Page 123 of The Shadowed Oracle
Monia shook her head. “She might have soldiers posted there. I can’t be certain. I’ve only been here a little while.”
“We’ll figure it out.” Ingrid was grateful for any details, anything that might help them, but was starting to wonder why Monia was still helping. Pointing the way was one thing, but accompanying them this far?
“I won’t forget your help,” Ingrid added. “Thank you, Monia.”
But still, Monia didn’t move. “The guard she keeps outside her door, he’s very strong,” she warned. “A former champion of the games. You don’t mean to fight him, do you?”
Tyla dismissed her. “I think we’ll be alright.” She did not have a weapon, was hardly dressed for the part, but she was confident nonetheless. Her fighting style was anchored in speed and agility, perfect for this kind of close-quarters duel. An armored male fighting with those bulky queen’s guard swords she saw all the others wielding would never catch up to her.
“You’re certain?’ Monia asked again.
Ingrid gave her a curious look. “You should go. Don’t risk yourself any further.”
The young servant was hesitant as she nodded. “Good luck, and may the Mother hold you,” she said, and tiptoed down the hall, disappearing into the shadows.
Torches flickered as Tyla and Ingrid stalked through the halls. That same perfume, Enitha’s flowery and overpoweringscent was again stinging Ingrid’s nose, and their footsteps were effectively muted by the smooth stone.
They soon reached the barred door of the crypts. The entrance to the resting grounds was made up of two large slabs of charred grey stone, standing on either side of a weathered wooden door marked with sacred symbols.
Just as Ingrid was nearly past them, approaching the final corner before they were met by the sole guard posted outside Enitha’s room, she stopped.
Something caught her eye. The symbols. They were familiar. She hadn’t seen them since she was back on Earth, when that slightly annoying, albeit handsome crime scene analyst had secretly shown them to her, but she knew they were exact matches.
Tyla laid prying eyes on her, giving Ingrid an impatient shrug.
“Sorry,” Ingrid conceded. She wanted to look closer, wanted to linger a bit longer, but couldn’t. There was no time.
She wrestled out of the unexplainable hold the symbols had on her, joining her friend’s side.
They reached the last turn and braced themselves against the cold, rocky wall. Then a sort of dance began. The two females silently argued about who would step out into the guard’s line of sight first. Ingrid figured she might be able to disarm the guard with words, pretend she was lost, then strike when he wasn’t expecting it. Yet, since this couldn’t be communicated very thoroughly, Tyla made the executive decision to take the lead.
With a slight waver in her step, she approached the guard pretending to be a drunken party guest. Ingrid could only hear Tyla’s voice for a long minute. The guard didn’t seem to be falling for her charade. Whispers became lower, then they faded completely.
Cuh-lunk.
Ingrid’s nerves jolted at the sound. The urge to jump out and follow it was too much. Without so much as peeking around the dark edge, she burst into the top speed she could handle while still keeping her stomping to a minimum.
She stopped as soon as the light became brighter. Tyla was glaring at her, reeling, and in a violent state of mind. Below her was the armed guard. His helmet was still fastened over his bulbous head, but blood leaked from his neck and seeped into the cracks of the floor.
Ingrid joined Tyla and together they scrounged to their knees to look through the small space where the stone floor met the large wooden door.
There were no voices.
No pleas of pain or cries of pleasure.
For the first time since speaking with Gerhardt, Ingrid was stifled by doubt. Something was telling her to stop. End it here and now, take the chance that the queen knew nothing. That Callinora’s spies hadn’t betrayed them. Hope Enitha knew nothing and would ask them to stay another night to join the wedding celebration.
No matter how badly it turned Ingrid’s stomach to picture, she had to allow for the possibility that Raidinn and Dean were in no danger behind that door, and everything was going according to plan. She had to allow that her emotions were getting in the way of reason.
It had taken minutes to decide she hated Enitha, hated everything about her down to the way she walked, talked, laughed and smiled. She’d wanted to climb that dais before she could lay a finger on her friends, then slit her pale little throat. It was all she could think about. All that her constricted mind allowed for.
Pathetic. Ingrid swore at herself, feeling herself spiraling out of control. Her power, as dim as it was, began backfiring.She could feel every living soul in that city all at once. All the pain and uncertainty. The death and despair. The silence and suffering. The weight of decades resting on her shoulders, pleading to be let in.
And just as it was about to drive itself deep inside her head, Tyla clutched her hand, calming her. Ingrid gripped back in response, thankful for the gesture.
But another sound followed. Tyla gave the lightest of grunts, then prodded her chin to the side. She wasn’t trying to console Ingrid at all. She was trying to warn her. Trying to wake her up.
Someone was coming.
