The Alchemists of Loom (Loom Saga #1)(67)
Three hare and a bag full of edible plants later, she returned to the world below. Escapes were wonderful, but impermanent and shallow. She was made of stronger mettle than those that fled into the warm bosom of nostalgia.
The fingers of her left hand trailed through the grease line, following it down and through the winding passages. Silence flooded her, and it wasn’t until Arianna was nearly to their resting place that she realized the source of her unease.
It was too quiet. She heard no breathing, no discussion, no clanking of the cart over the rails as its occupants shifted in their sleep. Her pace quickened and Arianna sped to meet the last corner, already knowing what would greet her.
Nothing.
Her line ended where it had begun in a spot she knew she could not be confusing for any other. Panic swelled to a crescendo and Ari forced it down with a hand on her dagger, as though she could ward off her emotions with golden blades and lock them away behind spools of wire. She stretched her hearing, but stillness greeted her in all directions.
Wherever they had gone, it was far and fast—enough that even her Dragon ears couldn’t pick up the faintest squeal of wheels on rails. Her breathing quickened as the options unfurled before her, and Arianna picked up a faint scent.
It was one she’d come to know on their travels—the crisp, fresh smell of burning wood. Cvareh. Her eyes drifted over to the wall, led by her nose, and Arianna ran her fingers along the fresh scratches in the rock. He had bled here.
Balling her hand into a fist, Arianna screamed, punching the rock so hard blood exploded and her bones snapped. Her anguish echoed through the caves uselessly, the ears she wanted to hear were too far away. But there were more things to hear her than a Dragon and a few misplaced Ravens in the Underground.
She drew her daggers, her bones already knitting, the pain sharpening her mind. A primal hiss echoed up to her, followed by the clicking of pincers. Ari placed the tip of her dagger in the wall, slowly walking backward.
“That’s it…” The sound of metal on stone grated through the tunnel like an alarm for any in the vicinity. “Follow me.”
Helen’s words were still fresh in her mind: no hope of finding each other once separated. Arianna watched as the darkness melted around the shape of a Wretched, lean ropes of muscle suspended over bones and wrapped in the thinnest of pale gray skin. Useless eyes—white and beady—were placed behind the gaping orifice that was once a Fenthri mouth. Acidic saliva glowed faintly, oozing between pincers that clicked in excitement, tracking her movements.
A second emerged in her field of vision, followed by a third. Arianna slowly pulled her dagger away from the wall. At the least she’d draw them off Flor, or try.
“Right, then.” She flipped her grip on her dagger, clipping in the second. “Who’s first?”
The beasts hissed the moment she started to speak. Their long claws scraped against the stone, charging for her with gurgling madness. Arianna let out an animalistic roar in reply.
Wretched and Chimera lunged for the kill.
27. Florence
The Wretches chased them on all fours down the tunnel. They hissed and clicked, moving unnaturally fast through the darkness, dotting a trail of glowing saliva that steamed pock marks into the stones behind them.
Florence’s shoulder ached and burned as she struggled to keep her balance in the jostling cart. Will strained against the levers in the back. Helen was rigid at the wheel, trying to keep them on a course she could track in her mind.
“Ari. What about Ari?” She grabbed for Cvareh. He was the only person she could distract with her panic, the only one of the three she could lose her head around. Helen and Will had their hands full enough trying to keep them from dying in a swift and terrible crash.
“We can’t go back that way.” He bared his teeth in a fearsome snarl at the creatures in hot pursuit.
Florence’s hand shrunk away from him on instinct at the terrible look that overcame his face, wild and savage. It was the face of the Dragons Ari had filled her head with over the past two years and one she hadn’t witnessed with her own eyes until that moment.
“Those things are exactly what I’m worried about! Ari’s alone with them!”
Ari, her teacher, her friend, a woman who was a shining and steady light in Florence’s otherwise gray world. She had left someone precious behind in the Underground. Again.
“At this exact second, I think you should be more worried about us being alone with them!” Cvareh shouted.
A Wretch dove from a side tunnel. Cvareh instinctively placed his body between its sharp pincers and Florence. He grunted in pain as he slashed into the creature and acidic blood poured over his hand. With an aggravated roar he threw the body away, and it bounced limply down the cart path.
“Can you not get acid on our only means of transportation?” Will scolded, motioning to where erosion was already weakening the side of the cart, boring holes in the rusted metal. “We’re pretty far from the Holx yard and I don’t think we’ll stumble on another this deep.”
“Why don’t you ask the monsters? I’m sure they’ll be happy to oblige. Or should I just let it into our cart next time?” Cvareh growled in reply, rubbing his knitting flesh.
“Can you all not talk so much? It’s taking a lot of focus to keep us on track!” Helen’s words had both a literal and figurative meaning.