Archangel's Enigma (Guild Hunter)(89)

But the wing brother had already spotted them. He gave a loud shout before they managed to subdue him. Pounding feet thundered in from several directions. Giving up on stealth, Andromeda and Naasir ran full-tilt, her wings getting badly bloodied and scraped in the narrow main passageway and Naasir’s hand locked tight around hers.

When he hauled her into a small cave and indicated another rigged rockfall he’d made sure they skirted, she took out her sword and triggered it. The rocks came down in a noisy crash that sent up clouds of dust.

Coughing into her hand, her teeth gritty from the dust she’d breathed in, she looked to Naasir. “Where?” He wouldn’t have asked her to trigger the rockfall if it would trap them; she knew enough of his senses to guess he’d seen, smelled, or heard something that had eluded her.

“This way.”

She followed the imprint of his footsteps in the sand to find herself in front of another tunnel with rough stone walls that pulsed with that eerie glow. Only this time, the tunnel had so steep a downward incline it was near vertical, the floor slick and shiny in comparison to the walls and the roof. “Damn it,” she muttered, sheathing her sword. “I’ll go first. You can come after me and push me down if my wings get stuck.”

Naasir shook his head. “No. I didn’t realize the sheer gradient from a distance. We’ll find another way out.”

Hearing sounds from the cave entrance that told her the rockfall blockade would soon no longer exist, she blew out a breath and tucked flyaway curls of her hair behind her ears. “No way to do that without killing a large number of wing brothers—don’t think they’re in the mood to talk anymore.”

“Your wings are already battered.” It was a growl, his hand lifting to very gently touch an undamaged part. “You could break something.”

A touch of her fingers to his jaw to reassure him. “It’ll heal.” Getting into the tunnel, she glanced once more at Naasir’s beloved face, tucked her wings in as tight as they could possibly go, and released her grip on the outer edges.

Feathers and skin ripped off as she barreled down, blood scenting the air. Fighting back tears at the stabbing pain of the damage on such sensitive skin, she tumbled out feetfirst into a sandy pit of some kind and forced herself to roll to one side at once.

The pack thudded home seconds later, Naasir landing in a crouch beside it.

Running to where she lay on her stomach on the sand, trying to breathe past the agony, he touched the back of her head and bent down to nuzzle at her. “We are almost there.”

Holding on to his affection, she got herself onto her hands and knees, then slowly sat up. She hadn’t been able to fight back the tears at the end and could feel sand sticking to the wetness, her breath coming in short hiccups. It would’ve humiliated her to be seen this way by others . . . but not Naasir.

Naasir would never even think of using her pain to cause emotional wounds.

Taking her face in his hands, he rubbed his nose over hers. “You’re very brave,” he said, silver eyes glowing in the darkness and fierce pride in his tone.

“So are you.” Her fingers trembled as she closed her hands around his wrists. “Alexander better not blast us after all this.”

A feral grin as he got to his feet and held out a hand to pull her up. Once she steadied, the ice and fire of the damage to her wings—as interpreted by her exposed nerve endings—no longer threatening to make her crumple, she looked around. They were at the bottom of a smooth stone bowl that appeared to have no exits, the sides so obviously sheer even Naasir’s claws would provide no purchase.

“I could fly up,” she said, because while her wings were badly damaged, they’d still hold her aloft. “Try to see if there’s an exit up top.”

Naasir shook his head, that vivid metallic hair shifting like liquid mercury even through the green-tinged vision of the goggles. “The sound isn’t right here.” Crouching down, he placed one hand on the sand, the other on his thigh, and cocked his head.

Andromeda stayed motionless, but used her eyes to scan everything in her field of vision. When Naasir changed position, she took the chance to turn so she could see the walls behind her.

Her eyes widened. “Naasir.”

“There is a way out of here,” he muttered, head still cocked. “I can hear it.”

Breaking position and the airflow, she ran over to the wall directly in front of her. “Do you see?”

Naasir came to join her. Leaning close, he ran his fingers over the thin lines dug into the stone. “It’s a fragment of a larger design.”

“Yes.” She backed off to the far wall. Parts of the design had been worn away, but she could still put it together. “A raven.” Created of myriad intricate images that represented this land. “Alexander’s chamber must be—”

The ground shook like a dog unwilling to release its prey.

Naasir hauled her into his arms as stone crumbled down around them . . . and then the ground was just gone and they were falling at a screaming pace.

“Snap out your wings!” Naasir yelled, his arms easing as if he’d release her.

She held on to him with a death grip. “I can’t! Something is sucking us down.” The pressure was intense, threatening to crush the small bones in her wings. Those bones were incredibly strong, designed as they were by nature to hold her aloft, but right now, she felt as if they were seconds away from buckling. “Don’t let go!”