Page 75 of Akur

They pressed on, more urgently now, until the corridors began showing signs of regular use—cleaner floors, maintained lighting, occasional doorways leading to what looked like storage areas and machinery rooms.

The air itself smelled tainted. Filled with scents of the species he’d dedicated his existence to eradicating.

Nearing another junction, he suddenly went rigid. Reaching back, he pulled Constance into his spine. There, ahead, was the distinct sound of multiple beings approaching from two directions. He could tell the moment she heard them, too. The slight stiffening of her soft body. The way her breath held.

Qrak. They were right out in the open.

“Akur.” A harsh whisper against his back. “We have to go back.” He could feel her twisting against the pressure of his arm around her. “There!”

Looking over his shoulder, he saw what she was pointing to. A door set in the wall a few strides down. His jaw ticked. He didn’t know if that door opened up to more enemies. Closing his eyes for a moment, he tried to clear his head. To think! But at least this heat wasn’t only a hindrance, it enhanced his senses, too. Because he could smell them.

There were probably three Hedgeruds approaching from the corridor to the right. Another four from the corridor to the left. And a—disgust made him snarl—a Tasqal was with them.

“Akur!” Constance whispered at his back. This was urgent. He had to move.

Cursing under his breath, he backtracked, tugging her with him. The door opened, and they slid into the darkness moments before being seen. The room was empty. Small. Used for maintenance, maybe.

Their bodies pressed tight as the heavy footsteps approached. The door was only slightly ajar, a thin crack he could see through. He reached for the hilt of his blade once more.

Wide blue eyes were focused on that crack in the door as Constance’s life organ thundered against his chest, but she remained perfectly still, barely breathing. The patrol of Hedgeruds passed within inches of their hiding spot. The fools were so painfully unaware, but he supposed that was working well in their favor.

“The High Ones grow impatient,” one guard growled. “If we don’t find them soon…”

“We’ll find the jekin and the rebel. The tunnels are sealed. They have nowhere to go.”

One of the other guards hissed. “We already brought themonehuman. The other in the tunnels should be left to die. It is dark and musty down there. And those tunnel dwellers—oi!”

A sharp crack into his snout made him stumble. The Hedgerud that hit him snarled before walking again. “They don’t want that human. I heard my master saying she is useless.”

One of the others grunted. “Then maybe they should give her to us. If they don’t want the jekin, we could use her…”

His claw tightened even more on his blade when Kon-stahns’ breath hitched at their words. The Hedgeruds were annoying pieces of scum that only deserved to be crushed underneath his boot.

Time seemed to still as the fiends took their time walking down the corridor. As their footsteps faded, Constance released a shaky breath, practically melting against him. He bit his tongue in an effort to not wince. Everything hurt, and it wasn’t a pain he was used to. “That was close.”

“Too close.” His eyes narrowed as he scanned the corridor. “They’re increasing patrols. We need to move faster.”

Slipping from the tight little room, Constance took the lead now, creeping through the corridor.

She was remarkably silent. Remarkably fast, too. Which idiot on the Restitution spread the rumor that these females were soft, prey things that cowered at the least sight of struggle? He watched as her head tilted, catching any sound before she’d peek her head around the corner when they came to a junction. Then she was darting across the gap, confident he’d follow.

And he did.

Soon, he was watching her more than the way ahead.

Soon, she was all he could see.

But this needed to stop. He needed to get her out of this place.

They pressed on, each step bringing them closer to what he hoped was the citadel proper. The maintenance tunnels gave way to wider corridors, the stark utilitarian design replaced by the Tasqals’ preference for grandiose architecture. The ceiling soared overhead, support columns carved with the Tasqals’ likenesses that seemed to watch their progress.

“I don’t like this,” Constance whispered. “It feels like we’re being herded again.”

He grunted in agreement. The lack of resistance was making his battle instincts scream. “Stay alert. They—”

A door hissed open ahead, the sound cutting off the words in his throat. He could hear the breath rush into her nose as he yanked Constance behind a column as three Tasqals emerged, their white robes billowing. Unlike the Tasqal who’d helped them, these ones bore themselves with regal arrogance, their diseased faces proudly displayed.

Pressing into the column, they had no choice but to face the massive window beside them. Below, the citadel’s grounds stretched far and wide. A sprawling fountain dominated the courtyard. Hundreds of Tasqals milled around its edges, their white robes matching the white stone. He could tell the moment Kon-stahns saw them and the moment she saw the other thing that had caught his attention.

---