She maneuvered the scrap of metal between her fingers until she had a good grip on it and began to saw at her bonds. She did so slowly and carefully, trying her best to disguise her movements by keeping them small and the rest of her body still. It was harder than she had expected because a certain amount of force was required to make any progress with the cutting. She did not know how long she had to free herself. She felt as if she had no time at all. She wanted to hurry her efforts, to work harder, to throw caution to the winds, to just be free. But Ahren had taught her that haste was your worst enemy when you were threatened, that mistakes were too easily made and chances lost. Patience was what would save you. Every fiber in her body shrieked at her to hurry, to cut faster, but she held herself in check.
Bepatient.
Trussed and helpless, on her way to her own death, she wanted to be anything but.
Time slipped away, precious and fluid. She could not hold it back. She worked the metal diligently, even though by then her own fingers were cut and bleeding from the effort and the metal shard dangerously slippery. She almost dropped it several times, and she was forced more than once to cease her efforts long enough to wipe clean the shard and her fingers. She smelled her blood, coppery and rank. She could smell her own fear, the sweat of her body. She found that she was crying and hadn’t even been aware of it.
She sawed harder, working diligently against the stubborn bonds as her captors trudged on, dark and silent wraiths in the gloom. Burning pitch hissed and spit at the ends of the brands they carried, the flames glinting in the dark like eyes, throwing shadows everywhere. She would be seen, she kept thinking, if she kept this up much longer. She would be caught out.
The air was growing warmer.
Her eyes snapped up as if to discover the reason, even though she already knew it. They were getting close to the furnace and the fire pits that fed it.
The bonds that secured her wrists snapped, nearly falling away before she caught them in her fingers and held them in place. She was free. She flexed her hands, first one, then the other, careful of her movements. Her ankles were still bound, but there was no help for it. She couldn’t wait any longer. She had to act now.
But what was she going to do?
Her eyes skittered everywhere, then stopped. The butt of her captor’s long knife protruded from its sheath less than a foot away from where her head hung down.
Momentary panic set in. She had never killed anyone. She had never had to fight for her life, never been threatened with serious harm until these past few weeks. Ahren had taught her how to defend herself, but she had never tested her skills in a situation even remotely like this one. She was just a girl, really. She was barely grown.
But they were going to kill her.
She swallowed hard, the panic deepening, threatening to immobilize her. She shouldn’t be here. This shouldn’t be happening. If she hadn’t been so stubborn about going with Ahren and Pen, if she hadn’t insisted on the quest being made in the first place, if she hadn’t taken the Elfstones from where they were kept hidden away …
Her concentration faltered, and the metal shard slipped from her fingers and fell to the passageway floor with an audibleping.
She reacted without thinking, snatching the long knife from its sheath and burying it deep in the back of the Gnome Hunter carrying her. She heard his gasp of dismay and felt his body lurch and then collapse beneath her. She went down with him, rolled clear, and came to rest against one wall, the knife still in her hands, yanked free of the dead man’s body. She caught a glimpse of the other three Gnomes as they wheeled back to see what was happening, momentarily confused but already reaching for their weapons.
Her legs were still bound, and she could not flee them. She was trapped.
She dropped the knife instantly and began.weaving her hands to summon a protective magic.
Please!
The magic responded, and the torches flared and went out, leaving the passageway shrouded in darkness.
Instantly, she was moving, dragging herself along the wall and away from her captors, the long knife clutched in one hand. The Gnome Hunters cursed as they stumbled about in the dark, running up against each other and tripping over their dead companion. She rolled all the way across the passage, trying to get as far away from them as she could manage. She had only moments before they found her, whatever she did, and she had to free her legs before that happened.
Backed against the far wall, she reached down and began cutting frantically at the bonds that wrapped her ankles. The blade of the knife was sharper and more efficient than the metal shard and severed the ropes in seconds.
She was struggling to her feet when the first of them, close enough by that time to hear her movements, thrust his short sword blindly into the rock wall only inches from her head. She reacted instantly, driving her own blade deep into his chest. He roared in pain and fear and staggered away from her, the blade still buried in his body. Weaponless, she backed her way along the wall, hearing the stricken man’s grunts and moans mix with the guttural whispers of the two who remained. They would fan out along both walls and come toward her until they found her. But they would be more cautious. She would not get a chance to catch them unawares again.
She kept moving away, trying to think what to do. She could flee, if she chose, but her instincts told her that, unarmed and unfamiliar with the corridors, it would be impossible to get far in the blackness. The Gnomes, more at home in the dark, would hunt her down.
She heard them moving toward her already, their boots and clothing soft rustles and scuffs in the silence.
She needed another magic, she thought. But she did not know killing magic, so whatever she tried, it would only buy her a little more time. Perhaps it would gain her another weapon, but could she use it after what had happened? The memory of her blade sinking into the Gnomes she had killed was fresh and sharp and made her shudder. She wasn’t sure she could do that again. She wasn’t sure she should even try.
But she must try something.
Tell me what I should do, Ahren!
He couldn’t, of course—not even in her memories of all he had taught her—because nowhere in his instruction had he addressed such a situation. He had been teaching her basic elemental magic right up to the moment they had set out for the Lazareen. True, anticipating the dangers they would face, he had given her harder lessons on the way, but none of them seemed useful against furious Gnome Hunters stalking her in pitch–black caverns.
They were closing on her, the sounds of their approach more distinct. She had no time left.
Her back against the passageway wall, she turned toward them, lifted her hands, whispered into the darkness and used her fingers to guide the magic accordingly, then clapped her hands to her head. Instantly, the passageway was filled with blinding light, its brilliance equal to the intensity of the sun at midday. With her hands, Khyber shielded her eyes against the sudden glare, but the Gnomes were caught unprepared and left momentarily blinded. She charged right at them, dodged their groping hands and slashing blades and broke into the clear to race down the corridor in the direction of the furnace, the explosion of light behind her revealing the way.
The Gnomes were after her at once, heavy footfalls echoing thunderously, shouts and curses rising up. She ran faster. She had no plan but to get away from them, to reach the confluence of passageways at the furnace and disappear into them. Let them hunt for her then, if they wished. She would be much harder to find once they could no longer see her.