Page 81 of Kingdom of Feathers

The general grunted. “This is where they come to inspect the ore. I don’t usually accompany them, though.” He shot a look at one of the soldiers on the higher ground above. “You’ve brought Sir Gelding here before, haven’t you?”

The soldier nodded. “Yes, sir. This is the place.”

“But what do they do?” the Entolian merchant asked skeptically.

“I don’t know,” said the soldier with a shrug. “They sort of have a look, and mutter to each other, and then leave.”

Wren frowned at the hollow. Have a look at what? Disregarding both her gown and her dignity, she knelt down before the spot, examining the dug earth.

The enchantress knelt beside her. “Whoa,” she muttered. Wren shot her an inquiring look, and she hastened to explain. “There’s definitely magic concentrated in this area, Your Highness. I can feel it pouring through the earth. There’s something behind there. Or, I don’t know…under there.”

Wren put a hand out in front of her, laying it on the dirt. She couldn’t feel anything unusual, but she wouldn’t expect to, not having magic in her own blood. But as she leaned in for a closer look, a draft of air hit her from the side. Sticking her head into the hollow, she was amazed to see a narrow opening on one side. It wasn’t large enough to crawl through, but the air coming from it definitely suggested something beyond solid earth.

She pulled out her slate, trying to be as brief as possible while still making sense.

Tunnel maybe? Can your magic enlarge the hole?

“Maybe, Your Highness,” said the enchantress, sounding nervous. “But it might be unstable. I wouldn’t want to risk anyone getting hurt.”

Especially you, was the unspoken addition. Wren could sympathize with the Entolian’s hesitation to endanger the foreign princess into whose company she’d been pitched, but as with the general, Wren had no intention of taking no for an answer.

I’m going to try anyway. Your help will make it safer.

The enchantress fidgeted on her knees. Her husband, standing behind the pair, gave a grunt.

“Go on. King Basil told us to do anything she asked, remember?”

“Hang on.” The general’s sharp voice cut into the conversation, and he pushed his way to Wren’s side. “What are you planning to do?”

But Wren had already rubbed her slate clean, and she ignored him. She was the smallest in the group, but that wasn’t the only reason she was determined to be the one to investigate. She touched the chain around her neck, making sure Caleb’s ring was still in place. Whatever was inside that hollow, she didn’t anticipate serious injury.

She nodded encouragingly at the enchantress, and the woman screwed up her face in concentration. Wren had expected her to wave her fingers and just make the hole bigger, but instead she began to dig with her actual hands. She muttered as she did so, and Wren watched in amazement as the thickly packed, root-crossed dirt fell away like sand. In moments, the hole in the side of the hollow was large enough for Wren to fit. She heard Lady Anneliese’s gasp as a draft of stale air rushed out at them all.

With a smile of thanks to the enchantress, Wren thrust her head into the hole, crawling quickly before her guard could grasp her intention. Sure enough, she heard his shout of protest as her hips squeezed through the narrow gap, but it was too late for him to pull her back out. She wondered fleetingly if the enchantress would widen the hole even further, so that the others could chase her through it, but she didn’t pause to find out.

She’d emerged into a space barely larger than the opening the enchantress had made for her, and she felt uncomfortably hemmed in as she crawled forward. She continued moving, however, following the line of the tunnel out toward no man’s land, and steeply down. She was just debating how difficult it would be for her to crawl backward to safety if she hit a dead end when the tiny tunnel suddenly opened up. Feeling around her hesitantly, Wren pushed herself to her feet. A small beam of light filtered in from the hole where she’d entered, allowing her to make out what looked like a tunnel, running perpendicular to the small track she’d come through. Shouting sounded faintly from behind her, and she glanced back over her shoulder, trying to figure out if anyone was coming after her.

At a sudden rumbling sound, the shouting ceased abruptly. Wren stepped hastily away from the tiny tunnel, but not quite quickly enough. With a groan, a whole section of earth fell away from the ceiling above her. She could barely make out what was happening, but she threw her arms over her head, fully expecting to be struck by the falling clumps.

But she felt nothing. After a moment, she lowered her hands cautiously. The rumbling had stopped, and all was still. Her first impression was of total blackness. Fighting panic, she scanned the area, noting from the movement of air that she wasn’t stuck in too small a space. Slowly, her eyes adjusted, and she realized she could still make out the shape of her surroundings.

It seemed the enchantress had been right about the ground being unstable. The tiny tunnel through which Wren had entered was gone, buried by huge chunks of dirt. Broken clumps lay all around her, and for a moment she marveled that she hadn’t been struck at all. Then she remembered the reason she’d been determined to take the risk herself, and touched a grateful hand to the powerful artifact around her neck.

Thanks, Caleb,she thought silently.Now can this thing help me get out of here safely?

Wherever here was. She stepped away from the cave-in, searching for the new source of light that was allowing her to still see. As her eyes continued to adjust, she realized that the tunnel into which she’d emerged was much broader than she’d first supposed. And, more significantly, it was clearly man-made. Not only was it straight and even, but its sides had been reinforced with timber structures.

Wren felt a chill that had nothing to do with the draft still emanating from further down the tunnel. Who had made this place, and for what purpose? It was surely a sinister sign that her own general didn’t know about it—he certainly wouldn’t have brought her to it if he did. Did the Entolians know? But Basil was the king. If something was happening behind his back at the front lines, it could be nothing good.

Choosing the direction where the light seemed brightest, Wren followed the tunnel. She felt a twinge of guilt for the turmoil she had surely left behind in the trench, but she didn’t see any option but to keep going until she found an alternative way out. A short distance down the tunnel, she came across what looked like a wooden torch mounted on the wall, although instead of fire, it had a large stone, from which emanated a faint white light. She paused to examine it. She’d heard of such things. Natural objects which, while not exactly magical themselves, had a susceptibility to magic, making them ideal for use in enchantments, as they needed to be infused with only limited power. She saw that similar stones lined the tunnel all the way ahead. It might not take much magic to power them, she reflected, but it certainly took some. Could they be what the Entolian enchantress was sensing?

Wren continued walking for what felt like an age, although the semi-darkness of the tunnel was so disorienting, she had no real idea of time. Occasionally she saw smaller tunnels branching off from the large one, but she stayed on the main track, thinking that if the worst came to it, she could try to find her way back to the starting point, where she knew it was a limited distance to dig in order to break back out into the trench.

She’d just started to slow her pace, squinting in the low light in an attempt to identify the objects which were appearing scattered along the side of the tunnel, when voices reached her ears.

Chapter Twenty-Two

For a moment Wren froze, afraid in spite of her protective talisman of who she might find down here. The tunnel curved ahead, and looking up she realized that a brighter, yellow light was leaking around the corner from that direction. Then a new voice rang out, clear and heart-stoppingly familiar.

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