Page 78 of The Cornish Princess
The last thing Gwendolyn saw was Borlewen unsheathing the little blade at her waist. With his foot, Málik slammed the door behind him, somehow seizing a massive bench and spinning it about as though it were only a child’s toy, settling it in front of the door.
He moved swiftly, with sure feet, toward her uncle’s bower, and once inside, he swung another heavy coffer to bar that door. The sound of it landed with a boom.
“I cannot leave them to fight without me,” Gwendolyn begged him, pummeling his back as he threw her down on the bed, but still he grasped her by the arm, his grip unyielding, holding her away from the door.
“Stop!” he pleaded. “Stop!”
When Gwendolyn fought him still, he reasoned with her, “Would you have them die in vain?”
“I would have them not die at all!” she returned madly.
“Gwendolyn!” he said, shaking her again. “Theywilldie—everyone will die! The question is, will Pretania’s future perish as well?”
Pretania’s future?
A strangled sob escaped Gwendolyn’s tightening throat, but finally comprehending, she allowed him to pull her away from the barricaded door, and then watched haplessly as he shoved her uncle’s heavy bed aside with a boot, revealing a hidden entrance to the underground passages—thefogoushe guarded so well.
This was just like her uncle to keep the entrance so close. No one would dare enter his bower—and who would think to look beneath the Duke’s bed?
It took Málik only a second to pry open the heavy trapdoor that should have taken two men to hoist, revealing a dark tunnel beneath that appeared to descend into the Underworld.
For a long, grief-stricken moment, Gwendolyn stood, staring without moving, peering back once more at the door, before Málik urged her down.
With frightening clarity, she heard her uncle’s shouts, as the door to his house split and gave way to axes. More smashing and clanging. Swords crossing. Something large clattered to the floor. More crashes, and suddenly, a tongue of smoke licked beneath the door.
“Go!” demanded Málik.
Swallowing a lump of grief, Gwendolyn descended, slipping on a length of the rope ladder in her rush to climb down. She felt loosening rubble rain down over the pate of her head as Málik moved to follow her down, and somewhere above, she heard distant shouts, then the rude splintering of her uncle’s bower door. Panicked for Cunedda’s life, she tried once more to climb up, but her arms burned and Málik pushed her head down with the toe of his boot, and said, “Go, go, go!” With a thunderous crash, he pulled down the door, immersing them in darkness. “Go!” he said again.
Swallowing her grief, Gwendolyn did as she was told—hurrying now, never daring to scream, even when Málik’s boot caught her fingers. Muffled voices and coughing came from above as she reached the end of the ladder and felt blindly about for solid ground.
There was none. Gods. There was none!
Gwendolyn had never actually descended into thesefogousbefore, nor did she know whether there was any way out. What if these tunnels weren’t yet complete?
Anticipating her moment of panic, Málik shoved her one last time, and Gwendolyn tumbled backward into darkness, her sword clattering down beneath her. She fell atop it, landing with a heavy thud on her tailbone, gulping back a sharp cry of pain.
Only an instant later, Málik fell atop her, but he scrambled quickly to his feet, and Gwendolyn could hear him rushing about, but could no longer see him.
“Move!” he said urgently.
Where!
“Move!”
Up above, there was a furious scraping at the trapdoor as though someone might be searching for a handle, and Gwendolyn could see the faintest crack of light through slits in the wood. Having little sense of direction, she turned swiftly to crawl away, uncertain whether she could stand, but her head encountered a stone wall, and she cried out in pain over the force of the blow.
Everything happened so quickly. A loud crack sounded above, and she saw the axe blade penetrate wood. Málik seized her by the leg and tossed her aside, sending her tumbling like a doll against the wall. Then suddenly, without warning, the entire shaft collapsed within itself.
ChapterThirty
Fear squeezed at Gwendolyn’s heart as complete darkness enveloped her.
Was she dead?
Alive?
It was so dark!
