Sword of Flame by Maggie Furey

Author:Maggie Furey [Furey, Maggie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780099270911
Google: 6GLsngEACAAJ
Publisher: Legend
Published: 1995-09-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15 - … And Through

I'm sorry, love—I can't go any farther. I must rest for a while." Vannor's voice was weak with fatigue and pain, and Zanna could feel his body trembling against her supporting shoulder as she helped him along the tunnel.

"All right, Dad. If you can go on just a little longer, we'll find a room to rest in, as we did before," Zanna told him, forcing a cheerful note into her voice. For his sake, she tried to keep from betraying her own exhaustion, and the fears and worries that crowded her mind. They were utterly lost in this maze of cold, damp tunnels, and rapidly running out of both food and strength; and injured as he was, her father had difficulties enough of his own to contend with. After every one of their halts so far, it had taken her longer to get him going again, and he was needing to rest more and more

often. Zanna had had no chance to look at his injury—he would not speak of what the Magefolk had done to him, or let her unwrap the bindings on his hand—but she knew that it was bad. He ought to have rest, and proper care, and a physician—but it was only a matter of time before he would be in no condition to reach the help that he so badly needed.

Zanna lifted her candle higher and looked along the passage for the darker shadow of the next doorway. The ancient archives beneath the library were honeycombed with alcoves, niches, and chambers of all sizes: some large enough to stretch far beyond the range of the fugitives' candlelight, and some so small that Vannor and his daughter could barely squeeze in together among ancient volumes and dusty stacks of crumbling parchment. In truth, Zanna much preferred the latter. They may have been cramped and uncomfortable, and needed extreme care with the candle to prevent a conflagration, but they were warmer, less drafty, and felt much more secure. She didn't have to worry about what might be lurking in the darkness beyond the small, safe circle of flickering candle glow. She had overheard Eliseth complaining that though Finbarr, the former Archivist, had set spells to keep out rodents, cockroaches, and other small, destructive creatures, the magic had now started to decay through lack of upkeep; but it wasn't the idea of small beasties that bothered Zanna— not too much, at any rate. What did bother her was the unshakable conviction that something else was down there with her and her father. Something unseen, unknown, but unspeakably evil.

"Oh, for goodness' sake," Zanna muttered to herself. "Don't be such an idiot. If you start letting your imagination run away with you down here, we'll be in trouble for certain." Instead, she put her arm around her father and guided him toward the nearest dark mouth in the side of the tunnel.

To Zanna's irritation, the shadowed opening proved to be an alcove, not a doorway. Muttering

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