Page 130 of The Queens and the Kings
Britt followed, leading with her feet before it slammed shut on her head. It lowered quickly, but she caught it with her forearm. Finding a firm step just below the bottom of the trapdoor, she slipped beneath, gently closed the door, and paused to hold her breath.
Utter darkness met them. The eerie calm set her teeth on edge. Only the rustle of Denerfen’s wings as he explored could beheard. He could see in the dark, which might be helpful. Too bad he couldn’t talk.
She ventured down the ladder, listening to the low creaks. No light, either. She couldn’t tell if she stood on an open floor or inside a hallway. Based on the width of Denerfen’s flight, and how far he glided away, it was more than a hall.
A strange smell seeped into the air. Not quite mildew or mold, but not far off. Not unusual in a wooden ship, but there was something else vaguely familiar. Smoky, almost. Earthy. Like . . .
“Den, do I smell a wyvern?”
A burst of sound from Denerfen’s direction confirmed. He wouldn’t have made any indication other than an agreement.
“Where do I go?” she whisper-shouted.
Rustles and movement replied. Another mouth noise guided her to the right. Something stringy and firm rustled beneath her bare feet. She bent down, running her fingers over it. Straw, based on the texture.
Did this merchant ship transport animals? Certainly wasn’t unheard of.
As she advanced closer to Denerfen, a sloshing sound indicated covered buckets somewhere. Every now and then a clink and a clang issued, as if tools knocked together, though that didn’t quite make sense.
Britt ventured forward, moving steadily toward Denerfen’s occasional noises. He sent them here and there, reserving his energy, but guiding her. The loamy smell intensified.
Definitely wyvern.
But . . . how?
The hiss of her dragul, followed by the undeniable sounds of approaching boots, made her heart drop into her stomach.
Denerfen had time to wheel to safety before a door blew open. Light flooded the room, falling directly on her body.Before Britt could react to the shadow, it lunged. She dodged an arm, ducked a flying swing, and scuttled out of the path of a charging sailor.
He bellowed, “Stowaway!” as Denerfen swooped into his eyes, claws bared. Blood sprayed as the sailor’s shout turned to a shriek.
“My eyes!”
Invisible in the darkness, Denerfen returned to her side. Britt crept around the howling man, who flailed in the dark with both hands pressed to his face. He squealed like an injured pig. Running feet pounded overhead. A hatch in the ground flung open only fifteen steps away. Denerfen’s teeth grazed her neck.
“No,” she whispered. “Not yet!”
“Oi!” Someone shouted, illuminated from below. “What’s wrong? Why are you hollering?”
A second hatch opened. “What is it? You’re making a racket.”
Britt snatched Denerfen, raced for the wall where the sailor had entered, and threw herself through the doorway. She kicked the door shut as another sailor bellowed, “Stowaway!” With a tap of her hand, a boardthuddeddown.
Locked.
“Good call, Den,” she breathed. “Thanks.”
Wasting no time, she hurried into the dark. The ground vanished beneath her right foot. Throwing out a hand, she caught herself before tumbling head-over-heels down a deserted staircase. Her foot found solid ground.
Stairs. How . . . unexpected. More voices joined the first. Right. She only had a few minutes.
Stumbling, she hurried into the depths, feeling smooth walls, crooning praise to her dragul while he flew ahead, leading the way. Once the floor evened out—had she descended two stories or one?—Britt halted. A silence that shouldn’t exist met herears. Not in a heaving ship at the mercy of a storm-tossed sea, particularly one filled with shouting sailors.
Only smooth, glassy silence.
Britt cursed herself for not bringing a light source. Pedr musthave some arcane object that illuminated, though she’d never seen one on his ship. Occasionally, he made worms glow when he lit a specific lamp, but he used them rarely.
Denerfen rustled around her head, sniffing the air.
