's precious treasures."