Secondborn (Secondborn #1)(95)

Something heavy crashes against the doors, bowing them in and pushing me forward. Another blood-curdling yowl splits the air. “This way,” I whisper. The stained glass beside us shatters. Colorful shards rain onto the floor. The monstrous muzzle of a maginot tries to push through the narrow window. Its jaws snap at me, dripping saliva, but it’s unable to fit through. It isn’t Rabbit; it must be a newer model because I don’t recognize the silver markings by its eyes.

The gigantic maginot paces outside, throwing itself against the door again. The crash echoes in the domed building. Hawthorne fixates on the window. His jaw tightens. “Is there another way out of here?”

I lead him across the marble floor and behind a bronze statue of a beautiful male god who wears a crown of laurels and very little else. I reach for a notch in the wall. A piece of gray stone slides open to reveal a shallow staircase. Hawthorne’s fusionblade lights the way as we take the passage down, the wall closing behind us.

“Where does this lead?” Hawthorne asks.

“I’m not exactly sure,” I reply. “I’ve never been strong enough to pry open the door at the other end, but I know this hallway is long enough so that it must be beyond the Palace wall.” We walk together down the corridor. I take the lead. “You need to stay on the west side of the tunnel up ahead. There’s a security wall that you don’t want to trip into.”

We come to an animal graveyard. Piles of decimated rodent bones and molding fur litter the ground. I pick up a small pebble and toss it ahead on the left side of the tunnel. It explodes. Hawthorne picks up another and throws it to the right. It bounces on the ground. “C’mon.” When we’re on the other side, he asks, “Any more surprises ahead?”

“I don’t think so, but like I said, I’ve never gotten through to the outside.”

“How far does this go?” he asks.

“A mile or so.”

“And you did this alone?”

“I do most things alone, Hawthorne.”

“You don’t need anyone, do you?”

“That’s not true. I desperately need someone I can trust.”

“I love you,” he says softly, “and I’ll earn back your trust again, even if it kills me.”

“Don’t let it kill you,” I reply. “I don’t think I’ll make it if you’re gone.”

We walk on, coming to a spiraling ramp upward. It leads to a small rectangular room. I gesture to a heavy outline in the stone. The walls and the floor are embedded with small metal swords in a repeating diamond pattern.

Hawthorne passes me his fusionblade and pushes against the door. It doesn’t budge. “There has to be a lever,” he mutters. He pushes on a sword on the wall. It moves inward. Nothing happens. He lets go of it and it moves back out. He presses another one. It slides in and comes back out. He presses all of them he can reach. Nothing moves the door. He growls in frustration.

Cool air wafts through the crack in the doorway. Peeking through it, I feel mist on my face and hear the distinct sound of running water. I look up. I can’t see very far, but I can tell that the walls curve inward above us. “This shape—an obelisk,” I say. “We’re west of the Palace, so that puts us in the park—Westerbane Heath. Is this . . . is this the Tyburn Fountain?”

“I think you’re right.”

“Tyburn was one of the earliest lessons Dune drilled into me.”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

I hand Hawthorne his Exo cape and move into the center of the small room. “Which way do you think is west?”

He pulls out a pocket compass. Typical soldier. He points to the wall adjacent to the closed door. “That’s west.”

With Hawthorne’s fusionblade still in my hand, I explain, “Tyburn is a demigod, known as the Warrior of the West Wind. To pay homage to the West Wind, you assume the warrior pose, facing the west.” I extend my right hand out in front of me with my left arm behind, bending my right leg in front of me at a right angle, and my right foot to the west. My left leg extends behind me, my toes pointing south. I hold the pose for a moment. Then, extending the sword in my right hand, I point it straight up. Rising on the points of the toes of my right foot, I bring my left foot up behind me, holding it in the palm of my left hand until the pad of my foot touches the back of my head. I hold it for a few breaths, and then twist, jumping into the air and turning in circles over and over, like a whirling tornado. When I stop, I’m in the warrior pose once more, facing west.

Hawthorne follows the line of my right hand to a bronze sword on the wall. He presses it. It locks in place. Turning, he follows the line of my left arm, depressing the sword it points to. It locks into place. The door doesn’t move.

“Try the ones by my feet.” I wiggle my toes. He moves to the sword in front of my right foot on the floor. As he presses it, it locks. My left foot points to the last one. He touches it, and suddenly the whole building starts to rumble. A stone door drops from the ceiling, cutting off our way back to the Palace. The door on the north wall makes a horrible scraping sound and rolls open. Water cascades in front of it, and as soon as it opens all the way, it begins to close again. We scramble forward together, jumping through the wall of water, and land in a deep pool. My grip on Hawthorne’s sword loosens and it extinguishes, but I manage to grab it before it sinks. I come up coughing and sputtering.